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Patricia Roberts Pierrot
Heavily adapted but with the same zing as the original. Kittens have stormed the basket and untangling may take some time
Beaded top in hemp
Hemp yarn from House of Hemp in 'gosh', kingfisher blue / green. Very, very nearly there

Sleeveless top for Toz in duck-egg blue Rowan DK Soft.
Toria started it and has run out of steam.
Scarf in charcoal grey Rowan Polar
Very chunky and soft. Yarn was a presi from DH Mike.
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SECRET
This box for secret items...
TOP SECRET
Nothing. Boring, huh?
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December 24th
Festivities
The tree is up, the kittens are swinging happily from it, kids are variously out to work or out to play, presents are wrapped (well, mine are) and there is a roast in the oven for a little later on. Good stuff.
I haven't done a bean on my pre-clinical work for the psychoneuroimmunology course I am on in April, so that is lurking in the back of my mind. In fact, I have slept a lot over the last few days, and intend to sleep a lot more before I go back on the 3rd.
Yesterday I spent the whole divine day with my myofascial release colleague Rachel swapping bodywork - and making sure that when we teach this stuff we actually are teaching the same thing. Not that easy, as MFR is hardly technique driven, but what one teaches is technique. The aim of all our trainings is to bring out the sensitivity of the practitioner to use whatever skills and techniques they have amassed in the right way with the right person at the right time. Not easy, as I have said before. Practitioners who are up to that are few and far between, and out of all those who come on Rachel's advanced massage courses, 1 in 20 may have the ability to go beyond the techniques. Sigh. But when we do find one, it's fun!!!
In the meantime, it's darn difficult to demonstrate a vertical stretch lasting 4 seconds when what the body demands is not that but a wiggly woggly myofascial dive made up of 15 interwoven techniques and lasting approximately 409 seconds.
December 22nd
Foiled again!
Beaded hemp top was galloping towards the finishing line when Toria sidled in sheepishly and requested that I complete the top that she had started knitting a couple of years ago... I bought her the yarn (Rowan DK soft) and a simple ( but shaped) Rowan pattern, and she managed 2/3 of the front. She may have thrown in the towel, but at least she can knit and follow a pattern. I expect a resurrection in years to come.
Phoebe has just climbed on my lap and crawled *underneath* my jumper - Luscious in alpaca. Discerning puss.
Is my brain rotting?
This went through my head a while ago: "Is it too early to start with a little Christmas Cake? I really fancy some right now".
I knew there was something seriously wrong with this line of thought, just couldn't put my finger on it, whereupon my guardian angel chimed in with these welcome words:
GA: Please, please, please, Ms Cruickshank. Watch your thinking purrleeeeeze! We can sort this out. Dialogue with me for a couple of minutes:
Too early according to whom or what? And do you ever set any store by either Whom or What?
Me: No verifiable indentification of either Whom or What available. And no, I don't care about either of them. Sulk.
GA: Then how do you define 'early', 'too early', and by extension 'too late'?
Me: Er, er, errrrrrr... ... there are probably some unwritten rules somewhere...
GA: Well, let's try this one then: What are the 'unwritten rules' for eating Christmas Cake, seeing that Whom, What, or any of their representatives, who left them unwritten, are unavailable for comment?
Anne recovers spontaneously:
Me: If there's one thing I choke on, it's 'unwritten rules' with no Whom or What available, willing or able to justify them. The couple of people who in the past have presented me with fully unsubstantiated versions of the unwritten rules, with gusto, to save me from the evil path of not doing what I should be doing and, indeed, doing what I shouldn't be doing, did not achieve a lasting relationship with me.
GA: So?
Me: OK, 'twas a stupid thought. Brain rot. Put it down to mindless tinsel at this time of year. Christmas Cake is a very fine invention and should be eaten whenever fancied.
GA: Should?
Me: B*gger off!
Happy holidays, everyone!
December 18th
Knitting content first
Toria's pink lace scarf is being cast off at this very moment, as I pause at the keyboard. Phoebe is trying to help from her position on my lap.
Egg nog
I keep on reading about egg nog. It's cropping up everywhere on US blogs. Not a mince pie to be seen anywhere, just egg nog. I suspect it is some sort of traditional festive victual. I hope. I'm not going there. Is it?
Kittens
Phoebe and Cleo taking advantage of free transportation:
Phoebe steals a small ball of yarn



Lizards?
Anyone got any lizard tales? Really? I'm looking for anecdotes, variations on myths and legends, favourite lizzies, (I said *lizzies*), personal experiences, anything that a lizard has done which has caught your fancy. Thanks soooo much. There's a direct email link in the yellow box on the left. The one marked 'Lizards'.
December 12th
I'm so proud!
Cleo caught her *second* mouse this morning! She brought it up to us in bed to admire, then flung it around for 20 minutes or so, before devouring it.
To careful watchers and listeners, there is a certain rhythm to the footfall of a cat with mouse, one which reaches deep inside and grabs the guts with a quiet, sinister paw. Have you noticed this?
Usually when kittens are playing together it goes like this
gallopygallopygallopygallopyTHUMP
gallopygallopygallopygallopyCRASH
gallopygallopygallopygallopyJUDDER
gallopygallopygallopygallopyTHUD
When there is a mouse involved, dead or alive, it goes like this:
KerplunketyTHUMP
KerplunketyTHUMP
KerplunketyTHUMP
This indicates the tossing of said mouse into air and pouncing or catching it as it tumbles, then a little dance before tossing it up again.
We have decided that first we let them practise catching mice, then we teach them to keep them outside. Any ideas on exactly how to do that?
Chaos at Bradness Gallery
Mike's (DH) exhibition is now well underway with the private view under our belts (yesterday). The kitchen has seen the preparing of gallons and gallons of mulled wine and (Mr. Kipling's best) mince pies (yes, that was DS1 Chris in charge of victuals) to be consumed with gusto by the masses. And masses there were, making the gallery feel warm and loved, and distinctly pre-christmassy. We marked up some extremely respectable sales, had a little too much mulled wine ourselves (on the go from 10am til 6pm) then hot-footed it to the first *proper* festive drinks party in the village for very good champagne and foody bits. Having not had a thing to eat all day apart from a couple of Mr. Kiplings, the foody bits came in quite handy. Managed to torture the vicar again - I only ever see him at this particular event - and noticed with pleasure that he is beginning to hold his own a little. Makes for better sport. All the usual lords, ladies and village hoy poloy. Ever seen The Vicar of Dibley?
Here's the unbelievably simple mulled wine recipe, as so many people seem to appreciate it:
one box / 3 litres of good (really, really good, I prefer shiraz, but choose your own) red wine
6oz / 170 grams light muscovado sugar
1 level desert spoon ground mixed spice
1 heaped teaspoon cinnamon
10fl oz (half a pint) / 300ml orange juice; we use boxed but you could squeeze freshly
do not allow to boil
serve very, very hot
watch as people sip and gasp with admiration
Here we go...
It wasn't at all predictable, was it? Good old Boston Globe reporting on "Social Security benefit cuts eyed. Bush plan targets future payments". This is where we need to read and use George Lakoff's Don't Think of an Elephant
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