Feelin' 'Preciated

I don't just knit while I'm at work.  I do actually sell stuff, too, but the needlecraft is a good way to pass the time when business is slow.  And no, I did not make the exquisite sweater.  It came to me courtesy of Anthropologie.

Allow me to feel good about myself for a moment.

Last week I got a call from Kim, the wife-half of my employers at the olive oil stand.  If I haven't said so before, she and her husband Larry (and their grown children, Kayla and Louis and their spouses, Mario and Justine) are fabulous people, each and every one of them.  Kind of breaks my heart to think that I may not get to work for them much longer if Rob gets hired at the zoo.  But zoos are Rob's calling and peddling oils and balsamics was only something I took on to support the fam, and I'll get to stay home more with Goonie, but still, working with people like the Pitonis is priceless.  I haven't worked with them since before Christmas with January turning the Pittsburgh Public Market into a veritable ghost town, so I've been manning the fort till next week when they return to work.  Larry left us with their Saab station wagon (heated seats!) while he went to Florida for most of the week, which also made our lives easier this past weekend while Rob went to interviews and I worked.  Anyway, Kim called to tell me how much she appreciated the work I did for them, that when they were away I treated the business like it was my baby, and that she had gotten me a card to say so, along with a Trader Joe's gift card that she subsequently lost.  She told me that she made arrangements with the folks at TJs and I could just go in and pick up the newly-issued card they had waiting for me.  So we stocked up on our usual fare - bread, eggs, bananas, spinach, pasta, and sauce, and even got a package of samosas to tide me over until we can afford to go out to a good Indian restaurant (I've been having mad hankerings for Indian cuisine ever since I started reading Jhumpa Lahiri.  I'm going to start developing a Bengali accent if I don't watch it).  Of course I could attempt to make some myself, but I fear I wouldn't do it justice.  Plus, I love how you get to serve yourself with a teaspoon little pastel candies mixed with fennel seeds from a dear glass dish on your way out to aid your digestion.  Yum city.

It's just so nice to feel appreciated in a job.  Nothing like having someone tell you (a parent, not an employer in this case) that you've been "nothing but trouble since (you) got here, and it's a known fact," to make you feel completely unwelcome.  Yikes.  Sure, the pay's not as good, and the medical benefits are nil, but I'll take my current job any day over that last one.  When I feel like my efforts are being recognized it makes me want to work that much harder, putting that much more of myself into what I do.  It's so worth it.

Hat

Lookie here! It's the little baby boy hat that I finished today on my down time at work. Thanks, Deb, for helping me work through my many mistakes. I plan to give this to my newest nephew who is due in a month and will need a hat to keep his noggin warm during those cold Alaskan winters (and summers, for that matter). I'm going to work up a matching piece - a scarf, sweaters, or booties, depending on which is most successful. 

Speaking of work, tomorrow will be the second BYDtW day (Bring Your Daughter to Work); today Rob had an interview for an education position at the zoo (went very well) and tomorrow he's going back for a job fair just in case he finds something more appealing than doing conservation education (but he's more than okay with that). Having her strapped to me in the Ergo is cool for a couple of hours, but no more than that; she's a goon on the move and gets antsy after that much time. If today's sales were any indication, though, Cosimano e Ferrari would do well to hire her on as an adjunct employee since a large portion of the product I sold today was done before Rob came to fetch her. That her name is Olive is a tad gimmicky - most folks assume I'm the owner or at least the brains behind the operation, so I have to explain that my daughter's name and career choice were purely coincidental.

And Monday be movin' day! Yesterday morning I was greeted by the sweet, melodious sounds of a moving crew, up and at 'em in the front apartment. I never thought she'd get out, but I believe she'll be out as of tomorrow, and I get the privilege of letting in the cleaning crew on Monday. It gives me peace of mind knowing that we'll be occupying a freshly- and professionally-cleaned apartment, even if it doesn't stay that way for long once we've moved into it.

Last noteworthy tidbit: we have a walking goon on our hands! That's right - she's mobile. Not graceful, mind you, and probably never will be if her parents have anything to do with it, but over the past couple of days she's taken her first fumbling steps. She stands pretty well, then moves her little legs, tottering towards me and finishes with a playful crash into my arms. She hasn't attempted this feat without someone else there to catch her.  No pictures yet to back this up, but in time...

To Party or Not to Party?

