Yesterday I applied for work at a local chain bookstore. I thought I could walk in, explain that I managed a bookstore and my husband had been laid off, and would they like someone seriously overqualified for the weekends? No, no. It isn't like that. You have to do an interminable online application in which they ask you many questions which seem to be designed to get at your level of violence, drug use, and tendencies toward the showier forms of depression.

You must agree or disagree, strongly or unadorned, with statements like the following:

"It is fun to go to big events with lots of people."
"Many people are very annoying to me."
"When people are wrong, I correct them."
"When I get angry, I usually swear."
"I have many big regrets about my past life."
"I feel very upset when I make a mistake."
"I can't fake politeness if I don't feel it."

Really, I was enthralled. There was no point at which you pushed a button and they told you what sort of textile you were, but anyone who enjoys online quizzes might want to try it out anyway.

There was also a bit of a math test, but nothing in any way related to books or anything like that. Where I work, we ask people what their favorite children's book is. (Hint: if you say "Dr. Seuss," you have messed up.)

Later in the day, at my actual job, I had an opportunity to think of these questions again, because the Stupidest Customer came in.

"Are them the only hearts you got?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I wanted pink hearts. Don't you got any pink hearts?"
"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."
"You only got these hearts?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I don't want these hearts."
"I'm sorry."
"You used to have pink hearts."
"Yes, ma'am, but they're gone now. I'm sorry."
"You don't got any other hearts?"

This is how conversations with this woman always go, except that this time she had brought her mother with her, so every now and then they switched it up a little.

"Are them the only shamrocks you got?"
"Yes, ma'am, those three kinds."
"Are them the only shamrocks they got?"
"That's what she said." This last must be delivered in a dubious voice, as if this speaker, too, feels that the question may still be open.

And indeed, those people were very annoying to me. And I felt like swearing, although of course I did not. Fortunately, I was able to hide my feelings with a veneer of politeness. 

I finished the second pattern band of Erin. This was a simple geometric bit which didn't require much looking at the chart, or stitch markers or any of that stuff. Next is a Celtic knot thing, with a major change in colors. Sort of like the treadmill programs where you have a while on the flat between spikes.

Since there is a bunch of space here by the picture which I must fill, I will tell you the story of the Couple in Wheat Markets.

Long ago and far away, I went out to dinner with a boy whose initials were RRIde laRGyT. We went to a popular seafood restaurant by the beach, and there were no tables left. We were just about to leave when an older couple invited us to share their table. These kind people, about our parents' age, turned out to be interesting conversationalists, and we enjoyed our abalone. When the bill came, they paid it.

We were surprised and grateful. When they invited us to come to their house to continue our conversation, we agreed, and followed them to a nearby gated community. After a little bit of negotiation with the guard at the gate, we all went in.

I no longer remember what we talked about, except that the man told us he was in wheat markets. I was surprised by this, since wheat was not grown in that area, and I had never seen any wheat markets around. I was thinking it would be some kind of farmer's market. This confusing thing has stayed in my mind ever since.

Mature readers will have seen this coming, but we were flabbergasted when the wife said to us, "Why don't we all go to bed?"

Looking back, I figure that they must have made several previous sallies which flew right over our innocent little heads. We stared at her in consternation for a moment, while it sank in that they were propositioning us, and then stammered out some excuses (having to do, I think, with early classes and lots of homework rather than moral repugnance or how OLD they were. We were, you see, able to fake politeness) and hightailed it out of there.

As you can see, this story is very similar to Hansel and Gretel, except that this couple did not put us in cages or anything, but just watched us leave. I suppose middle-aged people who prey upon youngsters must budget for a certain proportion of kids who do not remember that they were told never to take abalone from strangers, and yet are still ready to escape once they realize that there is something to escape from.

It's funnier in person.

The encyclopedia people liked my article, and I have been asked to do another. 

This does not make up for the fact that my husband's company is shutting down for another week.

We all have our challenges. This is a real-life challenge -- how to live on half one's normal income for months on end -- but there is a significant knitterly challenge out there.

Are you a knitter? Yes, but are you a mad, wild-eyed, daft as a prawn knitter? If so, you can join the Yarn Harlot in the Olympic knitting challenge. The idea is to choose something challenging to knit in the 16 days of the Winter Olympics.

