Autumn rocks

It's November. I have confessed before that I truly love autumn more than any other season and I know that once Halloween is over, we are nearing its end. However, I have to admit that it seems my favorite season has held on a bit longer. The past few days have been beautiful and warm, allowing us to venture out and enjoy the remnants.

The higher temps have given us the gift of having our doors open to the porch yet again. Daylight savings time has shortened the time we can spend out there comfortably, but we are taking full advantage. We embarked on a few home improvement projects today, hanging curtains at the doors leading to the screened porch. I must admit, this is the first time I've ever had curtains. Cat hair and curtains don't mix, so we've opted for blinds instead. This time, however, we chanced it on the floor length variety in an effort to keep the living room a tad warmer when winter hits.

A quick review of the paper sent us on another improvement adventure. A while back we had used some house warming cash and gift cards to buy a small shelf to put in our entry. An ad revealing they were on sale sent our money-saving minds into action. Soon we were home with three more, planning a bank of them along the longest bare wall in our living room. One is assembled. The other two are safe in their boxes, our backs weren't up to putting them together.

We just got back from a short walk. I wanted to take advantage of the light and the beautiful day to capture some of the beautiful color. Soon I'll warm up some of the soup I made yesterday. Yes, I made soup, what of it? And Cynical made a frittata this morning. We're all fancy pants at Chez Ragged these days. . . hanging curtains, trying new recipes.

A photograph taken along our walk. I gathered leaves as we saunted along. Cynical was not amused.

Rest for the wicked

A busy week is behind us. A weekend full of travel preparations lies ahead of us. The countdown has begun, soon we'll be packing the car headed on an adventure all our own: our first official vacation.

Big plans to meet up with Needlefingers tomorrow in a nearby town for some knitting amongst knitters. Hopes to start on that travel to-do list.

Welcoming Socktoberfest with open arms, casting on for some autumnal socks this evening.

Hoping soon I will be able to communicate in complete sentences.

Another shot from the local farm stand from last weekend. Despite the 90-degree days, I can still feel autumn in the air.

October snuck up on me

It just occurred to me that today begins the month of October. And October for us is going to be a very exciting and busy month. Let the festivities begin!

Our weekend was hectic but good. My Saturday began at 4 a.m. with a work-related event; by noon I was home and ready for the next part of my day: a visit with Cynical's family, a trip to the recycling center and a marathon visit to the stylist. That evening, sans any sign of gray hair, I crashed during episodes of "Big Love".

On Sunday we got up and moved at a leisurely pace, eventually driving in the beautiful fall sun to Cynical's family homestead. After an extended visit, we drove back home, stopping at a local farm to pick up a few pumpkins.

Last night I got out for a quick walk and managed to get our house "in order" in time for some season premieres.

I have a full week ahead of me at work, balanced by some relaxing evenings at home. Let's hope I am able to maintain that balance.

A poorly taken photograph of the market bag I finished in time for our vacation in less than two weeks.

Trippin'

All it takes is one cool evening and three falling leaves to set into motion a whole series of autumnal-related events at Chez Ragged. So, forgive me if I have been distracted by taking long walks with Cynical, making chili, planning my fall knits and digging our fall-themed decorations out of storage.

The big news is that we've finally gotten down to planning our vacation to the Charleston, South Carolina area next month. (Can you think of a more perfect place to be this time of year?) Yes, that's right, we are vacationing next month and just this week developed a plan of action. However, we are determined to take said vacation, despite our lack of preparation. It is, afterall, the first time Cynical and I have tripped for tripping sake. All of our other travels have been centered around family events, work conferences or such. This time around we're taking five days of glorious alone time and crafting it into an actual vacation. Extensive internet browsing landed us in a most posh place two blocks from the water at Folly Beach. It's such a nice place that I often find myself pausing during the day to find it on the web just to browse "our room" one more time.

