Just an ordinary day

Tea

About to start a lace pattern

Lily

Holiday memories

Loving my shawlette - so-oo warm!

(Looking a bit stern - I'm not though, just trying to balance a heavy camera and take photos of my shawlette whilst trying to avoid messy house and hair!)

Oh, and by the way, it is finally Friday. Phew.

Cat consternation

A deep growl rumbled up her throat. Ears pitched forward, tip of tail twitched once, then gave another brittle rattle.
The other cat sat up, her back sharp and fur raised. Her ears flicked around urgently as she looked at the older cat for guidance.

Lily, eyes narrowed and head lowering - growled again.

Pan, now uncomfortable at the tension, lowered herself and crawled towards her Lily for reassurance.

I, not reading the situation clapped my hands together to break what I thought was a cat on cat incursion. Shocked back to the present both cats scattered and hid.

Satisfied with the situation, I returned to my knitting.


Growl.

I looked up. Lily was sitting stock still apart from the smallest aggressive twitch of her tail. Pan was sitting alongside -  a slighter more delicate shadow, both their ears and whiskers pointing directly towards the window. I made reassuring noises but Lily continued her deep threatening grumble, issuing a direct warning.

Intrigued, I lowered my knitting and went over to the cats, dropping down to cat-eye level, I aligned my vision with their piercing gazes and pointing ears. Lily was visibly muscling up, Pan quivered but refused to flee.

There - through the window I could see their stranger danger. Smiling, I stroked their backs to calm the tension - I could feel Pan was uneasy while Lily was building up a storm of aggression. Pan slipped behind me and Lily, taking my stroke as support bounded forward to the window ledge and yowled a taunt at.......


two work men working on the roof across the road................bless.

What do you mean I can't eat them? Have you seen how small they are?!

For Jo

Thank you all for your lovely comments and hello to Jo, who said in her comments..........

Hello have just found your blog and love it for your crochet and walks, we are always after ideas for new walks with our two children. A quick question, as I have read back through some of your crochet posts and realised you are left handed as am I, do you crochet left or right handed? I am trying to teach myself left handed - it is not easy! Any tips?! Thank you Jo.

Hi Jo, I am steadfastly and resolutely left handed, so crochet using my left hand to wield the hook and my right hand to hold/feed the yarn.  

I was taught by my right handed sister in law who was patient enough to do a stitch repeatedly and slowly to allow me to copy (in reverse) until I had mastered it.

Having got the basics I launched myself on the wonders of the internet and youtube and just typed in 'left hand crochet' There is a world of lefties out there doing it very nicely thank you!

My initial problem was understanding and interpreting the abbreviated stitches. I found that there are several different names for each stitch with the main three being UK, USA and Australia.  Because of this confusion I found this site Yarn Forward for a quick and easy terminology conversion.

Crochet and More has detailed explanations how to do the stitches too.

Something else that can be a bit confusing - the differing names/sizing given to crochet hooks - this site - Karp Styles crochet and knitting has an extensive list and one I refer to frequently.

 

With all crafts, you learn and you adapt to what feels best for you - my only firm and unbreakable instructions is to try it out and ENJOY! Hope this helps :) let me know how you go one - good luck!

Right, best get on, I have a soggy cat sitting miserably next to me with fur dripping - suspect she either wants drying or the fire or  probably both - *sigh* wish the cats would learn to wipe their feet as they come dashing in - I've only just trained the boys to do it..........

Be still my beating heart

Oh shawlette, dear dear shawlette - how I love thee.

We had a tumultuous relationship but now, oh now I forgive you all your tantrums (and mine).

You lead me on, you teased me and then you almost broke my heart. Then you changed.

We changed. Changed for the better.

From here, I can see you out on your blocking towel looking sharp and seductive in your yarnful manner. How my heart swoons as I yearn to wear you.

I had,briefly, before blocking, wrapped you around my neck and it was love love love.

Sigh.



I love you so much - I have picked up my needles and started another! Oh fickle me. hehehehe


And in case you ask -
Yarn - no idea, gifted from a friend, has a mixture of fibres in it and works up beautifully
Pattern - stockinette stitch with 4 increases on every knit row with a cobbled up lace pattern that relies on lots of k2tog and ssk and even more YO!
Love value? - oh yes definately!
Do again - see above.