Up until about three days ago I scoffed at the idea of throwing a birthday party for a one year-old. It seemed like an excuse for adults to have a bash for other adults under the guise of a celebration for a babe. With Olive's 12-month mark swiftly approaching I've warmed a little to the thought of donning my party apron, whipping together a yummy-yet-wholesome beet cake (my childhood friend Jessica has promised to provide me with the recipe from her brother) with which Goonie can cover her face, and having over a slew of our Pittsburgh friends and family. Plus, the thought of entertaining a few guests is much more appealing since we'll be in the new apartment by then (I hope. I'm not convinced, however). Before I'd gotten to know a little one so well, I was under the impression that a 12 month-old would have no idea what was going on. Sure, she may not have a really clear understanding of why - celebrating the day of her birth - but I'm fully convinced that she'd appreciate the company and any new foods she can shovel into her curious craw. Rob is still in the dark as to my plans; I've only really told Nina about my newfound desire to be "that mom", and she couldn't have approved more wholeheartedly. She'll be there with bells on. So this is my unofficial invitation to the Olive Marigold Alice Cramer 1st Annual Birthday Free-for-All. And to any readers who were around me during the years from 2000-2003, you may recall that I don't take this sort of thing lightly. Some serious fun just might be had...

Library Night with the Khoreys

Alas, I got to spend very little time with my family today, as I was out of the house by 9, went to clean for nearly four hours at Judy's, the woman who took me on as her housekeeper, bless her heart. I popped back in on Rob and an ever-cheerful Goon and lunched with them, then was back out the door to do some pre-Khorey errands (including my first trip to the Google office; I needed to drop off Kellie's loaned copy of Healthy Sleep Habits, Healthy Child to Mike since Google is much closer to me than their house. What a cool place! I took the elevator up to the 7th floor and found a bunch of 20-something computer genius ragamuffins playing in what appeared to be an arcade just past the reception desk. I did see the cubicles where work supposedly gets done, but Kellie's right - I don't feel one bit sorry for my brother-in-law having to go into work day after day in such an environment). When the kids got home from school today we began what is to become our Tuesday ritual: going to one of the Carnegie public libraries so the kids can do their homework, read, and bring home books. No doubt that part of this plan is to minimize the cost of books; Nina tends to blow through a novel in two days, and is forever in need of another to take its place, making the library the only economical choice. While the kids read and did homework I perused the knitting literature, ogling sweater patterns that were far too complicated; I put them back on the shelf for when I'm ready.

After the library we dined at LuLu's Noodles down the way - the very first restaurant I visited when I came to Pittsburgh in 2003 - a surprise for Kellie's 19th birthday. The Ryans took us there for a welcome dinner when we moved here in August, too, so I'm kind of fond of the place. I got a bath tub-sized bowl of ramen miso, with slices of fried bean curd and plump shiitake mushrooms floating in the hearty broth. Most of it came home with me. Alex, being adventurous, ordered duck lo mean and loved it, though claimed that it "hurt his heart". We capped off the evening as we like to do - with Razzy Fresh. I got home at 9, long after my sweet girl had gone to bed, but if I must spend an evening with folks other than family, I'm happy to do it with the Khoreys. I do love my job!

The accompanying pictures have little to do with the content of the post, but I know that some readers (i.e. my mom) glaze over when they see all of that text with nothing to back it up, so I give you more Buggy in her high chair, a glimpse of our oil and vinegar cabinet, and a delectable blood orange-and-chocolate muffin from Sustenance, a bakery at the Public Market. I scored this for free on Saturday when the folks who had Sarah, the baker, hold it for them while they shopped and never returned. Really, it's almost too pretty to eat, but we forced it down.

When in Picksburgh...

That's right. The Stillers (yes, Mom, this is the way it's spelled here in Pittsburgh, and you've got to figure these folks know best) made it through their final hoop last night and are Super Bowl-bound. Rob came home from the aviary yesterday telling me how one of his fellow interns had a ticket to the game but didn't really feel like going and sitting in the cold. He would've demanded she fork over the coveted ticket (he'd give nearly anything to go to a game; if I were a big-shot artist and had loads of dough to spend on treats for my beloved, a Steelers ticket would be one of the first things I'd give him) if he didn't mind sitting for hours with her boyfriend's family. He did mind, however, and got to watch ol' Black 'n Gold defeat the Jets on my laptop in the warmth and comfort of our kitchen. I have to say that it was pretty great to see them win; after hearing tales from my sis about houses set ablaze, cars turned onto their tops and schools having 2-hour delays the following morning, I was itching to see dem Stillers make it to the Super Bowl while we're living here.

