The Alien Child's Band

Well, the Alien Child has put a band together (I believe they got together in January--a really short time!), and they are now one of eight semifinalists in the Battle of the Bands competition sponsored by Washington State University in Pullman, Washington. The judging is done by both professional musicians and the audience.

He doesn't like the recording quality of the music posted on the band's MySpace page, but it does at least show what his band's created...which I think is pretty good. The singer is Kyle, who is the Alien Child's next door neighbor and friend, and they have been collaborating on songs. "Yellow Ribbon" is Kyle's lyrical and musical composition. As time goes on, I expect they'll put more music up on their MySpace page.

Oh, and if you go there and want to post something on their page, DON'T say I sent you, because he doesn't want people to think that the band is okay with anything less than a good recording. But that's all they could pull together in a short time. It still got them into the semifinals of the competition, so that says something.

But seriously, bands and writers need to market themselves.

So if you're anywhere near Pullman, Washington on April 10, 2009 (concert begins at 7 pm), go to the Compton Union Building on the campus of Washington State University and vote for your favorite band (I hope it's the United State of Mind). :-)

My Mom

I have to boast about my mom: She won one of the Pierce County Outstanding Volunteer Achievement awards for 2009! I went to the award ceremony brunch on Saturday 3/21, and I’m so proud! Mom was up there on stage and shook hands with the governor and everything. She's a Clothing and Textiles Advisor, and has helped staff and coordinate the Sew Expo in Puyallup, WA, as well as led volunteer efforts in her home town and in Tacoma. She looks younger than her age--she's in her late 70's--which all goes to show that volunteering keeps you looking young. :-)

The ceremony is so inspiring. In these days when it’s so easy to be cynical about the world and about people, it’s wonderful to see all these people up on stage and in the audience who devote hundreds to thousands hours to helping others and the community, from people who make hats for the homeless to dentists who volunteer hours at the coroner’s office to match dental records to the deceased so that families can find closure, to Master Gardeners to child advocate workers. It’s fantastic. People of all ages, too, from young adults and teenagers to very elderly people with walkers. One young man up for an award blushed the whole time he was up on stage accepting his award–so sweet!

It was a totally non-stress event (for me, anyway). Mom cried a little when she got the award–a certificate and beautiful hand-made glass plate. This the second time she’s won an award. The last time was the 2000 Volunteer of the Year award.

They need more door prizes, though. I’m going to put together a basket for next year’s ceremony. My mom is invited every year and she gives out tickets to family, so I might be going next year, too.

Knitted result

Well, this is the knitted result of the yarn I hand-dyed and hand-spun. I'm very pleased with it. The colors blend rather nicely one to another, and are kind of self-striping. That's the result of the Navajo three-ply method of plying I did with it. The swatch was knitted with U.S. size 2 (3 mm) knitting needles, the size you'd use for socks. So, I guess I have indeed created some sock yarn!

I did try to spin it very fine, but I think I need a bit more twist than I had in this yarn. It's still very sturdy, though the ply is loose enough that if you're not careful, it's possible to pick up a strand instead of the whole ply. It worked out to about 6 1/2 stitches to the inch, but I tend to knit loosely rather than tightly.

All this motivates me to dye some more roving, which I've done, and I'm working on spinning up that one now. It's in shades of blue and green, with slight touches of yellow.

The resulting yarn

Well, this is the yarn that resulted from the roving I dyed. I rather like it, even though I didn't know what it'd end up looking like. It's fingering weight, probably can use a size 2 to 3 U.S. knitting needle, and I believe I have enough (2 skeins) to make a pair of socks with it. I'll have to knit a swatch to see what it looks like when knitted up.

The next one is a close-up. It's a 3-ply yarn, made of Bluefaced Leicester wool, quite soft. I used the Navajo 3-ply method, which I find is a bit faster than using three spools.