The most true to the original colour is the third photograph down - it is difficult to get a good colour on such a drab wet day - oh what an excuse to wear my new shawlette!!

In which we go walking and fall through a time warp

We made the most of the last of the sunshine on Saturday with a lovely walk in the Yorkshire Dales. Eldest was doing his second walk for his Duke of Edinburgh Award which entailed he, with a bunch of similarly dressed and haversack laden teenagers, to walk about 14 km to an overnight stop. Here they had to set up camp and cook for themselves then, on Sunday walk a similar distance to another designated point where they would collapse until various parents would scoop them up and whisk them home (insist on showers and a fresh change of clothing) and sort out their wet socks/shoes/tent/trousers and empty the crushed food remains out of the haversack.

As we were already out and about dropping off Eldest, we set off for our own walk too. Youngest misses (but won't admit to it) his brother and relies on us as a poor substitute. So we have to keep him busy.

After a bit of a slog up a gentle but almost never ending uphill slope, we stopped for a break.  All we could hear was the sound of the skylarks, the occasional sheep and Youngest nattering away.

We travelled along rolling green humpbacked hills and down in to a dark sharp gorge with steep edges. Back out into the autumnal sunshine we walked down into the village of Grassington and was transported back in time.

To the 1940s.......

 

Grassington was hosting a rip-roaring 1940's weekend. The place was heaving with costume perfect folk, sand bags and military encampments.

We were pleasantly entertained for about an hour as we walked through the sandbagged streets, listening to a wonderfully dressed chap, in his plus fours and round spectacles, as he belted out all the latest tunes. SS officers mingled with the US army whilst beautifully glossy lipped and stockinged legged women clipped along the streets in their kitten heels and fur stoles. Men saluted and barked orders, guns were slung casually over shoulders as were gas masks. A wonderful old perambulator was being trundled up the street filled with lacy baby bedding and a vintage teddy. Youngest was in heaven - he loved it, his eyes almost as wide open as his mouth as he checked out all the uniforms, military vehicles and weapons. His kind of day :)

On Sunday, as promised, we arrived to collect a weary Eldest who has picked up a rather nasty cold and in a fit of 'teenagerdom' didn't look after himself and now was cold and unsuitably dressed - all his warm gear stuffed in his haversack. *sigh* when will they learn?

Now, Monday, he is curled up on a chair with a book and the fire crackling away. He was so flushed and poorly this morning, I didn't have the heart to send him to school and even Youngest said his brother should stay in bed!

knitting progress

 

'Dancing cats' making the most of the fire

prrrrr

Any hoo - it is Monday, it is the beginning of a new week and I am going to use our lovely weekend to power me through :)
Have yourselves a good day - with love hawthorn xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sounds

I'm on my own this morning.
For all the right reasons - boys at school and Himself at work.
Subsequently the house is quieter than it's usual family filled reverberations but it is far from silent.

The radio quietly sings to the kitchen.

Although we live in a fairly rural village, our road is often used as a short cut between the larger towns so there is a regular sound of a car rumbling through. When we first came to see the house before we bought it, I hesitated due to the closeness of the road to the front of the building. I had worried unnecessarily.

Inside, the road outside is a non invasive sound that only occasionally catches my attention. The house creaks and stretches as the pipes warm up. I have lit the fire. I tried to resist the urge for that comforting feel - it seems excessive to light the fire for just me. Then, two wet little faces appeared at the door and as I let them in, bells chinking and fur dripping, I relented. The fire, now crackling and flickering is accompanied by the sound of purring cats as they lick down their rain-spiked fur.

I can hear (and see) the trees sway in the breeze, their leaves have lost their summer deep green and are showing hints of autumn. The sound ebbs and flows. Lily's bell chinks again, she is changing seats. She often tries out several resting places before choosing her final nap spot. Pan, now licked down and almost dry (she must have tongue fatigue) has fallen asleep with her head resting on the hearth. Her ear tips glowing in the reflected light from the fire. I can just about catch a small cat-snore but it is almost inaudible.  

I can hear - quite loudly in fact - my knitting. I have to confess that I have been playing the field with my yarn. I had started my shawlette and it had been flying off the needles until I reached the lace pattern. After a fair bit of confuddlement and looking up of the knitting abbreviations, I managed to get going again until right to the end when I had three stitches left over... b****r.

