A shot of the whole garden

This year, we have a lot of goodies growing:

This sage plant was one of our original plants. It is now the size of a bush (unfortunately, this is the biggest pic I could get, and it does not quite show off how enormous the plant is). The sage does not start to die until late November, and we usually have some fresh leaves left for Christmas. It is also the first plant to come back in the spring (or late winter).

The dill is actually just from last year, but the chives have been there for ages. This is the first year we are intentionally planting corn (in the past it has grown in cracks from bird seed).

We started doing peppers about a couple years ago, because I got really into making chili. We have had little success in getting them store-bought size, but they are still yummy, and we have a good variety (including some spicier plants).

We are also growing squash plants. We have done this on and off over the years, and it looks like they are the first food to come in this year.

Our cucumbers are, for once, actually climbing their trellis, and our variety of tomatoes (8 different types of plants, including a green stripey tomato) are already staked up. Hopefully we will get enough sun this year for them to turn red (unlike last summer). It looks like they will; the hanging tomato plant has already spent its yellow cherries, and the red ones are starting to be eatable.

In addition to my gardening, I will be finished taking Physics and Design classes on Thursday, and I have made excellent progress on what appears to be a cursed tank top:

After I found out there was an errata, which Knit Picks, who I bought the pattern from, does not list on their errata list, I found out the errata was also wrong for my size (in fact, just about the whole pattern was wrong for my size, a 42″ bust, which should not be considered XL). Fortunately, it was just wrong on the amount of ribbing, and it was easy to adjust accordingly. And then I messed up a cable:

Happily, there is no actual difference between the front and the back, so I will simply wear that in the back.

In spite of that mistake, the general fucked-upedness of the pattern, and the amount of purling (I did not realize when I decided to knit this round that the stockinette was meant to be on the inside, or I would have knit it inside out), the cables are very pretty. And in stitch count I appear to be around halfway through (in amount of yarn still unkint, it’s more like 5/14), so I should be finished in time to enjoy it this summer.

Once this garment is off the needles, I will be starting a Baby Surprise Jacket, for someone I know who is having a baby (because someone having a baby is an opportunity for me to try a new and popular pattern). Then, it will be time to cast on Christmas 2010, featuring a shawl and ornament for my grandma (whose birthday is Christmas Eve), socks for my dad, slippers for Grandpa, a stocking for my step-mother, wrist warmers or a spa set for my aunt, a neck pillow for my uncle and a scarf for me. I am still not sure what to make my mother. I want to knit her a sweater, but I don’t think I’ll have time, and I’ve already made her a shawl.

My real issue is the implications of the commercial. As the voice over tells us, most people don’t have to share a bedroom with a teen, but you do have to share the road with them. This statement connects the clutter of a teen’s bedroom to their skills as a driver. Either being a poor housekeeper (a crime I know plenty of “adults” to be guilty of) somehow negatively affects one’s driving, or this commercial is implying that teens are inherently bad drivers.

This is simply not the case. In addition to articles demonstrating that older adults often practice unsafe driving habits or can be unsafe on the road, it can easily be pointed out that teen drivers are inexperienced. As I said earlier, I barely qualify as a teen, but I can assure you that I am not as safe on the road as a seventeen year old who has held their license for a year, because I have been driving for less than a month.

This is a case of blatant ageism. It is also not an uncommon issue in the US. Teens are often discriminated against, as one of the least empowered minority groups in the country (while most minority groups do have such a right, individuals under the age of 18 are unable to vote, regardless of citizenship). Their driving is especially picked on.

My Senator, Dodd, is even putting through legislation to raise the national permit and license age, preventing teen drivers from receiving a full, unrestricted license until the age of 18. Meanwhile, at the age of 18, I am allowed to practice driving without a permit, as long as there is a licensed driver in the car. I don’t need to demonstrate that I can see properly, let alone that I know what a red octagonal sign means.* Because of my age, I am able to simply get behind the wheel of my family’s Ford Explorer without any piece of paper. So can an 80 year old who has never driven before in their life. How is that fair?

*I got a permit before I turned 18. As of three years ago, I can see fine, and know that the aforementioned sign means I need to brake.

