BFFs

Best friends. What does that term mean? Who are your best friends? Are they the kids in the neighborhood you grew up with? Your high school clique? Sorority sisters?

Over the past year I have discovered a whole new meaning for the term best friends. A year ago I joined Ravelry at the insistence of my youngest sister who found her reasons difficult to describe but thought for sure I needed to be part of the Rav crowd. I spent a few months looking at boards, reading through forum threads, learning a lot about knitting, yarn, technique and adding many patterns to my qeue. I really liked Ravelry. And then I found The Bravo Whores a Ravelry group formed to dish on the Bravo network shows.

It's not every day you find a group of women with whom you have so much in common as the BWs do. We could collectively fill in "all of the above" when completing any survey. Our ages run from the 20's to the 60's, we are East coasters, New Englanders, Southerners, West and NW coasters and most places in between. We are of different ethnicities. Yet we have the same sense of humour, the same sense of integrity and a feeling of sister-like love for each other. We know and care for each other the way best friends do. Over the past year we have offered support during times of loss, offered advice about men and life, worried about each other's children, followed fellow BWs as they moved across the country while waiting as our friends came back from oversea adventures. We have shared gifts and stories, been silly and serious, given and received medical advice, stayed up for hours laughing with each other and yet would not be able to pick out one another in a line up.

I think the BWs are a new definition of best friends. Holla at ya hos!

Ya know those days when your fat pants feel tight?

So I'm minding my business this morning (sorta), looking out the window onto aptly named Church St in my little hamlet when I am blinded by the sight of one of my neighbors. In the early morning cold stands this young thing with her man, him working fervously on her car while she dispenses advice. And I can't help but notice (as I have such impeccable taste myself) that she is wearing red flannel pj bottoms which have large pictures of a dog face and WHADDUP DAWG written on them in flaming ass yellow. Not only that, these pants are a tad too tight around the buttocks and as she moves her butt sways in the breeze.

To compliment this ensemble my neighb is sporting black Uggs, a big black down jacket, a large cup of coffee and the requisite cigarette. And I think to myself, "And I thought the PR finalists showed questionable taste at the tents in NYC this week." I could hear Tim saying, "Frankly I'm worried" as he held his chn while Nina clucked and shook her head. Guest judge SJP would be saying that she couldn't see Carrie wearing this outfit on the show. Someone would wonder aloud about use of the Blue Fly wall of accessories and Heidi, Heidi would be saying "Auf weiderstein". (only she'd spell it correctly).

It made me long desperately for some real fashion and the 5th season of Project Runway while being afraid to think what the cast of "The Real Housewives of the Hudson Valley" would look like. And I strolled across the hall to my room, hoping this morning my fat pants would fit.

You say it's my birthday?

So yesterday on the occasion of my 58th birthday I ventured forth to purchase a spring bag. The colour of this photo is misleading as it is more a grass green (like this lettering) but it is beautious and I love it. I have no business buying yet another bag as I have quite a collection of gorgeous handbags but they make me happy and therefore ....

I have lots to be thankful as I begin my 59th year. I have a great little house which I will soon be tearing apart with my brother. I am going to be changing the configuration of the rooms, moving walls, adding windows and French doors to the outside. The front of the house will become the rear, the rear the front. The reasons will be evident as time marches forward as I will post pictures.

And I have my delightful dogs who have enjoyed (I think) having me home this week. We have spent much time walking the village roads, looking at trees for signs of life. Today we even spotted our first robin. Spring can't be too far away, can it?

There is my knitting which I am really enjoying. The lace thing has continued to be a challenge despite my statements to the contrary earlier this month. I am reminded that pride indeed does go before the fall. As you can see the lace I am working on currently is coming along slowly but will be beautiful when complete.

And I also purchased and just received some watermelon yarn from which I will probably knit mittens. I had never even heard about such a yarn until the other day when I was browsing through the Ravelry boards. Who makes the best watermelon yarn? was the questions. Darned if I knew but I was gonna find out. So I went on line, found that most shoppes had no watermelon yarn left on their shelves. But with Irish luck I did find some yarn at The Loopy Ewe. The yarn was ordered, shipped and received within 4 days. I highly recommend this shoppe.

Someday, hopefully soon, I will learn how to load pictures from Flickr to my blog and have them actually end up where I want them. In the meanwhile .... enjoy!!

Look I can knit lace

I knew I could do it. I can knit lace. I have joined the bi-peds of the knitting world and have created a knitted lace cowl from the book Artic Lace and darn I am proud.
Now it's off to try the February Lady sweater ... when the yarn arrives!

"Who knows where the time goes..."

a beautiful song from the '60s, sung by Judy Colins.

This has been a weekend of wondering ... where does time go? My mother, the grande dame of our family, turned 80 yesterday and as one of my sisters said, "she will always be young to me" a sentiment with which I agree. Our mother was always the elegant lady in our neighborhood. Tall with long legs, beautiful blue eyes and blond hair our mother loved to garden and each evening after dinner we would take a garden tour to admire her handiwork. During the summer months our mother would lie out by the pool, tanning, reading and drinking iced coffee. She always had a beautiful tan which she would offset with her wardrobe of blues and whites. Mother is also an RN, a tradition in our family for many generations. She returned to her profession after all of her children were in school and worked for many years. I remember her dressing in her white uniform, pinning her cap on in the bathroom mirror before she left for work. I was always very proud of my mother's profession.

Now mother is retired and living with our father in the Arizona desert. She still gardens though in pots now instead of large plots of land. She has maintained both her elegance and beauty as she's grown older. The sun is now too strong to sit in so instead she and our father take day trips throughout Arizona seeking out late winter flowers, flocks of birds and native American ruins. So different from her early days on a dairy farm in Dutchess County, NY. And she tells me "I don't feel eighty. I remember turning 50 and thinking 80 was old." And I tell her that at almost 58, 80 doesn't seem old to me ... at all.

In our minds we will always be young and beautiful. It's a nice place to be.