The Skinny Knitter

Where, oh where, did it go?

2007-04-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

A year ago today I was being whisked away rather quickly in an ambulance headed for the hospital.

Declan was held safely in my mom's arms.

We decided long before he made his appearance to try a natural birth. Yes, that means no blissful epidural, no escape into painless peace. I wanted to feel everything, to see if I could do it. And feel I did.

But it was very beautiful. He was born in a birth center, with natural light flooding the room as I pushed with all my gut wrenching might. He had no desire to make an appearance, and clung feebly with both fists. I remember begging my midwives to tell me the pain would be over when he was finally born. I needed to hear that in order to make it five more minutes. This was before she decided my cervix needed a little tug and was rewarded with a bite. I bit her like I've never bit anyone, I couldn't stop myself. Her boyfriend saw the teeth shaped bruise and was quite amused when she told him one of her mothers bit her. Someone even had the presence to take a picture at that precise moment, thus making the memory live on forever. I would post it, but I happen to be very nekked.

Drake was two full weeks overdue, and Declan was also hanging in there attempting to top that record. Just like Drake a NST showed he was no longer "thriving" and needed to be given a little nudge. Apparently I have a very comfortable uterus. They decided that breaking my water would be the most natural form of induction, and I was game. I have never seen such a creative use for a crochet hook. Maybe that explains my aversion to the craft. It worked however, and threw me into almost immediate labor. A labor my midwives assured me would be very quick as my cervix felt very "ripe." I've never been more proud of a body part.

They were wrong though. It was a full 13 hours later that my uterus finally decided it'd had enough, and Declan was thrust out into that bright, beautiful room. The relief from pain was immediate and I was in awe as I saw his downy covered cone-shaped head, his fists tightly clenched, his legs quivering in indignation. Only then I realized he wasn't breathing, and was making no attempt to do so. He didn't want to cry when nudged , or even when given a much firmer one. I remember asking over and over if he was okay, if he would be okay. They started to get that panicked look, and moved around frantically getting out the oxygen and giving him light slaps to the bum. He finally made a weak kittenish sound, and started breathing. He didn't give a full cry for an entire week.

I was so amazed at how great I felt. I could walk!! I could move around without pain!! I still looked 8 months pregnant, but who cares, I felt great! I was in the shower about an hour afterwards and eating lunch not long after that. It was then I started feeling those pesky cramps again. I thought that was over with? And then a huge gush ,which when I looked down, discovered was blood. Blood everywhere. I was having massive hemorrhaging. My midwives quickly cleared the room and got down to work. An entire hand was shoved up into my nether regions only to pull out blood clots the size of which I'd rather not remember. That may explain why I then promptly passed out cold for 15-20 minutes. They broke stick after stick of vile smelling things trying to get me to come to. I refused. I also continued to bleed an enormous amount. They lost count how many liters I was down. An ambulance was called and I was wheeled briskly away while being talked to, yelled at, poked, and prodded. At one point I had five IV's and had the marks to prove it for weeks afterwards. Apparently when they are trying to save your life they don't care so much about being gentle. I also at this time conveniently decided to have a seizure.

To this day, they still don't understand what happened. I am a "medical mystery." Got to love that title. My blood levels were so out of whack the doctors kept running them to make sure they really were what kept printing out. A transfusion was ordered. The color of my face blended in quite nicely with the white sheets.

And then magically the next day I was fine. My body decided it'd had enough playing with the doctors and decided to shape up. I didn't need the transfusion after all. I did need iron pills for a few months to help out, but I didn't have any lasting effects.

We took Declan home from the hospital he wasn't born in and were amazed at the little creature. His hands were huge, they looked like they should be attached to a two year old. His long toes curled under when you would caress his feet. His hair was soft, shiny, stick straight. He smiled in his sleep if you rubbed his belly, and couldn't resist rubbing those long fingers with razor fingernails all over his face. He still does that.

This past year has been one of the most delightful of my life. Drake simply adores his little brother, and the same goes in return. Declan's eyes light up when Drake comes into a room, his face breaking into a grin. He has such a mischievous smile, accented with a dimple in one cheek. His front teeth came in, huge for his little face and with a perfect gap between them. He caresses my arms when I'm putting him to sleep. He's perfect.

I had no idea a year ago what he would be like. Would he be just like Drake? Would he look more like me or the hubby? All we knew at the time was that he had a penis he was very proud of and he liked to sleep during the day and kick at night. Now we know he has a great sense of humor. He has a grin to greet me every morning as he attempts to head dive off the bed. He has no fear of hurting himself, yet is very timid with new people. He is his mama's boy, and yet he loves his daddy like no other.

He was worth it all. We love you peanut.

Because I knew it would happen at some point

2007-03-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago my MIL took Drake to Disneyland. A very excited Drake, who counted down the days every five minutes as if things would suddenly change if he just counted ONE MORE TIME. They did not. But finally the big day came, and we all piled into the car and drove them to the airport. It did things to my heart I didn't think I could handle watching her take his little hand and lead him off to the big bad airport. He turned back once to wave goodbye and then disappeared behind the automatic doors. I fought back tears as the hubby drove off, valiantly concentrating on my knitting, one row at a time on my sock.

He called three times the first day, twice the second, and none at all the third. Well, except to call and ask if it would be okay to get a Star Wars "blaster" because grandmama made him. He knows me well, that I've never really seen Star Wars, and thus had no idea what a "blaster" was. It's a gun. I figured it out too late to object.

Before he left I was working on the striped sweater for Declan and he told me he wanted an EXACT copy of that sweater, with a few changes. He sketched what he had in mind on this trip and came home with a pretty good drawing. It was totally different from Dec's. I had already bought the yarn. A design conference ensued, tears were shed, but we worked out our differences, making the most of the yarn I had bought. Pictures coming soon. (Hint: His most pressing concern was that it had both a Nike & Umbro logo)

Drake & his grandmama came home with lots of pictures and stories of their trip, but I heard about it all mostly from Drake. My MIL stopped by this weekend on her way to a birthday party and I got to hear more stores.

They spent the first two days in Disneyland & California Adventure, but on their third day decided to head to Legoland. It was, according to Drake, a very long bus ride. Three days it took to get there. They climbed on and settled into their seats right behind the driver. Drake turned to look at grandmama and proclaimed:

"You know, if it wasn't for Martin Luther King Jr., you'd have to be sitting waaaay back in the back of the bus right now. And I'd be sitting here."

