Yes, it's official. I'm a horrible person. I mean blogger. I can't believe this, but I took a day off yesterday. And I can't write much today. I'm actually doing something at work, that's well, productive. I mean, more so than usual of course. Heh. That's called job security.
I lost a damn dpn and I can't work on my sock anymore until I get another one and it's bugging the heck out of me. Seriously driving me nuts. I had to go to bed at 9:15 last night because all I could do was sit there and think about it. And search every nook & cranny in between my car and the house. I threw things all over, I made faces, I swore up a storm, and then I took a sleeping pill and went to bed. Who knew loosing a little knitting needle could do such things to a person?!
Back to work. Just had to update! I was even thinking this morning that this is my first day without reading the Yarn Harlot I've had since I found her. Now that's serious business.
I have finally realized why it is that we humans continue to reproduce. Well, besides the whole men (and some women) needing sex part. And the urge to knit piles of superwash wool booties. Because if you really stop to think about it, it does seem a bit strange.
I mean, it starts off with the most incredible searing pain you could imagine, involving parts of your body seeing daylight that HAVE NO BUSINESS SEEING DAYLIGHT. And then you have to put one of your most delicate parts in their MOUTH to let them suck & chew on as they please. And wake up 15 times in one night to put the damn binki back in. And at times things shoot simultaneously out of both ends of them. And the things that shoot out? FOUL & SMELLY. Enough to make grown men gag & run from the room.
And the crying? Does it ever end? Why yes, someday it will. At least that's what they all told me. And I finally believe them. It actually gets FUN.
The hubby is studying for a big Microsoft test invoving routers & ISP & IPSPCD whatever the hell that is. He has these computer lectures where he pushes play and the computer suddenly becomes a talking thing with charts & diagrams. It's terrible. His eyes light up and he hunches over hanging on every word. Me? I run from the room. It seriously frightens me how smart he must be to UNDERSTAND ONE FREAKING WORD OF IT. Give me a stock and I'll analyze the hell out of it. But computer geek stuff freaks me out.
So the little man & I decided to head downtown to the waterfront and go to the aquarium. With just one itsy stop at the Yarn Store. When I mentioned it to Drake I tried to just mention it in the middle of a sentence involving candy, and carousel rides to disguise it, but he saw through the whole thing.
"AWWW MAN", he yelled. "You have enough yarn! But candy? Do I really get candy?"
Now, not only do I have to find the yarn store, I have to find a candy store. Good thinking mom. But find the yarn store we did! We went to Weaving Works, and had the best time. Drake stood at the ball winder table, and asked every person who came close if they would like him to wind their ball of yarn. He told them all that when he grows up he will work at that store, and wind everyone's balls and people will love him. It made this mama proud.
When I finally dragged him away from the ball winder long enough to look at pattern books he spied one of the spinning wheels they had set up. And a lady who works there was nice enough to set it up and let him make his own piece of yarn. He carried that piece of yarn around all day and told everyone he made it all by himself out of "Sheep's hair...from their BODY!"
When I finally looked at the clock and realized we'd been there TWO HOURS I realized we'd better get to the aquarium before it closed. So we said our fond goodbye's....Drake yelling his until we were out of hearing range. Everyone in there was so nice, and people even came up to me and told me what a cool kid I have. Way too much fun.
Then we drove around for the next 45 minutes trying to find a parking spot downtown because Seattle is crazy on the weekend in the summer, and this mama's too cheap to pay to park. But AH HA! Patience, my friends. I found one, close to where we needed to be and off we went.
It was such a great feeling to be holding the little man's hand, walking along the waterfront, and carrying on a conversation with him. It felt like going somewhere with a friend. He didn't whine, cry, pitch a fit, throw himself headlong onto the ground in hysterics, or demand a drink of water THIS INSTANT. He had been there before, and I hadn't so he took it very seriously to show the mama a good time. He held my hand pulling me around to show me all the coolness that is the aquarium.
On the way home I was driving and thinking about the day. And it hit me. I actually had fun. I mean, real fun. I enjoyed every minute of it. It wasn't one of those times where the entire time you're thinking....this kid better be enjoying this, and REMEMBER IT. And you're uptight the whole time trying to keep your shit together, and not loose the kid, or bag, or purse. I didn't even go home and collapse from the exhaustion of it all. I went home and thought about how much fun it was and realized this is why people have kids. IT'S SO WORTH IT.
