A sock is born!

Well really this sock is so enormous I could stuff a leather bottom into it and call it a moccasin. I finally got over my fears of heel turning, gusset stitches and toe decreases and have a finished sock to show for it. This fine piece of knittery to the right here took me a few weeks to knit up. Yesterday, I decided I needed to get cracking on its buddy, and now I'm more than half-way through having completed the gusset shaping. All I've left is the foot which knits up fast. This sock is on display underneath a scarf I knit that I'm going to be replicating with some color modifications for Aganippe. I can't wait to hit my favorite scarf pattern again! Thanks, Maestro!

In other news I've taken up yoga. I went to my first class ever Saturday and afterwards experienced the state my buddy Belerophon refers to as "yoga bliss". This is ashtanga style which, I've been told, focuses on the upper body; shoulders and whatnot. I couldn't tell you how ashtanga compares to other yoga styles, though. I felt so great on Saturday I curled up into a blanket and napped for a few hours. I'm napping dysfunctional so this took me by surprise. I was still more surprised to find myself actually falling asleep that night. Go yoga! I thought of you, Persephone, when it came time to do handstands in the class. Everyone who was going for it was instructed to take our mats to the walls. You are not alone. And now that I've actually attempted a handstand, and only managed to get into position with the overwhelming efforts of my instructor, I can say that your wall free handstand style is totally bad ass and really mean it. So now I've done yoga, and I completely adore it. It really kicked my ass, too.

Grass fed dairy!

I surrender to Traders Point Creamery, located on the northwest side of Indy. Today, after my workout I had what I thought I'd never eat: cottage cheese topped with lentils. I had to put cumin and garam masala in to deal with the lentil flavor, but that worked out. The cottage cheese was made by Traders Point. Holy crap, I've never eaten cottage cheese this good before. I've decided that I'm a friend of that farm so here are my reasons why they are great.

• They make a great tasting product. If it doesn't taste good why bother? Their yogurt has won best yogurt in the nation for 05 and 06, and their cheeses have placed second in those years as well. And as I've personally testified the chocolate milk is transformational. You have not tasted chocolate milk this good before. Trust.
  
• The product is super good for you: Organically grass fed and grazed cows. Cows are supposed to eat grass and roam in a pasture, but often times dairy cows' diets are supplemented with grain and all manner of things to boost production. This reduces the amount of good stuff in the fat of the milk. The fat is where you get all the stuff that boosts your immune system. They don't homogenize their milk which means they don't pulverize the fat cells. I don't know what that means to our waistlines, but I'm thinking that anything that keeps a food closer to its natural state makes it better for us to eat. Don't even get me started on antibiotics and growth hormones.
  
• They're local. We're not the cheese state, but apparently someone around here knows how to make great cheese. That is just great for Indiana. Purchasing Traders Point products supports local business - tasty local business.
  
• The packaging is retro cool. Milk in a glass bottle! The bottle is reusable, and totally recyclable. The yogurt comes in the same packaging. Safety Tip read that label. I thought I had plain yogurt when I actually had plain milk. But I was transported to the Swiss Alps when I had a glass of that fabulous fluid.
• Stick it to the man. So this isn't the strongest reason to make this purchase, but I like to consider it when I'm eating my super yummy cottage cheese. Every dollar you spend on small ops farms with excellent production practices is a dollar diverted from a company that boosts production through bad production practices. Reducing their market share is the best argument to get them to change their practices. If it's not profitable they will adapt.
  

Yes, it's a buck or two extra and they don't have any fat free options, but this is the best dairy product you can put in your belly. So if you're walking through your grocery store's dairy aisle and you happen to see them, go ahead and try some out.

Hip Hip Hooray only light on the hips

I returned to the gym a couple months ago warming up to my current workout level. It takes me a while to ease into a new routine so I like to get a head start. Also, I was prompted by the appearance of knee flab. Seriously, I had saggy knees, and this wasn't going to stand. After years of working out and more or less modifying my eating habits I wasn't going to allow this backslide to transform into an avalanche. I mentioned how I've gained weight and I have to watch it only for people to reply that I look skinny as ever. Well, I don't just want to be small. In fact, I don't give a fig if I'm small, what size I am, or how much I weigh. These are just measurements which, true, are helpful guidelines providing objective progress reports, but my ultimate metric is to look good naked. What's the point of all the numbers?

Knee flab. I had developed a small fat fold around my knees. I hadn't gained much weight, but my body was sagging. Cellulite is a fact of life for women who are not professional athletes. That's just how it is. Most women - drop dead gorgeous too - have some cellulite. I've let go of saying goodbye to the bag of nickels nestled just above my hamstrings. However, I know the amount can be reduced and the resulting look smooths out my legs nicely. I also know that this only happens after years of healthy eating and regular exercise, and I'm now learning that slacking off for a year will bring it all back. There's some motivation for me to stay on the treadmill.