For those of you who haven't seen my MIL, she does indeed have very dark skin, she's from Jamaica after all. I'm sure she handled it all very well, as every eye on the bus stared at her to see how she reacted.

We had a great laugh about it....I knew it would come up at some point, just not so publicly.

Curly girl no more

2007-03-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, in a valiant attempt to burn our beloved house to ashes, I left my straightening iron plugged in and turned on. All day. 16 hours. Everytime I walked up into my room I thought I smelled burning, but because I've had sinus problems for the past five months I thought it was the smell of my own snot. The hubby was the one to finally sniff around enough to figure it out. I am left with a straightening iron whose plates are permanently branded with old hair gel & straightening goop. Yes, I've given up on being a curly girl. No, not with having the occasional curly day, but to be a true curly girl you have to commit to curly hair. Every damn day. I'm just not there yet. Yesterday was my first straight day in two weeks and Declan did a double take when I came out of the bathroom. He reached one little hand up and carefully stroked my hair. I think he likes it.

He has been loving life lately, four teeth came in all at once and he is back to his happy smiley self. With a bit more bite. His favorite activity now is to stealthily crawl across the the room to the hapless victim sitting on the floor. In one quick motion he pulls the shirt up, hunches over, and takes a bite. Yum. He thinks it's hysterical to watch us scream and wriggle, trying to get away from those sharp choppers. I try so hard to look at him very serious like and tell him in a firm voice - NO! He sees right through it though and dares to laugh in my face. He knows I'm a sucker for that smile.

He's also walking.....with a little help.

Sing it with me "We all need a little help from our friends....we get by with a little help from our friends.....we get high with a little help from our friends." Ahem. Right. Anyway, except for when Drake accidentally ran over his finger with the thing, he is loving it. He hasn't quite figured out how to turn yet, so he does straight shots across the living room, running into something, and waiting patiently for one of us to come and turn him around.

I have finished this:

Drake immediately ordered one for himself. Not, I believe, because he likes it that much, but because Dec has one he thinks he deserves one also.

And so it begins.

It's my own raglan pattern knit in Dale of Norway Baby Ull, size 2 needles. Yes, I am crazy.

Holy mother of god. I left the curling iron on again. Maybe I should rethink the curly girl.

Two thumbs up

2007-03-01T19:13:00.000-08:00

Only half a day late, not bad for me. And I even have a great excuse. I couldn't find the necessary black shirt. The one that glides over my chest and hides the mummy tummy. I even did laundry in my desperate search only to discover it on the floor in my closet hiding among the yarn. When we decided Declan needed to move into his own room because everytime we breathed he'd wake up I had to give up my yarn stash space. But it had do go somewhere, so I stuffed it into my closet. And by stuffed, I mean it holds up my shirts. Who need hangers & a rod when you can just lay them on top of piles of yarn? Very cushy.

But anyway, back to my Pink Fling. I love it. It's tight, but not too tight, the sleeves hit in the right spot and it has just the perfect curve to it. I'm still debating adding a button to the front. I keep hearing Stacy & Clinton's voice in my head...."Lock & Load." And god knows I've got a chest that needs locked & loaded. What do you think? Lock & load or hang loose?

It gets two thumbs up from Drake.

Before you make any harsh judgements about the hair, let me explain. I've fought the curly hair my entire life. I forced my mom to blowdry it straight from the time I could talk. I have vivid memories of poor mom hunched over me trying to get my masses of curls straight, while I screamed because I saw a kink. I had the book "Curly Girl" recommended to me, and I wasn't sure whether to be offended because they thought I needed a serious hair intervention, or be happy because they thought I had great possibility. I'm seriously hoping it was the latter. That's what I'm telling myself. The book says give it three weeks before making any judgements and I'm on week 1.5. Halfway there. I'm still not sure about it, but let me tell you, my mornings are much better. I've always hated taking a shower knowing the next half hour will be consumed with a loud dryer blasting at my head. And the thing scared the crap out of poor Declan. The first time I turned it on with him in the room his eyes got wide & round, the lip dropped and he screamed like a banshee. I think he thought it was going to eat him. Or at least have a little nibble.

It's a personal thing though, getting over my fear of the curls. Letting myself believe that curly can be just as sophisticated and pretty as straight. I can have 100 people tell me my hair looks great curly, but inside I keep thinking "Yes, but wouldn't it look better straight?"

After my last post, I thought long and hard about what I was missing. And I realized what I'm missing is me. ME. It is so easy to get caught up in being a mom, a friend, a wife, a housekeeper extraordinare, and life gets to be all about working, and cooking and making sure there's the extra gallon of milk in the fridge so we don't run out. Because that would be terrible, wouldn't it? Running out of milk = end of the world. Just ask Drake.

It's so easy to let all those things catch up to me in one big ball and envelop me, take me captive. It's so easy to let my life revolve around everyone else, making sure Drake has his organic peanut butter so he doesn't have to buy that terrible school lunch. Making sure the hubby has clean gym clothes, even if it means I don't have a bra to wear because I didn't put a load of my own clothes in. I'm running in circles for other people and I don't know where to find myself in that circle. It scares me.

It's so hard to find the balance though. When I do leave the kids with the hubby for a fifteen minute shopping trip to buy the precious milk I feel guilty. Why? I don't know. I need to figure it out though, because it's going to eat me alive. So I took my first step today and told the hubby I want to join the gym. I'll go when the kids are still in dreamland and the hubby hasn't gone to work yet. I need to make some "me" time, and that's the best way I know how right now. Put on some spandex and go pass out on a treadmill. I figure the worst thing that could come out of it is that I'll finally loose the last five pounds of Declan weight.

Declan approves.

When bad things happen to good yarns

2007-02-28T09:18:00.000-08:00

First I want to give a shout out to a few peeps out there. To the person who found me by googling "milf with loose stomach & skinny legs." Is that really what makes me memorable? And last but not least, to my wonderful hubby who is genius enough to build our computer from the ground up. Just not the very-important-to-apparently-only-me camera software that lets me download the pictures off the damn camera. Thanks, babe. Smoochies.