Crockpot dyeing

So, here's a picture of my roving that I dyed using Maple's (Alpaca Granny) crockpot dyeing method. They're primary colors, but I like it! I've spun with it already, and have two skeins. I'll post pictures of the yarn next.

Posting with my iPod Touch

Did I ever mention that I have an iPod touch? I do and I absolutely love it. Now I've found that I can post to my blog with it! So now I'm trying it out. I guess I'll find out how it looks once I get back to my computer.

Alpaca Granny - The everyday life of a retired teacher turned alpaca farmer and fiber addict.

Alpaca Granny - The everyday life of a retired teacher turned alpaca farmer and fiber addict.

I am a big fan of Maple's roving for spinning, having bought her alpaca roving from her Etsy shop, so I decided to check out her blog as well. As a result, I found her method of crockpot dyeing and decided to take a big step (for me) and dye my own roving. I had some white-pale ecru Blue Faced Leicester roving--nice and soft--that I've had forever, but haven't got around to spinning, because I was very bored with spinning just white, grey, or brown. So, I ran out to Tacoma's Fibers Etc. on Court C and 7th downtown (near Opera Alley--they don't have a web site, unfortunately), and bought some Jaquard dyes.

Well, it looks to be working so far. I decided to use basic colors--red, blue, yellow--so it'll be interesting to see how it all works out. The wool roving is cooling now in the crock pot, so it'll be a while before I find out how it has turned out.

I did spill a little dye on the countertop, but I found that using the Mr. Clean eraser sponge is perfect for cleaning up dyes.

I'll post the picture of the roving once it's done.

If it turns out nicely, well...I'm going to have to find a good source of Jaquard dyes. Fibers Etc., has some basic colors, but not a huge variety. i understand Lamb's Ear Yarn shop has a bigger selection of dyes, but it'd be nice not to have to travel so far as Tacoma. Of course, there's always the mail-order option.

Superheroes get no thanks

I posted on Twitter that I was sad about the Alien Child.... He'd taken this semester off to save up some money for another year of college, and to pay for traffic tickets he's got because of getting into an accident in icy driving conditions, but was fired from his job. This is why:

He was at a party, and an acquaintance's girlfriend suddenly became hysterical. Turns out this acquaintance had become severely injured and was bleeding to death. The Alien Child--being the Eagle Scout that he is--jumps into action, uses his hands as a tourniquet, yells for someone to call 911, and keeps clamping on the artery until the medics come, stays with the acquaintance at the hospital until he's kicked out.

He gets no sleep, and in the morning I get a completely freaked out call from the AC, because he has to go to work and tell the frankly off-the-wall boss that the acquaintance is in the hospital and can't come to work, and he'd like to come into work just a little late so that he can get some sleep before his shift. He's freaked out about the blood that was all over him and the room and how he had to clean it up, and now he was on his way to work worried that his boss was going to be unreasonable, because that's the way the guy is.

The boss cuts him off, says he doesn't want any excuses and fires him--and the acquaintance who is in the hospital--on the spot.

So now my kid doesn't have a job. It's been over 2 weeks, and he's applied to 40 jobs--he said from the beginning that he'd treat job hunting like a full-time job in itself, and he has.

The crazy thing is, this is the 5th time since he's been at college that he's intervened in a medical emergency. This is the 3rd time I know of that he's saved a life. I'd think it was all made up if some good life-long friends of ours hadn't seen him jump into action when their son fell down in a first-time grand mal epileptic seizure. I told him, why don't you just become an EMT and get paid for this? Because he sure doesn't get thanks for it, and when it comes to helping someone in an emergency or going to class or the job, he chooses calling 911 for whoever he finds is in a diabetic coma, alcohol poisoning, or seizure. You know what the freakiest thing in the world for a mom is? To be in the middle of a phone call with your kid and then hearing him say, "sorry, Mom, I have to hang up and call 911. Bye."

Okay, I would prefer he save a life and lose a job/miss a class, but who is going to believe that excuse, even if it's true? Nobody, that's who. Everyone knows college kids are just slackers these days, and their parents are all helicopter parents.