I had counted the stitches before launching myself into the unknown abyss of lace knitting and had the correct number, so I concluded crossly with myself that I had obviously followed the pattern wrongly.

Carefully I frogged (stitch at a time) the entire row, re-counted just in case I had been wrong, then reading and re-reading the pattern and convinced myself that I could do it, started again.
Re-frogged.
Counted stitches again, placing in the markers as suggested by the pattern.
Started again and was rather startled to find that the pattern does not actually fit in between the 12 markers I had spent ages placing.                                
Frogged again.
I gave the shawlette a severe looking at and put it aside to take to Wednesday's knit and natter.

That was a fatal mistake.

Chatting and drinking tea are not good companions to lace knitting especially seeing all the problems I had had before. So, I put it down. Picked up a new set of needles and more yarn and started a new one.

I plan to go back to the first - but only once I have soothed my jangled knitting nerves with some lovely smooth and simple stockinette stitch.

Ah - I can hear another sound now, my tum - better go and have some breakfast.

Enjoy your Friday - xx

Nothing much really

Words whizz round my head. Lists and must-do's, snippets of conversations from this morning, from last night, from yesterday, from whenever. Discussions with myself of things I must do and things to be done.

A cacophony of constant chatter and thoughts.

I find it difficult to calm and quieten the the words as they fly around, they show no mercy even when I am tired. And I hear them all.

This, on occasion, is a good skill to have, I can multi task at speed, think off the cuff, make it up as I go along, fly by the seat of my pants. At other times it is almost list-overload and some of the words fall out and get lost..........

I have started to practise the art of quietening the perpetual busy-ness going on in my mind. Now and then I have moments of strangely calm silence and it is glorious! But as soon as it happens and I register the stillness - whoops my brain launches itself back into is normal nattering and chattering self.

I must admit to feeling happier than I have been recently. Nothing has changed except me - and I am working on that change.

Now - if you'll excuse me, those lists in my head are actually shouting and I really, really must listen to them this time!!

It is nearly the weekend so here's wishing you a few snatched moments of 'me' time, with your book, your yarn, your garden, yourself - your life x enjoy

Day dreaming

After yesterday's brush with Zenwork and the anti-Zencats I have returned to some semblance of normality. I am however determined to reduce the clutter, the dust (this is going to be challenging with the house alterations) and to feel more a peace with myself and my home. Wish me luck!

I have this image in my head that keeps slipping in when I least expect it. It fills my mind with a glorious blue and  instantly transports me back to our summer escape - to a wonderful turquoise coloured island. Gigha.

I almost don't want share the name of the island - just in case you discover it too! A twenty minute ferry ride from Kintyre and we were a world away from everything. The colours just flowed over me and I tried to eat it all with my eyes - absorbing and photographing as we walked along. It is a small, nay, tiny island  at 7 miles long by 1 1/2 miles wide. Bought by the islanders in 2002 from private landlords, the island is a cheerful example of people doing it for themselves.

We walked along the little lanes and discovered gorgeous secret coves and beaches. The wild flowers were glorious - the island is protected by landmasses from both sides and has a micro-climate of it's own.

Tucked away are snippets of history going back not just hundreds but thousands of years and we delighted in finding ruined churches and standing stones.

And - even in the rain I fell in love with it's charm and simplicity.

Guess where we're going back to next summer.....................

the diary of a reluctant domestic goddess...

I read this and was gently inspired. I felt invigorated by the simplicity of it all and looking around my house, decided that now was as good a time as any to do a bit of Zen-cleaning.

So with serene determination, a clear mind and an empty house (shipped boys off to school and Himself to work) I started.

I initially meditated with a mug of tea as I formulated a plan of attack. The house, as an entire entity, is too vast  a task to tackle especially as I only have the morning to start a life changing de-cluttering, cleansing and leaving no trace. No - a small piece of my untidy world would be enough start with (as the saying goes....how does a mouse eat an elephant? Well - a very small piece at a time) My house is my elephant....!

Having started another mediation with my second mug of tea I decided that procrastination does not fit in a Zen-style cleaning sesh so reluctantly drained the last drop and started.

