Distracted, but Productive

We are on day 2 of the "biggest winter storm of the season". At least that is what the local weather people are calling it. Well, duh. I guess they are having a hard time coming up with superlatives.

It's really rather pretty. We had a bunch of snow yesterday, over night everything received a protective coating of ice, and now, I can barely see my neighbor's house for the Buick-sized snow flakes that are coming down like a hard rain. I'm glad I have no where to go.

I took some pictures before the kidlets were awake, and before they had the yearning to do what kids do. That is go outside and turn the pretty into not so pretty. You know what they are going to do to those icicles. Please ignore the Christmas tree stand in the bottom right corner that is still attached to the tree. I'll get to it, soonish.

div>

Now, the productive part. I started this Monday evening, and finished yesterday. It's Calorimetry using Manos del Uruguay in the Wildflower colorway. I only cast on 98 stitches (the pattern calls for 110) and repeated row 5 twelve times instead of 15. I have a smallish head.

This is a fun and easy pattern. It's a good introduction of short rows if you've never worked them before. I have enough of my yarn left over that I could probably eke out another one. The Girl has expressed interest in it. I can't have nuthin'.

There you have it

It's been 3 days since the inauguration and I think we've had enough time that we can put it into perspective. I didn't see one unicorn dancing on my lawn the day after. Nor was there a rainbow over my house with a pot of gold. Gasoline is not free, and my mortgage did not magically get paid off.

Don't get me wrong. I hope for nothing but the best from our new president. If he succeeds at his job, we all succeed. But to hear some people rhapsodize about President Obama, you would have thought that this would be the end to all of our problems.

I just hope (there's that word) that some people won't be horribly disappointed when it's the same old song and dance out of Washington.

Slash



You meet knitters in the most unexpected places, like the ER doc at Cincinnati Children's Hospital.



Last evening while waiting for 4 hours in the ER (the staff kept telling everyone that they had never been this busy before, ever) I got some knitting done. Quite a bit actually. Thing 1 inexplicably decided to put a marble in his mouth. I guess you know where I'm going with this.



But since he wasn't choking or having trouble breathing, I made the executive decision to consult the Husband later and sent all the kidlets to bed. When the Husband arrived home from the night out with his buddy, he decided that maybe we should have Thing 1 x-rayed just to make sure. I got the short straw.



So while Thing 1 dozed in the exam room, I worked on the newest sock. It's the Beaded Rib pattern from Charlene Schurch in her most excellent book Sensational Knitted Socks worked in Austermann Step. The exam room was the best place to work on the short row heel.



This pattern is worked from the toe-up and the short row heel requires much concentration. For me, at least. This was only my second pair of toe-ups. Luckily I had the forsight to bring all of the paraphanalia with me. I pulled the little table over to my chair, you know, those little tables on wheels that are designed to slide over hospital beds.



So the doc came in (finally) while I had my pattern book and stitch markers all spread about, and immediately said "Hey, you're making a sock! How long does it take you to make a sock? I'm the world's slowest knitter. I made my daughter a blanket, and I knit on that thing forever. When I was done it was no bigger than a doily!"



I immediately liked and trusted her.



Thing 1 is fine. This, too, will pass. I've added a slash to my job description - Mom/laundress/cook/driver/scullery maid/poop checker.

I don't want to brag or anything...

but have any of you signed up for Twitter? It's pretty clever. It's blog-lite. If you don't have the time or inclination for a full fat blog post, you can tweet. It's a good way to jot down random thoughts and observations or keep in touch with distant (distant in a spatial way, not emotional) friends.

Anywhoodle, you can also follow other twitters and they can follow your tweets just like bloglines and such. There are some well known people tweeting. John Cleese and Amy R. Singer, for example. (Wouldn't you just love to be lumped into the "well known" category with the likes of John Cleese?)

In addition to the above luminaries, I am following Stephen Fry of Jeeves and Wooster, Peter's Friends, and Wilde fame. I've always thought that Mr. Fry (we aren't on a first name basis, yet) was terribly clever. In addition to being an actor/director, he writes (novels and plays), and it turns out that he is now following me! I won't mention what puckered when I received the email letting me know that I had a new follower.