My parents also came over for a bit on Saturday to visit. I totally love my parents. So does Drake. He has this special chant he starts whenever he realizes it's them I'm talking to on the phone.
So I showed my mom the sock I'm making her (Go with the Flow from Summer 05 Interweave Knits) and I'm telling her it's going to be a bit shorter than the pattern shows. She asks how many yards of yarn it takes and I told her that my skein only has about 127. She then says "So, I'd need about 200 to make a sock I'd like." WHAT? The sock is now mine. She realized how it came out right away and tried to backstep, but the words were already out. Too late dear mummy. Since I have smaller feet I can make a perfect sock for me. And she gets one with cheaper, scratchier yarn. No 100% merino for her!
Mondays? Officially suck. I wanna do something fun with my new found friend instead.
It really is Friday, right? And if it's not, please don't ruin my day by telling me it's not. I'm sure work'll give me a call tomorrow morning and tell me to get my butt in if it's really Thursday today.
I used to be able to keep track of my days based on garbage day. And then one day I came home to find a huge sticker plastered all over the garbage & recycling cans. My first thought was oh CRAP, we forgot to pay the garbage bill again and they're threatening to take away our cans. And then I noticed everyone's cans had stickers on them. We all couldn't have forgotten to pay, could we? Nope. Whew. They were just telling us they were changing pickup day.
DO THEY HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS DOES TO ME????
Garbage day is how I keep track of my week. When I pull out of the driveway on Tuesday morning and see everyone else's cans out there (and mine still up against the house) I get to silently cuss out the hubby, hope to god he remembers to take them out, and remind myself that it is indeed Tuesday. I have even been known occasionally to stop the car, and pull the garbage cans to the road in my dress & heels swearing quite loudly. The kids walking on their way to school get their excitement for the day just by walking by my house on those mornings.
But enough talk about trash. Just tell me it really is Friday and I'll be happy.
You all left me in your comments yesterday a whole box of m & m's, fifteen bags of Skittles, and 3 Snickers bars. Did I mention I love comments? Hehehe. I'm a dork.
This morning a very funny thing happened. The morning is my time without the turdie running around and harrassing me for food/water/play/tv/games...etc. I usually peek in on him and let the dog escape when I wake up. His door has a damn quirky thing though, if you shut it all the way and then try to open in all occupants of the house start looking around for the recycling truck going by. It's that loud. So we have to have the let the door just TOUCH the frame, but not an inch further or else the whole house starts vibrating. And it's LOUD people.
So I peek in the crack today and see Toby preparing to lay down in his bed. The dog cannot simply just plop down like I would choose to do if I were a dog. No. He has to circle. And circle. And circle, circle, circle. And circle once more for good luck. And then he curls up into the smallest ball possible and finally his little stumpy legs give out and he puddles down. Well, I'm watching the circling, and then I notice Drake. He's turning. And rolling. And turning. And rolling. They're almost in unison. Toby circles, Drake turns. Toby circles, Drake rolls.
And they keep doing this until Toby finally lays down. Drake settles down and relaxes back into sleep. Now this sort of freaks me out. Do they have some subliminal text going back and forth in their brains. TURN. CIRCLE. ROLL. CIRCLE. Are they like the women living in the same house who get their periods at exactly the same time? I dunno. But I'll keep you updated on my theory.
Onto knitting news. You know, I've decided I need to learn how to make a sock from the toe up. Because this whole getting almost finished with the sock & realizing you don't have enough yarn to finish? SUCKS. I was so damn close to finishing too. I'm a tad scared my mom is going to end up with an anklet sock as I keep having to make it shorter and shorter. I guess that's what happens when you have size 9 feet. I was lucky enough to not get her shoe size, so 2 skeins of yarn is plenty of yarn for my socks. I guess I forgot to factor in the extra shoe sizes when buying the yarn.
And I'm not giving in to the evil plan by the yarn manufacturers to buy another $10 skein, so i'm just going to keep making it shorter until I have enough yarn. HA. Fooled them.
That is unless my mom ends up with an ankle warmer. And then I'll have to give in, admit defeat, and buy another damn skein.
HA! I'm gonna shock the pants right off you all. You thought I'd never post pictures (rightly so) but I AM.
First I have to say thank you to everyone who leaves me comments. You have no idea how excited I get. Think 5 year old left alone with a whole box of m & m's. That's me. Probably dorky and pathetic, but I think it's so cool that you guys take the time out of your day to say hi to little old me. And Katy even linked me on her blog. I about fell outta my chair when I saw that one. Too freakin cool.