It is almost the end of my first year of college. I have two final exams (one in class Friday, one take home), and I am done. I have not had as fantastic a semester academically as I did last semester (I will definitely not be on Dean’s List), but I have had a pretty good semester socially: I will be a clerk for Yachting club, and I have my first boyfriend.

It’s also been an excellent semester knit-wise. I am now knitting the back design:

I have also begun packing to head home:

Though I’m still not quite finished:

My stuff will go into a storage unit I am splitting with the boyfriend, who also lives inconveniently far from school.

I am taking the train home on Tuesday, unless I can switch my ticket for one leaving over the weekend. I am really eager to get home.

This is Jello.

This is it’s next evolution. It was mixed together.

Eventually, it became a smiley. It made the guy on the other side of the magical plate cleaning conveyor belt smile.

The next day’s food was not quite as pretty or yummy, but it was still fun. I bet you can’t tell where the cauliflower ended and the mashed potatoes began.

Then there were tacos, which, without salsa, are not palatable. Smileys are still possible.

I have also gone through registering for housing next semester. Here’s where I’ll be:

You may have noticed some knitting in the background. That would be my recently cast-on hoodie:

Today is Easter. It is 81 degrees. I am wearing a dress.

Fortunately for Bronson and his parents, Bronson’s family appears to be wealthy (the tub he drowned in was large and had jets, and thus seems to be expensive) and certainly they are white. His family could afford to have him revived.

Bronson was dead for forty minutes before his doctors revived him. When his heart was beating again, some medical magic (in the form of keeping him super-cold) was used to prevent brain damage (as much as possible) until he regained consciousness after two weeks. When he was awake again, he was able to receive rehab to return to his previous motor abilities.

Bronson is now back with his parents. I am seriously offended.

First of all, were his parents unable to afford such care (for example, if they were uninsured minimum wage workers) Bronson would still be dead.

Second of all, HE IS BACK WITH HIS PARENTS! The people who KILLED HIM. Had a family in my neighborhood practiced this level of neglect, their child would not have gone home with them. All of the kids would be removed. In my opinion, that would be the only responsible thing to do. None of the Stakers’ kids should be at home with their parents.

Bronson’s parents (certainly his mother, who I know was present) should be getting charged with neglect, if not manslaughter, for what happened to their son. He was left unattended in a bath at sixteen months old AND DIED. Instead of ensuring the welfare of the child and charging his rashly irresponsible mother with neglect, Bronson and his brothers are at home.

I’m not saying Bronson’s parents don’t care. I’m just saying that they shouldn’t be the primary care givers of a kid they have already killed.

And while I see this somewhat as a socioeconomic issue because most families could not afford the sort of medical care Bronson received, and he would have died without (certainly leaving his mother responsible for manslaughter), I am not going on the four page rant about that I could (just the rant I have already had), because I am more concerned about the well being of this one kid right now. Perhaps another time.

So, I am just going to concluded my rant by saying again that Bronson’s parents neglected him by leaving him alone in a bathtub at sixteen months old. Bronson was dead for forty minutes as a result of this neglect. Why is the child still in the care of parents who have allowed him to drown, and why is this being celebrated as a miracle?

(I am also going to link you to the mom’s blog, because the Today Show website does not have the story up right now, and I want to give anyone reading this access to another side of the story.)

I am taking exclusively 200 level courses this semester. I have friends who are sophomores without schedules this intense. Two of these courses are in the Religious Studies department (notorious for the insane amounts of reading assigned), and two can be summed up as developmental psychology (one is supposed to be educational psych, but whatever). One of my courses is with Eric Mortensen, who is known for his insane amounts of reading (even for a Religious Studies course!). And all of them make me feel guilty for not working constantly (even when I am doing school work).

But, alas, tomorrow is the Guilford Undergraduate Symposium, where I will be presenting a lecture on why Harry Potter is such a huge thing, and I am totally freaked out about it, and trying to use a version of Power Point I have never before seen that is rather insufferably confusing, waiting for a friend in the college’s computer lab without my headphones. So I can write a post without feeling totally guilty (because there is nothing else to do in here).