Yesterday I was trying to spend some quality time conversing with the older boy and we were talking all about presidents. Thanks to President's Day & the public school system he's been learning quite a lot about the presidents, past & present. For instance he can tell you how many teeth George Washington had (one, which he later lost), and who freed the slaves. He then informed me he wanted to be the president when he grows up. I told myself that he doesn't, really. Really? And then I asked him why he wanted to be the president. He looked me straight in the eyes and said "So I can have a bowling alley & swimming pool in my house! Of course, I'll have to do a lot of paperwork & boring stuff, but then I'll just go bowling after." I don't think he's ever even been to a bowling alley let alone tried to spin that brick of a ball down a tube trying to take out all 10 (or is it 11??) pins at the end. He has NO IDEA. Thank God.

I myself have been feeling a bit restless & like I'm running in circles. Is it just me, or does everyone go through those periods in life? I can't knit/spin/sew/etc enough to keep my mind from racing & my hands from feeling like they're not doing enough. I sit in my house knitting, reading a book, playing with my boys, cleaning, making dinner and somehow I feel like I should be doing MORE, MORE, MORE. This happens every so often and it drives me nuts. I haven't figured out a way yet to turn it off, but I sure do get a hell of a lot done when I'm feeling like this. Or else I just go lay down & take a nap with the babe to make it stop. It is a horrible panicky feeling, like I've left one of my kids in Safeway and remember on my way home. I do a visible check (Drake, check! Declan, check!) everytime we go anywhere because it took me so long to get used to having TWO kids to take care of. What, then, am I missing?

Drake is lucky enough to have grandparents who really actually care about him, the opposite of mine growing up. My only memory of my grandparents actually being fun, or even interacting with me is my grandpa buying me a lime ice pop at the museum of flight to shut me up while he spent another 1/2 hour staring at a plane hanging from the ceiling. They had no clue what to do with us. Drake's grandma took him to Disneyland last week. He had the time of his life and came home with Mickey ears that light up and flash. I saw him from a mile away at the airport when I went to pick him up. He is a lover of all that is tacky. While he was away the hubby and I also decided we needed a getaway. We stayed at a little cabin a block from the beach. It was awesome.

And no, that is not my hair, it's a tree. Yes, I do use product and if my hair did manage to stand on end like that I'm quite sure the hubby would've left me at home. While I'm not fit for public viewing at times I hope I'm never THAT bad.

And onto the naughty yarn. Can you believe it had the nerve?

It took me a full day and many, many unmentionable words to subdue the yarn into a nice neat ball. It's lucky it's such beautiful yarn. I won it in a contest here, the only thing I have ever won in my life. Only fitting it bit me in the ass on it's way to submission. It is 100% cashmere from Hipknits, and the color is amazing. While it's not as soft as I would think 100% cashmere to be, the color more than makes up for it. I have since knit it into a little shrug, my own pattern, I'm calling Pink Fling. Very cute. Pictures and possibly a pattern coming tomorrow. I love it especially because I have a ton of fingering weight yarn and only so many socks one can make. It excited me to no end finding something else to make with it.

It doesn't take much around here.

Another one bites the dust

2007-02-15T09:41:00.000-08:00

Can I just say how glad I am that Valentines day is over? A few years ago after getting into monster blow up fights we banned Valentines day from our house. Don't get me wrong, pink is still my favorite color and I'm a sucker for those little candy hearts. But the need to have a bouquet of flowers delivered along with a ginormous box of chocolates & attached teddy bear is no longer allowed. Because it grew to be expected. And when it didn't happen there was much arguing and hurt feelings. We learned the hard way that setting high expectations over silly things does not lead to a good outcome. Even if you get 12 dozen red roses delivered to your office you're still left looking for the box of chocolates.

We have had the best Valentines days ever since we banned it.

A few years ago we decided to rent a tandem bike and bike trailer and rode all around here. Not only were we met with smiles from all who saw us, we were also greeted with stopped traffic & people leaning out of their cars to point at us. You see, they decided to let us rent what I referred to as the Harley Davidson of tandem bikes. It was huge, had flames painted on the sides, and also happened to be bright banana yellow. In other words you could spot us from a mile away. Add to the fact we had a bike trailer strapped on the back and Mr. Drake had his hand poked out the hole waving to everyone and you had quite a scene. The hubby took the controls & manned the front spot most of the time, so I had every hair on his head memorized by the time we were done. It also meant I got to "pedal" quite a bit, meaning resting my feet on the pedals & letting him do all the work. He's twice my size, that means he should do twice the work, no?

About halfway through he offered to let me take control of the beast & sit in the front. What I failed to take into account is that while you might be sitting in the front, the bigger person still controls the bike. Whatever way they lean the bike leans. So while I was turning the handlebars AWAY from the ditch the hubby kept leaning TOWARDS the ditch and that is exactly where we ended up. In the ditch. And that was the last time he's ever offered to let me control any moving vehicle. Heh.

Best Valentines ever. No chocolates or flowers necessary.

So........you remember Chicago, the one out of Calmer mentioned a few posts ago? A little froggy visited my house and ripped her out. I wore it for exactly one day and hated it with a passion normally reserved for cleaning the toilet. Worse, I was embarrased to wear it. That just doesn't work with very expensive yarn. So I decided that anything made out of the yarn will remind me of that special time when I was in labor with Declan and I gave myself permission to rip. It has been reknit into the Phyllo Yoked Pullover from Knitting Nature. I made a few alterations, including knitting the body & sleves in the round rather than flat & then seaming. Knitting anything with a yoke just screams "Knit me in the round" so I listened. And I gave it a bit of waist shaping as I like to think I have one. The sleeves ended up a little shorter than I normally do, but I really like the outcome. A fun knit, and really quite easy.

Please forgive the morning "I haven't had a shower yet" hair. And bad picture.

I've got a busy day ahead of me, which includes stocking up on all that V-day chocolates on clearance. Guess it's not so bad after all.

My little helper

2007-02-08T09:44:00.000-08:00

My little helper loves to help out his good old mama. He carries my yarn around for me

And makes sure it is nice & moist.

Makes for great knitting.

He would love to help me out even more by carrying my knitting needles around for me, but I've gotta draw the line somewhere.

