One last thing …

If you left a comment here yesterday but haven't heard from me by e-mail, please contact me at shrinkingknitter AT citynet DOT net [you know the drill]. Thanks!

I only live here

I wasn't born in West Virginia, although my father was. That make me half a Mountaineer. After last night's presidential primary, I'd just as soon not admit it.

My husband is a born-and-bred West Virginian, but believe me we are not your typical mountain mama and redneck hillbilly. More of them made it to the polls than we'd hoped.

Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I worked hard for Barack Obama in West Virginia. Not as hard as some, and I guess any effort was futile. When you hang out with like-minded folks, it's hard to see that you're swimming against the stream. In the past two months we've met some creative, intelligent, forward-thinking, progressive people who truly want to see this country make a change. We found ourselves hopeful that maybe, maybe, West Virginia could be a closer-than-expected win for Billary.

Um, not so much.

More disturbing than the final results, in which Obama won not a single county in this whole freaking state, were the exit polls. Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I watched, horrified, as those results flashed on our television screen in a steady stream, repeatedly defining West Virginians as redneck racists.

West Virginia's five electoral college votes just might make a difference in the final outcome this November, as they would have in the last presidential election.

After last night, I have very little hope of getting it right this time, either.

Friday Quote Day

Knowing is not enough; we must apply.
Willing is not enough; we must do.
~ Johann von Goeth

I'm sure I've said this before, but … DUH!

But then that's how most quotes affect me. I read something pithy and wise said by someone [usually] famous and go, "Wow! I coulda had a V-8!" Or the equivalent thereof.

Today's quote works for sooo many situations, including:

• Food choices
• To snack or not to snack?
• Time spent working out
• Workout activities
• Hell, whether to work out at all!

And, of course, today's quote also works when the day ahead looks like a mountain which must be climbed, or else.

This much I know: Everyone responds better to a soft word and a kind heart. I not only need to apply this, I need to be willing to apply it.

I'll get around to working out consistently when life settles down. Which should be, oh, sometime before 2009.

I hope.

To blog or not to blog

Late in a week during which this post was linked to from both DietGirl and Elastic Waist – heady company, indeed – I find myself with very little time to write anything for newcomers to read.

Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I spent much of the past couple of weeks with his mother [who was finally released from the hospital yesterday], and I will be taking yet another blog break beginning Sunday, one I'm very much looking forward to, as it will mean spending time with my younger and newest granddaughter.

How do you bloggers with jobs, families, workout routines and other interests manage to keep up the blogging pace? I'm fortunate to not work outside my home, my children are grown, I have two easy-to-manage dogs and a husband who knows how to [mostly] take care of himself. Oh, and I like to knit. When I have time.

Knitting was, at one time, an all-consuming passion. I'm sure my children were, at times, thisclose to committing me. My interest in fiber arts has slowed down considerably; three or four [or more!] hours of knitting daily has shrunk to maybe an hour in the evening, while watching the news and Jeopardy. [Oh, my, don't I sound old?]

And workouts? You haven't read much about running or weight-training or rowing lately, have you? I ordered and received the new cable for the rowing machine more than a month ago, but have I installed it yet? Nope. If I had the camera handy, I'd post a photo of the envelope containing the cable, still sitting on the rowing machine waiting for repair.

The dumbbells made it all the way to Florida and back, on the floor of the back seat of my car, where they still are. Actually they're probably under the seat by now. Have I looked for them? What do you think?

The Garmin – a much-coveted running tool and one I'm thrilled to finally own – has accompanied me on exactly one run since its delivery. ONE! Granted the weather has been pretty sucky, but still. There've been at least a couple of nice, run-outside-worthy days in the past month here in the Middle of Nowhere, but I've been otherwise occupied.

I'm looking forward, someday, to life settling down again. In the meantime, I think I may need to take a time management course.

When I can find the time.

I love butter

I know it's rather heretical to talk about butter on a weight-loss blog, but hear me out. I'm one of the [probably] few 'dieters' who still eats real, honest-to-goodness butter. I've flirted with margarine over the years, and even took a turn around the dance floor with Smart Balance Buttery Spread.

