Again With the Monday

Does it have to be  Monday again? I hate to see Sunday end, especially when I spent most of it parked on the couch with a book, knitting, a drink, and my feet tucked under Geek’s ass. Heaven. The only bad part of the whole day was the ending, when I was outside with the dogs. We had some crazyass storms blow through here yesterday, and the wind was blowing lawn furniture and large farm animals across my yard. Lucky for me all that hit me in the head was a pine cone, but it hit me right in the temple at a high rate of speed, and scared the bejeezus out of me.

My scream brought Geek out to the back porch to make sure I hadn’t been impaled by a flying garden tool or fallen into the fire pit (again). Over the years he’s learned to pretty quickly assess the situation when he hears me scream, so he was on his way back inside (having decided I was in no mortal danger) when a bolt of lightening hit right there. I swear, it was right there. The crack of it hurt my ears. Both dogs bolted for the porch, but (as I’ve noted before) a scared dog runs faster than a clumsy knitter, and I hit the steps while tripping. Lucky for me, Geek has also developed catlike reflexes over the years, and he scooped me up the steps and planted me on the back porch feet down instead of head down. My hero.

I adore him.

 

 

I spent a good bit of time on Saturday afternoon knitting in front of the computer. There was talk of a sighting of the mythical Ravelry Store, so I knitted a new stitch into my knitting. P2, K1, F5, K2TOG, P1, F5, YO, K1, F5…

 

 

 

And it eventually paid off, as I got to actually see for myself that the Ravelry Store was not just a tale, and I got to order some Rav Gear. Color me happy.

And, yes I saved this news for last: I suck. I did not finish even one of my mom’s mother’s day socks. I had to rip back several rows of the gusset when I realized that I had been repeating the wrong two rows for about 20 rows. That’s what happens when you get in a hurry. I’m lucky my mom is so wonderful and loves me anyway. She’ll be happy with her socks, even if it’s September when she gets them.

Isn’t she cute?

Famous Last Words

There are many of them. Things like “Look out!” or “Don’t step in that.” I always step in it. And if you tell me to look out, invariably it causes me to just get hit in the eye instead of the head. One of my favorites is “Watch it!” Watch what? I look around for “it” and wind up getting run over by a truck.

Or a teenage boy, as was the case yesterday at the bowling alley. I’m famous for looking one direction while walking in the opposite direction. Yesterday I was distracted by the guy with the chain running between his eyebrow and his lip. I was studying him as I walked by, and one of his friends was studying the girl with the ubershort shorts as she walked by, and we collided. Hard. I heard “Hey!” and then next thing I knew I was falling backward after bouncing off of the dude’s chest. I know better than to pinwheel my arms- there’s much more padding on my ass than my wrists, so I tend to just land on it and keep my tongue away from my teeth. But I didn’t count on the low table that was behind me.

It hit me just behind the knees, like it was designed for the express purpose of flipping me through the air, and causing me to land on the back of my head. It did its job perfectly. I went ass over teakettle to land in a puddle of spilled beer. And to make matters more humiliating, it was bad beer. Bud Light, even. (shiver)

There follows a moment of stunned silence after such a spectacular fall. I hear that moment all the time. Then, usually, someone offers me a hand and says “OMG Are you okay?”

But not this time. After the stunned moment of silence, the first thing I heard was “DUDE.” And then laughter.

They did help me up though, and offered to buy me a beer. Since I was there with my daughter’s teenage friends, I declined. As I limped away, I heard them retelling the happening as if it hadn’t just happened. Already they’d embellished and added my shirt flying up (it didn’t). I’m sure by the end of the night, the story included all of my clothes coming off.

I don’t think the smell of bad beer (which billowed around me for the rest of the night) got on my mom’s sock.

I had a panic attack yesterday when I realized that if I followed the instructions as written, the heel of this puppy was going to be crazy long. So I went to Ravelry, natch. And the sock knitters there assured me that if I trusted the pattern, it would all be right in the end. So I’m soldiering on. But doesn’t this heel look freakishly long?