I've not twitted in a few days, because I now have the added pressure to be witty. Talk about twitter's block!

What is your Return Policy?

Is it possible to return the flu? Sure, I know I can re-gift it (I passed it on to the Husband), but I didn't want it, and I want to return it.

It started about 2am on Christmas Eve. On top of feeling like I'd been run over by a jolly elf's sleigh, I was also worried about all of the things that still needed to be done. I was literally sick and worried, and let's throw in tired for good measure. It managed to get done, but now I have the Herculean task of tidying up. You have no idea how much 4 kidlets without parental supervision (well, a parent that gives a jingle bell about how the house looks) can trash a house in 24 short hours. In the Husband's defense, he did manage to feed the kidlets. Meanwhile, making me more nauseous with the smell of cooking chili.

But I think the best gift I've received is this one: the Gaggs (my mother in law) picked up the kidlets about an hour ago to take them to PD's (the sister in law) house so they can celebrate Christmas with their cousins. I can spend the rest of the afternoon in my p.j.s, with the remote (something I never get, ever), and my knitting, recovering. The house can wait til tomorrow.

Happy Christmakwanzaakuh (or whatever you celebrate), and may you find peace and joy in the small things.

It's begining to look a lot like...bleah

The annual holiday hurl is upon us. I awoke last night to sound of one of the kidlets yaking. It was the Girl. I gave her my sympathy and sent her back to bed. Periodically, I'd hear her bowing to the porcelain, send her my telepathic sympathy, and go back to sleep. I know, I'm a rotten mom. But, honestly, the Girl is the precision puker in the family. I knew that there would be no mess to clean up.

This morning when I came down the stairs to the family room, all four kidlets looked like death. They had all been up during the night! I had a few spots to scrub on the carpet. My children really are considerate. They didn't want to wake me to let me know that I might want to clean the carpet before it soaked in. The little red buckets have been handed out for the times they can't make it to the vomitorium, and the rule is that the bucket must be with you at all times.

Every year (with the exception of two), the kidlets have had the flu at Christmastime. This is another reason Christmas makes me cranky.

Lost in Translation

Groovy

Scene: the living room

Characters: the Husband
Big Steve (former hippie)

the Husband: Hey, do you have a GPS yet?

Big Steve: Nah.

the Husband: You really ought to get one.

Big Steve: Nah, man. I don't care where I'm at.

I Can Hear My Mother Now







"If (insert friend's name here) were jumping off a bridge..." Now, in my defense, I had every intention of starting the scarf long before she made a few. She just got to it first.

Yep, that's the Noro striped scarf that all of the cool kids are making. I think I did o.k. picking out the colors online when all I had to judge the colors by was a wee little picture. So far the striping is pretty awesome. The greens, browns, and blacks from the two different skeins seem to be coming up at the same time giving a rather muted striping effect. Those two skeins are colors 221 and 245. We'll see what happens when I start using color 279.

I could see making multiples of this scarf, because it's fun and good watchin' t.v. knittin'.

I've also decided that I don't have enough wool sweaters. It's shameful really. I'm a knitter fer cryin' out loud. I really only have two wool sweaters that are good for indoors. One is a Goodwill buy. It's a Woolrich sweater. It's a henley tunic length made out of a sport weight heathered blue wool. It's nice and warm, but not too heavy. The other is my 'go to' sweater.

My other wool sweaters are those really heavy thick cabled aran type sweaters that are perfect for wearing outside when you don't want to wear a coat. I like pretending I'm in an LLBean catalogue! You know the one I'm talking about. It's the photo of the healthy looking model outside in the snow draging a Christmas tree along behind her wearing the rubber snow boots that they are known for with her flannel lined jeans, earwarmers, mittens, and cabled sweater.

So to remedy my problem of not having enough warm wooly 'inside' sweaters, I'm knitting furiously on the Malabrigo cardigan I started in September. I'm doing a modified drop shoulder, and I'm almost done with the back. My goal is to have 7 indoor wool sweaters. One for each day of the week. Maybe I'll reach my goal in a couple of years!