I filled the sink with lovely warm soapy water and washed carefully and mindfully the breakfast crockery, keeping my head clear and thought free (note to self -must clean out litter tray). The cats were lying by the fire I'd lit earlier to warm the house, helping me have that satisfied homely feel (note to self - must clean up ash around fire) Keeping my head clear of thoughts and lists was going to be a little harder than I had hoped...hey ho, will keep at it (note to self - must start washing machine) hmmm.

The cats, now rested and feeling quite Zenned out - saunter over to the kitchen as I start lovingly and mindfully wiping down the surfaces (note to self - how did paw prints get up here?) I shush my chatty brain as I serenely scrub the mucky marks on the wall (note to self - think I will take off my fleece, all this Zen-style housework is raising a sweat!) Shuush brain!

The cats, now fully invigorated from their Zentype rest are having a full scale fisticuffs on the kitchen floor, red and white fluff artfully flying and drifting in Zenlike motion in the air. I, maintaining my serenity, open the back door to encourage them to go and play out. They, completely in the zone of cat-warfare, have not noticed my gentle encouragement and continue their game with gusto. With conciousness and a kindly guiding foot - I usher them out (note to self - try to breathe more calmly) I brush a stray hair out of my eye, straighten my apron and try to reconnect with that Zenstyle housework thing I am trying to engender. It's not working. I think a spot of meditation will help put me back on track. On goes the kettle.

For a short while I am busy - kept buoyed along by the feeling of Zengoodness. Then.....Pan comes in through the window pronouncing very loudly that she HaS BeeeN OUtside and IT is RAINING! I lift her off the window ledge and pop her on the floor. Trying not to notice the muddy pawprints she has kindly left me in a rather fetching pattern. I reach for the cloth and remove them instantly and instantly feel Zensatisfied.

I continue with my Zenwork, trying not to think about how grubby a house can get, clearing my mind of thought, breathing and using the act of zenwork as a form of meditation - when....

In comes Lily - she too was caught out in the rain but with her huge red fur coat has kept her reasonably dry however, her entire fluffy undercarriage is dripping in wet twigs, leaves and garden detritus. I zenlunge so I can de-twig her and she, being a cat, maintained a decent distance from my grasping hands as she shed her own personal compost-like-contents along the floor and the carpet. Standing up and composing my rapidly reducing Zencalm I accepted her and decided that I would just vacuum up after I had finished in the kitchen. She, by now had settled down by the fire and was pulling off and spitting out leaves and twigs all over the carpet (breathe..meditate..breathe...meditate......).

Back in the sactuary of the now almost Zenclean kitchen, Pan has gone out of the door coz the sun is back out and come back in through the window - as she cheerfully tells me I liiiiike this coz it IS fUUUUn. I mindfully and lovingly notice her ********muddy paw prints along the window, across the sink, on to the floor and end where she very happily sits and purrs at me. (pant..meditate..pant...meditate......)

Teeth clenched, hackles raised and blood pressure ready to blow, I get the cloth and vigourously rub off the prints and stomp down to get the vacuum cleaner and frantically clean the carpet then round the fire. The vacuum cleaner doesn't seem to be playing nicely so I check the bag - it is full to bursting. I am getting jaw ache. Bag replaced - I start again.

A final flourish with it and I am done. As I turn of the motor I can hear the dreaded noise that all cat owners cower at.....the noise of digging in the litter tray. That sound of a cat as it settles in the tray then....that moment of silence.....that 'productive' moment of silence......then the frantic covering up.

Dig. Dig,dig, dig,dig,dig,scratch, scratch, scratch (silence as they check what they have been doing) then a scattering of litter as they leap out of the tray feeling quite pleased with themselves.

Trembling at the affront to my Zenzone kitchen I stumbled into the detritus strewn floor as I pass a very satisfied and relieved cat. I can feel a cold sweat come over me. (pant..pant.....pant... sod the meditate..pant.....) I empty the tray as a smell worthy of chemical warfare engulfs me and my Zenzone, my eyes water and I feel faint at the length I have to hold my breath.

Outside in the fresh air, I clean the tray, dry it, reload it with litter and return it to the kitchen. Feeling a little less Zenhappy and getting rather fed up with the Zenwork, I put on the kettle and try to think calm thoughts, fail miserably as I can hear the second cat leaping into the clean litter tray................

Later.