We are planning a day at Folly, another in downtown Charleston and two others are set aside for touring and such. Then we'll head to Asheville for my middle brother's wedding and all of the festivities that surround it, including a family dinner, all-day picnic and extensive reception. And then, sadly, it's back home, back to reality. Don't feel too sorry for us because we're home less than a week before we board a plane for Seattle, Washington. This time it's for work, but who are we to complain?

In our spare time, we're completely obsessed with the new fall television season. Thus far ABC's "Dirty Sexy Money" tops my list of new faves. How could it not? Anyone else found a new fave?

In other news, there has been a lot of knitting going on. I not only finished my back-to-school vest, but also a cotton market bag as well, designed to be used on our little trek. And tonight I hope to start on Juliet by Zephyr in a pretty light blue color. My hopes are to have it done in time to wear to dinner one night while we're away.

Socktoberfest begins on Monday and it's a great excuse for me to knit up some of my stash. For some reason I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by my mound of yarn. I have gotten much better about my yarn purchasing: choosing yarns for specific projects, but that doesn't mean those lonely skeins aren't still clogging up my closet. Hopefully some careful planning will eliminate some of my stash concerns.

I have been wasting away my time on Ravelry lately. Such a great resource for knitters, designers and yarn fiends. Wonderfully put together and so intuitive.

That's it in a nutshell, a large nutshell, but a nutshell none-the-less.

Here stuff, there stuff, everywhere stuff, stuff

We've got a lot of stuff. I am not sure why I am acutely aware of this right now, but for some reason I am feeling a bit claustrophobic in our little abode. It's not as if someone has dumped a truck of boxes on us, it's just closing in on me a bit.

I am certain it's a combination of the boxes and bags of gifts already cluttering our guest room, the knitting projects needing attention scattered around the house, pie ingredients filling our counters, boxes of stuff emptied from our drawers en route to St. Vincent DePaul. That and the impending holiday decorating; as much as I love it, it does mean dragging out more stuff.

I have been on a bit of a house cleansing binge lately, trying to rid ourselves of unneeded and unwanted items. A girl doesn't need two drawers of socks, 65 chip clips, two tubs of dried up paint, or bins of rejected bath gels. Slowly, but surely, I am making a dent.

I find I spend a lot of time maintaining our stuff: putting this away, folding this, dusting that, organizing another. And I resent the amount of time my stuff takes.

Thing is that I often dream of ridding us of the load of our stuff: tossing it all in search of some sort of simplicity. Paring down to what's necessary and what's important such as buckets of yarn, cabinets full of butter cookies and shelves full of books.

It's a dream, however, as for some reason we think we need all of this stuff; and I suspect when I say "we", I really mean "me".

I am trying, though, in small steps to at least declutter our lives. I look around and others don't seem to have complicated their existence with so much stuff. Still others seem to be deeper immersed in stuff than we do. I guess it's all about finding a happy medium. Thing is, my medium is covered up in stuff.

A view from our window a few weeks ago. Sadly now it is bare and winteresque.

Saturdays are alright by me

I needed a little something. I wasn't sure what that something was and I am still not certain, but I do know that a day like today did wonders for my mood. I spent most of my Saturday with a friend at open house, doing some light shopping and good old fashioned venting.

Here I sit now, full of lasagna prepared by my beloved, venti mint mocha at my side, watching my third episode of "Little People, Big World", knitting on a Christmas gift and feeling a little better.

That's how it works; a little bit at a time.

Pumpkin in the leaves in our front yard.

Leafing on a jet plane, but I know we'll be back again

Bags are packed. Cat and house sitters warned. Knitting tucked away. Batteries charged. Car gassed. Chez Ragged in shambles.

A day of work and meetings stand between us and the road. A night at a hotel stands between us and the jet plane.

We are taking the laptop. We are taking our geocaching equipment. We have lots of reading material. I am taking my knitting. We are within walking distance of the Alamo and on the Riverwalk. Lots to see and lots to do.