He just discovered how to pull himself up to standing this week, and man has it rocked my world. The places that were previously safe are no longer. The ottoman & couch used to house a great deal of hidden treasures: knitting, books, toy cars, and random choking hazards such as stray buttons, tapestry needles...you name it. In other words - sit at your own risk. When we bought a new couch last year we kept my stashing habits in mind and got a rather big one. We each get our own cushion, and because I was pregnant at the time I got two. One of my cushions was usually piled high with pink wool & Yarn Harlot books, but I just used the other one for sitting and life was good. My stash is no longer safe however, and now I have to find a new home for it. Please tell me I'm not the only one using the couch as a resting spot for WIP? I hate change, even little change, and that means I hate thinking of a new spot for my stuff. I'm sure the hubby will be happy as he's been impaled with a dpn more than once when carelessly throwing himself onto the couch.

Because of my little year long haitus there are a lot of knitting projects to show & tell. A LOT. I'm laughing because I went back and read my archives and most of the knitting projects I was working on? Stuffed in the back of my closet. I tend to start things and never finish them. Okay, I'll confess. A good portion of my stash fits into this category. BUT if I ever need to clothe my family in a hurry I've got it covered. Most things are at least half finished.

Here's another one of my spinning/knitting projects. I bought this gorgeous merino/silk roving & just started spinning. And then I realized I was making thread. I ended up having to ply it four times to get a yarn that wouldn't take me the rest of my life to knit up. My mom says I'm a freak.

Maybe I agree. But at least I'm a freak with pretty things.

Technology loves me

2007-02-05T09:39:00.000-08:00

Or better yet, it loves the new usb cord we're using. I guess the old one was from around 1982. Possibly 1983. We just got a new camera for christmas and for a while it was very happy to download the pictures onto the computer. And then one day when I plugged it in a message popped up saying it couldn't recognize the device, and if it keeps happening to get a new device. Riiiigghhhttt. Like me plop down another $300 just so you can see the damn device.

Anyway, my technology loving hubby tried plugging the camera into everything with a hard drive we own (which is many) and on every singe one of them it offered the helpful advice to get a new device. So we tried the cheapest fix, a new usb cord. And now the camera and computer love each other again.

So here is the long awaited picture of my hand dyed handspun:

And here is what I made with it:

I looked all over the internet to find a copy of the pattern to buy, but couldn't find it. So instead I printed out this picture
and used it as my guide. I'm just about finished with the second one and the pattern has been reduced to chicken scratch, but I declare my efforts a success. If I did it again I'd use smaller beads, but I started it when we were snowed in the house and I couldn't convince the hubby that smaller beads were worth risking life & limb for. We later decided the Starbucks down the hill WAS worth it, and consequently got stuck on the hill. Heh. We probably deserved it.

Got Yarn?

2007-02-01T11:30:00.000-08:00

My Drake never fails to amaze me with his lack of interest in the good stuff. Good stuff to Drake = fast cars & cartoons. Good stuff does not = yarn. Or fiber. Or even *gasp* STR for gods sake. So when told him we were making a quick stop in Tacoma on the way to grammy's we intentionally did not mention it was for this. Because we are smart parents and like to delay the whining for as long as possible.

We parked in the closest free parking available because I am cheap and parking $ takes away from yarn $. As soon as we walked in the door his little ears & eyes started checking the place out. He knew something was up. There were spinning wheels set up and everyone was doing that thing with their hands. Knitting. And talking. Knitting and talking at the same time. Which, while he sees on a daily basis, he understands that most normal people don't do. He started asking questions at that point, but we quickly hushed him with harsh threats, like no cartoons. The minute we walked into the vendor room though did not fail to make his thoughts known. "YARN??!! More YARN?? You have enough yarn. Mom, I demand you to walk back out. You are not allowed to buy more yarn."

Think he hangs out with his dad much?

I guess to a kid who lives in a house stuffed full of yarny goodness a room full of yarn is pretty unimpressive. No matter how big said room is and how much yarny goodness is possesses. Being the wonderful hubby he is, he quickly scooped both kids up and went on a walk. Living in Seattle you can't go on a walk without passing a Starbucks, so they stopped in to treat themselves. And that is where my dirty little secret spilled. Damian went to the counter to order himself a well deserved treat when Drake piped up "Mom needs a grande white chocolate mocha, half decaf. Organic milk."

Oh, god. Busted.

I did finish seaming up Chicago mentioned in yesterday's post. And while I'm not really convinced I like it yet, I'm gonna keep on telling myself I do. It was while doing the buttonholes that I realized something. The directions on the button band said to knit 3, cast off 2 and repeat till the end. Wait a minute here....whaaa? That's......1,2,5,6,9,10....18 buttons?! 18 freaking buttons? So today I get to go try and find 18 buttons that will transform this thing from blah to amazing.

I'm surprised it took me this long to realize. I'm the type who does not like surprises. When I start a book I read the first chapter, turn to the end to read the last chapter, and then proceed onto chapter two. I have to make sure it ends the way I think it will, and if not prepare myself to accept the wrong ending. It just dawned on me last night that's why I love Julia Roberts movies so much. There is no need to fast forward to the end, I already know what's going to happen.

Nap Time

2007-01-31T09:32:00.000-08:00

Doesn't that just evoke calming images, peaceful babes sleeping with their eyes tightly shut? Apparently you've never been to my house. This nap time thing is highly overrated. Because IT DOESN'T HAPPEN. And when it does it's such a screaming, kicking, eye gouging mess I usually end up needing a nap. I don't think Declan ever got the memo that babies are supposed to nap. They need the sleep. NEED.

He's always more than happy to fall asleep breastfeeding. Ahhh....milk. He'll even sleep while I tiptoe into his room. But the second I bend over to lay him down in his crib those big eyes pop open, the bottom lip drops and the screaming begins. So being the nice mommy I am I thought, okay, I'll just pick him back up and cuddle him till he falls asleep again and then lay him down. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Because the picking up, cuddling, laying back down, and ensuing screaming never stops.

He's playing games with me.

Oh, but that screaming, it rips my heart out. We've finally come to a happy medium. I stand next to him with my hand on his belly while he flails about, kicking, screaming, and scratching his face & my hands. But eventually he falls asleep. And usually stays asleep for a good 45 minutes. Never mind it takes us about that long to get him knocked out. *sigh*

But those 45 minutes are blissful. I run around doing all the things I can't do with a babe attached to one hip. Fun things. Like laundry. And dishes. And I sometimes manage to get a little spinning thrown in there. By the way, she now has a name. My spinning wheel that is. I've decided my house is already overrun with boys, no need to throw another one in there. And so she's a SHE. And her name is Gwen. Short for Gwendolyn. Very medievil & fitting, no?

