Stick a star in your stocking

And now a word from our sponsor (my husband, the Bill Payer):

Need a last-minute gift? Adopt a star from the Tulsa Air & Space Museum and Planetarium.

It comes with a beuuuutiful certificate of adoption (watercolored by yours truly, logo-ed by my talented sister), a star map and a bunch of other stuff. All stars are viewable by the naked eye. All proceeds support the museum. Costs range from $30 - $1000, depending upon the star and package. Name your favorite star, animal, day -- they'll help you pick out a star to match.

For more info, call Chris at the TASM Planetarium (918) 834-9900 ext 401.

....And I promise to add the rest of the England trip here soon. For reals.

UPDATE: Did you see MrKnotty on FOX today talking about the Adopt a Star program? My man is media-savvy.

We met Neil Armstrong! Neil. Freaking. Armstrong.

Here's a picture. On the left, Matt, the Assistant Planetarium Director. Next to Matt is me. On the far right is my husband, the TASM Planetarium Director. And in between us is NEIL ARMSTRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who is truly as nice as everyone says he is. Who chatted with me several times and patted me on the shoulder in a kind grandfatherly way. And who, when I told him I worked with children and would he please give me a message for them said:

"Working with children? First, I am sure what you are doing is important, so thank you. Tell them I said never cease, never stop, in your quest to learn more and in your quest to be more."

So there you have it. I have a direct quote from Neil First Man on the Moon Armstrong.

Day Two: Hill Top

We woke up in England for the first time. Cocooned in fluffy warmness of the big puffy bed, I was sooooo comfortable but way too excited to sleep. Stepping out of the shower I discovered another perk -- our towels were resting on a towel warmer. Yay, Drunken Duck!

Apple trees (I think they were apples) blooming in front of the windows of our room).

We stumbled downstairs, saying good morning to the house cat, and into the dining room for our first English Breakfast: sausage (made from the pigs over the hill) sunnyside up eggs, toast, homemade blackberry jam, baked tomato, English bacon (which looks and tastes a lot like Canadian bacon - but better) and, of course, TEA! I had the vegetarian sausage made from lentils and MrKnotty had the real deal. Delicious, delicious!

Part of the kitchen gardens of The Duck. There were peppers, rosemary, thyme, basil, mint, strawberries and just about every other herb imaginable.

We packed up our things, left them at the front desk, stuffed ourselves into the tiny car and headed for Hill Top, Beatrix Potter's home in the town of Near Sawrey. We team-drove, but my "Too close!" was now more of an "eek!" than an "AHHHH!"

The fake made-for-the-movie-Miss-Potter-Hill Top

To gain admittance to Hill Top, you first stop at the office, a small house down the road from Hill Top and directly next to a replica of Hill Top, used for the movie Miss Potter. As we had been advised to arrive early, we were the second couple in line, sandwiched between two British couples. We struck up a conversation with the older couple behind us, who wanted our input on the recent bank failing and the American presidential race. They told us we had arrived just in time -- a bus carrying more than 80 Japenise tourist were on their way from their hotel and would be arriving shortly. The wife made a reference to the Japenise remembering how beautiful England was from the last time they were here (persumably, a reverence to WWII from her tone) and her husband told her it wasn't appropriate in front of company.

The door opened and we purchased our tickets -- from the same woman we had purchased tickets to the gallery the day before in Hawkshead. She recognized us as well and encouraged us to buy National Trust memberships if we planned to keep up like this. I breifly imagined leaving the U.S. forever and becoming an ex-pat with an English accent, taking tea every afternoon and picking berries from the hillside. MrKnotty snapped me out of it by reminding me that the KnottyKitties were waiting for us at home. Even then, fresh fluffy scones have an allure of their own...

We walked up the road, passing Beatrix's working farmland on the way. I highly encourage you to enlarge this picture -- you'll see the sheep to MrKnotty's left and gorgeous cottages in the hillside.

A bit of walking later and we discovered the path up to the house, walking through the garden. This is the house she purchased after publishing Peter Rabbit, but the majority of her book were written here. Walking through the garden, was like walking directly into a picture book and I began to remember feelings I hadn't had since childhood. I realized that my idea of fairy stories and make-believe looked just like this -- and must have formed in my head at an early age from the pictures in her books. In short, I had the distinct feeling of walking into Farmer MacGregor's garden.

We arrived at the front door to find it was not yet opened. Speaking with the other couples who were waiting, they all said that as we traveled the farthest to be here, we should be the first inside -- which was very kind of them.