Be-leaf that it will all come together

The good news is that I think I am packed. The bad news is that I am certain I am forgetting something. I just can't remember what. I feel certain, however, that it is not an article of clothing because I have managed to cram my closet into my bag.

Leafing soon & another reason we have no business having children

What were we thinking? A flight at 6 a.m. is no bargain at any price. Now begins the scramble to get ourselves, our luggage and our house ready for us to depart. Wish us safe and speedy travel, wish us a good checklist, wish that we remember to bring our toothbrushes and camera.

Whenever I begin to question whether or not we should be birthing babies, something comes right at me and smacks me in the face, reminding me that my gut feeling on this is correct. Please note that in sharing this with you, I am by no means comparing pets to kids, but in our case, it's a good indicator.

Last night Cynical cautioned me to close the garage door. I am notorious for forgetting, but he warned that when he'd shut it earlier that two stray cats had run from the garage and we might want to keep it shut.

So, like a good little Ragged, I shut the door, finished my chores and went to bed. This morning I reopened the door to hear a cat crying and was immediately worried that I had locked one of the strays in the garage or worse, my car.

I called for the crying cat to no avail, only drawing a little orange stray near to watch all of the commotion. I popped the hood. No cat. I opened the car. No cat. I could still hear crying. I checked under the car. No cat. Still with the crying.

Then I spied underneath a shelving unit a little bit of white. I walked near, but couldn't discern which stray it might be. I approached from the other side and said to myself, "He has a little white face." Then it hit me.

"Ikie?" I said. And out came my white cat, Ike. Glad to see me, tired of crying and very, very cold. He'd been in the garage for nearly 12 hours, on the coldest night of the year, clawless and defenseless.

I felt awful as I scooped him up into my arms and rushed him inside. How did I miss him? Did I not know he was out all night? How did he get out? I hadn't even noticed him slipping by me as I went out the car last night? He'd run out before in his quest to explore the wild yonder that is our backyard, but I'd always seen and caught him, bringing him back to captivity.

He was anxious to get inside and I was anxious to check him out, so we pushed our way into the house, where he didn't get the welcome from his co-cats that he had hoped.

A stop at the food bowl. A stop at the litter box. And he was glad to be home, inside, where it is warm, and safe, even if one of his cohabitants continued to sniff and smack at him.

I checked him out and other than some cobwebs in his whiskers and dirt on his paws, he seems fine. His owner, or mother, on the other hand, is still in a frenzy of guilt.

Re-leaf

I have mentioned before that I love autumn. What I love most about the season is bright, beautiful leaves. So, indulge me a bit if I run photograph after photograph of leaves on trees, leaves on the ground, leaves in piles and leaves on the porch. I just can't resist.

Hoping you had a Halloween full of bite size candy bars, hand fulls of M&Ms, Skittles and Tootsie Roll Pops, particularly the cherry flavored ones.

Evolution

Happy Halloween!

It didn't rain on my parade

The skies have opened up and poured upon us for the past several days. That's good news for my neglected mums, but bad news for those of us hoping to do some autumnal celebrating. (Ok, I am not sure what autumnal celebrating is, but I so love using the word "autumnal" and by celebrating I mean long drives down gravel roads taking photos of the leaves in full color, packing a lunch and eating it during a little geocaching or something as simple as drinking coffee on the patio at Starbucks, none of which can be accomplished in the rain.)

Yesterday a much anticipated order was delivered, Kissed Knitter will tell you all about it. Long awaited needle set for her, Knitting on The Road by Nancy Bush, Andean Treasure alpaca yarn in Sunset (aka pumpkin) and patterns for me. Good mail is good stuff. (And I still have a deal in the works with Needlefingers via Kaleidoscope Yarns.)

And that meant a visit with Kissed Knitter, being as she had to come and pick up her stuff and all! Those are too few and far between. Why is that?