The Harlot points out that you choose your own challenge, so it is "only as crazy as you make it." Wendy suggested that in order to feel challenged, she would have to take on an Aran house cozy -- big words, but she's not taking part. Neither am I. However, a lot of people are.

The rest of us can watch.

Yesterday at work, I told the story of the Couple in Wheat Markets to The Empress and The Princess. The Empress, who has known me for many years, said, "I've never heard that story" in a somewhat startled voice. Yes, well, I have a whole bunch of really fascinating stories that I never tell anyone, because I am now such a highly respectable matron that these things just don't come up in conversation.

But here is how it came up in conversation. A former customer of ours, someone we used to know quite well (I did a presentation on ballads in her classroom once, in fact), came in after a hiatus of several years. We had heard that she had some truly wild event take place -- like maybe she burned her own house down during a Domestic Disturbance. We never knew all the details, and had forgotten the ones we had known to begin with, so we were hoping a) that she would tell us all about it or b) we could piece together the details from what we all remembered.

I gave her the opportunity to talk about it. I asked her what she had been up to, with a couple of humorous yet outrageous suggestions for why it might be that we had not seen her in so long. The outrageousness was to set a tone of open discussion. It did not work. She neatly avoided all our questioning. Obviously, it was none of our business. I cannot even pretend that we had any good reason for asking. It was flat out curiosity, and you know what that did to the cat.

Discussing it afterward, we found that other scandals came to our minds -- like the middle school principal who got arrested for propositioning a plain-clothes policeman in a public restroom. We determined that, were we ever in such a scandal ourselves, we would just have to move and change our names.

It was at this point that the Couple in Wheat Markets came to my mind and I told them all about it.

So -- and this is the point of this -- if barmy knitting challenges are the worst bit of craziness you can come up with, then you are probably doing just fine. So please do not take my words above as discouragement. I am in fact hoping that someone I know will do the Olympic knitting. It is always more interesting to watch this sort of thing if you know one of the characters in the story.

MacGyver is still ahead, though there have been some more kind words for Bond. The physical-world responses are mirroring the virtual ones.

We were watching James Bond last night chez fibermom. (There is always a James Bond movie on cable TV somewhere.) I was home from choir practice, getting in a couple of rows on Erin. #2 son was weaving necklaces. My husband was doing woodwork. Nadia was chasing #2 son's threads and eating his beads. "She wants to work with you," said my husband. It was very cozy.

Bond is kind of violent, but quite efficient. MacGyver, whom we watched the other evening, is more innocent-seeming and kind. However, I think it is clear that neither of them sings.

I heard on NPR the story of a couple of women who were stuck for 16 hours awaiting rescue in the middle of the ocean. They did not make themselves a helicopter from a passing albatross and underwires pulled from their bras. They did not punch anyone or detonate anything. They clung to their wreckage and sang to keep their spirits up. This may be more useful in real life.

Just something to think about.

It is clear that MacGyver is more likely to cook than James Bond, too. Rosalyne01 and I are both expecting house guests, and many of us are getting ready for Super Bowl parties, so I want to offer you this recipe.

Mediterranean Dip

1/2 cucumber, coarsely chopped
1/2 c chopped red onion
1 plum tomato, also chopped
1 small can chopped black olives
1 garlic clove, pressed
oregano, basil, and thyme to taste
4 ounces feta cheese, crumbled

Mix all these things together. Divide pita bread rounds into two circles each, slice them into 8 wedges each, and bake for 8-10 minutes at 400 degrees.

Now you set these things out (alongside Rotel Dip and 8-Layer Dip and Doritos and cake, if you have boys coming) and sit back and let your guests marvel at the elegance of your arrangements without telling them how easy it was. James Bond, who breakfasts on green figs and yoghurt, would enjoy this. MacGyver, who prefers his mama's chili, might want the Doritos.

If you have leftovers, mix in some tuna the next day and you will have an awesome sandwich.

Through a concatenation of circumstances, I find myself with a big stack of books. I have two from Booksfree -- Skinnydipping and the Food of Love -- and two from frugalreader -- The Great Gatsby and, on feebeeeglee's recommendation, Robert Parker's Pale Kings and Princes. There are three that I have begun but not finished -- Stash Envy, Deadly Dance, and the widely-admired but dull Lost in a Good Book. I also have five books loaned me by Ozarque.