I finally finished this:

It's Chicago from Rowan 37, made in very yummy Calmer. I lurve that stuff. It's soft & stretchy and makes me want to roll around in bins of it. I finished the front, back & sides only to discover I didn't like it. But I could NOT bring myself to rip it out. I worked the ribbing on the back while I was in labor with Declan. Those are my memories trapped in the stitches. I couldn't just trash them. So I decided I didn't like it because it was too long and took a bit out to make them shorter. I just blocked it last night and today I'll seam it up and make myself like it no matter what. Even if it just gets to hang in my closet for years & years. One day I'll pull it out and show Declan the stitches I made when he was about to make his grand entrance.

Because he's really gonna care.

Successes(es)

2007-01-22T20:14:00.000-08:00

(Imagine a picture of beautiful hand dyed, handspun here. Imagine me cursing technology for not allowing me to actually post the picture)

So instead I'll post a picture of one of my greatest successes. Introducting Declan....

Don'tcha just want to eat him alive? I'm pretty proud of his older brother too of course. :) Unfortunately he's at that age where in every picture it looks like we're pulling his fingernails out and making him sit on spikes. He looks positively tortured. He's really honestly trying to smile only, well. Here....

See what I mean?

But back to the handspun. You've been wondering what I've been up to in my absence? This my dears....

Has kept me quite busy. I haven't decided yet if it's a he or she, or even given the poor thing a name. For now it's "Kromski." Or better yet, "Mama's guilty little pleasure." My first attempts on it were quite sad. I had no clue I needed to draft the roving and sucked an entire thing up with a few spins of the wheel. Now that was some thick yarn. But I have to say I've got it pretty well down and am working on a pair of socks from yarn I spun & dyed myself. There would be pictures so you guys could oogle if only I didn't hate technology so much. Or if only it didn't HATE me so much.

Better get back to mama's guilty little pleasure before it starts feeling neglected.

Um, yeah....HI

2007-01-03T16:51:00.000-08:00

There is absolutely no excuse for not writing for ohhh....A YEAR. None. I am sitting here on the floor with my laptop and suddenly I had a post forming in my head. And I realized that I do have a sad, sad, ignored blog out there just waiting for such a thing. Boy #2 otherwise known as Declan is trying to eat the USB plug-in and is closing in on 9 months. 9 much more enjoyable months than those spent in the tummy. He is an absolute joy. I'll post pictures once I get more accustomed to writing on this thing again. And that will hopefully be soon.

Life is very different than it was the last time I wrote, and by different I mean MUCH BETTER. I no longer work at a brain sucking job, hauling around an enormous belly and trying my hardest to keep the boy #1 happy and well adjusted. He is now happy and well adjusted because his mom and dad are. I am doing a bit of consulting and working from home, but it is because I WANT TO. I am sad I let an awful job control my life like it did. I am sad I let it undermine my self confidence and doubt my abilities. Because I am damn good at what I do.

My days are now somewhat lazy and busy and shower-less but that's only because I am so caught up in keeping little man entertained it makes me forget about all the other less important things. And knitting does not fall in that category of less important things. Cooking dinner? It does. While I might have been absent from the good old blog most definitely does not mean I've been absent from knitting. I have been a knitting fool. You thought I was talenting because I could drive and knit? Try breastfeeding a squirmy baby, watching What Not to Wear AND knitting. At the same time.

Because I am adamently schedule-less I make no promises as to the regularity of my posting I will try my hardest to post more.

It feels good, I miss it.

With big kicks and bumps and all kinds of bad tricks....

2006-02-10T09:40:00.000-08:00

I found this so interesting...it takes the words from your blog and puts them into this spiffy thingy....you can think these guys for it.

I also find it very interesting the things people search for in google. For instance I have been hit by many many horny teenagers looking for "Girls Skinny Dipping" " Skinny hot girls" "Skinny girls with big boobs" and the best? "Skinny girls with breastpumps." HA....I bet they were frightened when a KNITTING blog came up.

My favorite word right now from above? Mom. Lately I'm really feeling like one. I've come to the early conclusion that things change when you have two. One is portable. Drake's always up for a late night run to DQ if there's a blizzard involved. He's just as happy camping out at his desk eating dinner as he is at a table. He goes eagerly to all our friends houses and entertains himself by playing cars/trains/planes, torturing their dogs by playing frisbee & ball for hours, and then falling asleep on their couch if he finds himself too sleepy.

I am not a mom with a Mary Poppins purse. If Drake finds himself hungry/thirsty/bored when we are out, it's pretty much tough shit. He's learned his mom won't pull a juice box & granola bar out of her little purse. His mom says wait till we get home...it's won't be much longer. And if it does end up being much longer I can easily be suckered into a milkshake or stop at Cold Stone. No, he does not have it rough.

I have a feeling that all this will have to change with two. I guess I'm going to have to up the purse size because I can barely fit my cell phone in there let alone a diaper. And I AM NOT carrying a diaper bag. Nope. Wanna know why? I have a secret desire to be a MILF. You heard me. You know, those moms who everyone oogled at on the bus when they came to pick up their kid? We would sit with our noses pressed against the grimy window to catch a glimpse of what color they had their nails painted that day, and how they walked just so, their hips swinging slightly under the strain of the skin tight jeans. The hubby thinks I've gone too far with this one, and I'll embarass Drake, but we all need something to dream about, right?

And yes, MILF's do too knit.

Mr. TY-rone is growing along at such alarming speed that I feel like my stomach is no longer a part of me. I can be sitting, reading a book, minding my own business when suddenly a leg kicks up so violently it knocks the book right over. How weird is that. I was doing actually pretty good with enjoying being pregnant until yesterday. Yesterday WAS IT. I am sick and tired of being pregnant. I am done with pulling my shirts down constantly lest I risk flashing my office mates with a strip of white I am positive they have no desire to see. I am sick of climbing into bed all ready to pass out and being terrorized by someone who decided it's time for a little game of "kick mama in the ribs until she cries." I am tired of sitting down and having something insisting on sitting my lap.