11 months

Oh my Goon! Olive was 11 months old yesterday. Before heading off to work I popped into the bedroom to bid farewell to my loves; Rob was lounging while Olive clambered around the bed and he told me she'd just said "Hello". This didn't come as a surprise since Nina had reported similarly the other day. What a mighty sweet goon. Her disposition has only warmed - all she does is grin and shriek with glee; I cannot imagine a more pleasant baby. The sleeping has continued with much success, and I'm looking forward to the move (still!) to see if she'll sleep a little longer since she always wakes with our alarms and stays awake. As for the move, we've been trying to be patient - when I viewed the front apartment on January 2nd I was given the impression that, any day now, the tenant would be vacating. Well, the space is still very much occupied, but our landlady tells us that she'll be moving next weekend. Rob's been bringing home orphaned plants from the aviary and they're residing in the safety of our galley kitchen for the time being; ain't no way we're inviting a goon to dig in the dirt. I imagine they'll flank our living room fireplace once we move.

Olive has taken after both Rob and me in the eating department...girlfriend sure does like putting away the eats. According to Rob, she gobbled up over 40 ounces of solid food yesterday and, to our delight, she appears to prefer the vegetables over the fruits. This is grand, since most babes favor the sweeter fruits and vegetables get the old heave-ho, but not for our goon. Give her some peas, green beans, squash, and sweet potato (which we often call kiazi kitamu,the name of one of the gorillas at the zoo - "sweet potato" in a African tongue), and she's pleased as punch.

Ryans' Drop-In and My Addiction

Yesterday when I got home from a late morning with the Khoreys (they had a 2-hour delay due to the freezing rain that paved the roads and sidewalks in a sheet of slick ice. Walking to and from their house with Olive in the Ergo proved treacherous and slow) I got a call from ma sis, who was in the area and wanted to stop by. How I love living close enough where quick pop-ins of this sort are a semi-regular occurrence! We so rarely get over to their end of town, though it's only twenty-four minutes away; luckily Kellie and the gang usually find themselves over here on the east side fairly often and Olive is always thrilled to play hostess to her aunt and cousins. They only stayed for a bit since several of the kids were due for their naps, but it was delightful, as usual. Jack regaled us with news about his cat named "Kitten" and how it's on a special diet to make it smaller. Jackie Boy is nobody's fool - who doesn't want a cat to get smaller and stay small? Nobody.

I never liked being the absentee aunt living all the way up in Maine. This arrangement suits us all far better. Kellie, being a dear, loaned me her copy of Claire Montgomerie's Easy Baby Knits, and I couldn't dive into the Wrap Top sweater quickly enough. It's a simple design and didn't require of me anything I didn't already have on hand. I was still knitting when Rob retired with a bird book he's reading on loan from the aviary, and I spent the better part of two hours obsessively untangling the mass of yarn and rolling it into a neat ball. I've gotta say, there is something so therapeutic about meticulously picking your way through a maze of snarls and setting free every last strand. Voila - my candy yarn ball!

I may've gotten only four hours of sleep as a result, but it was so worth it. I've got several other projects on my plate at the moment (finishing the pencil portrait of the Khoreys to give to Lisa and Doug for Christmas. More like Valentine's Day..., banging out the last 8-10 illustrations for Sage, the Sea Lion Who Lost Her Roar, a wedding portrait requested by a friend of a friend, and a hand project for someone here in Pittsburgh who found an ad of mine on craigslist), but nothing's getting done till this ball has been transferred to the needles. I need it gone. At least it's a productive addiction - with so many vices there's nothing to show for it but a hole in the wallet, lung, liver, or what have you. It's great, too, do develop this creative side that also has practical application. I love to draw and paint, but I struggle with the utilitarian end of it - what're you gonna do with that painting besides hang it on the wall and look at it? Probably not a durn thing. So I'm making this here sweater for my Goon, and I'm making it on the large side so she can wear it next winter, too. In fact, I'm so keen on this yarn that I may have to unravel it once she's outgrown it and turn it into something equally useful. If I have anything to say about it, Olive's going to be wearing this ball o' yarn for the next thirty years.

Oh, that Dollbear Iris. Always dealing out the smiles. Such a sweetiedoll. She and Olive are going to have loads of fun...
Olive can appreciate a good noggin.