Green Dilly Beans

Packer Backers

Even though I consider watching the Super Bowl to be part of my civic duty, right up there with watching the State of the Union address, I won't be watching today.  This year I'm only meeting half of my responsibilities as a citizen.  I watched GWB on Tuesday, but will miss out on Tom, Eli, and the rest today.  It's only the third week of the semester and I've already got a paper due this week.  To compensate, here's a story to cap off the football season.  I figured I should post it before the season comes to an end today.  For non-football and sports fans, have hope, there is knitting content in this story. 

Two weeks ago, I found myself at Lambeau Field for the NFC Championship game between the Green Bay Packers and the NY Giants.  B found a cheap flight to Minneapolis for the weekend and made the pilgrimage west.  Never mind that we didn't have tickets, the plan was to head to Green Bay and see what we could make happen.  The extent of our plan was as follows:  Rent a car and drive to Green Bay on Sunday morning.  Try to find tickets within our established, predetermined price point.  Bundle up with layers upon layers to resemble Randy "I can't put my arms down" Parker.  Meet up with B's hometown Wisconsin crew for tailgating.  Barring successful procurement of tickets, find a local sports bar from which to watch the game.  Even if we couldn't be at Lambeau, we were bound and determined to be among Packers fans in Packer Land. 

After considering the uncertainty of our plans and the certainty of 20 below wind chills, I concluded, "No matter what happens, I'm sure we'll have a story to tell at the end of the day."  A story indeed....

We drove into Green Bay late Sunday morning.  B found a StubHub kiosk, which he used to look up tickets on Craigslist, much to the dismay of the StubHub employees.  With luck, he found a guy who had posted tickets just that morning that fell within our budget.  We met him at a nearby restaurant and made the purchase.  Everything seemed legit, we made copious ATM withdrawals, and the tickets were ours.  We were in.

Of course, once we had the tickets, doubt set in.  What if our tickets were fake?  B stopped two guys walking down the road and asked them to compare our tickets to theirs.  They checked out our tickets and assured us they were real; they displayed the telltale watermark on the back to prevent fraudulent tickets.  Feeling better, we went to park and pile on the layers of winter clothes.  Our luck continued as we found a great free parking space in a neighborhood adjacent to the stadium.  As we were getting out of the car, B decided to check just one more time about our tickets.  He approached another group of fans walking by and asked to see their tickets.  This group actually got out their tickets to compare.  There was no doubt this time, our tickets were fake.

 

 

Real or Fake.  Can you tell the difference?

The friendly fans suggested that we report immediately to the police.  Maybe something could be done.  It was little consolation when they tried to reassure us that at least our tickets were "really good fakes."  We quickly found a police office who said that they had just brought in a suspect that matched our description.  I hadn't had much contact with the scalper, so B headed off with the officer to check out the lineup.  He soon returned to the car, our guy hadn't been among the suspects in the station lineup.  Even better, B reported that he had set up a sting operation with the police.  With all the layers we brought to bundle up, B selected new clothes to wear and avoid recognition by the scalper.  B called the guy from a police cell phone, pretending to be a new prospective buyer, and set up a rendez-vous point to make the purchase.  B and 4 cops approached the guy, who was found with fake tickets on him, and he was arrested. 

In appreciation for his help and cooperation, the police reserved two game tickets available for us at the will call box office.  We paid face value for them, unheard of for tickets to such a momentous playoff game.  After a roller coaster day, and with less then 30 minutes before the opening kick-off, we had bona fide tickets to the game. 

And what was I doing while B was off living out a real life episode of Cops?  I was knitting of course!

Someone (i.e. me) had to stay with the car because it was parked in a reserved section for luxury box ticket holders.  I happily obliged and set out to continue work on my third Clapotis.  Unfortunately, I had had to go to the bathroom since we first went to park the car and things were reaching the point of desperation.  I couldn't leave the car to go off in search of a porta-potty and there was no secluded spot nearby for me to go outside among the tailgating revelry.  I started to imagine the spectacle of me getting brought into the police station on public urination charges while B was at the same station playing the hero and bringing thieving suspects to justice.  Instead, I tried to focus on my knitting and ignore my increasingly vocal bladder.  Just as things were getting desperate, B came back the triumphant hero, and we made a beeline for the bathroom.  All's well that end's well, at least if you ignore the game's final score.

I won't dwell too much on the game's outcome.  It's enough to say that even two weeks later B keeps calling it a heart breaker.  After all we went through, it seemed only fair that the Pack should win.  If only things worked that way. 

