What do you get when you cross Christmas with lots of yarn and fabulous patterns?

My annual challenge has arrived: Find Christmas presents for all of my friends while staying within my (rather lacking) budget.
And in my ruminations on how exactly to attain presents for approximately twenty plus people, I realized I could (as they say) kill two birds with one stone.
Remember when I was looking for good knitting patterns, because of my surplus of super nice yarn? Well, it's okay if you don't. But now I've decided to provide for half of my christmas presents by knitting them awesome things. And by awesome, I mean awesome. And easy.

In my search for a koala bear pattern (for a friend of mine who heavily resembles a koala bear. He's also Jewish, but I'm still giving him his present on Christmas, especially since Hannukah starts today, and I haven't even started it), I found a site with a list of fun animal patterns, and I've taken a good lot of ideas from there.
So, lo and behold...
my project list for the next three weeks:

A little Koala
Probably a Tree Ornament
Finger Puppets. BEST GIFT EVER.
Probably more ornaments. Piggy?
And the best one yet: DINOS
On top of this, I'm starting a hat and a scarf so that I don't freeze this winter.
All in all, I ought to be happily knitting very soon.

Winter and Germs and Collard Greens? Oh my, oh my.

Snow has fallen
and stayed fallen
blanketing the mud and green
covering up the cracks
and filling in the potholes
of the roads we crack and curve

Dear winter,
you're here
and so am I.





Thanksgiving break brought snowfall almost everyday. It's not quite enough to make legitimate snowbanks, but it's just a slight blanket over everything. It puts me in a good Christmas mood, which is nice, because there are plenty of seasonal things to do. Friday night will be our annual Classy Christmas Shopping, where we all head downtown to buy presents for each other locally (sneakily, because we all go together...to buy gifts for each other). This year we're making it a ladies night, because we decided not only that it would work better logistically (as in, we can get our gifts for the boys without them being around), but that boys are impatient shoppers. Downtown is not only a great place to shop for Christmas because it tends to be cheaper and much much more unique, as well as local, but because our downtown is so beautiful in the snow. The sun sets super early, so even when we go right after school, the streetlights come up to deter the falling dark and cast everything into a golden orange glow, the snow glistening nearby. Shopowners put up little lights in their windows and wreaths on their doors. The bagel shop puts out a menorah, and there's eggnog and cider enough to make everyone glad.

My beautiful city in the snow

We still haven't picked our collard greens, and I suppose now it's too late. They're a really hardy vegetable, okay to eat after the first frost. But after the first three snows, I'm not so sure.
With winter (which, by the way, is defined by the temperature and snowfall in Maine, not the date) comes a whole 'nother season, one much less pleasant. The season of SICK. Everyone around me has a cold or a flu, so I know that this tickle in the back of my throat has got to be something. Hellooo throatcoat.
I'm of the conviction that all of that crap about using Germ-x or whatever to clear away germs is a load of bullshit. You need germs to live long, and Germ-x doesn't actually kill anything unless you wash your hands right before. There are little hand sanitizer dispensers at places all around my school, and I just want to knock them down with a baseball bat. I mean, some of them make sense, like in the bathroom next to the paper towels. Although, the thought that a lot of girls then bypass actual handwashing for a squirt of alcohol on the palms of their hands is a little nasty. But sometimes, the dispensers are just holstered up in the middle of a hallway. What? Hold up guys, I've just gotta smear a glob of chemicals onto my hands before I walk into Spanish class.

It is time to bid adieu to my lovely bicycle, at least until next spring. Goodbye, dear. It's been a wonderful season.

What's Happening? Well, I'll Tell Ya What's Happening...

I honestly have never been a fan of Thanksgiving. It makes me feel gluttonous, and means we have to clean.

But this year, it's not so bad. Especially since the break from school was well needed (yeah, that whole thing about Junior year being from hell was preeetty much true). Tuesday night, my friends and I partook in what will surely become a great tradition. We settled in together with cocoa and blankets, a wholesome scene, to be sure...and watched Thankskilling. Great choice guys. Really, it was classy. I recommend it to all who don't mind awful acting, bestiality, and profanity.

This was followed up by an extremely chilly game of Turkey Disc. Everyone who showed up gets an intensity medal, just for being there. It was snowing slightly, and the mud was freezing beneath our feet, but we trooped on, if only to preserve our dignity.

Tuesday, my creative writing teacher told us about the Turkey Trek happening in the City Forest. Four miles, at your own pace. Bring food for the food cupboard. Eight AM. I tentatively raised my hand to say I might show up. And for some disgustingly strange reason, I got up this morning at seven, and did it. The only reason I went was because I convinced my friend to do it with me, meaning that I couldn't back out without being a wuss. Speaking of dignity...

So I hopped on my bike, and rode to his house (coldest ride of my entire life, by the way), from where we drove out to the forest. Four miles doesnt seem like much, but I am nothing of a runner. Zilch. No running. Not since I quit track my freshman year. Once or twice a year, I'll convince my gullible self that I can run, and that it will make me a better person, but it ends with me going for a few (slow and taxing) runs, hurting my lungs or my achilles, and then calling it good. Beyond that, I disc. The. End.

So, God only knows what I was doing in the middle of the woods on Thanksgiving day at eight in the morning with running shoes on. We jogged and walked alternately, because my asthma didn't respond well to the weather, but I did it, and that's all that counts, right? [I almost have myself convinced that I'm a runner now. Becca, you champ!]

On a mostly unrelated topic, I have a cat.

Sort of.

One of my friends has a cat, who has downsyndrome. Or, at least that's what they presume, because she's really really really stupid and has crossed eyes [thanks very much, siamese inbreeding]. Her name is Squeaky [actually, it's Miko, but she only responds to Squeaky], and we were meant to be.