Everyone says that once the babe drops it gets more comfortable. I beg to differ. Once the babe drops you now have a head between your legs. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of feeling such a thing imagine attaching a bowling ball to your crotch and take a walk around the block. You tell me know it feels. And because I grow extra special large babes he still has the magic ability to kick me in the ribs. That is talent.

I am getting very excited to meet the little guy. In my head he'll come out looking exactly like Drake did, and we'll just have two of them. Realistically I know that can't be, but I have a feeling I'll be shocked when I see him, because he won't be what I'm expecting. My very nice midwifes moved my due date up by two weeks, because it appears it's been wrong the whole freakin time. The good news about that? I'm now 35 weeks and counting.

Right now I'm working on.....

Just imagine it in deep blue and sunny yellow. Too CUTE. I've made the sweater almost twice. Unfortunately all I have to show for it is 1/2 a sweater. I was at my mom's happily knitting away watching the superbowl and munching on fried chicken when she RUINED it all by saying it was huge. I held it up to Drake's stomach and it indeed was huge. Babies in Norway must be gigantic, because I'm having to make the 3 month size to be worn by my babe when he's hopefully around 9 months.

More than you ever wanted to know.....

2006-01-25T14:17:00.000-08:00

Something I stole from Stalker Angie and thought looked like fun. And keeps me from being a looser with no posts. heh

layer one
name: Sam or Samantha
birthdate: 7/11
birthplace: Seattle Washington
current location: about 20 minutes away
eye color: blue with green around the middle
hair color: brown righty or lefty: right
sign: Cancer.....so fitting of me. innie or outtie: normally an innie.....at this time It's stretched as far as it can go!!

layer two
heritage: 1/2 French Canadian from Newfoundland, the other 1/2 a mix of all over Europe.
shoes you wore today: cute black flats with a black flower on them.
your hair: shoulder length....naturally curly. I straighten it most of the time though.
your weakness: Coffee. Chocolate. Anything pink or cute.
fears: Having anything happen to my db or kiddo's
your perfect pizza: cheese with artichoke hearts, mushrooms, pineapple, can. bacon & green peppers. YUM
one thing you'd like to achieve: Right now natural birth. I had a contraction the other night and it scared the hell out of me.

layer three
your most overused phrase: cool, dude, no worries.
your first waking thoughts: ooohhhh godddd...it's morning already?? SNOOZE
the first features you notice in the opposite sex: their nose & eyes. And hands.
your best physical feature: I have loong skinny legs. Which for a long time I hated because they looked like bird legs.
your bedtime: 10ish
your greatest fear: Didn't I already answer this one? Anything happening to my db or kiddo's
your greatest accomplishment: finishing college after having Drake.

layer four
pepsi or coke: pepsi. But really I hate soda and drink it once or twice a year. single or group dates: I like em both. And done lots of both.
adidas or nike: ummm....don't really care!! I rarely wear true tennis shoes. chocolate or vanilla: lately vanilla for some odd reason. Usually chocolate cappuccino or coffee: cappuccino. But really a mocha or latte. I have one every morning!

layer five
smoke: never have
cuss: WAY too much. I mean WAYYYY too much.
sing: I hum constantly, but have a horrible singing voice.
take a shower everyday: Most of the time. Unless I hit snooze a few too many times.
have a crush: not right now. Have had lots of them.
been in love: Yup.
went to college: Yup. Got my BA in Finance & Economics
liked high school: I loved my Junior year. I finally had boobs and felt like I fit in.
want to get married: Yes!! September 2007
believe in yourself: Most of the time. I believe I can do something, but feel guilt for what will happen if I do/don't do it.
type with your fingers on the right keys: Yup. Since 6th grade typing lessons.
think you're attractive: Most of the time. I'm having a hard time coming to terms with growing up.
think you're a health freak: I go through phases. We do eat natural/organic foods mostly, and go through times when I excercise like crazy.
get along with your parents: We've always gotten along pretty well. My mom is my best friend, and my pops I love & admire like crazy. We talk about everything.
play an instrument: I've played piano since I was 4, and played clarinet & flute in middle & high school

layer six
in the past month, did you..
drink alcohol: unfortunately, no.
smoke: nope.
make Out: Of course!!!
go on a date: Yup.
eat an entire box of Oreos: Nope. Ewwww....all that white stuff in the middle yucks me out, but tastes so good.
eat sushi: nope. Never have, never will.
been on stage: nope.
been dumped: nope. I've been lucky enough be have been spared ever being dumped.
gone skating: not in this condition
made homemade cookies: yup, Drake loves making them.
fall in love: everyday.
go skinny dipping: does in the hot tub count? That's a weekly affair. I have gone skinny dipping at lakes/ocean a few times.
dyed your hair: nope. My past magenta hair taught me a lesson

layer seven
have you ever...
played a game that required removal of clothing: maybe
if so, was it mixed company: Yes
been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Only twice. And they were baaaddd. I learned my lesson pretty quickly...I only have 1-2 drinks at a time now! been caught doing something: Yes I have. Even by the police once
been called a tease: Yes
changed who you were to fit in: Yes, but never extremely

layer eight
age you hope to be married: 27
numbers and names of children: Drake is 5 and the bean has a fabulous name, still in utero.
describe your dream wedding: lots of alcohol, dancing, laughing how do you want to die: in my sleep. Even though death scares the living crap out of me
what do you want to be when you grow up: I'm really not sure yet. I'm not a planner, just take things day by day.
what countr(ies) would you most like to visit: England, Scotland, Ireland.

layer nine
number of men i have kissed: I don't think I could count. I had fun in my high school days.
number of boyfriends you've had: serious, only 2.
number of people i could trust with my life: Quite a few actually.....around 10?
number of CDs that i own: Like 5. I hate buying them!
number of piercings: Just one, my ears. I do want to get my belly button done one of these days. And I'd really like to do my nose. But it freaks me out.
number of tattoos: None. I would LOVE one, but Damian hates them. number of scars on my body: 2 that I can see I had an apendectomy when I was 7, and a little scar under my nose from falling down the porch stairs when I was 3.
number of things in my past that i regret: Nothing....everything happens for a reason. Even if I hate it I know I learned something from it.