Having recovered myself, put out and then had to dash out to bring back in the washing, dried two rain-wet cats, re-wiped the floor, the window ledge and washed the dog (no - not sure why I did that one either) I needed to bring myself back down to earth - so have resorted to blogging and having a brew......

*sigh*

Lily and Pan - the anti-Zencats

I have to say that having a break from blogging was a good thing for me - quite cathartic actually. Your comments are wonderful to read and I am always gratified that firstly that my blog is read and secondly you comment on my rather random life - thank you! Welcome too - all my new followers, which have quietly crept up to 101 - wow, thank you again :) xxx

blessings (and other Zenlike thoughts)   hawthorn xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Walking, receiving,knitting, creating...and forensics

Walking - Troutbeck, Lake District
Receiving - Flowers for our 23rd (yes 23) wedding anniversary - thank you xxx
Knitting - A shawlette in beautiful desert colours in a wool I know absolutely nothing about, except it works up beautifully
Creating - Drift wood heron from wood gleaned from our holidays, have also made a mirror frame but not photographed that yet.
? Forensics? Well, Himself and Youngest have made a start with the loft conversion and to reduce the dust from the rubble and plaster board they have rigged up opaque hessian-style plastic sheeting upstairs.
Looking a lot like a scene from a police crime programme.

There is plenty of scope for finger prints as a thick layer of plaster dust settles happily over the entire house..........the dust sheets work then......! *sigh*

In which I waffle (a lot)

After the 'hurry up's and the 'get on's and the dashing about for the school run, I am home with just the radio, washing machine and two cats for company. The radio is a shade too loud but my mug of tea keeps me here.

A glance outside confirms that the weather hasn't improved since I sprinted from the car to the house. A menacing bruise-coloured cloud is still hanging just behind the wind-whipped trees. The seasons are moving on and our sporadic and brief summer seems to have slipped quietly out the back door while autumn has stormed in and taken centre stage.

It has been a funny year. In a not funny way.

I don't personally feel to achieved much. Surprisingly a number of friends and colleagues I have chatted to feel the same way. Hmmm - is just co-incidence or a weather induced melancholy or the world downturn? Who knows.

I couldn't bear it any longer - I had to turn the radio down to a less invasive level. An annoyingly condescending man was spouting on about aggressive take-over bids and how this would shake up the economy.
It went something like this - BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH  BLAH BLAH BLAH (ad infinitum)  blah blah blah blah..... That is better.

I am knitting again, at least this weather does bring out the crafter in me, I have almost finished the tea cosy I was making to learn how to decrease.....forgotten what type of decrease it was, my Mom did tell me! oops :)

I am also trying something else out - will show later.

I have just read back what I have written and realise what a waffling non-interesting post this is turning out to be. Will try harder.

I will share with you (coz it will make me feel better) some of our holiday. We had started off with a wonderful 8 days in Northumberland. The weather, although not non-stop sunshine, was enough to give us freckles and a warm honey-coloured glow. Then suddenly at the end of the week, rain and a change in the atmosphere on the campsite made us wonder whether to move on and discover a new delight for ourselves. Our personal idea of camping heaven is a field filled with nothing but wild flowers, trees and us.

I have to admit to not wanting to share our holiday freedom and space with other campers who prefer noisy and jolly party type get-aways. They obviously enjoy their time and I am fine with that, what I don't appreciate is when their holiday invades mine. As we paid up and left to explore further, the campsite owner apologised for the antics of the apparently unbooked and unexpected jolly camping party - I felt sorry for him, he was about to ask them to leave and he was only a little bloke.

We travelled up towards Edinburgh then across to Glasgow. As we drove through the rain sodden countryside the skies began to lighten as did our moods. It was like a whole new holiday.

After negotiating the busy roads of Glasgow and crossing the Erskine Bridge, Himself and I consulted a rather old map and discussed the route. We were about to come to a large spit of land - with lochs either side and the road split at the bottom and joined again at the top. Looking at the map (printed in the early 1980s) both roads were given equal status in size and quality. So we plumped for the one on the left, my reasoning it was nearer the sea and our destination and just because I rather fancied it......oops.


 The *wonderfully*winding*narrow*road was tacked lightly against the sheer cliff edge just above the dark and choppy loch waters. Himself gritted his teeth and clenched his hands till his knuckles went white as he drove us along a single width road whilst towing the caravan....... oops again.