You can see why I panicked. But now I’ve turned the heel (MAGIC! Jazz hands!) and I’m working on the foot. I’m trusting the pattern. (I don’t have time to do anything else!) I have to assume that Cookie A. knows a thing or two about knitting socks.

And other famous last words, of my very own, “I’ll be back later today with the winners.” I did draw winners on Thursday, but haven’t time to post them. Shame on me!

1. Spazzmandawon the Jelby Sheep Stitch Markers.

2. Katie (One Scheme of Happiness) won the Born to Knit pendant.

3. Amy won the knitting project bag.

4. Monica won the Knitting pendant from Surly.

5. Christy won the Needles.

And Casey won a ton of advice, whether she wants it or not. Thank you SO MUCH for playing along. I can’t wait for #666. Large fun will be had by all.

WINNERS- email me your mailing info to petsittt (at) aol (dot) com. A couple of the items will be mailed direct from the maker, and a few will come from my house. 

About the Chicks

Okay, since you guys asked so nicely, I’ll tell you the story of the chicks. But, as most of my stories are, it’s a long one. Ready?

We’ve always taken in baby animals and saved them. Birds most especially. A couple of years ago, Casey brought home a baby bird from the barn where she worked. Pippin immediately squealed, jumped up and down, and then claimed it for her own. She named him Riley.

For weeks, Pippin fed Riley every few hours- even at night. She carried him around on her shoulder, he’d perch on her book when she was reading, and she took him for walks outside. He would hop around between her feet as she walked around the yard. She even taught him how to hunt for insects. They were totally connected.

When it was time for Riley to fly, he lived in our back yard for about 2 weeks, and whenever Pippin would call him, he’d fly down and land on her shoulder. He tolerated the rest of us, after all we had to babysit when Pippin wasn’t home, but he truly loved  Pippin. Then one day, after several days of trying to make him go, he finally flew away. Pippin was thrilled and crushed all at once. (sound familiar moms?)

We’ve had other babies since then that we’ve raised or rehabilitated and released. But none of them has bonded with us like Riley did with Pippin.

So when my sister said “Know anyone who wants a chick?”, Pippin immediately yelled excitedly ”ME!” while jumping up and down like a 3 year old.

Pippin doesn’t yell excitedl while jumping, normally. She’s way too cool for that. So when she does, you know she means business.

But you can’t get just one chick, right? Not when you have 2 daughters.

Pippin has a “guy friend” (wink wink) who lives on a farm. He says he’ll help her build a chicken cage for them when they’re bigger. That’ll be fun. But for now, they live in this contraption in Pip’s room:

High tech shit, right? They’re Rhode Island Reds, which is a common chicken used for laying eggs. They look like this when they’re grown:

(Pic swiped from wikipedia.)

Won’t that be handsome to have running amok in my yard? I know it might look tasty to you, but it looks cute to me. I’d have a cow too, if I had room. And Pippin wants a pig. Something tells me that if she fluttered her eyelashes just right, her Guy Friend might suddenly have the urge to have a baby pig on his farm that’s off limits to the meat man.

So, there ya go. The story of how I came to have 2 lil chicks running around my house. Now you know.

My New Sock Model

Sasquatch.

Didja squeal?

Contest is Closed

Thanks for all of your well wishes for Casey on her birthday! And for the advice that you’ve passed along during my contest. The contest is now closed, and I’ll draw winners this afternoon. I need to go through and make sure I caught all of the blogs that mentioned the contest, and give bonus entries for going that extra mile. THANK YOU for your jokes, they made me laugh and snort and more than a few of them were read aloud to the whole famdamily. You guys are funny peeps. We should write a book.

We had a great day here yesterday, doing everything the Birthday Girl wanted.

Casey and I knitted on the back porch together for a while. It was tough, but I was willing to sacrifice myself for her, seeing as how it was her birthday and all.

The only thing that harshed our mellow was that our mountain is on fire. We can see the flames from our porch. Please send rain.

We also picked up some new babies that will live with  us for several weeks:

That’s Pippin, with Sasquatch.

Uberdog meets Isabeau.