And so, when the door opened we stepped into the cozy two-story, as though we were walking into a friend's home -- void of tourist, other than ourselves, and with the company of of two docents. Everything in the home, from the dark hardwood floors to the stone fireplace and old wooden rocker in the corner, was exactly as she had left it, just as she insisted when leaving it to the National Trust. In the windowsills were copies of her books, open to pages inspired by those rooms. So look in the china cabinet, then look at the Tale of Tom Kitten, and there's the teapot and the dining room table -- exactly as they appear in the book. Look out the window at the hills and back at the book, and there's the same hill and, remarkably, the same trees, albet bigger. We walked upstairs and around in every corner. The rugs, the bed, the quilts -- all there. Exactly like walking into a book.

Coming back around and down the stairs, the home was now filled with tourists, so we stepped outside and into the garden where a light rain had begun to fall. There was Farmer M's watering can, and rows of tidy vegetables. We walked in circles, my desire to stay batteling with my desire to enjoy it on my own without having to remember it as crowded with the throngs of loud and very hand-sy-pushy tourists.

We headed out the path, passing Tom Kitten's gate on the way and into the gift shop, where the crowd descended and I was literally knocked against the wall by the ensuing crowd. And chose to stay there until they passed. We made a few purchases and then, rather than head back to The Duck, took a long walk through the countryside.

Through fields and up and around little homes, each with their own blooming gardens.

Past herds of sheep and several cows. Into a huge monster of a mud puddle, under trees turning orange and gold with the fall, occasionally passing another couple who, from the mud on their boots, must have come the same way.

We spent most of the morning this way until we felt certain that if we didn't turn around, we would never catch our evening train from Manchester to London. We said goodbye to the great people at The Duck, and threw our belongings into the back of the tiny car.

Took a wrong turn at some point, saw some astounding hills with waterfalls.

Stopped to take a picture of a rainbow and eventually, pulled up to the Manchester airport, dropped off our car, and jumped on our train to London.

Our trip across the pond - Day one

I have to admit it. We are officially back from England. It was a fabulous trip. We saw tons of really cool, old stuff, ate wonderful food (yes, their food is good) and, as predicted, I was speaking with an English accent the moment we hit Customs. I can't help it. The theatre is second nature to me.

Of course, there had to be Drama Making Our Flight. Luckily, it was of the knitting nature.

You can't take any sort of needles on a plane -- except bamboo. No problem, because I have lots of projects and lots of needles. Except that two hours before we are to leave I realize that out of my eighty jillion balls of yarn and four jillion needles, there is nary a project with matching bamboo needles. Not a one. Envisioning an insomoniac cross-ocean flight of hell, I panic. And then I began calling Loops before it opened. Over and over. Like a mantra. A prayer.

As we head toward the airport, me twitching like a Tourette's sufferer, my husband suggests swinging by Loops. Just in case. Because he is a saint.

On my last of many manic-dials, Gina answers. And is soon waiting at the desk with a set of size 2 dpns. Which I swoop up and literally run with to the waiting car.

Our flight was totally pleasant. No one lost our luggage, or kicked our chairs or smelled funny (wait for it in the flight back...) and I got to knit of set of fingerless mittens (photo to come).

We landed in Manchester and after waiting fourty five minutes for our rental car to move from the fifth floor of the lot to the first floor (Ahem. And the driver looked a tad on the I Hate My Job and Will Drive Around with My Lads if I Want To, Oye! - nature) took off for the Lake District. Then we stopped. Because they gave us only a quarter of a tank of gas. Thanks, Enterprise!

We fuel up. And notice smoke coming out from under the hood. Yes, smoke. We hadn't noticed before because of the pouring rain. MrKnotty pops the hood. The smoke stops. He can find no cause for it. We have no working cell phone. We have no Plan B. So we decide to drive on. For the first time in my life, I pray some small animal met it's untimely but unobtrusive, smoky death on the engine -- which would explain the smoke and not make me a bad person.

My job was navigator. It included following along with the map and occasionally screaming "Too close!" whenever the left side of the car approached the curb, a ditch or, in many cases, an ivy-covered stone wall.

Somehow, it all works out. And through a series of seriously tight roads with lots of scary turns ("Too close! Too close!") (really, these are narrow winding driveways with two lanes of opposing traffic) we reach our destination: The Drunken Duck Inn.

We officially love The Duck, as everyone calls it. They have upgraded us to a suite. And got our room ready early for us. While we waited in the parlor drinking tea and relaxing with the cat.

MrKnotty. In the parlor. With the cat.

Then we unloaded our stuff, shook off the airplane-ness, and took off for Hawkshead, home of the Beatrix Potter Gallery, William Wordsworth's grammar school and a really old church.

Aside from the rain, it was a beautiful day. But without rain, it wouldn't be the so green. Or England.

So here's a bit of Hawkshead. The Beatrix Potter Gallery is in the former offices of her husband, a lawyer named Mr. Heelix. He was the man she married after her first fiance, a man her mother didn't approve of, died. Her mom didn't approve of Mr Heelix either but at that point, it appears Beatrix told her the Victorian equilivant of "stuff it."