Please excuse the horrible pictures, and the small child jumping hysterically in the background. And my freakisly long fingers.
And here's an artsy fartsy close up. Turned out horrible, but I TRIED!
And one of blocking. Not so interesting anymore once I took a picture of me wearing it, but I'll put it on for good measure.
My doggie decided that the blocking shirt was a perfect dog bed and I spent most of the evening chasing him off it. I'm quite sure he spent the rest of the night after I went to bed on it just to get me back, but as long as I didn't SEE it happen, it didn't. Right?
This past weekend I dragged the whole family over to West Seattle to visit Sue, the owner of little knits. She was super nice, friendly, and so gracious. She even let the hubby and I sniff her yarn. You see, I caught the hubby in the act of yarn sniffing a few weeks ago. Oh he would die if he saw this post. But it's true, he did. It was lovely sock yarn, just begging to be touched, but he took it a step further. And then I had to try it. I'm telling you....SNIFF THAT YARN PEOPLE. Totally new experience. The funny thing? Sue didn't even look twice at us as we blissfully sniffed and touched all her beautiful yarns. There must be more freaks like us out there than we realized.
So anyway, Mr. Drake had ordered a zip up sweater the week before and we were there picking out yarn for it. I love it that my son decides he needs something and comes to me, describing exactly what he wants and has total confidence it'll come out just perfect. Matter of fact he thinks anything can be knit right up. Who needs a needle and thread? My mom has YARN people. And knitting needles. One time he cut a hole in one of his stuffed animals, and told me I could just "knit it right up."
I always seem to go for the same kind of yarn. Smooth, soft, solid colors. Now that I say it, I sound like a TOTALLY BORING knitter. No, sophisticated, right?! So when Drake picked out a fuzzy, self striping yarn I asked him about 15 times if he was SURE. Because it was sooo not what I would've picked out. I already had planned what I wanted him to pick out and repeatedly tried to get him to look at it, but no luck. You see Sue had Thomas trains there, and picking out yarn was something that was taking away from his train playing time.
I totally put off starting the sweater because I didn't want to knit with THAT YARN. Oh, the horrors. I finally made myself start last night. Or was it that Drake kept pulling the yarn out of its storage spot and setting it on my lap. Whatever. I started. And.I.like.it. I am so shocked. It's soft, warm & fuzzy, perfect sweater material.
All you Seattlites, go enjoy the moment of sunshine we have showing it's beautiful head right now. Who knows what'll happen next with the thunderstorms/rain/lightning/grey skies we've been having. Crazy I tell you. I actually watered my garden after the one super hot day we had, and the next day it was pouring. Does that mean I should never water my garden again? Did I jinx us?
2. My clothes get smaller daily as I think "one more time in the dryer to get rid of those wrinkes won't hurt."
3. My clothes are, well, wrinkled.
My MIL is an avid ironer, and has the thing permanently set out, ready to go at the drop of a hat. She has her starch can, and water sprayer carefully lined up next to the iron. Almost everytime we show up one or the other of us is forced to strip and hand over the offending item, and she spirits it away onto the ironing board to make good. We pack carefully when we go over there. One time we dared throw a button down shirt into Drake's suitcase for him to wear the next day. Oh, she was horrified when we put the unpressed shirt on him and TRIED TO GO OUT.
I guess I just need to justify my wrinkly unironed shirt I'm wearing today to someone. I did touch it up with my hair straightening iron though.
I crocheted the edging and blocked Soliel last night, and it's looking perfect. I even moved the table lamp so I could get good lighting to take a picture, and managed to take TWO pictures. And then I left my camera phone sitting at home on the floor where I set it down after taking the pictures. My margarita was calling my name and couldn't be ignored for one more second.
This morning I was sure my phone was in my purse when I left the house, and when I reached for it to upload the pictures had a flashback of seeing it sitting quite lonely on the floor. So pictures will have to wait till tomorrow. Hey, maybe I'll even model it for you all if I force you to wait another day.
This morning in my haze of blissful sleep I pushed snooze...oohhh approximately 7 times. And then I turned the alarm off, STOP BOTHERING ME damn alarm. Sleep....ahhh, sleep. Sleep is good.
