Sunday, December 28, 2008
Why Do Farts Smell?
Today I was remembering an incident that happened to me when I was around 8 or 9 years old. Mom and Dad and my brother and sister were going to be out of town. I forget what the occasion was, but my parents needed someone to babysit me. So, they arranged for my Dad's parents to look after me for a few days.
My grandparents lived on a farm about twenty minutes away so they came into the city to pick me up. We arrived back at their place and went inside.
Now I have to tell you that my grandparents (both now deceased) were deaf. Grandpa was born deaf and as best as we know grandma lost her hearing in an accident falling down the stairs and hitting her head (we are not 100% certain if that's what happened). Grandma's family were embarrassed to have a deaf child in the family and when company came she would be hidden away. It was, unfortunately, fairly often the case back in those days (1913ish) with any family members who were different such as Mongoloid or mentally impaired family members to be locked away when visitors came by so as not to 'embarrass' the family.
Thankfully when grandma was around eight years old, a visiting minister heard her scratching at the door and had the gumption to ask who was behind the door. It changed grandma's life. He convinced her family that she belonged in school and they agreed, sending her to the deaf school in Milton, Ontario. While there she met grandpa. They fell in love and when school was finished they got married. Grandpa then took over the dairy farm and the two of them worked together harmoniously for many, many years.
Being deaf, they spoke with their hands. They could also lip read and speak too. Most deaf people can speak very well, though sometimes their voices are softer sounding. So, being a child left alone with grandma and grandpa I wasn't worried or afraid. If all other means of communicating failed, signs, mime, lip reading, etc., we'd get out the pen and pencil and write notes back and forth.
In fact, I'll never forget when grandma asked me what I wanted for lunch and since I didn't understand she wrote down the word "sandwiches". Now I knew that I knew what that word was, but for the life of me I could not recall what it meant. I kept thinking about sand and witches and no amount of thinking and meditating would help me remember what she was asking me. Not wanting her to think I was totally stupid I nodded yes. I realized a short while later what the word meant when we sat down to eat lunch and she had roast beef sliced up on bread--sandwiches. I remembered then. That word has always been troublesome for me. I think it's because it doesn't make any sense at all, except to maybe witches who hang out on beaches.
Anyway, later that day grandma and grandpa were standing next to me in the dining room and they were having a fast sign language conversation about something. I didn't have to pay attention so I just stood there. But then it happened. The big build-up started. I had to fart. And I kept feeling the pressure and the need to release it, but I couldn't do that because I was a guest and it'd be rude to fart. And besides, from the pressure that was building up I knew that this wasn't going to be a silent thing. No, it was going to be a huge noisy fart.
It was at that moment, while I struggled to hold that great big fart in that I had an epiphany: They're deaf! They won't hear it!!! I'll never forget that amazing dawning realization that I could make this big noise and they wouldn't even hear.
So, I farted. I let that big thing go. And it was very noisy, just like I thought it would be. I stood there then, with a little smile on my face. I was proud that I'd solved my problem and kind of awed about the whole realization.
It wasn't long though until grandma's nose started to twitch. Then her hands moved really fast at grandpa. Now, I didn't know the actual signs she used but I sure could tell what the gist of it was. She was accusing grandpa of farting. He shook his head vehemently, no he did not fart. I waited a few more seconds and then both of them turned to look at me. Then grandma repeated the same signs to me, asking if I farted. No, I shook my head, I didn't fart. Are you sure she asked? Yes, I'm sure I nodded.
They gracefully let me get away with that boldfaced lie. So I learned that day why farts smell. Many years later I would hear the joke that many deaf people tell: Why do farts smell? The answer ... so that deaf people can enjoy them too.
My grandparents lived on a farm about twenty minutes away so they came into the city to pick me up. We arrived back at their place and went inside.
Now I have to tell you that my grandparents (both now deceased) were deaf. Grandpa was born deaf and as best as we know grandma lost her hearing in an accident falling down the stairs and hitting her head (we are not 100% certain if that's what happened). Grandma's family were embarrassed to have a deaf child in the family and when company came she would be hidden away. It was, unfortunately, fairly often the case back in those days (1913ish) with any family members who were different such as Mongoloid or mentally impaired family members to be locked away when visitors came by so as not to 'embarrass' the family.
Thankfully when grandma was around eight years old, a visiting minister heard her scratching at the door and had the gumption to ask who was behind the door. It changed grandma's life. He convinced her family that she belonged in school and they agreed, sending her to the deaf school in Milton, Ontario. While there she met grandpa. They fell in love and when school was finished they got married. Grandpa then took over the dairy farm and the two of them worked together harmoniously for many, many years.