In the gallery were lots and lots of the original illustrations for the Peter Rabbit stories and various bits of original furniture. It was small and dark and very cozy.

And here's the church, surrounded by gravestones, perched atop a hill and looking down over the town.

The whole town looked like a studio backlot. So quaint it couldn't be real. I wanted to knock open a door to see if live-action Wallace and Grommits were setting up tea and cheese inside.

It was wonderful. And peaceful. We wandered. And shopped. And took in the Englishness of it all. And, when I had regained my courage, Chris scooted me back into the car and we drove to The Duck for afternoon tea.

Which was lovely. The jam was made fresh from local berries. The scones were light and fluffy. The tea was fantastic and even MrKnotty, an avid avoider of hot tea, enjoyed it immensly.

Inside the Duck for tea, joined by locals with their doggies.

We were afraid that if we didn't keep moving, we would fall asleep, so we decided to take a walk after tea.

The Duck is nestled right into the hills, surrounded by farmland. These photos were taken right outside.

We walked a lot. Walking was big on this trip. Sort of our theme. Although it might sound tiring, we loved it. It was so peaceful. Surrounded by these fairy-tale-like settings and without any deadlines to worry about or cell phones to ring.

Sheep were big here too. All over the countryside. They were everywhere. I think I now have as many sheep pictures as I have pictures of my cats. So I guess if I was born British, my parents would have worried I'd grow up to be a crazy sheep lady.

These wild blackberries were growing everywhere. I wanted to try one but we didn't have time to fit an ER visit into the schedule.

We walked until dinnertime and returned to the Inn. To find fresh plums and cookies in our room. Doesn't The Duck rock? It also has a four-star restaurant which uses all local ingredients.

We had a big dinner. I can't remember specifics, but I can remember deliciuos oysters, lamb, lentils and wine. And that it was really good. Also, I was so tired, I convinced myself I was having an allergic reaction. Until the owner assured me there were no anchovies in the building. And I shut up. And began to really relax. I love, love England.

End Day One.

Le Slouching on the job

So I finally finished Knit and Tonic's Le Slouche', a gift for my younger sister's birthday (yes, the birthday which occured three weeks ago). Modeled here by Gina Y of Loops and Marie of Five a Day. I used Debbie Bliss Aran Wool -- very squishy and soft. Loved it. Hate to mail it off. Now I just have to finish my brother's socks for his birthday (two days ago) and a purse for my other sister's birthday (a month and a half ago).

.....Um, scheduling issues, okay?

FINE! FINE! You want the truth? I'll give it to you! I've been reading Twilight, okay?!?!?! Is that what you wanted to hear? I, like every fourteen year-old girl on the planet, am now obsessed with a melodramiatic fictional teenage vampire, who, if the author can be believed, is just dreamy -- in a You Are My Density, I Mean My Destiny - like way (thanks to Adrienne for using George McFly to illustrate the point).

I'm halfway through the series, and terrified to look anywhere on the Internet for fear of spoilers.

Gawd. So embarrasing.

Pictured: teen angust is so sexy. Enough to get over the creepiness of a one-hundred-year-old dead guy in love with a seventeen year-old-live-girl. I wish my husband could carry me on his back as he ran through the woods. Wait, ... he can. ..."Training for a marathon" or vampire hiding as astronomer? He works in the dark, loves red meat. It. All. Makes. Sense. I'm the luckiest girl in the wooooooorld.

My bootie -- and berries

I went to Gene's Baby Bootie class at Loops last week. It was his first official Loops class (yay, Gene!) and he did a great job. These little stinkers are so easy. And so cute!

The buttons are functional and Gene has a lot of examples of really cute color combos with whimsical buttons. This is the same pattern that he used to make these.

You can get the free pattern here. Gene had some variations on it for row 25, but it's a really easy pattern to follow once you just sit down with the needles and do what it says. You know what I mean? How some patterns look complicated until you just start knitting and you get that ohhhhhhh, that's what they meant moment?

Now for the berries: MrKnotty came home with two pounds of strawberries for me last week. He's sweet that way. So for our Friday night dessert, I made KnottyLady Strawberry Tart. I had to wing it, because all of my cookbooks are in boxes, but I think it turned out great.

KnottyLady Strawberry Tart
1 pre-made pie crust
1 package of cream cheese
1 can sweetented condensed milk
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 pint strawberries
handful of mint leaves (optional)
drizzle of honey

Bake the pie crust, following the directions and then let it cool (I put mine in a tart pan -- that's why the sides are fluted). Combine the cream cheese, milk, lemon juice and vanilla. Beat until it's as smooth as you can get it. Pour it into the pie crust and let it set. Wash the mint leaves and dry them with a paper towel. Set them on top of the filling. Wash and slice the strawberries. Set them on top of the pie. Drizzle with honey. Try not to gorge yourself.