Today I learned that Spaz, my family’s eleven year old dachshund has a crushed disk. This is pretty normal in dachshunds, and usually occurs even sooner in their (usually much shorter than Spaz’s) lives. There is surgery to repair the disk, but it costs as much as my semesterly college debt, and a dog his age (and as nervous as he is) would not survive surgery (dachshunds are not very good in surgery). Spaz is comfortable on pain medication, and seems to be healing (the injury occurred Tuesday, but my mother spent two days deciding whether or not to tell me), so he isn’t going to be put down for a little while, at least.

I have a ton of sweaters to knit, but none I can work on. The Margot is at a stand-still until I order yarn I don’t hate (the colors I chose look awful right next to each other. I might just order ten balls of the purple next time I have the cash necessary for such an expenditure, and save the current yarn for other projects.) or find a different pattern.

I also ordered (with real moneys!!!) a pattern for a tunic, and the yarn for the project. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to acquire the appropriate gauge with the yarn I am using. I may have to stash that and order new for that project as well.

I have also finished a Sheldon the turtle (one of two I am making for my mom’s boyfriend’s grandkids). But now I need to go show my friend a Yachting Meeting. So, bye.

Back in my room, I lined up a few towels on my bed to roll the shawl up in, before  pinning it, folded in half, to my blocking mats. I ran out of pins in the middle.

After a run to dinner and CVS for more pins, I finished blocking it. I used fewer pins than I should have so I could go watch a movie with a friend.

By the time I got back to my room after watching Stranger Than Fiction, talking to some people, and taking a shower, the shawl was blessedly dry. I was able to take it down and go to bed (the pin-filled corner of the blocking mat arrangement was right over the foot of my bed). Before folding it and sticking it in my suitcase, I measured the shawl. At 86 inches, it is more than a foot longer than the pattern claimed, and looks to be wider as well. So I guess Knit Picks lied to me about how much yarn I’d need for that project. Oh, well. I have an extra ball of yarn. I was thinking about knitting lace curtains for the dorm. I certainly have enough left for at least for a valence.

With my shawl finished, I am addicted to the Candle Flame Scarf I am knitting. I feel like I may be able to finish and block this weekend, before I leave for home on Tuesday not-quite-morning.

I have finished my classes for the semester. I have one final due on Monday (an art project), a final portfolio that is mostly finished, and I am done.

In other news, I have recently become totally addicted to the song Old Brown Shoe by the Beatles. This was driving me crazy, because I just kept listening to it, but then I remembered iTunes genius. That turned out a perfect play list to get me off listening to that song. As I was commenting on how awesome that was, it was suggested I try Pandora. The Beatles station that was turned out was awesome. I think I have found another favorite website. I miss the radio terribly, but this is even better.

It’ll be nice to be home for a month. I miss my friends from home, and will greatly enjoy the stability of my home wireless network, and the quiet not living with a bunch of strangers affords.

I will also be glad to find fewer condoms on my doorknob than I do at school. That’s right. I found a condom on my doorknob tonight. It was blue, and smelled like blueberries, and that is as far as I will discuss it for now. I have gotten past the initial rage.

I was worried about going home so soon. I still have another ball of yarn for the Candle Flame Shawl, which needs to be blocked before I go home. Fortunately, I tried it on tonight, and found that after 12 repeats it is long enough, meaning I don’t need the last ball of yarn. It also occurs to me as I type this that the shawl is for someone bigger than I am, though. But, it will be longer blocked. So, I guess I should be okay. Cool. I will easily finish that and block it before I go home.

I am afraid to block, to be honest. I have never really worked with a not washable yarn, and am terrified I will felt my lovely yarn. I was also concerned that I would not actually have room to block. I have a set of blocking mats mounted on my wall (as you know), but there aren’t really enough of them for a shawl. But, I poked around on ravelry, and I found someone else trying to block within the space limits of a dorm. Apparently, I *can* fold my shawl in half for blocking safely. I have been advise to wet block, and use a rolled towel in the fold to prevent creasing. Updates on how that comes out will be posted… when that comes out.

In other news, I received an A on my research paper, and with strong encouragement from my professor to submit my research to a couple of academic symposiums, particularly the college’s undergraduate symposium (which she has agreed to sponsor me for). I have already made my submission for that, and am working on a proposal for another event: Infinitus 2009, which is a specifically Harry Potter-related symposium.

It is also the 29th anniversary of John Lennon’s death.

And on that cheery note, enjoy the rest of your week!