I kept up a hopefully cheerful and happy commentary about the view and the fact the sun was shining and we were going up a lovely part of the countryside yadda yadda yadda and the boys did the same only theirs was interjected with -
Holy COW - have you seen the drop!
..and............ Wowser Dad - that was CLOSE!!!!
.......and.............
This is EX-CI-TING Dad can we do it again!?!?!? -

 and.........this is JUST LIKE a ROLLER COASTER!!!

(Gee thanks boys for the support and help)

Any hoo, after a rather steep downhill (cue hot brake smell)  then an equally steep climb (cue hot engine smell) I spotted a picnic stop which Himself quite happily pulled into. It was nearly 5pm and we were all starving so I turned the caravan into a chuck-wagon, Himself consulted his maps, the boys claimed a picnic bench and the dog rolled around in glee on the grass.

We sat and ate looking over Gare Loch and all the excitement and tension of the drive began to fade. In a mile or two we would be joining back onto the main road up at Garelochheid and we could carry on in a less 'fly by the seat of your pants' fashion. Phew.

On our return journey, after our holiday - we chose NOT to do this road, preferring the other one on the map which was a wide many-laned thing. Easier to drive but far far less fun and adventurous.

But life is like that - choose the unknown path and take what comes or choose the well trodden path and find nothing new.....................

You knitwit!

Crochet - hmmm - my first love. I fell into it's wonderful ways and together we were wonderfully creative. I was able to make things I had only seen others do. Now - here I was doing it too - bliss.

Knitting - hmmm. A prickly relationship. I would like to be friends with the knitting needle but it (they- forgot they come in pairs....) they see me as part of the 'great unwashed' and treat me as so. Thwarting my every step (stitch) as I attempt to learn new things.

My great plan this last holiday was to use every minute in the car, or sitting on the beach or in the evenings, to get out the needles and a ball of yarn and play around. 

During the evenings after our days out we would sit in our cosy warm caravan and this would happen.....

Look at pattern.

Feel inspired.

Cast on correct number of stitches.

Get interrupted.

Count stitches.

Add or rip back to correct number.

Look at pattern book for reassurance. 

Pause....deep breath....continue casting on (start thinking about putting the kettle on)

Get to end of foundation row - count again (Add or rip back to correct number)

Deep breath again (promising self a definite kettle-going-on-action at end of first true row)

Start pattern....K1 P3 K18 P3 K1.

Ok, can do this thing (said in a rousing self-help-sort-of-way)

Get to end - really - I did it? Woo hoo (now turn around and start again)

K4 P18 K4 (what was I worried about - I can do this !)

K1 P3 (CB3) 3 times P3 K1.

You what?

K1 P3 (CB3) 3 times P3 K1.

Umm. Kettle action sounding good.

Look at pattern...try to decipher the instructions.

Find the decoding and stare blankly at knitting needles.

Put knitting down.

Put kettle on.

Frown.

Make tea for all four of us, get biscuits/scones/cake and distribute between ravenous boys and try not to get involved in their game/discussion/painting/reading/origami as need to concentrate on my own torture.

K1 P3 (CB3) 3 times P3 K1.

Attempt my understanding of the above gobbledegook.

Rip back.

Try again.

Rip back.

Yarn looking a little frayed.

I am feeling a little frayed.

Look at husband - who takes one look at K1 P3 (CB3) 3 times P3 K1, snorts and grins and retreats behind his book/newspaper/map whilst planning tomorrows walk.

Hmmm

Try again.

Try to resist the urge to rip back.

Persist onto next row.

And next. (ok - getting on)

And next. (gently feeling a little less perplexed)

Then reach the part of the pattern that says

K1 P3 K3 (CF3) 2 times K3  P3 K1.

Throw knitting aside - reach for mug of tea (see that it is empty)

Sulk.

This sort of repeated itself for several days and I felt defeated, dejected and demoralised. So gave up the knitting and picked up the paint brush/book/map/biscuit/origami and started to enjoy my holiday instead!

Then, on the way home - it was an 8 hour drive - I tried again. And finally succeeded!

And now?

Well, I am knitting again - only this time, something a little less.....challenging :)

In-car entertainment - we went out in our 2cv this weekend - probably the last warm enough day to play out in our funny little car.

And my knitting love-hate relationship? Status quo.