Instead, I'll leave you with a visual to illustrate just how cold it was.  With every sip (or maybe glug) or beer, a film of liquid froze to the side of the glass.  It quickly built up into a layer of icy beer rimming the sides of every glass.  It was a race to the finish. 

The fashion statements were also a sight to see.  My top layers numbered 7 items of wool, fleece and down, plus the obligatory Packers jersey somewhere in between.  While I've never been a proponent of wearing fur coats, you have to love a team whose fans top off floor length furs with a cheesehead hat!

The Snowy Day

December 1st brought more than a Midwest snowstorm.  It also brought a baby! 

My sister delivered a yet-to-be-named baby girl at about 2:00 PM CST.  I'll be braving the snow to head up to Duluth and back tomorrow to see her.  Unfortunately, three paper deadlines loom on the horizon next week and will prevent me from staying any more than the day. 

Pending pictures and naming of new baby, I'll leave you with some Wooly Girl moccasins from North Dakota that I picked up for her at the MN Textile Center's Holiday Sale. 

Cropped, Round 2

I've been sifting through my blog archives and have come to the conclusion that I am very good at making you promises that I never follow up on, mostly along the lines of pictures that never materialize.  In the interest of turning over a new leaf, consider this one picture promise fulfilled. 

With significantly less hair, I'm finding that my ears are getting cold.  I didn't really think of this seasonal side effect when I took it all off in May.  I love the short hair, plus it gives me an excuse to knit more hats!

PS Anyone have favorite hat patterns to add to my Ravelry queue?

RIP Elephant Clock

I just witnessed a 42" x 30" mirror come crashing off the wall above my mantle, bringing down everything else around it, including my elephant clock. 
 

More than the broken possessions, I was upset that the mirror fell in the first place.  I was been so proud of the job I did hanging it, measuring not once, but twice to line up the hooks on each side with the brackets, getting everything to line up perfectly on the first try.  I saw my success in the DIY hanging job of a heavy object as a small victory in my single living adventure.  It was the kind of job that would have been much easier with two pairs of hands and two sets of eyes, but I had done it all by myself.

Less than 30 minutes after finishing the job, I was sitting on my couch when the mirror peeled the hanging brackets off the wall and fell towards me - I had a front row seat to my very own domestic disaster.  There are currently shards of glass and plaster everywhere, plus microscopic mirror dust produced by the impact of hitting the coffee table.  I'll need a big box to safely transport all these pieces to the dumpster out back and right now, the only box I have is a shoe box.  I'm finding it hard to ignore the irony of this particular  detail of my situation.  I just unloaded the last of our big moving boxes through Craigslist. 

Logistical cleanup details aside, I'm a little too shaken to think about cleaning up right now and it just feels more appropriate to sit down in the middle of the mess to post these pictures.

This next picture provides a glimpse of my seat on the couch (bottom left) ....

If anyone knows a good source (I'm already searching Ebay) for finding a vintage elephant clock, please let me know. 

Twelve Days

That's how long it took me to lose my keys since I began living on my own.  Now mind you, I didn't just lose them, my friend Amy sold them at a garage sale.  Yes, in an episode that was entirely my fault, the keys to my apartment were accidentally sold in a garage sale. 

Let me explain.....

My friends Amy and Courtney were organizing a garage sale to benefit Education for the Future Foundation, a non-profit organization they co-founded to fund secondary education for students in Kenya.  They were collecting donated goods to sell at the sale, I was looking to unload assorted items following our move.  It was a win-win situation.  I would get to clear out piles of unused goods from my apartment, the goods would avoid a date with the dumpster and find new life with another owner, and EFF would reap the financial proceeds from the sale. 

I packed all the items in a duffel bag, which was conveniently one of the items being donated to the sale, and delivered them to Amy without another thought.  It was only coming home later that night and fumbling for my keys as I got off the bus that I realized my error.  Leaving the apartment that morning and looking to free my hands to get out the doors, I had tucked my keys in an external pocket of the duffel bag.  A quick call to Amy revealed that the duffel bag had sold within the first hour; she had no idea who had bought it. 

Thankfully B and I had the foresight to leave the spare set of keys with his sister, who also lives in Mpls.  Spare keys would do me no good residing with B in NYC.  A bus trip delivered me to her door and a visit to the local hardware store has already produced a replacement set, so as far as minor crises go, this was pretty easy to fix. 