But I always come back to butter, for at least a couple of what I think are very good reasons.

First, it's a natural food product. No chemicals, no preservatives, just cow's milk churned into buttery goodness. My butter package lists two ingredients: Pasteurized cream and salt.

Second, there's very little waste. The butter on my grocer's shelf is wrapped in paper, four sticks to a cardboard box. I grew up eating margarine, which was presented in little plastic tubs with lids. I swear my mother saved every one of those containers; they would tumble out of the cupboard every time you opened the door. One company even made their bowls from a fairly heavy plastic. We ate cereal and ice cream from those bowls, which are probably still sitting in the landfill in my childhood home town.

Third, of course, butter tastes great!

And finally, like parmesan cheese, it doesn't take much to satisfy. With butter, a little bit truly does go a long way. A pat on an English muffin, two on a baked potato, a little melted butter on a bowl of popcorn – just enough to give you that yummy mouthfeel. Molly McButter just can't compete.

Besides, if you use too much it'll stain the front of your shirt. Ask me how I know. Heh.

After all, tomorrow is another day

Woke up with a slightly elevated temperature, which was back down to semi-normal by noon, when the power went out.

Three hours later the sun popped out for a second, long enough for me to post this, and then the heavens parted. Celestial choirs didn't sing, but the rains came, heavily. I look for the power to go back out again any minute.

As today's title suggests, I'm channeling that scrappy little Scarlet O'Hara.

Manana, y'all.

Monday mishmash

Remember last week when we were talking about habits and excellence and housework and meal plans? [Thanks for your comments – nice to know I wasn't the only one who grew up having meat loaf on Wednesday and fried chicken every Sunday.] My Google home page has a sense of humor; this was yesterday's Quote of the Day:

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Another year of Oscars has come and gone; this is the first year in a long time I've actually seen any of the nominated films. Of course I wanted the ones I'd seen to win; alas, the only cheering from the Middle of Nowhere was for Diablo Cody, who took the award for best screenwriting [Juno].

It's not a whole heck of a lot of fun watching the Academy Awards with Mr. Shrinking Knitter. I'd much prefer to be my daughter's sous chef, helping her prepare party food for two days prior to the big night and then keeping the platters full during the telecast while she and her girlfriends dish about the designer dresses. She didn't keep the tradition going when she changed states a few years ago; I forgot to even ask if she decided to have a party this year. [Did you?]

Mr. Shrinking Knitter thinks the whole 'who are you wearing' and 'doesn't she look divine' patter is "silly." He "doesn't get it." But since he'd seen the same nominated films I had, he was at least mildly interested, and we now want to see Michael Clayton [currently on Pay-Per-View, how handy is that?] and No Country for Old Men.

Oh, and my favorite dress was definitely Cameron Diaz's. With Helen Mirren a close second. And I hope Ellen Page keeps making movies for the rest of my life.

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Since this blog is the Shrinking Knitter, how about some knitting content? The three Big Bad Baby Blankets for the triplets are finished – washed, dried, all the ends have been woven in and clipped off.

I only wish I'd made them a teensy bit larger. They're 28 inches square, which is the size the pattern said to make them, but they look just about big enough to cover a car seat on a chilly morning; nothing more. For future reference, if you're going to make a baby blanket it ought to be at least three feet square. In my not-so-humble opinion.

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In addition to a Tiny Kroger, we also have a Tiny Hospital here in the Middle of Nowhere, which is where Mr. Shrinking Knitter's mother has spent the past week. [Tiny Hospital has 30 patient beds, maybe, and if you're a child or pregnant you have to go somewhere else.] ] Yesterday she was transferred to Larger Hospital [but still relatively small] in a nearby town, one with a pulmonary specialist who, we hope, will be able to knock this respiratory infection or bronchitis or whatever she has for a loop. Hospitals really are no place for sick people; she's been declining rather than improving all week.

Since Larger Hospital is about an hour away [as is everything here in the Middle of Nowhere], I probably won't be writing much for the next couple [we hope] of days. I'm taking advantage of this early-morning window of opportunity to fill up your Google Reader and I hope my stats won't fall too far if I miss a day or two.