Christmas Makes Me Cranky

Are you one of those people that really don't like Christmas, but you keep your mouth shut so as not to ruin the fun of those magnificently silly people that are covered in colored sugar like a cookie and wear blinking Christmas themed pins/necklaces/ties? I'll come out of the closet and admit it. Christmas is not my favorite holiday.

Maybe it's because I feel the need to please those that 'get the Christmas spirit'. Yeah, the kidlets want the house decorated and pretty for Christmas, but who does all the work? Mom. Would it kill them to put the empty boxes away once they have decorated the house?

And don't get me started on the presents and the subterfuge that is involved with kidlets that still believe in Santa! Oi, vey.

I'm a home body. I love nothing more that to be at home on a cold winter's evening watching t.v. (even if it is Spongebob, because I never get control of the remote, ever) in my jammies. But, yet, there is another party we have to go to. Bah humbug.div>

I just get done making a lavish meal - all from scratch - for Thanksgiving (my favorite holiday, because it's just about the food and being with family and friends without the added bonus of gift buying/wrapping and decorating), when I have to do it again for Christmas! I just got the kitchen cleaned up, now I have to dirty it again? By cooking? Can't we just order a pizza?

The part I do like about Christmas is the week between Christmas and New Years. All of the hoopla is over, and the kidlets and I declare it jammie week. That's right, a week of jammies with nothing to do but eat leftovers and cookies, play games and take many naps. O.k., that last part is mostly me.

Sometimes, they know just what to do

Having finished the Palindrome Scarf and a pair of mittens that I had to have right now, I cast on yesterday for a hat for either Thing 1 or Thing 2. I was just making it up as I went along. I grabbed some left over Sol from the Husband's aran (every thing is assembled, just working on the neck), and some leftover Plymouth Dreambaby DK from the Spongebob sweater.

I made some 2" ribbing, did a turning row, knit some stocking stitch (all in the Sol), then switched to the red Dreambaby for the remainder, and, Bob's your uncle, Thing 1 (or 2) has a watch cap in grey and red. Incidentally, those are my high school colors. Please try to contain your enthusiasm. Your elation is most undignified.

This morning, while yelling at the kidlets to get ready for school (and hurting my back, again, I'll never learn), I wove in the ends on the hat. A fight then ensued between Thing 1 and 2 as to who got to wear the hat to school.

Now, most rational (and for 'rational' I mean 'good') mothers would have broken up the fight. I, instead, sat there enjoying the calm glow of the knitting goddess that I felt was pouring down on me from above listening to the heavenly choir in my head as Thing 1 and Thing 2 shoved and snatched the hat from each other. I had created something worth fighting over!

The one that triumphed quickly requested that I add his initial to the hat. Cheeky bugger.

I Can't Have Nuthin'

Sure, he looks all cute and innocent like. Don't let those puppy dog eyes fool you. He's a killer, vicious, I tell ya. Here's the proof.
You should have seen them before I bent them back to their original shape.

A Life Lesson

So, while I'm screaming at the kidlets that they were going to miss their bus to school (they did), and that I was not going to drive them to school (I did), I threw out my back. Only I could hurt my back while yelling at the kidlets - there was finger pointing and wagging going on also. Maybe that's what did it.

Wakefulness

Have you ever woken up at 6:00 am on a Sunday, and no matter how hard you try, for the love of Pete (Pete is very well loved, bless him), can not go back to sleep because you can not get the burning notion out of your brain that you must have a new scarf and you must cast on for it right the frak now? No? Alrighty then, it must just be me.

Not only are you driven by a burning passion to have one new scarf, but you must have many new scarves. So much so, that you later in the week purchase yarn for a scarf even though you have perfectly good yarn in the stash to make many, many scarves/smallish wraps.


Does anyone else hear that she-devil knitting goddess cackling? No? Alrighty then, it must just be me.

Manly, yes, but I...oh, never mind

Scene: my house, Sunday afternoon

Wife: I'm running to the grocery store, I'll be back in a minute.

the Husband: What are you getting?

Wife: Some stuff we need for tonight...green beans, rolls, drinks for the kidlets, and something desserty in case your sister doesn't show up.

the Husband: Hey! You know what I'd like?