And then I awoke to a very different sort of buzz. It was definitely an alarm, but surprisingly not mine. Of course my instict was still to jump out of bed and hit the snooze button. You see, my alarm cannot be next to the bed or I will turn it off in my sleep. Talent I tell you. So it has to be waaayyy on the other side of the room. So I actually have to get my butt out of the warm cozy bed and hit snooze. And sometimes I still manage to do that in my sleep. But much less often. When I jumped out of bed to make the mysterious buzzing my alarm seemed to be making stop, only to discover that it was hubby's alarm, I knew I was in trouble.
We have a little schedule in our family. I go into work at the butt crack of dawn and hubby goes in later so that Drake doesn't have to be in preschool for quite so long. Now that I'm thinking about it, why I volunteered to take the morning schedule is beyond me. I probably agreed one morning when I was still in my daily daze.
So today was not a day for showers. After taking only a few minutes to get ready this morning I started thinking I need to do this more often. Who needs showers?
When Drake ran into the room right after the alarm went off, I had a momentary shock as I have had the past few mornings.
Take a look
And I have nobody to blame but myself.
He has been begging for a mohawk for the past week or so. A few kids have them at his school and he thinks they're too freakin cool. (Also, please ignore the horrendous mess in the background. It was Saturday at 5 pm and by that time on a weekend the house is usually trashed and ready for clean up Sunday) So I took him outside and bared my scissors. One of my favorite Chris Rock lines is "Why is it, that as soon as you have a kid you suddenly become a barber also?" So true.
I figure we'll get it out of his system so when he turns 16 he'll already have been there, done that. I'm also hoping that he'll get sick of it in a few days. I'm dreading taking him shopping and being glared at.
Some great knitting news is that I FINALLY finished my Soliel
After 3 tries. I still have to do the crochet edging, as who the heck has a size 3.25mm crochet hook just sitting around. Not me. So I'll run and get one today to hopefully finish it up tonight. I still have to block it also, and I'm hoping it'll expand a bit. Otherwise I'll have yet again made a too small shirt. Not the first time, and I'm sure not the last. I seem to forget that I've gained 20 pounds in the last year, and have to suck in everything just to zip, button, or put on any clothes that I haven't bought recently in my bigger size. In my mind I'm still a size xs. HA, my body laughs. It's like my aunt who weights around 200 lbs, but still thinks she's a size two, and oddly enough still tries to stuff herself into a size two. Not pretty.
I'm happy in my new fuller body, but my brain just doesn't quite get the message yet. I still naturally cast on the smallest number of stitches given for a pattern. So, poor Soliel is in for some vigorous blocking. It's 100% cotton so I think it'll have some stretch & give. Wish me luck.
Otherwise I might just show up to work tomorrow with my midrift a bare. And surely frighten some people.
Father's Day only comes once a year, and man am I glad. It's a lot of work to make it a great day, you know? I didn't get to go see my dad, but I did give him a call and chatted at him. He said he was going to go hit a bucket of golf balls at the local range (my dad who does NOT golf! LOL) so I told him to send me the bill and I'd take care of it. We all do what we can.
But my pops really is the greatest guy. I know he'll never read this because he has no idea how these computers work. You say mouse and he gets a gleam in his eye and starts looking for the mouse trap to set out. He's a builder. He makes amazing things out of wood, things that blow your mind they're so incredible.
I have admired him my entire life, I remember loving every minute I got to spend with him when we were kids. He would take us all to play baseball or football and then hear us silently pleading to stop for ice cream on the way home. And he'd stop.
He worked full time and then he'd get up at 3 in the morning to cut firewood so we could have a house to live in and a mom that stayed home with us. And never complained about it. He always made things happen, and we never realized how little they skimmed by on.
He fully believes in me and encourages me to do anything I put my mind to. He is honest, kind, and giving. He would do anything for his family, and has proved that to us many times.
Can you tell I love my dad?
My hubby is also a wonderful dad and he deserves a few words also. He very well could find this one day and read it all up. I haven't told him I have a blog....because well, he'd probably think it was dorky. But HE is a computer geek so maybe not. I don't have a problem with him reading it, but it is more for me than him so for right now I haven't sent him an email with the link. Maybe one day.
My hubby is the kind of guy who takes parenting very seriously. He is a great father, and Drake adores him. Drake wants to do everything the hubby does, down to wearing the same color shirts. We are quite young parents, but hubby jumped right in, even changing the first few diapers and helping me learn how to.