Back later with an update on the Mother’s Day socks, and to announce contest winners!

I’m Feeling Preclempt

My baby is 17 years old.

In my mind she’ll always be a wee beastie.

Dear Universe, Please Give Me a Break

Go figure, I found my knitting groove, and then lost my time to knit. Ain’t that just the way?

If you’re a hard core sock knitter, you might want to look away. I’m about to show you what it looks like when you pick the wrong yarn for the project, and then it pools in a big way.

This lacy pattern would be much better suited to a solid color yarn, and I knew that going into it. But my mom is not exactly a “solid sock color” kinda gal.

Instead of striping or nice variegated color strands, I’ve got pools of color that look like they’re gonna twist vertically on the leg of the sock. No telling what the foot will do. It could get really wacky. You militant sock knitters are probably breaking out in hives right about now.

But I like it. Call me crazy (everyone does), but I really like the kooky color moving around the sock. And my mom is just artsy (and crazy) enough to like it too. And -BONUS- mom likes short socks, so I’m still operating under the delusion that I can finish at least one sock by Sunday.

And oh, oh oh oh, man. I should have bought more of the Skinny Organic Cotton. People, seriously, this stuff is a big yarn O.

Would it be too weird to knit bed sheets? And underwear? And PJs?

Yo Mama

My sister and I were always freakishly close, so most of my childhood memories are shared with her. Especially the good ones.  But it seems that we remember several of them differently. Like the time we lived in a very old farmhouse with some other families (it sounds romantic to call it a commune, so you can if you want), and one morning we woke up to a sheet of ice covering everything and we sent our friend down the long driveway to the road to get the mail. We watched out the window while she slipped and fell and slid down the driveway on her ass, and it struck us as so funny that we laughed so hard we had to sit down on the floor, holding our stomachs. Here’s where our memories diverge; one of us laughed so hard that she peed on the floor. My sister thinks it was me. I, of course, have the vivid (and accurate) memory of it being my sister wetting her PJs. We’ll never agree, but secretly she must know I’m right.

But we agree on one thing, our mom is crazy and wonderful. She’s always been crazy, and we always knew it. We love the memory of Mom picking us up at the bus stop dressed in a trash bag (it was raining) and being thoughtful enough to bring along bags for us too. I’m especially fond of the mental image I have of her setting up her easel downtown on the sidewalk, dressed in old holey overalls, and a straw hat,  working on a painting of the courthouse. And Jase and I both loved it when Mom would come get us from school, just because she missed us and it was a pretty day.

I’ve finally found my groove on her Mother’s Day socks. I’m finally feeling the love. I got some new Panda Cotton (the colorway is called Fall Herbs) and a new pattern (Cookie A’s Hedera).

You know how sometimes, when you’re knitting for someone, it’s like a focused meditation on that person? It’s like that. I’m remembering her fried bologna sandwiches; the smell of oil paints; the time she cut our dining room table in half and attached it to the wall; her constant possession of a Volkswagon Beetle; the time we broke down in Yucca Arizona; the way she used to sing to us at night, rubbing our backs and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow or Christmas Island (year ’round).

I’m knitting my mom some socks (finally). And I’ve got enough good memories for every single stitch.

 

Frappy Hiday! (again)

I’m glad I don’t have any kind of emotional investment in this swatch, because if I did, I’d be feeling like a big fat failure right about now. The Germaine Stitch thwarted me. Every few rows I found myself with too few stitches; I must have been leaving out some YOs. So I ripped (again) and went to the Second Treasury and found the other cable/lace pattern I like, Cable and Ladder. Messed around with it for an hour or so last night, and then ripped it out too (again). Good thing I don’t care. (sob) I can report that the Pegasus yarn holds up well to repeated knitting, frogging, and throwing. Still looks good as new.

But it’s all good; sitting on my back porch and knitting is a good thing, even when I’m not knitting well. This morning the sun is out, the birds are loud, and the temp is 68 and purty in my chair. Perfect. I’ll be here for the next couple of hours:

But I won’t look like that. This picture was taken last year  (I was knitting the River Tote), but I’m too lazy to get up and take a pic of my back porch right now to post here. So I’ll be sitting there in that same chair, but picture it with new cushions, different plants, and I’m wearing PJs, longer hair and about 20 extra pounds on my bottom half.