You could make two pies using the filling -- it's very rich. But if you like that kind of thing, go for it.

Knitting at the Messier Marathon

Messier Objects are a set of astronomical objects cataloged by French astronomer Charles Messier. How many of them you can see depends upon where you are and when you are. Messier Marathons are when astronomers, like MrKnotty, meet up and set up their telescopes, attempting to find all 110 objects in one night.

MrKnotty decided it was time for me to experience a Messier Marathon so, along with several other Oklahoma astronomers, we set out to Checotah -- that's right. Home of American Idol What's Her Nose With the Blond Hair.

While he set up the telescope, I checked out the scenery.

Then I came back to see he, and all the other astronomers, were still fiddling with their telescopes and comparing electronic gadgets.








So I wandered some more, meeting up with the local wildlife.



Assuming that I am a wuss who would not make it through the entire night, MrKnotty set up a tent and chairs for me. So, unable to resist, I sat down and knit.







Here's Checotah at nightfall. It was really peaceful out there.

One guy brought a huge telescope -- I had to climb a ladder to look through the eyepiece. It was really fun. I saw a spiral galaxy, the Orion Nebula and the rings of Saturn.

Eventually, I did wuss out. I abandoned MrKnotty and went to sleep in the tent. My punishment? The next day when we were driving home, I saw a mole on my neck that I didn't remember having before. Of course it was A TICK!!!!!!!! I made him pull the car over and pull that nasty thing off me. Then I spent the next several days convinced I was going to die of some exotic tick disease. Luckily, I didn't. But still: yuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

Our illusions create the world*

Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.

-- Mark Twain

The OU Illusion scarf, another donation to the TASM auction being held this Saturday. Knit by Colorcrazed. Modeled by my Realtor in my theoretical backyard.

If you aren't familiar with illusion knitting, the image you see on the right side of the scarf pops out only from an angle. So looking head-on, this appears to be a red and white striped scarf. From an angle, you see the OU logo. Cool, right?


*This title is derived from a quote by the French writer Didier Cauwelaert. "It is our illusions that create the world."

Killer cupcakes

For Sunday at Loops, I made these cupcakes:

Cute, yes? Sweet, innocent and ..... deadly?

OK, so I got the idea from a recent Martha Stewart Show which highlighted knitting. The marzipan knitted decorations are the idea of VeganYumYum and though time consuming (three hours with the help of my husband-assistant), are not difficult. I used this recipe. In the past, I've always been a fan of Everyday Food but this recipe..not so much. The icing was REALLY buttery and the cupcakes were pretty much banana nut muffins -- without the nuts or spices. But they were cute.

I had some leftover when we were leaving, so I set one aside for the owner, Shelley. She bit into it as she was driving to pick up her daughter. And then spit it out. Because Shelley is highly allergic to bananas.

So I guess what I'm saying is: Shelley, I swear I wasn't trying to kill you. :)

Tasty bag

Here it is finally! My first cable project: The Cable Couture Bag from Loops. You may ask, "Why would you let KnottyKitty anywhere near that bag?"

Well see, I was attempting to teach him self control. When I had knit half the bag, I put it in my knitting bag and set it aside on the kitchen table -- a spot where KnottyKitty knows he isn't supposed to go. I woke up the next morning to find that KnottyKitty had unpacked my knitting bag. All over the floor. And nibbled my Blue Sky Alpaca yarn into several separate strands.

Because of his naughty-ness, I had to reattach the skein with multiple knots (now found in the interior of the bag) and hope I would end up with enough yardage. I did. By literally two inches. Bad kitty!

Note the blue lining!

Hat Attack

YarnWhore and KnottyLady were very busy on Saturday knitting Hat Attack hats. They were all smiles the first time they tried to knit the oh-so-complicated-but-didn't-need-to-be pattern. What is that I smell??? Death by a hat for sure next week!

Screw Omaha

Listen, missy. Just because you've made a mighty fine scarf doesn't mean you can go off gallivanting about Nebraska restoring art and such. And who is going to do the thankless job of answering the phone? And how exactly is the broken dishwasher going to be needlessly filled? (sniff) Didn't think about THAT did you, miss Master's Degree? You better just check that attitude and..what? No, we're not crying. We just have something in our eye. Don't try to change the subject. This isn't about (sniff) us. OK, fine.

Good luck out there. Remember, you've dealt with Pam -- ergo you can deal with anything. Now go out there and make the art of the world more pretty. Don't worry about us. We'll just have some crazy-ass lunatic disconnecting calls and smacking on chewing gum. As it should be.

Yarn Whore is off the market

Very knotty ladies

I've been meaning to post these for a while.















Hey, um.... Tasha? Where's your knitting?




KnottyMama? Pictures? Pictures?

Also, YarnWhore, don't you have a PICTURE to POST? A Very Important Picture? Ahem?