Being deaf, they spoke with their hands. They could also lip read and speak too. Most deaf people can speak very well, though sometimes their voices are softer sounding. So, being a child left alone with grandma and grandpa I wasn't worried or afraid. If all other means of communicating failed, signs, mime, lip reading, etc., we'd get out the pen and pencil and write notes back and forth.
In fact, I'll never forget when grandma asked me what I wanted for lunch and since I didn't understand she wrote down the word "sandwiches". Now I knew that I knew what that word was, but for the life of me I could not recall what it meant. I kept thinking about sand and witches and no amount of thinking and meditating would help me remember what she was asking me. Not wanting her to think I was totally stupid I nodded yes. I realized a short while later what the word meant when we sat down to eat lunch and she had roast beef sliced up on bread--sandwiches. I remembered then. That word has always been troublesome for me. I think it's because it doesn't make any sense at all, except to maybe witches who hang out on beaches.
Anyway, later that day grandma and grandpa were standing next to me in the dining room and they were having a fast sign language conversation about something. I didn't have to pay attention so I just stood there. But then it happened. The big build-up started. I had to fart. And I kept feeling the pressure and the need to release it, but I couldn't do that because I was a guest and it'd be rude to fart. And besides, from the pressure that was building up I knew that this wasn't going to be a silent thing. No, it was going to be a huge noisy fart.
It was at that moment, while I struggled to hold that great big fart in that I had an epiphany: They're deaf! They won't hear it!!! I'll never forget that amazing dawning realization that I could make this big noise and they wouldn't even hear.
So, I farted. I let that big thing go. And it was very noisy, just like I thought it would be. I stood there then, with a little smile on my face. I was proud that I'd solved my problem and kind of awed about the whole realization.
It wasn't long though until grandma's nose started to twitch. Then her hands moved really fast at grandpa. Now, I didn't know the actual signs she used but I sure could tell what the gist of it was. She was accusing grandpa of farting. He shook his head vehemently, no he did not fart. I waited a few more seconds and then both of them turned to look at me. Then grandma repeated the same signs to me, asking if I farted. No, I shook my head, I didn't fart. Are you sure she asked? Yes, I'm sure I nodded.
They gracefully let me get away with that boldfaced lie. So I learned that day why farts smell. Many years later I would hear the joke that many deaf people tell: Why do farts smell? The answer ... so that deaf people can enjoy them too.
Labels:
Deaf,
Farting,
Farts,
Sign Language
Saturday, December 27, 2008
How to Kool-Aid Dye Sheep's Wool
I reported earlier on how to wash a fleece so now I'll show you the progression of dyeing a sheep's fleece with Kool Aid. (This was my first but successful attempt :)
Use unsweetened Kool-Aid for this recipe.
I first spun my washed and carded my wool from Francis the sheep and then spun it on my spinning wheel. I wanted a bulky yarn that wasn't perfectly even so I spun it to be a little larger. I didn't use the whole fleece - I just created 3 skeins and then I was ready to dye it. I chose not to dye the wool roving and also I chose not to ply the yarn until after the dye process was completed.
Here are the steps to Kool Aid dyeing your wool:
Use unsweetened Kool-Aid for this recipe.
- Open the skeins and tie them loosely and then soak them in room temperature water for 30 minutes or so. This helps them better soak up the dye. You can had a 1/4 cup of vinegar to create acidity but many reports on this process say the Kool-Aid is acidic and it isn't necessary (I went ahead and added vinegar to mine). Also, because Kool-Aid is approved as a food you don't 'have to' dedicate your cook pot as a dye pot, although it would probably not be a bad idea if you did.
- Fill a metal (non aluminium) container with water and add packets of Kool-Aid. I used five 8 gram packets of the colour Ice Blue because I had three skeins and I wanted a fairly strong colour. Stir to disolve all the crystals. The amount of water used isn't the issue to the strength of colour taken up by the wool - it's the number of packets that you use that make the colour stronger.
- Remove the wool from the water and place the skeins into the dye pot. Press them down gently until they are covered in the water.
- After 30 minutes you'll see that your coloured water has become clear because the dye has been completely absorbed by the wool (note that the water showing in the spoon is clear--and yes I have a very ugly harvest gold stove!)
- Remove the wool from the pot and place in the sink to drain and cool.
- Hang to dry. The wool will have a lovely Kool-Aid smell which really makes up for the poopy smell before washing it! The smell will come out eventually.