Frappy Hiday to ya!

 

I Blame The Yarn

I’ve been out of Grey Goose for 2 weeks. (Don’t cry for me, I’ve had Absolut Raspberry, and although it makes me puff up the next morning like I’ve been bee stung all over and gives me a wicked headache, it does make a swell substitute for the top shelf stuff in a pinch.) I’ve been spending my liquor money on things like manicures for the Prom and bread and milk and gas.

And then I placed an order at Jimmy Beans Wool. That alone was enough to blow my yarn/liquor budget for a few weeks.

But tomorrow is Friday, and what with the sun being out and the air being clear and the planets being in line ’cause it’s May Day, I needed my Grey Goose. (Plus I had a last minute client call for this coming weekend, so I had a little extra coin to blow.)

I was standing in the liquor store this morning, looking at the Grey Goose bottles, trying to decide how much I wanted to spend. It was the yarn that was causing me problems. See, I only bought 2 skeins of the Blue Sky Organic Skinny Cotton. I’ve been rethinking that decision since I hit submit. What can I make with 2 skeins? This yarn just screams  summer weight sweater. I should have ordered 5 skeins. But I was trying to be frugal (snort) and responsible (burp) and besides, I’d already thrown several other yarns in my basket shooting for free shipping (that saved me some money, right?).

So I’ve been considering placing another order while there’s still the possibility of matching dye lots. Which is why I was torn between the big bottle (which might last me a week, but would eat up the yarn money) and the little bottle of Grey Goose (might last me the weekend and would leave money for more yarn).

I was in deep contemplation about my problem for several minutes, standing there with my mouth half open and my eyes glazed over, when the young liquor store dude sneaked up and scared the shit of me. Asked if I needed any help and BAM! just like that I shrieked, jumped, and fell straight to the ground in a heap.

I’m well versed in falling and was unfazed, but poor young liquor store dude was horrified. He tried to help me up without touching me, asked me several times if I was okay, and eyed me warily for a minute while I picked up my purse.

Then he squared his shoulders and recited “Ma’am, if you’ve already been drinking today, I must advise you that I cannot in good conscience sell you any liquor, especially since you are driving.”

It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t kidding. Not even when I laughed maniacally.

Me? Drinking during the day? Well, sure. But then driving?!!? As if! But I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. I got a fit of those giggles you get in church when your sister draws a penis on the bulletin and then pretends  she’s going to throw it into the pew in front of you where Mrs. Bitchison is sitting. I couldn’t stop laughing. I wanted to explain that it was really about yarn, and no I hadn’t been drinking, and oh wait til I blog about this, and could I take your picture? but I couldn’t stop giggling long enough to say anything.

Well, this went over well with young liquor store dude. This fit of hysterical laughter went a long way towards convincing him that was sober enough to buy liquor at 11:30 a.m. on a Thursday.

I was about to get it under control when the other liquor store dude, the one who knows me and normally waits on me, came around the corner carrying a case of wine. He looked us over and asked, “What, did she knock something over again?”

It was a good 10 minutes before I could breathe. It was quite embarrassing really, to stand there laughing like a lunatic while 2 men watched me warily. 2 men who held my liquor fate in their hands. I did eventually leave with the big bottle of Grey Goose, but I’m sure they’re still wondering if they did the right thing by selling it to me.

I guess I’ll hope for another last minute client so that I can buy more yarn. Either that, or dip into the grocery money. My family can live without bread and milk, right?

 

You Can’t Have Everything

Where would you put it?*

That’s my motto as I clean house this week. I’m trying to consolidate to a manageable level of shit lying around the house. Nothing is sacred; I’m being ruthless. Books, clothes, tupperware, and most especially the piles and piles of magazines- all boxed up and ready for donation. And how many tool catalogs does one man need? Sheesh. The yarn catalogs, well those are totally useful. But there are only so many ways to show the same tool over and over, right?  Don’t tell Geek I threw out a box full of them. Everything goes!