Wife: (quizzical look on her face)

the Husband: Some bubble bath! I want to take a bubble bath.

Wife: We have bubble bath. It's that fancy stuff you bought for me.

the Husband: Yeah, I know. But that's too girly. I want something manly.

Wife: Manly? Manly bubble bath? What is manly bubble bath?

the Husband: Mr. Bubble. (pause) This is going to be on the blog, isn't it?

Wife: Oh, yeah.

I Can't Help It

I'm going to get all political on y'all. I have become increasing concerned with the process of democracy in this country, most especially in my own state. My biggest wish this election year would be that we, the people, would take this election, or any election for that matter, seriously enough to follow the rules (laws) pertaining to our right to vote.

Here in my state of Ohio, which is always a highly contested state during presidential elections, I am very concerned with the actions of ACORN. There is an investigation into whether ACORN bribed one person to register to vote 73 times! There was also a one week period here that allowed people to register and vote at the same time! So there was no stopping someone that was so inclined to register/vote in one county, drive to another county and do it again and again and again, thus devaluing my one vote! Ohio's secretary of state would not validate the registrations until ordered to do so by the court, thus leaving no time in the few weeks before the election to verify them all.

Our right to vote today is a hard won privilege the seeds of which were planted well over 200 years ago in the American Revolution. This far removed from the Revolution we do not pay due reverence to the act of voting, not just the act of voting, but the act of voting without being told how to vote. We get to vote, as a nation, how we dang well please. There is no one strong-arming us at the polls.

Voting is a great responsibility. We owe it to ourselves to be well informed and educated on the issues and candidates before walking into the polling booth.

And one more thing, play nice.

A Sweater Blank?



It's my own unvention, you saw it here first! I got dibs! Mine, mine, mine! Everyone will be doing it! Erm, not so much. I figured if I had enough exclamation points, I'd get excited about knitting the EXACT SAME SWEATER TWICE!

Nope, still no excitement, even with the yelling. Remember how I mentioned that I underestimated the size of the lady bits? I am well aware of the size of the girls, I didn't really underestimate per se. It was more of a lapse in judgement. I decided that I didn't really need any ease in my sweater. I must have been drinkin' that day. I hate tight clothing. Proper fitting is good, sausage casing clothing, not so much.

So, I've created my own sweater blank, except it ain't blank. Rather than ripping it out, winding the yarn back into balls from whence it came, I'm re-knitting in a larger size straight from the original. It already comes in a color (no dyeing necessary), and here's the best part...you know what it's going to look like when it's finished!

Still not feeling the love. That exclamation point didn't help either.

Clean 8 Year Old Laundry
The chores are never done. I've got to fold and put away the kid. sigh.

We are a Rare Breed

What makes knitters the eternal optimist glass half full type of person? This past week when many here in Ohio were (and still) without power, did we knitters get upset? No we did not, thankyavurymuch. I know that I among others thought, "Yea, verily, yea. Knitting time without annoying electronic distractions." Although distractions of a kid type were increased by whines of "I wanna play the Playstation" and "there's nothing to doooooo", "Mooom, make him stop bothering meeeee". My all time favorite is the high pitched girl scream of "Get out of my room!" followed by the slamming of the door.

Maybe we are the optimist (or the fool, I think sometimes the two are interchangeable), because we continue to knit on a sweater that after having laid it aside for a few days, pick it up, double check which size we are working on because we can't remember, realize that we are working on a size too small for us, but continue to knit it because our optimist (foolish) brain thinks it will some how be 'all right'. (How's that for a run on sentence?)



Hence, the non-end woven, armpit ungrafted, Sitcom Chic. Even though I knew that I should have done the bigger size, because there was no way this was going to close over my 'hey my eyes are up here', I kept knitting.

When I finally admitted it to my self I did what any foolish (let's call a spade a spade, shall we?) knitter would do. I cast on another sweater. It's going to be a green Malabrigo cardigan.



I know that this one will fit or my name isn't Edna Krabappel.

Crochet is Evil

Bad, Crochet, bad! Give the man back his dignity, Crochet.