He loves Drake more than you could ever imagine and loves teaching him new things. He will sit down with him and explain how things work for hours, instead of giving him the "because" answer. I love that about him.
He cares who Drake will grow up to be and works hard to make sure he'll be a good person, but not what we want him to be.
He makes me a better parent. He is an amazing father and one day Drake will grow up to realize that.
Yesterday we went on a train ride to celebrate. We live only about 20 miles from a historic train route. And anyone who knows or has met my Drake knows he LOVES trains. If there's anything to make you believe in past lives it's his unexplainable love of trains. He's loved them since he could talk. He can tell you exactly what kind of train a certain one is, and what it's used for. His aspiration for growing up? To be a crane train driver. And when he wants to sleep he'll let us drive the thing. He has no doubt we'd love to. Heh.
It was a beautiful day here in the Seattle area, sunny, warm, and clear blue skies. We walked up and down the aisles on the train looking for the perfect seats for our adventure. We found what looked like an old freight car with open sides and four seats scattered about. We instantly jumped in before anyone else could claim them.
There was a nice cool breeze blowing through there and we didn't have to be careful not to elbow the person next to us. It was wonderful. The train takes you up to the next little town and then back down past where you started from to these amazing waterfalls. I had snuck my walled out of my purse and replaced it with sock knitting when hubby wasn't looking so he was shocked when I pulled it out on the train.
He was TOTALLY HORRIFIED that I brought knitting on a sightseeing trip. I tried explaining that it helps me absorb the experience, but he wasn't going for it. It did help keep people from coming too close to me as they peered at my sharp needles poking out from all directions of my sock. See, knitting's good for more than just wearing. SCARING SMALL CHILDREN. Now, that's talent.
All in all, a fabulous day. I even have pictures to prove it. On hubby's phone. One day I'll swipe it and post em.
Retarded Duck Walk + Walking in the City = PEOPLE STARING
And for some strange reason whenever people stare at me I have the uncontrollable need to smile at them.
People Staring + Me Smiling = a Very Strange Scene.
And me duck walking all the way to my LYS only to find it CLOSED PERMANENTLY makes for one mad mama. Can you believe it? Now where am I gonna pop in during my lunch hour to pic up that pair of Addi Turbo's that I NEEDED YESTERDAY?? This means I'll actually have to plan ahead. And those that know me know I don't understand what the word plan means.
It also means a fabulous going out of business sale in the next week. But still!
Now I understand. I understand why my boss had that omgeverythingishappeningtoofast look on her face all day. Because OMG EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING TOO FAST. Wire deadline? 1 pm. Time given to send wire? 12:30. Have I ever sent a wire before? Uh, no. But I sure as hell figured it out. All the while tuning out everything everyone else was saying to me between 12:30 and 1:00.
So after the successful wire I had to retrace my steps and ask everyone to repeat themselves....oohh they just lurved me.
Before my hectic day started I pulled into my parking garage, stashing my sock I had been knitting on (yes, while driving). In the gloom I see one stinking dropped stitch. GRRRR. These socks are out to get me I tell you.
Yesterday I had to bring them in from the car because one needle had 23 stitches on it and the other? 17. And the good part? They're both supposed to have 20. They are fab grey wool knit on itty bitty size 0 dpns and they're for my hubby, who reminds me daily that he's waiting for his socks. Yet, I know as soon as they are finished he'll wear them for one day and then be stashed in his sock drawer never to be seen again. It won't be the first time. But it's the though that counts, right?
So even the drive home isn't going to be any fun because I have to deal with that damn dropped stitch. Can't these socks just behave themselves? I can promise to post a picture tomorrow, but knowing me, it'll be a while. Still, I'll try! Promise!
And my little man has been a bear lately. One minute he's telling me "You know what mama? I'll love you forever." And the next "You're not my friend anymore, EVER!" If there were 5 words I could ban from the english language they'd be "You're not my friend anymore." That phrase drives me nuts. How many people would put up with hearing that and then turn around and wipe the offenders ass? Literally.
But he sure does keep me entertained. For hubby's birthday he went shopping with me for presents and I was quite worried he'd tell him what they all were. I figured I'd better threaten him, and it'd better be a good one. The best I could come up with was no presents for the child on his birthday if he told. He thought about that for a minute and looked at me very seriously asking -
"Will I still get cake?"
He was making sure about this one. Nope, no cake I told him. He though about it for a few more minutes weighing the consequences with the fun of telling daddy.