Except the yarn. That goes without saying. No such thing as too much yarn. And- BONUS!- the more shit I get rid of, the more room I’ve got for yarn!

In between insane bouts of frenzied tossing, I’m still playing around with the squishy yarn that Grace sent for my birthday. (Pegasus, from elann.)

It’s basically a cotton yarn, with a strand of shiny viscose twisted around it:

It’s slick and shiny like the Berroco Seduce I’ve got, but the cotton keeps the stitches together and defined, unlike the Seduce, which is too slick and the stitches pull apart. (Don’t get me wrong, the Seduce is gorgeous. It’s just a booger to knit.)

I love cables and lace together, there’s just something about the look of a solid cable surrounded by dainty lace. I’ve been wanting to play with the Germaine Stitch from Barbara Walker’s Treasury, so I’ve got a few rows of that on my swatch.

I’ve got no plans for this swatch, it’s really just comfort knitting til new yarn comes in the mail. I ordered some new Panda Cotton to re-start Monkey Socks for my mom. (Lucky for me Jimmy Beans Wool has uberfast shipping. I should at least have socks on the needles to show her on Mother’s Day, right?)

Speaking of Panda Cotton, have you seen the new colors coming out with men in mind?

I don’t know about you,  but those colors look like they  have me in mind! Love the Granite most especially.

Thanks to all who’ve entered the contest (next post down) and especially for the advice offered up to Casey.  She’s been reading along, and even mentioned printing the entire thing when it’s all said and done, to put in her hope chest. Imagine that, you could be in my daughter’s hope chest and win swag! Is this the coolest blog, or what?

*Props to Steven Wright, my favorite comedian.

Post #555 Contest

It’s too much pressure, I can’t perform. Sort of like Pippin; she can draw anything she sees and sketch all day long, but when I asked her for a sketch of me knitting, to use for a new blog header, she buckled and couldn’t draw to save her life. I can’t be clever today to save my life. I don’t feel funny. I’m tapped out.

I think part of it is my lack of creative time lately. Oh, I know I sewed costumes, painted sets, and taught an art class, but those don’t count. I’ve missed my personal creative time. My me time on the back porch with needles, yarn and vodka. My knitting time, Ravelry time, knitting blog time, and yarn fondling time. And, let’s be honest here, my stash enhancement time. The past several weeks of craziness have left me sucked dry and uninspired. And decidedly unfunny.

I’m also buckling under the pressure of knitting mother’s day socks. I’ve knitted this damn heel at least 10 times now, and it’s still not right. Whatthefuck? The directions are right in front of me, but I swear they read different every time I look at them. Last night I was so frustrated I threw my knitting across the room. Well, I tried to, anyhow. Knitting doesn’t actually go very far unless you throw the skein of yarn too; my knitting went about a foot before dropping. Highly unsatisfying.

So I grabbed the first skein of yarn I saw, and I swatched. Not that I normally get all hot and bothered by swatching, but I needed soothing and I was out of liquor. Grace mailed me a birthday package with this Elann Pegasus yarn in it. It’s cotton & viscose, and it knits up like buttah. Swatching it managed to keep me from going postal on my unsuspecting family last night. Here’s my knitting this morning, sitting on the table beside the couch.

Not very inspiring, is it?

le sigh.

So, let’s review. I’ve got 2 large projects on the needles that I’ve been saying I’ll finish for months now. I don’t even want to look at them, much less knit them. I’ve got mother’s day socks that have been thwarting me from day one and will likely never be finished in time.  I don’t want to knit any of these things, but I feel pressured to knit them all.

Ah, but it’s self imposed pressure, isn’t it? My mom doesn’t care if her socks are done by mother’s day. Hell, her Treasury Shawl wasn’t finished til September last year. She didn’t care. She still loves me. My sister will love me, even if I never finish her sweater. (I’ve been working on it for a year now, and she’s loved me all this time.) And frankly, I don’t give a flying flip about the tank top I’ve got on the needles for myself. The yarn is loverly, but I don’t adore the knitted fabric or the shape of the tank so much. I’ll still love me if I never finish it.