OMG. I AM HAVING A BABY

2006-01-18T08:47:00.000-08:00

You would think that by now this wouldn't be something I would stumble upon....like finding your husband having an affair, or that you have a long lost sibling. But nope, that's the way I do things....jump in with both feet and then be scared shitless when I realize what's going on. Last night I had my 30 week appointment with my midwife, who made it abundantly clear that very soon I would have a screaming, pooping, hungry bundle of joy in my arms. SHE ASKED ME IF WE HAD A CARSEAT READY!!!! Uh, ya, nope.

You see, I've been measuring 4 weeks ahead of my due date almost my entire pregnancy, and so while I may think I'm only 30 weeks, someone else thinks he's 33 weeks 5 days. And he turned head down to get himself all ready to come on out and meet the world. And while I can't wait to meet the little guy and cover his itty bitty feet with kisses, I'm like, really, really FREAKING OUT. Do we have a carseat? Crib set up? Room to put him in? Well, technically yes to that last question, but the room still happens to be my craft room, with yarn scattered all over. And it's the clean laundry pile room. And the walls are still painted pink & purple (don't ask).

So I'm taking a very deep breath and today I'm facing this head on. The hubby and I will be spending our lunch hour at Toys R Us doing a mad dash throwing things in the cart. Oh crap. Diapers....must remember diapers. (Did I mention I've been having contractions on and off?)

I'm guessing you all are dying to see me in my huge glory....so while they might be taken in a public restroom by yours truly they're the best I could do. Don't harass a pregnant woman.

And so you can see my cute shoes...heh

I'm working on the cutest knitting thing ever, and when I finish I'll post pictures of it for you. It's a surprise. I'll tell you it's a baby Dale of Norway, lavender, and ADORABLE. And for a friends baby girl. Mr. Tyrone has lots of cute knitted things right now....but they aren't purple.

And I'm overwhelmed with the enormity of all the planned projects for the little guy, and yarn bought, and it looks at me everytime I go into the craft room (maybe that's why it hasn't been converted into baby room...I would have to face the yarn demons) There was a bit there where I bought Baby Ull like it was discontinued. Let's just say I had to buy 2 new plastic drawer thingies to hold it all. And they're hiding in the closet from a certain someone.

While right now that certain "someone" just might be the hubby, in the near future I just might have to hide it from someone else. Take a look at this....

Do you see that look of excitement & sheer happiness on his little face? I've trained him well.

Wanna hear something sad?

2006-01-17T08:41:00.000-08:00

One day a few months ago I got up the courage to clean out the fridge. And I mean clean. When I was all finished I looked inside and laughed. We had a sparkling clean fridge...with nothing in it. I pulled the hubby in the kitchen to show him "Wanna see something sad?"

Later that day we had friends come over and as soon as they stepped in the door Drake pulled them aside and said "Wanna see something SAD??" He lead them over to the fridge, flung the door open, and stood there with the SADDEST LOOK EVER on his little face. I could have died. Bree VanDecamp would have had a great cover up, but I just stood there with my jaw on the floor laughing. Thank god they did too.

That's like today. I finally decided, goddamnit I need to post ,and my last post was in like NOVEMBER. Does anyone still remember little old me? Except, well, I'm not so little anymore. Or skinny. I'm 7 1/2 months pregnant with a stomach that runs into everything and the other night the hubby told me my thighs were getting a little "thick." He says they're still "small-medium" but we all know where that's heading. You see, I've spent almost my entire life up until this point at right around 100 pounds. And I'm 5'8. So when I hopped on the scale at my doctors and it said 144 I told them to recheck....NO FUCKING WAY!!! Way. So I figured heck, I might as well embrace it. You'd be amazing how quickly I can crush a box for recycling. I used to have to take it outside and jump up and down on it. Now with one crushing blow of my foot the thing is flat.

We have nicknamed this kiddo "Ty-rone" and you have to say it just like that. We really do have a very nice name all picked out, but you see, I'm not telling anyone. Nope. Can't get it out of me. I learned last time that no matter what name you choose everyone has something to say about it. And then I don't like the name anymore. And then I have to cry to the hubby about how it's all wrong. And then we have to pick a new name. And that SUCKS. And besides, how much fun is it to yell "Ty-RONE" with a southern accent.

Believe it or not, my extra room is littered with itty bitty baby socks, and pants and hats...all knitted I might add. I've been going nuts. Did you know you can turn out a pair of baby socks in like 3.5 minutes? Good god, it's insane!!! The only problem seems to be I can't quite remember how SMALL these things are when they come out. I mean, I know somewhere around 6-10 pounds, but like....how small are their little feet? Really?? I keep pumping things out and then the hubby looks at me like I'm TOTALLY INSANE. And then he tells Drake to put it on....and it fits. So obviously they are smaller than I'm thinking.

Anyone have a bebe you want to let me borrow for a few hours? I promise not to poke or otherwise agitate the little guy (or girl)

It's me, the bean

2005-11-07T10:06:00.000-08:00

You know, my mom whines all about me on here, but never lets me get a word in edgewise. So, seeing as she's currently guzzling an eggnog latte, I'll sneak on here and say what needs to be said.

She's knitting. That's about all the excitement she lets me in for when the workday is through. She sits in this chair all day at work, typing away (and MAN is that loud in here) and muttering words I'm sure I'm not supposed to hear yet. I just love it when she gets creative if something really goes wrong and I get to hear the really good ones. Like fu**erpants. Just wait till I'm one and repeat that one. I can't wait to see her face.

Back to the knitting. She's even knitting something for me, after finally finishing that darn sweater for my big brother. He just loves it and I get to hear all about how she's supposed to knit ONLY for him, but hey, I deserve some too, right?! So I sent her messages to get on it woman, and she's knitting up a alpaca/silk kimono, pants & booties. Except she sort of forgot how little I am in here. I mean come on!! When she held it up to my big brother and it fit his tummy I knew we were in trouble. I got to hear more cool words then. She remade it so it looks like it just might fit me, and she already finished the back. Way to go mom!! Looks like I'm well on my way to being a designer baby after all.