- Hang your wool to dry.
Turn on the stove and simmer (not boil) for 30 minutes. You can stir--very gently and slowly--but be careful not to agitate the wool or it will felt.
Now I went one step farther. The blue came out more a sea foam colour which was fine but I really wanted a purple-blue colour. So once the wool had cooled down to room temperature I repeated the above process and added five 6 gram packets of Grape Kool-Aid to a fresh pot of room temperature water on the stove. Note that you can re-dye and also mix your colours too.
I simmered the seafoam coloured wool for 30 minutes (per directions above). My thinking was that the colours would layer (same technique I use when painting watercolours) so I wanted to build the colour. Also, I wanted to blue to show through the purple.
After the skeins were dry I plyed them on the spinning wheel. I really love the end result--the dye colour varies slightly from raisin to purple to blue-purple and the two-ply helps to show off the colour differences.
I plan to knit a vest with this wool.
If these directions were helpful, please leave your comments to let me know.
Thanks.
Friday, December 26, 2008
How to Wash a Sheep's Wool Fleece
I learned how to make yarn on a spinning wheel and I've got a new obsession--spinning. After taking some lessons I started saving. I even took on extra work supply teaching to raise funds to buy my own wheel. Months went by but finally in the fall I got my Louet spinning wheel. I don't know much about it from a technical standpoint other than that it's well made, I love it and it has two foot pedals. My teacher recommended it, having said she's tried them all, I took her word for it and ordered the Louet.
I had been working with roving, fleece which has already been cleaned and combed but recently I bought my first full fleece, smelling like a barn of sheep and I happily brought it home. It was a golden apricot colour which I loved. I was hoping that it would stay that colour but unfortunately it came out white after washing. It was the oil--lanolin that gave it the peachy colour.
I've subscribed to a spinners' magazine called Spin Off where they had a great article on the "best" way to wash a fleece (the article was by the well renowned author and spinner Judith MacKenzie McCuin). I followed the directions and the results were very pleasing. Here's the gist of it:
I had been working with roving, fleece which has already been cleaned and combed but recently I bought my first full fleece, smelling like a barn of sheep and I happily brought it home. It was a golden apricot colour which I loved. I was hoping that it would stay that colour but unfortunately it came out white after washing. It was the oil--lanolin that gave it the peachy colour.
I've subscribed to a spinners' magazine called Spin Off where they had a great article on the "best" way to wash a fleece (the article was by the well renowned author and spinner Judith MacKenzie McCuin). I followed the directions and the results were very pleasing. Here's the gist of it:
- Soak your fleece in a pail or bucket of room temperature water for 5 to 7 days. It's best if you can keep this water warm. The reason for the soaking is to loosen off the poohy particles but more importantly, to let the suint - the water based cleanser that is on all wool -- work to cleanse most of the fleece for you. Suint is naturally secreted by the sheep and it has soap-like dirt shedding qualities when it's wet.
- After the week, remove the fleece to a strainer but be sure to keep all that poopy water. That water will be full of suint and it can be used over and over to cleanse future fleeces. So put a lid on that bucket and keep it. (Confession - it's a cold and snowy winter in Canada and my poopy suint water is in a large garbage can in the kitchen. I can't put it outside because the water will freeze. At least the lid snaps down and latches really well. But on the other hand, I always loved the barn so a little sheep smell isn't that bad). Once this poopy water is too gross to continue with you can pour it out on your garden for your flowers.
- Fill your washing machine with hot water - enough water to cover the fleece. (Don't put the fleece in and run water on it or it will felt). The heat will help to clean the fleece and also remove the lanolin.
- Put your fleece into your washing machine, letting it sink down and be covered in water. You can gently push it under the water but don't agitate it (I know, it's hard to resist!). Let it soak for 30 minutes. The washer is being used as a tub for hot water and for it's spin cycle, but don't use any agitation. (Now what I do which I haven't heard of others doing is I cover the washer with a couple comforters. This helps to keep the heat in so that the water doesn't cool down very much. Some people cook their fleece as a way to keep the temp up, but I prefer this method).
- After 30 minutes, check the temperature of the water with your hand. Then turn your washer to the spin cycle (spin only, no rinsing) and spin out the water. It'll be dirty.
- Remove the fleece and refill the tub with hot water - make sure the temperature is the same as your temperature check so the fleece isn't shocked or felted with a sudden temperature change. This time add dish washing liquid until the water is slippery with soap. There's no need to make the soap bubbly but don't worry to much if it is.