And you guys will still love me, even if my contest isn’t clever and witty, right? RIGHT?

I thought so.

And so, a contest. (If you want clever and witty, you can look back at my previous constests.)

There are 5 ways to enter, you can pick and choose how many you want to do:

1. Cheer me up. Tell me a joke, a riddle, or a funny story. If I can’t be funny, then you can. Bonus if your joke involves naked folks or liquor. Double bonus if the naked drunk folks are knitting.

2. Give me something to knit. Tell me a pattern that you loved or want to knit, or something you think I should knit. Bonus if you’ve knit it yourself.

3. Help me build my stash. Tell about me your new favorite yarn. Bonus if 2 & 3 match up. Double bonus if I can afford it.

4. Give my daughter some advice. Casey turns 17 next week. What advice would you give to a young woman if you could? Bonus if it includes “cleaning house for your mother”. Double bonus if it includes abstinence until you’re 30.

5. Send help! The more the merrier! Tell others to come check out  my contest. Bonus if they mention you when they come.

 I’ll choose 5 winners, natch, chosen in a random manner with darts and balloons involved. There are 5 prizes, and because I like to support the little guy, they’re all from etsy.

1. Sheep stitch markers from Jelby.

2. Born to Knit pendant from squidglass.

3. Project bag from stuckinillinois.

4. Knitting Pendant from Surly.

5. Needles from Chelle.

Fine print: Contest runs through Wednesday, May 7th, at 2:22 in the afternoon. At that very moment, my oldest wee beastie will turn 17. And with a mom like me, she needs all the advice she can get.

Thanks for entering, for reading, and for loving me even when I’m boring. I promise to be funny again when I’ve charged my batteries and visited the liquor store. (It opens at 11:00.)

I Wonder

I don’t spend too awful much of my brain power pondering the ways of the universe; I need to conserve my limited brain power for more important things like walking and staying upright. But there are a few things I wonder about when I can spare the mind time:

-the little twist of toilet paper that Geek leaves in the potty. What’s up with that?

-what is the perfect ratio of Diet Cherry Limeade to vodka, and if I drink a bunch of the limeade to make room for the vodka, am I ruining the ratio?

-why didn’t Knitpicks stamp needles sizes on their harmony needles?

-how much wood would a wood chuck chuck and who was the first person to care?

-does Pippin really think I can be distracted by cookies when I ask her to finish her schoolwork?

-why does my mailman refuse to walk up my steps, instead tossing my packages underhanded onto the porch?

-why is the universe conspiring with the Knitting Goddess against me, and keeping me from getting socks knitted for my mom for mother’s day?

-why do I like this song so very much?

-how can I raise my rates without losing clients, and how much longer can I stay in business with the price of gas eating my profits?

-whatever will I do with my time now that everything is over?

It’s that last one that really occupies my thoughts today. Today is Day One of several days of downtime. I feel like I’ve been run over by an elephant and then trounced by an angry Midget Mania Wrestler. (Shout out to my homey, Lil Nasty! yo.) I survived several weeks of solid insanely busy time. Time for some PJ time!

The play went well last night, and here’s a shot of the Sea Monster costume. Note the Nature Cotton hair. (It’s a sad state of affairs when the most work I’ve done with yarn in weeks is making this costume.)

 

The girls and I will continue school work through the summer, ’cause that’s just how we roll. We’d rather take off time whenever we want here and there, instead of working solid through the school year and taking the summer off. 

And now my blog can go back to  my original intention, a knitting blog. I’ve missed my knitting, I’ve missed my yarn shopping, and I’ve missed reading about your knitting. I’m looking forward to having my time again.  

I wonder what time the liquor store opens.

 

Here It Comes!