Well, hell. Between a military dad and a Samurai mom, I grew up pretty tough, and don't hold with slackers, certainly not in my offspring. He's a damned hard worker, the first to jump in if someone needs help. But with the bad economy and this unpaid traffic violation, who knows if he'll be able to get a job? He can't even go on unemployment because he's 5 hours short of the requirement. And he refuses to ask for even a loan from us.

I hate this. I purely hate this.

End of rant.

Trying Twitter

I'm trying out Twitter, and finding it easier to manage than a blog, so I'm posting mostly there. My username there is OhWhatADay. Go there at your peril! You may find my daily grind just that--a daily grind. But, it will give you a small window on what my life is like as a writer, wife, mom, fiber arts addict, and day-job-holder.

However, I'll still come here and blog at length when I'm so moved. I'm a writer...limiting myself to 140 characters is a challenge! I can do it, but I keep wanting to write more. As a result, I may end up elaborating on my "tweets" here.

Stepping out of the boat - 2008 Romance Writers of America Conference

2008 Romance Writers of America, San Francisco – Wednesday, July 30: Day 1

It has taken me about a week to recover from the Romance Writers of America conference in San Francisco. It’s a bustling, busy conference, with workshops and events going from 8 am to 10 pm every day. You meet editors, agents, other writers, both published and unpublished, experienced and inexperienced. I’ve been in the romance community since 1988—good heavens, 20 years!—and have gone mostly to local conferences (Emerald City Writer’s Conference, especially), but the RWA conference is the biggie, the one every romance writer goes to if she (or he—we have a few male writers, too) wants to know where to sell and to whom, and to get some pointers about writing, too.

The conference offers a lot for the newbie, as well as for someone like myself who is assessing whether or not I want to do this again—write romances, write fiction in general. I’m working full time at an environmental engineering firm, making good money, and it’s helping to put my kid through college (the Alien Child works too, so it’s not like he’s riding on Mom and Dad’s beneficence). After he graduates—soon—we can make repairs on our house at last. Replace the 22-year-old dishwasher, replace the dented and peeling kitchen floor, replace the old, worn carpet, paint the walls, replaced double-paned windows whose seals no longer work, and one that has a crack in it....

Writing romances...well, it’s not considered a fount of material abundance, let’s just say that. And I have the unfortunate tendency to write things that are about two to three years ahead of the trend. Not a good thing when you want to sell a book.

Yet, there’s that pull to write again....

What do do? In my usual way when I’ut what I’m supposed to do. Actually, give me three signs, because I’m never confident about these things. In fact, the more the better.

Note, I don’t offer a favor in return. I don’t presume to know what kind of favor God’ll want, because hey, the Big Guy’s infinite, and I’m not. I’m okay with that, because infinity is sort of math-like, and I’m not into math much, despite doing quite well in college Calculus (hey, I’m not a genius, but a 3.6 is not too shabby for an English major, and I am allowing myself to take pride in that achievement). I’ll leave differential equations and infinity to God and mathematicians, thank-you-very-much. How do I discern signs? Well...

The RWA conference in San Francisco. I check in at the Victorian-era, Euro-style Mosser, the hotel across the street from the Marriott (the conference hotel), after a painful (and slow) amble through the airport, because I broke my ankle more than a month ago and am wearing a splint (hell through airport security). But, when I went to my room, I find instead of a single room with shared bath, I have a double room with a private bathroom. Surely, there must be a mistake. I go back down to the check-in desk.

The very nice desk clerk shakes her head. No, she says. They’ve had to change rooms around, and since I contacted them directly for a reservation, I got an upgrade at no extra cost. You’re meant to be there, she says. Her words give me pause, but I give myself a mental shake, smile, and thank her.