- Add the fleece to the washer and let soak again for 30 minutes with the comforters keeping things hot.
- Once again turn the washer to spin and remove the water. It'll be not so brown this time but still dirty.
- Remove the fleece and again refill the washer with the same temperature water and soak again for 30 minutes and spin out the water.
- The water should start to be clear and clean looking which means the fleece is getting clean. Repeat the process if necessary until the water is clear.
- After your final spin, lay the fleece on a towel and/or drying rack and let it air dry.
- This section of fleece from "Francis" was very dirty with fecal matter and straw.
- The wet fleece will air dry in about 24 hours which is about as much time as you might need to decide what you're going to make with all this wool. Then, get out the carders and get ready to have some fun!!!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Cats - Being a Foster Mom for Stray Cats
One cold and dreary Sunday afternoon in November 2006, I went looking for my precious cat Sweet Pea. She had not come home and I was worried about her. I found my beloved cat on the road. She had been hit by a car and was killed. I was devastated at losing her. She had been a special cat, my fur baby, and she had really helped me through a tough time. I missed her terribly and all I felt was an overpowering need to do some pay back for her somehow, some way. (This photo is of Sweet Pea).
I wanted to show thanks for her life and to make her memory live on. So I called the local non profit organization that fosters cats, Animalert, and set myself up to become a foster mom for abandoned and stray cats.
Within a couple weeks I had a Mom and her kitten. They were adopted quickly and then more cats arrived. Each one has their own unique personality and it was a real pleasure to get to know them as individuals. I'd watch them as they'd bond with the other cats in my home and they'd soon relax because they knew they were in a safe place. (Photo of Tica adopted in 2006 along with her kitten Antonio).
My heart would break a little as each cat is adopted but it's such a small pain and it doesn't last. Instead I'm left with the knowledge that the cat has found it's perfect permanent home. Few things are better than that.
(Photo of kittens Dottie & Smudge and their Mother adopted 2008).
At a recent fund raising bazaar for the Animalert non profit organization http://www.animalert.ca/, I had several people grab me by the elbow to take me aside. Then out came the photo albums and cameras filled with photos of their new fur baby--a cat they came to adopt from my home. That and a followup call always give me closure as I release these precious animals, making room for the next.
The young cats are playful, sometimes mischievous but always fun to watch. They bring joy that outweighs the little things like the chewed corners on my books or the toilet paper pulled off the roll, out the bathroom and down the hall. The older cats are wise and they know they've been abandoned or mistreated. They are extremely grateful and make the most loyal and loving pets. (Bailey adopted in 2008).
I think that's the surprise, the love that's returned. So often we think it's just us that's giving it out. The returns are wonderful and it makes me want to ask why more people don't consider fostering? Maybe it's just a well kept secret?
I hope this secret gets out :)
(This is my cat Gracie who rarely sleeps because she's always busy supervising everyone else, including me).
I wanted to show thanks for her life and to make her memory live on. So I called the local non profit organization that fosters cats, Animalert, and set myself up to become a foster mom for abandoned and stray cats.
Within a couple weeks I had a Mom and her kitten. They were adopted quickly and then more cats arrived. Each one has their own unique personality and it was a real pleasure to get to know them as individuals. I'd watch them as they'd bond with the other cats in my home and they'd soon relax because they knew they were in a safe place. (Photo of Tica adopted in 2006 along with her kitten Antonio).
My heart would break a little as each cat is adopted but it's such a small pain and it doesn't last. Instead I'm left with the knowledge that the cat has found it's perfect permanent home. Few things are better than that.
(Photo of kittens Dottie & Smudge and their Mother adopted 2008).
At a recent fund raising bazaar for the Animalert non profit organization http://www.animalert.ca/, I had several people grab me by the elbow to take me aside. Then out came the photo albums and cameras filled with photos of their new fur baby--a cat they came to adopt from my home. That and a followup call always give me closure as I release these precious animals, making room for the next.
The young cats are playful, sometimes mischievous but always fun to watch. They bring joy that outweighs the little things like the chewed corners on my books or the toilet paper pulled off the roll, out the bathroom and down the hall. The older cats are wise and they know they've been abandoned or mistreated. They are extremely grateful and make the most loyal and loving pets. (Bailey adopted in 2008).
I think that's the surprise, the love that's returned. So often we think it's just us that's giving it out. The returns are wonderful and it makes me want to ask why more people don't consider fostering? Maybe it's just a well kept secret?
I hope this secret gets out :)
(This is my cat Gracie who rarely sleeps because she's always busy supervising everyone else, including me).
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