Now, as I said in the last literary conversation I was involved in (over at The Water Jar), I am a grownup, so I can read whatever I please. Normally, I enjoy having a large stack of books, and would take pleasure in reading one of the essays in Stash Envy and then turning to a novel and later perhaps dipping into the nonfiction. In this case, however, I am supposed to re-read The Great Gatsby for Book Club. What's more, I took The Poster Queen's suggestion to arrange to see the movie version, and Netflix tells me that it will be here Thursday, and of course I want to read the book before watching the movie. No question, I should be reading The Great Gatsby.

I enjoyed this novel very much the first time I read it, and I really like Fitzgerald's way with words. I have in fact been looking forward to reading it again. But since I am supposed to read it, since that is the book that I ought to read -- now I find myself filled with the desire to read something else instead.

This is always the way.

And it has something to do with knitting, as it happens. I have begun the process of arranging to teach knitting at the local craft store. Begun, and then stopped. Because the things I do for pleasure -- needlework, singing, gardening, study -- would I think be spoiled if I did them for a living, even on so small a level as a weekly paid gig. I could be wrong. I enjoy a lot of the things I do at work, after all -- including looking after the flowers and studying stuff. Hmm.

Here is Nadia, who has chosen to sit on a cushion like the Queen of the May.

I had to laugh at this.

She obviously is not plagued by any sense of duty whatsoever.

And MacGyver was the winner, though Rosalyne01 spoke up for Bond, James Bond. I tried to persuade some male xangans to vote, but they have not done so. I don't know whether that would have altered the results or not. Here's hoping that you do not actually need any emergency interventions...

Both Crazy Aunt Purl and She Just Walks Around With It have posts about their refrigerators up. I have a refrigerator full of food (and my freezer and pantry, too), which I am finding amazingly reassuring. I may still have to talk with my creditors, but we had five kinds of vegetables for dinner, and the Schwann's man is my friend again. Since my husband's company is talking about another week of shut-downs this month, it seemed essential to get some food into the house. The company he works for was recently listed by Forbes as one of the best-managed companies in the country. One thing they specially mentioned was the "just-in-time" philosophy and the way this keeps costs down. Closing plants in expensive New England and focusing on the non-union Southern states was another method mentioned in other descriptions of this company. They had a 20% rise in profits last year. With adequate supplies of both food and yarn, and all the utilities paid, we should be able to weather the next step in their excellent management, which is part of the good economic news our president has been talking about. Slow but steady progress on the cardigan (Erin from Alice Starmore's Celtic Collection) allows me to avoid bitterness.

I've also finished and mailed the encyclopedia entry I was writing about the neighboring county. The truth is, my friends, that nothing of any historical significance ever happened in that county. I wanted to begin the entry by saying, "X County is a lovely place where people have been born, lived, suffered, loved, and died. This is the essence of human history."

However, I was supposed to write about the native peoples (none since the cave dwellers, and they wandered off after a bit), the European explorers (they never bothered to go there), the early settlers (they farmed), the economic development (they farmed; when wars came along, they starved, and then they got back to farming; they are still farming), and all the ethnic groups (white people from Tennessee).

This makes for a dull article (as #1 daughter gently suggested, saying that she kept waiting for some controversy to develop), but it probably makes for a nice life.

Life is nice here, too. We've been talking about the Supreme Court and human rights, as I mentioned, but there is another topic of pith and moment which has been concerning us here chez fibermom. I would like to ask your opinion on this weighty question:

In an emergency, would you prefer to have James Bond or Angus MacGyver with you? 

James Bond has more gear, of course, but MacGyver is better at improvising without gear. James Bond is more suave, but MacGyver may have better contacts (have you noticed, though, how rarely either of them runs into people they know? In real life, if you were continually pretending to be someone you were not, you would encounter old friends and former clients every third step).

#1 son clinched the matter for me when he pointed out, "James Bond wouldn't actually care if you died."

What do you think?

Ozarque has a picture up of one of her crocheted wallhangings.

Wendy had (it's a couple of days back -- scroll briskly past the pictures of the cat, but do admire the sweater on the way) some interesting things to say about knitting things and never wearing them. She describes herself as "a process knitter" -- that is, she enjoys the knitting and it doesn't matter what happens to the stuff after it is knitted. Someone recommended that she knit non-wearable artwork. This is mostly what Ozarque does with her crocheting. She creates art.