"Okay, I won't tell" he informed me reluctantly. And he didn't! Now that's a kid who takes a threat seriously.
The other night I was sitting on the couch knitting away when I leaned forward to grab the pattern off the table (what? Sam? Using a pattern?) I gave in JUST THIS ONE TIME. Because I've decided they aren't so evil after all. One of these years I'll post a picture of me in a sweater I designed all by myself with only a picture to go off. Then you'll believe me when I say I really do distrust patterns and make up some pretty good things on my own.
Case in point? Doggy Pi. EVIL PATTERN. Okay, so maybe it was intended for cats, but my dog is not much bigger than one. And I MIGHT have made a few modifications. Just a few.
But back to the original point....I leaned forward and hubby happened to be walking by and let out a low whistle. Wow, that's quite a sunburn you have there babe. My first though. What? And my second. Where? I mean, he could only see it when I bent forward. That's never a good sign. Sure enough I went into the bathroom and slowly bent forward looking at my reflection from in between my legs, and there is was. A bright red stripe across my back, where my shorts should've been if only I would have bothered to pull them up everytime they fell down.
He sees me examining myself in the mirror and then tells me "Your neck looks really red too, but I didn't want to say anything while our friends were over." Turns out I'm red all over and didn't have a clue. How can that be?
And then I remembered our adventures in Key West.
We went there for a getaway two years ago and had a fab time. Good food, lots of cold alcoholic drinks, and sleep. Uninterrupted sleep, actually. Which is a miraculous thing when you have a two year old. He stayed with the grandparents. Does life get any better? Apparently not, because I was punished for the next two weeks for my enjoyment.
I stopped being a chicken just long enough for us to go snorkeling on our last day there. In Key West there are all kinds of fancy schmancy boats just begging to take you out snorkeling. Choices, choices, choices. We decided on a sail boat so we could enjoy being out on the water for longer as it took a good hour and a half each way to get to the coral reef. The sun! The water! The beautiful boat! Oh, I was in heaven.
Because we had been there for a few days already, I decided if I hadn't gotten burned yet, what were the chances. Who needs dumb old sunscreen. STUPID GIRL!!! As you can probably see from my picture below I'm very fair skinned. Blindingly white actually.
There was an area in the front of the boat where there was a big square cut out and just net to make sure nobody took a dive in. You could rest your feet on the net and watch the water roll by down below. Beautiful. It was also in full sun. Did I mention I was in nothing but a swimming suit?
The trip out to the reef was beautiful. And snorkeling? Pretty dang fun. If you ever want a workout on vacation I recommend snorkeling. Who knew it was such hard work? It could also be due to the fact that I had my life vest fully freakin inflated and was battling against a water noodle. I was the only one who had the burning desire to drag one around with me. I have a serious fear of swimming after an incident when I was 5 and my swimming instructor had the need to take us to the deep end, and jump off the diving board. He swore he'd catch us, but mentioned nothing about not jumping directly on him. Needless to say he went way down under when I dive bombed him and I was left to doggy paddle to the side. Water freaks me out.
But I did actually enjoy snorkeling. Aside from the fact that I was petrified the entire time a shark would come and eat me up. And the whole hating swimming thing. Back in the boat they helped us pry off our goggles and set out cold beer & water. What a crew. About halfway back I started feeling pain. Everywhere. I had myself convinced that I must have been stung by a giant manta ray or something equally scary when it dawned on me.
Oh my god, what have I done. I could no longer enjoy dangling my feet over the water because more than a square inch of my skin would be hit by the sun's awful burning rays. By the time we pulled into shore I was huddled in the cabin writhing in pain. No. Don't. touch. me. Hubby had a smug grin on his face (he DID tell me to wear sunscreen) as I refused to change back into my normal clothes because I couldn't imagine the pain it would inflict to MOVE MY SWIMSUIT STRAP let alone take the damn thing off.
I had blisters the size of...hmm....bigger than quarters. Bigger than 1/2 dollars. Let's just say BIG. All over my body. Not pleasant. I peeled for weeks and everytime I'd get up from a chair there would be a white halo of dead skin surrounding it and floating out from under my shirt. I still have the lines from my bikini bottom on my ass. Two years later.
And yes, I know you are laughing with me not at me.
A $40 too small frisbee. Phhhhtt.
In other news my knitting life seems to have taken a turn for the worse. I know we can't have a life full of successes, there has to be failures in there somewhere. But I ask you, WHY MY KNITTING?!?!?! Can't I have failure somewhere else? I'd even take my cooking. Or cleaning. But KNITTING?? WHY??