This is post number 553. You know what that means! Post #555 Contest is coming up! It’ll likely happen on Tuesday, as tomorrow is Monday and I spend all day long on Mondays away from home. Tomorrow is our last day of homeschool co-op for this school year, and we’re doing a play tomorrow night at the end of year program. (Prop Mistress. he he)  I’m staying busy today making a sea monster costume out of household objects and sheer ingenuity. There is yarn involved; I had some leftover insanity inducing nature cotton that I will never knit again, so I’m using it in the monster costume. It feels good to be cutting it up. I’ve even found myself thinking Take That Fucker!  while I’m snipping. I’ll post pics of the finished project so you can laugh at it.  

Well Crud in a Bucket

That’s what my grandmother used to say when she messed something up.

I’m more likely to say “Well fuck me.” Which is what I’ve been saying all morning.

My knitting has been everywhere with me lately, and I’ve been literally working on it for seconds at a time. Not a very smart thing to do, it seems, when knitting socks.

There’s the heel. The sides of the heel are not supposed to look like this:

It took me several minutes of close study (and cursing) to figure out that I’ve not been decreasing as I work each row of the heel.

Fuck me.

So I’ll be spending my few seconds at a time of knitting ripping back and restarting the heel.

It sucks to be me.

 

Late But Worth the Wait

The formal was wonderful. I can’t even begin to describe how magic it was to be able to attend with my girls. I’m so honored to have been there with them. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

The nails:

The hair:

 

The makeup:

The dresses:

 

The Geek:

The shoes:

(And yes, that’s The Date, but I don’t havehis  permission to post him.)

The Dance:

(Yes, they match. His mom and I are very sneaky. She didn’t know about his vest, and he didn’t know about her dress.)

The blue hair:

The end:

 

 

Frappy Hiday To Ya!

It’s my habit to sit in the early morning and blog with my coffee; generally my only moment alone all day. This morning there are several teenage girls tangled up on the floor behind me, in various stages of the “Sleep of the Teenage Dead”. I’ve got Casey awake already (My Sistah! word.), getting ready for her hair color (still blue). We’ve got mani/pedi appointments in an hour and a half, and I’m considering the wisdom of waking the beasties. They were up all night giggling and texting and eating bad foods. (Evidenced by the open cell phones scattered among the empty Dorito bags, Coke bottles and M&M wrappers.) They may not be fit for this world before noon today.

But get up they must, as we’ve got a crazyfull day ahead of us, leading to a long night of dancing and feeling awkward in their formals. Good times, all.

Wish me luck! Back with pictures and stories of large fun tomorrow.

p.s. Grace, my flask will sure come in handy tonight. Smooch!

 

I Wish I Could Be Selfish

All I really want to do is this:

But what I’ve really got to do is this:

I have lists on top of lists and then lists of my lists. And I can’t find half of them.

The formal (Prom, if you will. Even though, as homeschoolers, we don’t call it that, and I have no idea why. Must we do everything different?) is tomorrow night. I’ve got 2 teenage daughters, so you can imagine the activity ’round these parts as we do our last minute stuff. Casey can’t find her slip, Pippin needs socks, of all things- and there’s the eyebrow waxing, manicures, pedicures, flowers, hair… It’s like My Big Fat Greek Wedding  at my house. Only without the windex. And the Greek people.

If I were a selfish woman, I’d say screw it all and I’d sit and knit. Secretly, that’s what I’d really like to do more than anything else. But I’m not a selfish woman (all the time). So I’ll sacrifice myself for my girls. (Selfish, no. Martyr, why yes, thanks.)

Since we’re homeschoolers, and as such must do everything different, Geek and I are going to the formal as well. We’re to be chaperones. Doesn’t that make you snort? Me, as a chaperone!? But I’m thrilled, really. I get the opportunity to be a fly on the wall and watch my girls at the dance. So that means I need to be waxed, primped, prepared and pedicured as well. Large fun for all.

So I’m really not complaining. Well, actually, I am complaining. It’s just a good natured complaining, with a dash of bitchiness for good measure.