I had also made some plans with a friend and her two-year-old to pick out pumpkins. A cold, dark and rainy afternoon did make for a short visit to the orchard, but it was a good one none-the-less, as I carried home two pumpkins. One just seemed kinda lonely and everyone needs a friend, right? And two candied apples for my beloved. I must admit that I heard a collective sigh of relief on behalf of our cats when the active toddler left our household. A cat can only take having its hair rubbed the wrong way, its nose touched or loud, shrill screams for so long.

I dug out the pumpkin carving stuff this morning and even though we are expecting a weekend full of more wet weather, we can at least look forward to creating a masterpiece, eating all of the Halloween candy we have amassed thus far and maybe watching (against my will) "The Omen*" and maybe "Monster House". Oh and knitting on Green Gable, which is actually Brown Gable, as I chose to make mine in "truffle".

*"The Omen" is the one movie that literally creeped me out for days after watching it. Something about inherent evil in a person simply was too much.

A shot of a white pumpkin amongs the gourds at the orchard last night.

What we swore we'd never share about last weekend. . .

Not only did Cynical and I recreate scenes from the Blair Witch Project during the ghosthunter presentation, we took photos and giggled to the point where I thought I may throw up all of the hotdogs and oyster crackers I had eaten earlier.

And. . . at one point on Sunday when we were tromping through a field in search of a cache, I took off running while Cynical hummed the theme to Little House in the Prairie. He wanted me to fall, just as poor little Carrie does in the opening sequence, but our hosts were in the car and we were afraid they might think we needed medical care. We did, just not that kinda medical care.

We ran through a field to approach this small cemetery sitting in the center.

Cache Slash Fever

When it comes to geocaching, Cynical and I are newcomers to the game. We rely on the guidance of more experienced and seasoned hunters. When we heard our gurus were hosting a cache finding event, we marked our calendars and made plans to attend. I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate fall. Leaves are in their full glory north of us and Saturday promised a beautiful day and delivered.

On Friday, with GPS unit and knitting in hand, we made the trek north and prepared for Saturday's Cache Slash Fest 2006.

Not only are the organizers knee deep into caching, but they are as equally enthralled with all that is Halloween. It makes for a great combination. They blended their love of both into a very creative and well-organized event. Saturday's schedule not only included finding eight unique caches, but a bonfire, hayride, ghosthunter presentation and lots and lots of food.

It didn't stop there, as the crew had constructed and displayed several incredible creations dotting the yards of the hosts including a corpse launching mausoleum; a poor soul beheaded by an authentic guilotine; a shaking, grinning electric chair victim; acid spitting alien and a gas chamber. (At Chez Ragged, we thought that our carved pumpkin was unique. Now we know better.)

As I mentioned, we are novices, so we were at first a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of expertise around us as we listened to the pros tell stories of their most unique hunts and hides.

I think what impressed me the most was the camaraderie amongst the cachers. I am always fascinated by the fact that a common interest can bring together people from all backgrounds, all lifestyles and all areas.

The evening was wrapped up with a visit to a local cemetery where a presentation was made by a ghosthunter. I must admit that I have never put much stock in that sort of thing, but he certainly made me wonder.

After his presentation, we were invited to shoot some photos and test the equipment. Cynical and I chose instead to reinact scenes from the Blair Witch Project. (There is photographic proof, complete with a nose shot, but I fear we can never share it here.)

It made for a full and fun day. And we slept like babies, babies on Benadryl.

Unable to find two of the eight caches (I am certain it isn't because I had to trek three times back to the same cache because we didn't follow instructions or that we at one point simply drove in circles), we vowed to find them on Sunday and that we did, thanks to Needlefingers and Pilot. During our hunt we came across the most picturesque cemetery. A beautiful rod iron gate greeted us as we made our way down a tree-lined path. It was breathtaking. I know that often cemeteries are creepy, but I found this serene and beautiful. Geocaching brings us to places we'd never stumble across. That's the greatest reward for me.

We headed home, tired, rejuvenated in our geocaching and looking forward to next year.

I attempted to sleep on the way home, but found myself trying to wrap up my second set of socks in honor of Socktoberfest.

