UNKNOWN INTELLIGENCE

I recently took a quiz on a university website aimed at helping people identify their areas of intelligence. Any teacher or student of psychology can tell you all about Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences -- the notion that people excel at different things, and that someone who can't spell worth a darn may be able to triangulate the precise location of star G3497F in the cosmos.

I already know where my strengths (and noticeable weaknesses) lie, but I took this 49 question quiz to humor the person who sent it to me. On the quiz, you rate each statement on a scale of "Strongly Disagree" to "Strongly Agree."

The statements were relatively easy for me to rate -- I (thought) I knew myself well enough to confidently check the "Strongly Disagree" box next to the statement "I enjoy pursuing physical activities such as running or sports." (There was no question related to chocolate consumption, alas.)

When you're done with the quiz, a box pops up with your results.

Mine said:

YOUR INTELLIGENCE IS: UNKNOWN

Just like that.

Your Intelligence is Unknown.

My big, fat unknown intelligence.

I'm so special, a computer program cannot collate my answers to 49 questions and drop me into one of eight boxes.

I think this warrants a new blog tagline. Forget "A Crazy and Creative Life." From now on, the banner shall read:

The Yarnista

Of Unknown and Highly Questionable Intelligence

As soon as I can figure out how to do that...

my holiday was full of

and

and

and

 

We hung:

whilst the children wrote:

The recipient was finally able to open:

Yarn: Springvale Worsted, four skeins

Colorway: Flynn (with ivory added)

Needles: 7

Pattern: my own

Intended use: Shawl or throw

Recipient: Yarnista's Mama

Bedroom: Hers

Holiday: Delightful

Um.

Aside from the beautiful ornaments we received as gifts this year, all of the studio's decorations came from a thrift shop.

I found a shoebox full of them, brought them to the counter, paid the $5 that went right to charity, and decorated our studio tree with the likes of

Marc with a C.

Helen loves living here. She's a knitter.

So does Shirley. Surely Shirley enjoys the fruits of our labor.

Linda loves me. Can't you see it in her eyes?

And Todd looks like he could use a friend.

Pam, Marc, Helen, Shirley, Linda, and Todd seem to be exceptionally pleased to have been relocated to a prestigious yarn studio like ours.

And so does...a walnut with goggley eyes...?

This ornament is a testament to 1985. The year in which people had so much free time they had to use it up knitting hats for walnuts.
 (?!?!????)

Merry Christmas, leetle snow friends.

And...walnut with a knit cap.

(?!?!????)

a difference in perspective

My three year old's perspective:

My perspective:

My three year old's perspective:

My perspective:

Her perspective:

My perspective of my baby out in the cold drinking hot cocoa:

 My perspective of families toasting marshmallows in the driving snow. Poor, huddled masses, trying desperately to stave off frostbite.

My eight year old's perspective on the situation. (Toasted marshmallows sandwiched between ginger cookies? Winner.)

The cookies' perspective on winter. Poor, huddled masses trying desperately to stave off frostbite:

Santa's perspective on my six year old. Thumb's up.

And what the same child looked like just moments before:

This is the face of a child experiencing her first Minnesota winter. (And it was 25 degrees outside, that's nothing for this neck of the woods!)

This is exactly what my mother looked like experiencing her first Minnesota winter after moving from her native Southern California:

Except she was about 20 years older. And blonde. But the forlorn facial expression? The hair, coated with snow and hanging askance as if she'd been wandering without a home? The abject misery?  Dead on.

Now she loves it here. You get used to dressing for the cold. There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes. You can't make it here in a hoodie and some flip flops.

This child has obviously not developed the calluses necessary to enjoy American Siberia. But she will.

And I promise she looks like this most of the time:

 What a difference a day makes.

And what a difference our awesome customers make: look at these ornaments that were sent to the studio! An adorable miniature skein of handspun silk and merino.

I love this miniature tree!

An amazingly detailed elvish stocking:

And some miniature wool pants! My goodness, these are cute.

If you see your ornament pictured here, THANK YOU, and please use the contact button your right to jot me a note -- I have something for you.

Happy holidays -- whatever you celebrate -- to you and yours.

seven things.

1. I spent four hours wrapping gifts last night, and finally had to stop so I could go to sleep. This is not because I'm giving an obscene amount of gifts, but rather because I am exceedingly picky about the way I wrap things.

2. According to my three year old, I am the "best best mommy" in the whole world. (Let's not point out the obvious fact that she knows no different because I'm the only mommy she's ever had or the fact that there are most assuredly mothers that are better than I.)

3. According to my eight year old, he is the only child in his entire school -- no, the entire UNIVERSE -- who has to do the following things:

• Take out the recycling.
• Carry the basket of dirty laundry from his room to the basement where the washer is housed.
• Give the dog water.
• Give the cat water.
• Stop hitting his sisters.
• Bring his hockey gear to and from the car.
• Clear the table after dinner.

4. I think I am coming down with something. I.can.not.be.sick.on.Christmas. I've been sick on Christmas more than once, and I don't recommend it.

5. Over the course of one work day, my hair can go from looking perfectly normal to looking like I haven't showered in a week. Good times.

6. The city has salted and sanded the alley behind my house, which is in a solely residential area. And yet, they have not done the same for the alley behind the studio, which is in a busy, commercial, downtown area. Every night, my car threatens to fishtail and hit the buildings on either side of me. Why, city, why?

7. The Christmas knitting is done and blocking. Woot!

Tomorrow I'll post some pictures of the studio Christmas tree, and of the ornaments that were sent to us by lovely customers!