For Mother's Day the wonderful hubby took me to a yarn store with a great sale and handed me some bills. Does life get any better? I went completely crazy for a good hour, hoarding & eyeing everyone, convinced they were out to take MY sale yarn away from me. Then my eyes fell on the most bea-u-ti-ful pink cotton yarn that would make the perfect tank top. I gathered it up in my basket with one quick sweep of the arm and dared anyone to even THINK about taking it from me. I decided to knit it in the round so it'd be simple, with no seams. Then I added some lace to the bottom to make it more feminine. And when it was finished? TOO SMALL. Oh, the words that flew out of my mouth when I realized I'd spent 40+ hours knitting with tiny size 3 needles and thin, thin, yarn only to have it attack me and suck to my body so tightly I could hardly peel it off. It was not a pretty sight. So I decided that perhaps I should use a pattern and stop being so damn artsy fartsy thinking I can just come up with my own.
I opened up my book o patterns and what did I see? I had made Solielwithout a pattern. Damn I'm brilliant. HAHA. So I had to rip it out and cast on A FEW MORE STITCHES and start all over again. But with bigger needles. And the yarn doubled up.
See we all have to start somewhere.
And I'm lucky enough to start at the bottom and work my way up.
It's amazing what a three day migraine does to a person. It knocked me out. I managed to come into work for a few hours yesterday, but the minute I creaked in the door they took one look at me and told me to go home. I put in a few hours before heading out again. Home to lay on the couch like a slug and knit watching Martha Stewart's "Weddings I, II, III, IV & V." Now I know exactly how to put on a $100K wedding. Just what I've always wanted.
When the Mr. and I do finally tie the knot I know exactly what I want. I mean, come on people, I've had about 6 years to plan this thing in my head. I want to be wearing pink. I want frosty margarita glasses in everyone's hands (don't like em? Too bad. It's MY day) I want to dance up the aisle to Bob Marley. I want it to be a big party. And cost less than a few hundred bucks. My grandparents who are devout Mormons cringe when they hear this. Ah well, it's for us not them, right?
So we had the funeral to attend this weekend. They had his things laid all over, his car that he adored parked outside the front door. It was terribly sad to watch his childhood friends (hubby included) break down.
Because we are on the west coast, funerals are not always that formal. But because I dress up every other day of the week, I decided to wear a nice black skirt & sweater. I was knitting away on my doggy pi and didn't even notice the time until we had 10 minutes to start time. Oh crap. It was a mad dash to get dressed (check), panty hose on straight (check) and pile in the car.....uh (no check). As I was lifting my leg up to get into the damn suv we all heard a very loud RRIIIIIIIPPPPP.
Oh shit. I slowly turned around so the carload could examine the damage. My nice Gap skirt with the respectable slit had suddenly become whore material. While everyone tried to convince me it wasn't really "that bad" I tentatively reached back for a feel. OH YES, it was too"THAT BAD." What's a girl to do? Go in jeans? In your MIL's 8 sizes too big skirt?
Or just go with the flow.
Guess which one I chose. I hiked the waist of that skirt down as low as I could and still cover it up with my sweater. It was ooohhh, right about where my hips end and my legs start. That made the slit a very respectable 4 inches or so before my ass.
I normally stay as far away from churches as possible. But I did have a slight spring in my step knowing I was shocking every person I walked by.
And the #*(&!$#&* self striping socks? Done. I'll post a picture of my little man modeling them tomorrow. He LOOOOVVVEESS them. That always makes it good fun to make things for him.
You've gotta love someone who'd wear something you made specially for them everyday if they could.
And remember that package of yarn I was telling you about picking up at the post office? Guess what I found in it that I forgot I ordered?
Do you ever have those days? Nevermind. Who am I kidding. Everyone has these days. You know, the kind where you don't feel like doing a damn thing and just want to go to bed (perhaps eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's before doing so). I'm feeling overwhelmed at work, frustrated with life, and sad. Sad? Yup. One of my hubby's buddies died in a freak accident and it does things to a person. Me? I'm gonna live forever. Right Sam, uh-huh. I don't like to face reality sometimes. He really was a great guy and he & hubby had quite a few shenanegans together.