Just a few shots from the weekend: some of the Halloween decorations. I just couldn't do them justice. A shot of a fallen tombstone shot during the ghosthunter presentation.

Peaceful autumn days

Yesterday was the the sort of day that I spend the entire year waiting for. It was beautiful outside. The sun was shining. The leaves were changing ever so slightly. I had no obligations, no appointments and nothing that had to be done.

Cynical and I spent the largest portion of our morning sipping coffee, me knitting while he surfed and watched television. Soon thereafter I packed my camera, my cash and my knitting for a little escapade. Cynical, not feelling well, opted to stay at home. I would have to go this one alone.

I began my little afternoon excursion with a stop by the pumpkin guy's. You see there is a man here in our community that each fall fills his yard with pumpkins. The entire front of his home is typically one big sea of orange. A friend of mine that we lost several years ago first took me there. My return each fall is my own little tribute to her. It's something I must do.

The owner of the pumpkin place generally sits in his garage, fiddling over a wood-working project, while you stumble through the mass of pumpkins, sort through the baskets of gourds and peruse the Indian corn. No high pressure sales. He offers to help you, but only if you need it. Otherwise, make yourself at home. He has afterall. There is a red wagon and a big brown dog there to help you get your haul to the car.

A black box reminds you that this is all on the honor policy, you calculate what you owe and you dibby up, no middle man here.

I spent quite a while there admiring the colors and shapes. After I finally made my selections, an assortment of colorful gourds, a small green and orange pumpkin and a few tiny, tiny little pumpkins.

Afterward I hit a few thrift stores in search of old knitting needles, books and whatever else struck my fancy. I came home with two vintage etiquette books, one set of needles and a small pelican for the cat.

Soon thereafter Cynical called and we met up, every so romantically, at Target, followed by lunch.

The rest of the evening was spent watching movies, eating pumpkin bread, snuggling under lots of blankets, and working on After Bertha.

It's the kind of day I wait all year for.

It's official: autumn is here

I know that you thought that the autumnal equinox or some other such nonsense signified the start of fall. You thought wrong.

It's official, as of today, autumn is upon us, I wore socks to work, made hot tea in the microwave and bought pumpkin bread at lunch.

Let the festivities begin.

Early bedtimes are all the rage

I was tired. I was worn out. I was walking in my sleep. That's why I went to bed before 8 p.m. Saturday night for the first time in my life. Don't call me lazy. Don't call me a slacker. Don't call me boring. Enough is enough. This girl needed some sleep.

I told you life at Chez Ragged was exciting and cutting edge. Going to bed early is the new black. Didn't you know?

In truth, it had been a stressful week. I had gone to work at 5 a.m. Saturday, putting in a full day before Cynical and I headed 75 miles away for a little shopping escapade. Add all that up and you have one tired Ragged.

If it's possible to have a favorite month, October is just that for me. We decided to celebrate the advent of autumn with this little trip despite the fact that the laws of sleep were working against me.

Stormy weather didn't rain on our Saturday as we made our way to our old college town. We kicked off our day with a stop at the yarn store; a girl is never too tired for yarn, right? (I was lifeless as I gazed at the beauty before me. Realizing that I needed some pep in my step while perusing the store, Cynical made a trip to Starbucks for sustenance.) After I loaded my haul into the car, we headed to the mall. Sleep deprevation set in and I found myself seated outside Dillard's with all of the abandoned husbands waiting for Cynical while he shopped.

A quick dinner at my new favorite restaurant, a few book stores later and we headed home. For the first time since I was four years old, I went to bed before 8 p.m. Yes, 8 p.m. And I have to admit that I literally slept like a baby, a baby on Benadryl. This kid was out, O. U. T. out. I am not ashamed. I am not embarrassed. I am rested, rejuvenated and ready for the week.

Shot the above photo of a Praying Mantis perched on the shoulder of Cynical's brother-in-law during their visit on Sunday. Trust me, I was a much better hostess with 12 hours of sleep under my belt.