I went up again, and my eyes lit on the room number...which add up (numerologically) to 8. The thought occurred to me that, numerologically, 8 is my life path number. I’d been discussing numerology with some writer friends online but a few days before this. I remember the desk clerk’s words. You are meant to be here. Hmm. I unload my stuff and hobble across the street in my splint to get my registration packet at the conference.

Entering the Marriott, I find the workshop rooms are at the BACK of the hotel. I eye my foot brace. I don’t like my foot brace, I decide. It chafes and hurts and the thought of going back and forth MILES AND MILES in it is depressing. Thank goodness I don’t have to sign any books at the Literacy for Life mass autographing, because I’d been told by the RWA staff that they couldn’t supply any of my books for the signing. Fine with me, I thought. I can have fun browsing books and chat with friends instead. I’ve not had a chance simply to visit and browse books in a long, long time.

But no. I see an online friend, a romance reader, who informs me that my name is on the autographing list. Dear heaven. I’m not prepared! I don’t have posters or pretty pens or anything like that. I only have some very lovely bookmarks designed by a very talented graphic artist who goes to my church. And those bookmarks are back at my hotel room.

So I hobble back, grab my bookmarks, and once again eye my stupid chafing foot splint. I now hate this splint with a passion. I’m supposed to wear it for another week, but it’’ sound.

I carefully put on my athletic shoes, not caring that this is not precisely conference professional wear. I deserve to be comfortable, dang it! And I find...well, it doesn’t hurt to put on the shoes. I can even stand all right on it. I’ll be careful, I think, it’ll be fine. I take an Aleve, just in case. I can do this.

And I do. I’m careful not to put too much weight on the foot, but though it feels odd, it doesn’t hurt, perhaps a little ache, but that's it.

I’m late to the autographing, because I keep seeing friends I’ve made through the years, and exchanging greetings and hugs is important. I don’t expect to have many books on my table, anyway, and it’s been years since I’ve written a book, who’s going to remember me?

But it turns out I do have more than a few books on my table, the Dragon Lovers anthology, which also features Jo Beverley’s, Barbara Samuel’s, and Mary Jo Putney’s stories. I can see readers wanting their autographs, because those gals are veteran writers and on the New York Times list, but though I’ve written more than a few books, I’m not in their league. I shrug. No big deal. The two ladies on either side of me have interesting books, and it doesn’t hurt to be friendly and chat. Much better than being at a booksigning by myself!

I end up buying their books (The Second Virginity of Suzy Green, by Sara Hantz, and The Prince’s Royal Dilemma, by Brenda Harlen), because they seem interesting, and they are nice, and I count it good luck to buy books from authors I’m sitting next to at a booksigning. The autographing goes much faster than I had anticipated, because friends keep dropping by to chat: Katy Cooper, Cybil Solyn of Rakehell Reviews (the first fan to contact me via e-mail, when the Internet was in its infancy!), Kathy Payne, and Jill Purinton, among others.

I don’t get to visit other authors, which is too bad, because I wanted at least to say hi to Gerri Russell, one of my critique group partners, and who has two books out now. I did want to take a picture of her with her books, especially since I consider her getting-to-publication story a triumphant one.

By the time the autographing is done, it’s about 7 pm, I’m hungry, my broken-but-healing/healed foot is feeling odd, and I’m so tired, the rest of the evening is too blurry in my memory to recall. I believe I ate dinner, but that’s all I remember, although I think dinner had to do with wine, cheese, and fruit up in Jo Beverley’s and someone else’s executive suite. I don’t even remember if I ate it alone or with someone. I do remember chatting with a couple of ladies in the literacy book-buying line, and I remember what they looked like, but my foot was beginning to throb and lack-of-estrogen brain kicked in, so remembering names is hopeless. I remember one of the gals in line was very much into writing books set during the Civil War, which I encouraged, because I really do see that this is the time to write about that era. Historical resonances and all, you see.

All I know is that I returned to my hotel room at the Mosser, noticed that the tub was very deep, and used up massive water resources by soaking in a bubble bath, and then went to bed.

End of day one.