Onto happier things I've been reading Crazy Aunt Purl's blog...and anyone of ya'll who don't, hop on over there. She's a hoot. She made her kitty's a kitty pi and I'm gonna make a doggy pi. YUM. You see I'm one of those silly people who have a "non-dog." People with great big German Shephards & Labs roll their eyes at me. My dog comes up to their ankles. But he is the sweetest, cutest, funniest ankle biter there ever was. Wanna see?
If that doesn't make you want a doggie pi I don't know what ever will. Dontcha think he'd be a perfect fit?! That's his "Treat? Did you just say......TREAT?!?!!" face.
And another perfect example of my picture taking ability.
So to give myself an excuse to take off early and head to the yarn store I'm gonna go pick out some yarn for him. Because I'm an anal person, and the first to admit it, the yarn will have to color coordinate with my living room. You heard me....doggie bed MUST match couch & carpet. And walls. And chairs. I'm sure I'll find something. Right?
p.s. I still have those holes in my feet. AND THEY STILL HURT!
p.p.s. And a tad bit of that damn margarita headache.
And gallons of water. I think I've been to the bathroom ooohhh about 15 times already today. I'm flushing out all those terrible Margarita leftovers and feeling much more like my old self. I wonder what the secretary is thinking as I walk past her for the 15th time, smiling apologetically. "Bathroom, eh? Suuurrree I'll belive that for a dollar. I bet you're running down to Starbucks." HA. Fooled her. We have free, all you can drink espresso in the office. And we even have a machine you just push a button. My first day here I didn't believe it. It had to be harder than that. No, you don't understand. IT HAS TO BE HARDER. At least make me clean it out or something. What's to stop me from drinking it all freakin day? Do you really want to see Sam on espresso? Do you? Do you? (think I've had one, or possibly three today?)
Wanna know what else we have sitting in our cupboards? Handi-Snacks. Yup, you heard me. You know...the little crackers with the itty bitty red stick to slather the fake orange cheese on? Imagine women ranging from their 20's to 60's sitting around spreading fake cheese with itty bitty red sticks. Pretty freakin hilarious. But have you had one lately? YUM. They are addictive.
My right ring finger still insists on being numb. I've about had it. I've traced it down the tunnel of numbness to sock knitting. Sweaters? No prob bob. Socks? My finger has a tantrum...and instead of doing so loudly like any normal finger, it insists on doing so by going numb. Damn finger.
Any tips for returning normal feeling? I'd sooo appreciate it right about now.
I'm going to have to swing by the post office on my way home tonight. Wanna know why?
If you were to sit down (or perhaps be knocked down & handcuffed as you are forced to exclaim how simply WONDERFUL we look in all our pictures, as I prefer) you would see some great pictures. Ones where my son is carefully posed behind the petal of a tulip, so you can just see his face in profile. Or where his impish grin is captured perfectly.
And then there are the ones where his forehead mysteriously disappears. Or his legs are somehow shortened right to the knee. And then you begin to see a pattern. I am in the perfectly captured pictures. I am not in the forehead misplacement pictures. I AM A HORRIBLE PICTURE TAKER. I don't even dare use the word photographer. Picture taker is too nice of a phrase for me. Evidence you ask?
That should do it.
But do please notice the perfectly matching stripes. I went through half a ball of sock yarn to ensure they matched perfectly. I know my four year old won't appreciate it, so please, PLEASE do it for him. I need some validation for my obsessive need to match stripes. No more self striping sock yarn for me. HA. Self striping my ass. In all the wrong places. Blue stripe? Not. yet. It must be a green stripe. GREEN STRIPE COMES NEXT YOU (*&%*&$ SOCK YARN.
Enough about that. I can feel my blood pressure shooting up just thinking about the audicity of the sock yarn. GREEN STRIPE. Whew. I feel better.
So yesterday my boss walks into my office. Have I mentioned I love my boss? Well, I do. She's wonderful. I work in a very small office, with just 7 people. But boy do we work. It's very demanding & high pressure....I love it. She lowered her voice and told me she had something to tell me. Crap. That is never a good sign. Turns out she's leaving for a new position in 10 days. Ten freakin days. I'm excited because it means new opportunities for me. I'll be moving on up. But it also means lots of work. Did I mention LOTS?
I guess I should just break it to you right now. I'm a type A++++ personality. I thrive on a challenge and love to work hard. I'm torn though between being a great mom, and having a great career. Isn't every working mom? How do you balance those two? Is there some magic secret nobody's bothered to tell me? Come on....break it to me.