So why all the fanfare? This morning, I noticed that the knee flab was gone. I've officially hit my first fitness goal. I don't think I've lost any weight. I know I haven't gone done any pants sizes, but by jing my knees have firmed up! I started cardio only workouts sporadically since Thanksgiving, I started earnestly sweating at least three days a week around Christmas. Recently, I included weights in my routine and I'm working out four days a week. Resistance or weight training is essential to weight loss since muscle cells burn more calories than fat cells. Bottom line: pumping iron increases metabolism.

Now that I am taking my workout seriously, perhaps it's time for me to start dieting. I'm so conflicted on the diet thing. I don't want to modify my eating habits to a level that I'm not going to sustain, but I know that if I slog through for a few months then my body will naturally want to stick to the new regime. Ultimately, I will ease into restricting my diet just like I eased into increasing my workout.

Bad Robot!

This is a politics free zone today. For reactions to Hillary's win in New Hampshire you'll want to go through the list of blogs on the right. Political races don't interest me much, and I have no eye for the juicy tidbits. Democracy is perhaps the best system available, but I'm leery of any system that allows a large group of people to tell a larger group of people what to do because when separated out they make up the largest splinter. I look at all these goings on like an 18th century sailor. I'm completely powerless against the wind and the tides, and I can only predict them with the shortest of foresights. When it comes to politics I like the big e-z hold building blocks of ethics and morality. When you boil it down, I like the theory. I couldn't tell you how to get to what I think is the tao of running a nation making a neat linear progression from where we are today to whenever we get things squared away in Scrawlvania, my happy imaginary nation.

But I'm digressing into the topic I was avoiding.


Today, marks the first day since December 29 that I am free from Lost. I finished watching the third season last night, and I'm looking forward to the season premier on the 31st. Serious people have written quite a bit about the show. I am not one of these people. Last night I was drawing comparisons from Lost to The Smurfs with Benjamin playing the role of Gargamel, his people playing collectively filling the role of Azrael, Sawyer is Greedy Smurf. Sayid is Sneaky Smurf. Hurley is Clumsy Smurf. Locke is Vanity Smurf (it's a stretch, but I can see it), Jack is Papa Smurf and naturally Kate is Smurfette. Claire is Mother Nature. The list goes on. Why can't Benjamin just leave these poor people alone to have their Smurfy good time while they wait for rescue? I guess the show would devolve into a beach party shoot then. Sun and Jin would be doing the bump by the campfire. Chaos.

Oh gawd, I have the beginnings of three posts piling up so in the spirit of getting it out there I'm going to suck it up and finish this one. I've found that I actually have serious analysis of the program, and that will be the focus of my next post.

Updates

I just got back from a vendor provided lunch (shh!) at a good burger joint. Naturally, I had to have a burger regardless of the fact that I'm involved in this Biggest Loser program with the Mean Girls, and I'm so glad I did. They cooked it as "rare as you dare" just like I asked which is something that I've simply not encountered in a burger restaurant before. Red "juice" was oozing out of it. However, it was enormous and now I'm a little overfull.

I finished the second season of Lost. That's right. I watched something like 48 episodes of the same television program in five days. And I managed to see some roller derby and attend a warm gathering for New Years Eve.

In knitting news I've finished another scarf, knit 2 hats (one on straight needles one on circular) and now I'm working on a sock on double points. I've gone knitting mad.

That's it for blogging news. Aren't you glad I updated?

Free basing television

Let me start by explaining that until recently I had not seen an entire episode of Lost.

Occasionally, I avoid television with its cold glow and its insidious companion the ass enlarging sofa. I have a love hate relationship with my television and recliner, and I list them as co-dependent relationships. Generally, I don't like what's airing, and I avoid spending any cycles trying to find anything that I'll like for fear of becoming a couch potato. I have honed a television force field that keeps me in the dark about potentially entertaining programs for fear that I will otherwise find myself unable to not watch. I've been slowly dismantling my entertainment machinery first by letting go of cable, then the Tivo service, and reducing video game play.

Why no TV? I know plenty of people who can talk about TV very entertainingly. In fact there are times when I enjoy listening or reading these descriptions more than I enjoy consuming the actual medium. I myself do not share this talent. I tend to swallow shows whole without actually chewing, and come out at the other end a little dazed and without comment. What this left me with was a lot of time devoted to an occupation from which I got little social mileage. In short: it made me boring.

But I like television shows. I especially like "good television" and at the risk of flinging about a subjective term like its gospel I think I can point to some safe nominations. I appreciate a well crafted, character driven story line, good use of sound track, and a gripping drama. If a writing team adds suspense or mystery of any sort then I'm helplessly hooked. I love that "what's going to happen next?" feeling. I gobbled up shows like Six Feet Under and The Sopranos. There's nothing wrong specifically with television programs. What I find difficult is my preferred method of ingesting them, a method I believe I can point to The Sopranos for popularizing.

I freebase TV whenever possible. I will pull out a season or two of a show on DVD, plop down on my recliner in my jammies, and watch television until there's nothing left to watch. I think it's the best way to consume television: all at once. I watched the final two seasons of the Sopranos in a matter of days while I was laid up at home on antibiotics. This is similar to how I caught up to the Sopranos years ago. The feeling of staying on the couch and watching images on a screen for hours on end eventually made me feel sluggish and altogether unhealthy, but I enjoyed it all the same. So when I got together with my friends around the holidays this year, and they presented me with a plan to get caught up with the last three seasons of Lost by January 31st, I was reluctant to answer the call.