I’m only a couple of inches into the sock pattern, but I’m digging it. It’s very simple and looks good with the yarn. I still have (naive) hopes that I can finish these by Mother’s Day. I thought I should share that Cristi (Turtlegirl, designer of the loverly Red Dwarf Socks) told me that Bezzie (she of Random Meanderings) actually knitted the Red Dwarf socks on DPNs last year, and noted it at her blog. I don’t have time to search it out and think too hard about it right now for these socks, but just in case anyone else out there wrote off the socks because of the circular needles, you might check out Bezzie’s blog and search for her work last year on these socks.

 

GreenKnitter

 Several people have given me a head’s up about the site GreenKnitter. Have you seen it?

A.m.a.z.i.n.g resource. Truly. I’ll be using the Yarn Chart a lot a lot a lot.

Hanna put the GreenKnitter site together, she blogs at ever green knits. Check her out too! (Barbara, there’s an article about coffee as dye!)

 

 

Because It’s Been Too Long Since I Tripped and Wrote About It

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “No, Cass, it’s been too long since you knitted and wrote about it.” Get off my back, you. Plus you have sucky grammar.

I give you, Exhibit A:

The stairs.

Please note  a few things about these stairs:

1. The bottom step is broken. That’s not from me falling on it. It’s Geek’s fault, for letting Pippin back the truck up when she was only 11. We’re lucky it was just the step that got crushed.

2. Yes, my husband is a carpenter, and yes, he could fix that step in about 20 minutes. But he must think it’s charming, because it’s been like that for over 3 years. Plus it’s a funny story when we have back porch guests for drinks.

3. There are only 3 steps. You’d think that would be easy for me, but these steps trip me up more than the front steps, and there are 8 of those. In fact, the only steps I think I’ve tripped on (or up, or down, or over…) more is the set of spiral steps at the beach house on Pawleys Island. Yes, you read that right, my family  (and please note here that my sister is just as clumsy, if not more so, than yours truly) rented a house with a spiral staircase. Charming. They must be after the life insurance. But I digress.

4. Didn’t I say I wouldn’t say “But I digress” anymore? I think I did. It seems I lied. Or just forgot. Often, when it seems I’m lying, I’ve really just forgotten.

5. Back to the steps. Please note the Hound. (Sorry for the Full Monty of the Hound.) The Uberdog likes to lounge around in that very spot. You see how that could cause me some problems. Stepping over the Hound onto the steps, well, that’s just not something I should be doing at all  in my condition, but most especially with a full bag of trash in my hands.

I fell down those steps a little bit ago, with a full bag of trash in my hands. That’s the short version. But I rarely do the short version, right? So the long version goes like this: My husband’s brakes went out on his truck this morning, so it’s is in the shop. He has my car. This means I’m stuck at home with no car. Not that I had anywhere to go today, actually, but when you suddenly find yourself without a car it’s amazing the errands that come to mind and how trapped you can feel. So I’m trying to take advantage of my vehicle deficit by cleaning house. I figure, a couple of good hours of cleaning will earn me several hours of knitting and drinking. Right? And if I don’t have a car, then I can drink all I want. Bonus.

So I was taking out the trash, and the Uberdog was sleeping at the top of the steps, and I stepped over him (because I’m just considerate like that, why wake him?) and instead of putting my foot down on the top step, I put my foot down on air. Air doesn’t hold me up very well, what with the 25 lbs I’ve gained over the past year or so. So instead of gingerly stepping over a sleeping dog, I clumsily cartwheeled over a startled dog. I did, I turned  a cartwheel. I can’t do them unless I’m falling, but when I’m falling I seem to be able to execute daring gymnatics with a high degree of difficulty, smooth form, and good transition. Yet I rarely nail the landing.

I did, however, nail the garbage bag. It broke my fall. I broke its seams. I think it was a fair trade though, as I’d rather be picking up spilled garbage than tending a broken bone. The Uberdog is used to my shenanigans, and barely moved from his spot. When I came out with the camera later, he stood up like I wanted him to pose. Go figure, I go flying over him like a crazy woman, screaming and going air born upside down and he yawns at me. Point a camera at the dog and he gets up and strikes a pose, flaunting his goods.

Now I’ll go clean some more, so I can earn my Knitting Happy Hour on the back porch later. I’ve got a date with some sock yarn.