This story does, however, slightly account for the fact that I still owe you all, especially you, a post about my adventures at the State Fair.  Missing keys and other sidetracks aside, I promise I'll get an entry out as soon as I can.

Cropped

I almost forgot to mention it.....I cut my hair this week! At its longest point, I am now sporting about an inch and a half of locks. Pics will have to wait until Monday as B has the camera with him in Yosemite and won't be back until then. Sorry for the teaser, but you'll just have to wait!

Three down...

Three to go on the grad school app front. MLK Day marks the final application deadline and will be welcomed with warm and weary arms.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Just how many ch's does David throw down anyway? After numerous Googline attempts, I think I finally have an accurate count.  Regardless, I've got heaps of changes to share.  Although you wouldn't know it from the void that has swallowed gdb for the past 7-8 months, I've been a busy girl.  At the top of my life changes list:

1.  New Marriage!

2.  New Job!

Adding to the turmoil (and I use that word in the most positive sense) is that fact that these changes took place within one week of each other.  I learned about this job opportunity on a Thursday, submitted my resume on Friday, celebrated Heather's wedding on Saturday, interviewed on Monday, got the job offer on Tuesday, resigned from my old job on Wednesday, and left that same night for my wedding in Wisconsin.  Whew!

The new job is great, but as I have a no-blogging about the job policy, I'll just leave it at that.  I love my work, but it has me committed to lots of hours spent at the office.  I'll just move this post right on to the wedding bells...

I am wearing my grandmother's wedding dress.  She made it for her own wedding in 1951, my aunt wore it for her wedding in 1985, and here I am wearing it again in 2006.  You would never guess that it is 55 years old!

We had the perfect weather for Wisconsin in September, not too hot, not too cold.  Best of all, we avoided the predictions of a hail storm moving through the Midwest!

In other family craftiness, my mom knit me a lace shawl to wear for the reception.  The shawl pattern is  Violets by the River, a fitting choice given that violets are Wisconsin's state flower.  I have to brag that this is her first attempt at lace knitting of this kind.  The shawl turned out beautifully and was the perfect thing to keep me comfortably warm from the breeze blowing off Lake Michigan.  Thanks Mom!  Also, as you can see above, I changed out of my grandmother's dress for the reception and into a simple, knee length cocktail dress for the eating, drinking, and dancing that followed the ceremony.  I know myself well enough to know the likelihood of spilling, stepping on, or otherwise staining an ivory heirloom wedding dress!   

And here we have the continuation of a fine family wedding tradition, the pinata.  I was a flower girl for my aunt's wedding in 1985 and one of my strongest memories of that celebration was the pinata.  My uncle was the one to finally break it open, cementing his heroic status as the groom and gaining my five year old acceptance as a new member of my family.   After their wedding, I have always known that I wanted a pinata at my wedding.  This was the extent of my childhood wedding fantasies.  No elaborate dreams of the perfect wedding, just a stubborn insistence on a pinata and the chance to wear my grandmother's dress.  Twenty one years later, that same aunt and uncle, and their teenage children (my cousins), supplied the pinata and stuffings for my wedding.  It was such a perfect activity to include the kids, and from the expressions in the background, I think the adults enjoyed it as much as the children!

And last but not least, here we have the happy couple enjoying a tender moment.

 

The end.

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Am I really pushing 8 months sans post? Wow, all I can say is time sure does fly. Stayed tuned for a recap....

Rhymes Without Reason

Wednesday's weather (Snow !?) certainly seemed to be without reason, and April is National Poetry Month.  What better excuse to share some of my favorite rhymes with you.  Granfa Grig Had A Pig and Other Rhymes Without Reason, a collection of nursery rhymes illustrated and edited by Wallace Trip, has some of the funniest, raunchiest, and yet most beautiful illustrations ever to grace the pages of a children's book.  That's high praise to fit all three qualities in one book.  Now out of print, my dad recently found a copy on E-bay.  I find it just as raucously funny as an adult as I did as a kid.  Even if most kids have no idea what a drunken sot might be, it has a great ring to it!

Who comes here?
A Grenadier.
What do you want?
A pot of Beer.
Where is your money?
I've forgot.
Get you gone
You drunken sot.

   

This page offers an interesting commentary on this poem, a Mother Goose rhyme published in 1765, and the historical background behind many children's nursery rhymes and stories. 

No more rhyming now, I mean it!  Anybody wanna peanut?