I went over to H's house Friday after work. Well, I kinda skived off work deciding that working between Christmas and New Year's is not for me. I went over to his place to knit. I was well on my way to finishing the hat I started on circular needles, and I missed our last knitting session. While I was there he threw Lost into the DVD player and that was pretty much it for me. Smart man. I think H knew there was a strong possibility that I might not get cracking on my mission so just like a good dealer he gave me a taste. Lost has all the elements of programming against which I am defenseless and concentrates them into a powerful elixir. In short this show is like crack, and I am clearly on the rock. H lent me season one Friday night, and I finished it before I went to bed Saturday night... Technically Sunday morning. I was at his doorstep Sunday for season two. Initially I was concerned that I did not have enough time to watch approximately 60 hours of television before January 31st. Now my concern is getting through the inevitable withdrawal while I'm waiting for season four to air. I'm comforted that I'll be forced to watch the show on a weekly basis. I'll be using that as a methadone program until the season ends this Summer.

Back from the holidays

I've returned to work after five glorious days full of family togetherness. Surprisingly, I arrived at the office earlier than usual which made me feel virtuous enough to blog the day away while everything is running on a holiday skeleton crew. This suits me fine: I can get my body back in the rhythm of waking up before dawn and spend some time recollecting my holiday cheer. About which...

My siblings travel from far flung cities in the US and sometimes Mexico once a year to central Indiana in order to celebrate Christmas together, and with the exception of fifth born everyone was here. Fifth born was sorely missed, but we rallied with Christmas cheer all the same. Sunday I picked up second born and his wife, Pipi, at the airport. Second born and I spent Sunday playing video games. I introduced him to Guitar Hero and Tony Hawk Project 8. It went over well. Sunday night was spent shoveling H's fabulous confections in my maw and knitting with Saraswati while trying to ignore Lost. I've made a loose verbal commitment to catch up on three seasons of the show by the opener on January 31st. I fear I may have overextended myself. I am a television camel. I will avoid television for weeks, but put a series of DVDs in front of me and I'll devour them until my muscles atrophy and I need assistance to rise up from the couch. Regardless, this may just be too much for me.

Monday, third born and his adorable clan arrived from the Rockies. These are healthy people. They eat healthy organic, low-sugar foods, and it's always humorous to watch them adapt to a house that's chock full of junk food with children and good natured but otherwise negligent adults who think it's perfectly fine to "watch" a child by parking it on the couch in front of a television set, a bag of corn chips, and a bowl of guacamole. Come sit with Grampa, we're watching the News Hour. Inexplicably, the kids' focus moves away from the sharp and oh so hunky Jim Lehrer to a bowl full of tasty green mash. Second born bopped back and forth between the kitchen and the family room attempting to persuade his two-year-old to "break the chip for a single dip". The child dutifully paused and looked up at his father with his face smeared green, and when daddy left he returned to using his tortilla chip as a spoon to ladle guacamole into his mouth. I was sitting in an easy chair watching the whole thing. Honestly, I was aghast that second born was putting the kabash on double dipping. I find people who insist on single dipping to be a bit germ phobic. Unless a person is sick I find it a strange practice. I don't have any cooties. Martha, their mother, doesn't agree with this laissez-fair method of child rearing, and there are times when I believe she gets a little frustrated with our 'village'. But she has mellowed to the point of accepting that this is how the holidays look and resigned herself to smolder in silence.

Monday night, second born and I bonded over video games. As is tradition in my parents' house someone was awake at all times leading up to Christmas morning. We are a family of night owls, and Christmas exacerbates the whole situation. We played in shifts until four in the morning. I took this time to finish a hat to match my grey scarf. It's a beanie style hat, and it's left me of the opinion that seaming is not my favorite. I'll be avoiding straight needles for some time I believe. Five am rolled around and the kids who went to bed early were up. I removed myself from the couch and crashed in their room until just before ten. I would have slept longer, but the clock was wrong and I was fooled into thinking it was nearly eleven. I felt out of sorts for the rest of the day.

First born arrived Christmas day around one in the afternoon with her on again off again Mans. Since "family togetherness" is shoved into a few conscious hours everyday, three people were sent to the airport to pick up two. Really, if there was a passenger van available we probably would have stuffed the whole family in it. Seats in the car were sought after, and I'm glad I got a spot. Second born, Pipi, and I went to the airport sporting reindeer antlers purchased on impulse at the only store open at half past eight on Christmas Eve. Naturally, we had antlers for First born and Mans.

Christmas night was spent at Saraswati's parents' house, as is tradition. We rocked out to Guitar Hero, knitted a bunch, played a couple kick ass rounds of Taboo, and tied it up with Soul Calibur 2.

I'll be honest, this blow by blow description of Christmas is getting boring. It went really well, and was the first Christmas I can think of where I didn't find myself wanting to strangle anyone. Everyone seemed to get along really well, and I had a great time. That's really the bottom line for me.