So, she's on loan. We've taken to calling her Squawky, because that's more what her little "MAOW MAOW"s sound like. Little Squawky thought that five thirty was an excellent time to come into my room and squawk at me for a half an hour. This means war.

Thoughts on the Beginning of Winter, as Snow Drifts Lazily By

I'm in the library, where I am dreading even this two-day week.
Soft, speckly snowflakes are traipsing by the large windows, and I am ready for christmas music.
I like Christmas music, at least in the beginning. It's all so hopeful and charming, and it's all about the times that I love. But, I refuse to start listening to it until after Thanksgiving. Some radio stations begin playing it even before Black Friday, but I won't, won't, won't turn them on. It's got to be properly cold, properly initiated, properly begun.

The world is so beautiful in snow, and I'm wondering if that's because the ugliness of the ground is covered up, and beautified in the glistening, blinding white, or if it's because the cold, hostile winter brings hope of an even more beautiful spring.
I love winter, not just for the snow and the chaos of the season, but also because it means needing to snuggle up inside, and drinking hot cocoa, and it means that we have to find adventure for ourselves and hibernate in each other's company. Maybe that's why it's beautiful.

The Acadia Challenge, or, We'll Just Butt-Slide Down This One

This past Sunday, I went with a few friends to Acadia. Acadia national park is probably the best known park in Maine, besides Baxter (but that's only because of Katahdin). In the summer months, Mount Desert Island (where the park is housed) is swamped with nature-going tourists. It's a really lovely park, mostly wild, with trails and bike paths and natural wonders scattered throughout.

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a friend about how we ought to go hiking more, as we both want to someday thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. But it's getting late in the season for hiking. The air has turned cold and harsh, and mountains will be crusted over with ice. So we took this as our last opportunity for hiking before we'll have to switch to winter gear.

Mission: The Acadia Challenge

-Hike as many mountains in Acadia as we can in one day.

So, the three of us set out wicked wicked early to get to Acadia in time for the daylight. We could see our breath as we began, and I hadn't bothered to take off my pajamas- I just put the fleece pants on over my hiking shorts. We started out on Bald mountain, then, over the course of five hours, peaked at Parkman, Sargent, Penobscot, North and South Bubbles, Pemetic, and the Triad. There was another peak somewhere around Bald, Parkman and Sargent, but it wasn't expected and isn't on the map. Nine mountains, in just under five hours. We only covered about (with finger guesstimation and a map) ten miles total, but a lot of those miles were steep uphill or leaf-covered, cliff-side downhill. Around Sargent and Penobscot, we had to choose between a steep, watery trail, and another one that featured iron rungs down a cliff face ( we opted for the steep one. Iron rungs in cold weather could be disasterous). On another ( Pemetic, maybe?), the choice was between the ravine trail and the ledge, a series of near vertical, smooth granite patches that we had to scramble up. The scariest part though, was going down steep boulder-ridden mountain sides covered in leaves. They've been left, since pretty much no one is going to be out hiking by now, and they'll disintegrate over the winter. But they make it very difficult to know where to put your feet, and it's tricky walking over them, because it's easy to lose your footing.

After our ninth mountain, we went down a side trail towards Jordan Pond House, where we were meeting our ride, and ignoring the signs about wading and swimming and no body contact, we hopped out to a large boulder off the shore of Jordan Pond on smaller rocks, and sat, drinking in the sight of all of the mountains we had just cruised over. It was a good feeling, despite the aches in my ankles and knees, knowing that I had just climbed all that, and been able to keep up with my significantly taller friends.

Next Mission: Winter Hiking in Virginia

Confidence level: Non-existent.

Our path, but on the trails, of course.

Squashing Squirrels, or, My Weird Love For Roadkill Poetry, or, I've Been Too Sarcastic Lately.

In Response to a Comment About My Talent For Reciting Poems About Roadkill, And My Realization That I Would Probably Die If I Ever Ran A Squirrel Over...

On my bicycle one day
whipping through the wilderness
of outer Essex street
I squashed
a squirrel
under my skinny street tire.
I have always wondered
what might happen to
the acorns
stashed in the squirrels
cheeks
when it is flattened along the road.
I found my answer
and with rain dripping from my eyeballs,
I peddled on
with acorn bits on my tires.

This is Just to Say

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

- William Carlos Williams

This is Just to Say

I had injected

those plums,

which you had expected

to delight

your stomach,

with arsenic.

Forgive me,

but my

immunity has been built,

and you should

have known better

to leave someone else's plums

well enough alone.

---

This is just to say

just in case

those plums were a metaphor,

I too have eaten

The Plums.

Your two plums,

to be precise,

which you were

probably hoping

to indulge in

in the near future.

Sorry.

[In case you have failed to understand

the subtleties of my metaphorical sarcasm

in this note to you...]

I must tell you frankly.

Forgive me:

But you should take

better care of your Plums.

They were so rotten

and so bitter.

---

This is Just to Say

I stole your heart

last Friday night

even though

you were probably

trying to keep it

until you could

steal mine.

Forgive me.

It was so warm

and so flattering.

---

This is Just to Say

I stuck a marshmallow

on your back

in second grade.

Your mother was

probably mad

[definitely perplexed]

when the sticky goo

held on tight

to the fibers of your teeshirt.

So sorry.

But the look

on your face

when you found it later that night

was so sweet

and so gooey.

---

This is Just to Say

I redug the hole

in the middle of the park

after you had

filled it up,

probably because

you were scared

of being swallowed in

by its immense girth.

I am

so very sorry.

But forgive me,

because

I like that hole,

and I look at my feet

when I walk.

---

This is Just to Say

I found your note

concerning the plums.

Forgive me.

I cannot marry you.