I am a bit troubled by the waste involved in Wendy's approach, since there are people out there who could really use a nice sweater. She could take a leaf from The Quiltmaker's Gift and be a Good Wool Fairy to the cold and needy of her community. Still, there are after all people who buy clothes and never wear them, so why shouldn't Wendy have her sweater collection? It is no worse, really, to keep a lot of wool around in the form of sweaters than to keep it in your stash in the form of potential sweaters.

She also has some rather Libertarian remarks about personal freedom, which I noticed mostly because I've noticed that philosophical strain in her remarks before. And I suppose because we have, chez fibermom, been discussing Alioto, the Bill of Rights, and whether it is possible to make decisions based on evidence and the Constitution without reference to any underlying philosophical positions. I'm inclined to think that one's philosophy of life informs all one's decisions.

I always wear the things I knit. If it can't be worn, I rip it out and make it into something better. The exception is Nothin' But a T-Shirt which I made last year from cheap yarn. It is still hanging around on my sweater shelf. Perhaps it is serving as a lesson to us all not to use poor-quality yarn.

Speaking of which, I will be giving you an update pretty soon here on how the bawks have stood up to wear -- since I made them in three different yarns, it seems like an ideal opportunity to compare.

Yesterday, I went to the gym with my boys. There is no reasonable segue from the random observations above this paragraph to the random observations below it. It's just random, that's all.

The thing about going to the gym with boys is that you can be settling into your cooldown and they will say that they need to stay to watch the rest of the football game.

Apparently it was an exciting football game. At one point, the TV shouted out something about Peyton Manning and all the men in earshot ran over to stand around the TV, frozen in a tableau of concern. As far as I could tell, the TV was not in any immediate distress, but they wanted to be near it anyway, just in case.

And the article for the encyclopedia is finally finished -- except that after I finished it I actually read the assignment (so to speak) and discovered a couple more things that I have to do. So that's what I'm doing.

Here is Erin, being modeled by a guitar.

I keep meaning to stop when I am at the end of a row and stretch her out and take a proper picture. However, at the end of a row I think I'll do one more row. And then the rows are so long that I often find I can't get to the end of that "one more row..." after all.

Anyway, this is the first pattern band. I am about four rows into the second band. It is just a five-stitch repeat, a simple geometric thing, so I am having a bit of a break.

This is good, since I seem to be afflicted with Poetic Lassitude. That is one of the diseases mentioned in the book I am reading.

I seem to have an unusual form of the disease, however. Normally, Poetic Lassitude causes one to lie on the sofa, reading poetry and occasionally reciting poetry of one's own. The form I have contracted, however, causes me to lie on the sofa reading novels and knitting. Perhaps it is Prosodic Lassitude. Prosodic Lassitude with Associated Fiberosis.

Actually, I got a lot of things done yesterday. I was very domestic. I worked on the nightgown a lot, handrolling and boxpleating and slipstitching. I did the long-overdue grocery shopping and reveled in all the nice vegetables, making tortellini soup and a lavish salad.

I also made a Key Lime Mousse Cake. Chanthaboune and Distant Eyes are coming to visit (and bringing some boy who doesn't yet have a nickname), so I had to try out this new cake recipe. I also had to practice with my new decorating tools which have been languishing in a drawer since Christmas. This is my story, and I am sticking with it.

All my domesticity, however, was of the sort that makes messes, not the sort that cleans them up. So today, in addition to finishing that encyclopedia article and continuing with my knitting and sewing, I hope to do some housework. What an odd sentence: "I hope to do some housework."

I had a (decorous) difference of opinion with some bloggers a while back on the subject of the cost of healthy eating. I switched to healthy eating habits without increasing my food budget, my food budget is appreciably lower than the average, so I know it doesn't cost more to eat right. There. See? I'm right.

However, a recent experience has shown me where this idea comes from.

With my husband's layoff, we got to where our cupboard was just bare. We had nothing but condiments. I realize that this is a common occurence in young people's kitchens, but I don't do this. I keep a well-stocked pantry and freezer, and my shopping trips are to replenish supplies and buy perishable foods.

But here we were with no food in the house. My serenity was only slightly compromised because we received a check that day for $30. I headed off to the grocery with it -- and had an eye-opening experience.