Reappearance of the sun

The weather gods have smiled upon us poor damp souls today. We awoke this morning to sunshine streaming through the windows and bright blue skies above us.

In an effort to dry our attitudes out, we ventured out for a walk at a local park. Downed limbs, uprooted trees and puddles of water were scattered along the path. The storm had taken its toll on that area. I don't think I truly realized how much damage the bad weather earlier in the weekend had done until I saw the damage at the park.

This afternoon brought a baby shower, yard work and a marathon of Flip This House. (Life at Chez Ragged is cutting edge, never doubt that.)

Despite torrential rains, tornado sirens, flooded basements and lack of sleep, it was a relaxing weekend overall. I even managed to get some knitting done, wrapping up a felted bowl and two spiral rib bags destined to be Christmas gifts. If you wanna see them take a look at the Finished Projects section.

Above is a shot of a mum on our porch, the one thing that benefitted from the wet, damp weather.

Please, no more rain

Forgive me if this post is incoherent. I am busy chasing two emu into the ark we are building in the back yard.

Beginning early Friday morning, the skies opened up and the rain has poured non-stop since. Our yard is saturated. Our basement full of water. Even our spirits are dampened. And the inhabitants of Chez Ragged have been shaking their fists at the sky screaming, "Stop it. Stop it right now."

I had hoped for a quiet weekend at home, maybe I even wished for a light rain to lull us into relaxing. What I got instead was flash flooding, tornado warnings and booming loud thunder. I spent most of the night Friday heeding the sirens and heading to the basement, where I sat, in the dampness knitting on some Christmas gifts and listening intently to the radio, stopping periodically to talk with my parents who were doing the same (sans the knitting.)

It seems that only Cooper and I take tornado sirens blaring seriously, as we were the only ones that retreated upon hearing them. Cynical, either brave or just simply too manly for his own good, joined us periodically, venturing only to the stairs and taunting us.

Today we have seen much of the same. Rain, rain and more rain. Prepared to stay in most of the day, battle the basement water and knit, I learned that Cynical had other plans. Rain fever had already set in and he was ready to join the rest of our community hell-bent on trudging through the rain, splashing through puddles and generally being drenched. We floated out for lunch and a few errands before coming home and watching movies (translation: naptime for Cynical.)

The weathermen are still battling it out, but it looks like tomorrow may be clearer, not dry, but clearer. We may never dry out. Can humans mold?

Rainy days and makeup always bring me down

It's pouring outside. It will probably be pouring tonight. . . and Saturday. . . and Sunday. Instead of getting up early today, getting ready for work and heading out into this mess, I wanted to stay home, rewatch Grey's Anatomy and wear my pajamas. It's true, life isn't fair.

In an effort to brighten my mood and because I was dangerously low on nearly every one of my cosmetics, I made a trip to the make-up counter last night on my way home. Queen of Concealer, my makeup guru, is still working there, despite the new location. So, after rounding the counter at least eight times, discussing in far too much detail my need for concealer and generally expending lots of money, I headed home with a bag of stuff in hand.

As I left, I wondered why we go to all this trouble. I am by no means a heavy make-up wearer or gifted in application, but I do spend a small portion of my morning applying this, smudging that and smearing on something or other. I do spend some time picking out the right shade and the right combination. It's something that has happened as I have gotten older: this chemical dependence. I've never been a pretty girl, never fancied myself attractive and in all honesty, make-up does nothing more than make me slightly more presentable.

And that got me started on the whole, "What is beauty and who gets to define it?" tangent. (For example, who says that tanned skin is more attractive or that tall is statuesque and short is, well short? Who declared that wrinkles aren't the "in" thing?) Instead of torturing you with my own internal debate. I would like to know your thoughts.

What makes you feel beautiful? Where do you find beauty? What is that something that makes you feel good about yourself, inside and out? I have my answers, I want to know yours.

The photo above was taken while geocaching over the weekend. A weed along the roadway.