In a well-managed household, you can -- for example -- buy a roast, knowing that you can make pot roast, enchiladas, shepherd's pie, and stir-fry. Your cost-per-meal for meat is less than if you bought hot dogs. This assumes that you have potatoes, onions, rice, perhaps some frozen vegetables, and other basic things on hand. You replenish your supplies when the price is good, and take advantage of good deals on bulk buying. That's how I usually shop, and I think most moms do it that way, no matter what kind of food they buy.

But if you have no food in the house, and you spend $8 on a roast, and then buy the vegetables for the pot roast and yeast and flour and milk to make some bread to go with it, you will have spent half that $30 and only covered one meal. The potatoes will go on with the meat to make shepherd's pie, but you are still not going to eat for a week.

So I bought a chicken instead -- a small, boney, cheap one -- and some poorer-quality ground beef. In the produce aisle, I went with the triumverate of cheap fruit and veg: carrots, apples, and potatoes. By the time I picked up pet food and got to the baking supplies, I could only manage a $1 bag of white flour.

It was as though every time you wanted to knit a hat, you had to go buy yarn, needles, and a pattern book. You would totally have to rely on Red Heart and Woman's Day knitting magazines.

So, while no one went hungry this week, we definitely were short on whole grains and fresh produce.

I guess the twin lessons here are first, keeping a well-managed kitchen is cheaper than shopping in desperation, and second, if you do shop in desperation, then healthy food costs more.

Let me add a quite unscientific observation that I have been less energetic this week, and more inclined to be cross.

My boys had been warned not to complain. However, #2 son did remark, in a general way, that processed foods don't taste as good to him any more. Even at other people's houses.

I opined that this was a good thing, but he sighed, "You've taken away part of our childhood."

I have finished the first pattern band on Erin -- well, no, not really. I am only halfway through the last row on the pattern band. This would have been a much better picture if I had finished the row first and laid it out flat.

However, the sun has come up, and my dear husband got a paycheck yesterday at last, so I am off to the grocery. Fresh produce and whole grains, calloo, callay!

Later: Pokey, you will be proud to hear that I bought everything on the list. And I wasn't the only one in there talking to myself, either.

I was talking with Cleverboots yesterday. She had a kid with her. Now, Cleverboots says what's on her mind. But she is also a good mother, and a responsible woman. As a compromise, she was mouthing some of the words she said. Thus, when she said,

"She was wearing a (pearl thong)"

she didn't actually voice the words "pearl thong," but merely mimed them. After a while I became fascinated by which words she chose not to put sound to.

"She doesn't really do anything (vulgar)."
"Well, and you know we're (Jewish)."

To me, "vulgar" isn't really a vulgar word. Neither is "Jewish."

And then she said, "What do you think about (Black History) Month?"

This is a good question. Even if you call it "African-American History Month," it is still a source of ambivalence for me.

On the one hand, it is often used as an excuse to ignore the contributions of African-Americans for the rest of the year. You get up in February and mention Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and George Washington Carver, and then forget the presence of African-Americans in our history for the rest of the year. It is the same with Women's History Month, Hispanic Heritage Month, Native American Heritage Month, and Asian-American Heritage month.

I was telling Cleverboots about a time I was doing a history presentation in a local school. I had talked about the African Americans in our region during the pioneer days.

The kids told me that they knew about that. I pointed to the pictures on the walls -- pictures they had drawn of pioneers. "How come they're all white?" I asked.

The kids had not noticed. Since it was February, they had me in there reminding them. Otherwise, it just didn't come up.

It would be better always to remember the diversity of people, wouldn't it?

However, without the special months, it is very likely that the groups honored by those months would be ignored entirely. None of the others is as widely observed as African-American History Month is. And I expect that, if  asked, most schoolkids in our area could not come up with any information on either Hispanic or Asian-American heritage.

As for women's history, it is not quite as bad as when I was a child and the history books talked about "the pioneers and their wives," but it's not that much better. In most history classes -- and even more so with the time constraints created by No Child Left Behind -- U.S. History is a history of European-American guys.

I am putting out the bulletin board sets and books for African-American History Month. I just wish it weren't necessary.

Transcript of an IM conversation:

CHOMPHOSY:  did you know that when MO was first inhabited by humans,
 there were 3-ton sloths there?
Bouthdi:  WHAT!?
Bouthdi:   it was inhabited by humans!
CHOMPHOSY:  the humans were the surprise, right?
Bouthdi:  Somebody's  making sock monkeys!?
CHOMPHOSY:  i was just thinking that