So, I've got another four months to hang out in here before I make my grand appearance. My mom unpacked all my big brothers baby clothes this weekend and oohhhed and aahhhed over them. Just think how cute they'll look when I'm in them! Now if only she'd make a little more room in here for me, I'm all squished up. And hey, mom. STOP POKING AT ME!! If I'm quiet for a bit that means I'm trying to catch some zzzzz's. Good grief lady, I can't keep up the wiggling act all day.

p.s. Stop whining about your boobs. I think they're cool.

I've decided it's not gas.

2005-10-13T14:20:00.000-07:00

Those little bubbly feelings? I think it's the babe!! You'd think after going through this whole thing before I'd be able to seperate the two, but it's taken me a few days for that to sink in. It's an amazing feeling, tiny, obscure, and tickly. It almost makes me want to scratch my tummy raw, and I have to stop in wonder and realize it's a whole nother person. And how lucky I am to experience it. Even if it does mean not pooping for two weeks.

There are times I still forget I'm pregnant, like when I first wake up in the morning and go to haul myself out of bed to turn off the screaming alarm. It scares the shit out of me some mornings to look down and see a huge white bulge shooting out of me. And then I remember. And then I run to go pee, cause, the bladder? Not taking this whole thing all too well.

My boss made my morning today by telling me I looked glamorous. Shirt stretched to the max and all. I then proceeded to show her just HOW glamorous I am by tripping over my own foot, and throwing myself halfway across the room before I could catch myself. In all reality I think I look like a freak of nature. I've recently been compared to an apple with toothpicks shoved in the bottom. By the same woman, I might add. See, I've lost almost 10 pounds since I began this adventure because I cut back on some meds I was taking that puffed me all up. So my legs are back to the toothpicks they started out as, while my tummy & boobs are ever expanding. It's almost like a science experiment.....how much can they hold until they snap off??

I finished blocking my cardigan and now it looks huge. Like HUGE, huge. It has killed any inspiration to seam it all up. Maybe I'll get it wet again and just crinkle it all up in a little ball to see if it shrinks back up and resumes it's normal smaller if slightly rolled look. I'm hoping to finish it soon so I can post some pics....it really is purty.

And Mr. Drake's sweater? We were having a chat on the way home from school/work yesterday about it. He informed me he "really likes it, but would REALLY like it if it had a hood." Cool. It'd have been nice to know that a few months ago. He then proceeded to tell me he thought it'd be REALLY REALLY cool if the hood had some kind of fuzzy stuff inside. Like, he had no idea what exactly, just fuzzy. I'm thinking I'll make the hood seperate from the sweater so he can still wear it while I work on the hood.

Cause at the pace I work at the damn thing will be too small by the time the hood is finished. And then I can just attach it onto the latest sweater.

They don't know that anything is sacred

2005-10-12T09:50:00.000-07:00

Kids, that is.

Somewhere around last spring I started a cardigan for Mr. Drake. It was with fuzzy self striping yarn, which I thought I despised, but actually ended up liking. Anyway, I ran out of yarn, got tired of knitting, and ended up pregnant all right in the middle of it's construction.

The Mr. was not impressed.

When I got the urge to knit back I made myself finish that damn sweater. It took me all of 5 hours I think. I blocked, seamed, and wove in all the ends and wala....finito!!

Almost. I forgot about one small necessary item, called the zipper. He wore it for a good few weeks with the top hanging off his little shoulders because mama was a lazy ass. We finally made the treck down to JoAnns to buy the thing and I managed to buy one that didn't come apart at the end. One made for, like, pullovers or jeans. Definitely not for cardigans. So another few weeks passed and we made the second trip down to JoAnns. I managed to get the right zipper this time, and sewed it in all in one night. So what if you can't zip it all the way to the top because it's sewn on just a tad crooked up there.

He wore it with pride to school the next day. It was there that the hubby overheard a conversation between Drake, his best buddy Rishi, and the buddy's mom.

It went something along the lines of:

Drake: "Rishi! Do you see my finished sweater? I finally get to wear it!"

Rishi: "Oh, wow! Your mom finally put the zipper in?"

Drake: "Yup."

Rishi: "You mean you guys went and got a new zipper instead of the wrong one?"

Drake: "We did, and mom even sewed it in for me!!"

The hubby was about to explain this whole conversation to Rishi's mom when she proceeded to tell him how she's heard all about it. How it sat in the closet for a few months, then got finished, then needed a zipper, then the wrong zipper....etc.

Will I ever be able to show my face at his school again?!?! I mean, what other stories has he told?

In other less knitting related news, I went to my Dr. a few days ago for some pains I was having. I felt all crampy and yucky. After doing a thorough check he said I was just fine. Gee thanks....that solves the problem. He then proceeded to tell me that no matter how many kids a woman has every pregnancy is an adventure. Because women are programmed to forget certain things pertaining to the pregnancy. Not the cute little baby at the end....oh no...that's too easy.

No, they are programmed to forget all the pains, twinges, and being horribly uncomfortable with another human being stuffed in their gut.

Things like:

1. Not going poop for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, that is where the pains are coming from.

2. Your boobs weighting in at 10 pounds. Each.

3. Running to the bathroom because you have to go pee SO BAD, only to get there and have 5 drops come out. You get back to your desk and realize you really do have to go pee! Run back, wiggle around a little to get the kiddo off your bladder and ahhhh....relief.

4. Pains and twinges every freaking time you move. The doctor says round ligament pain, but common ligaments.....quit whining...will you??!!

If that isn't birth control, I don't know what is.

Sooooooooo

2005-10-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

I'm guessing the thing you guys would most like to see is a picture of my bloated, preggo self. Right? You see, that is all I can give you right now.

Last night I was just about to finish the last sleeve on my cardigan. And by last sleeve, I also mean last thing I need to finish. Anyway. I waltzed on down to my LYS to pick up the one stinking ball I needed to finish during my lunch hour only to discover they didn't have anymore. WHAT??? Do they have no heart? I mean, how can they subject a hormonal pregnant woman in heels to that kind of torture. HOW DARE THEY.

So, my day tomorrow is planned for me. I will be driving from store to store trying to find one goddamned skein. You'd think this would teach me a lesson, but I promise you, it won't. My brain was never given the planning cell, and so I tend to just buy what I think I'll need and not give it a second thought. Until I'm knitting away and come to a six inch piece of yarn....that is the rest of the ball. And then I swear, throw, and jab knitting needles into couch cushions (better than the hubby, right??)

I'm obviously just stalling. Showing a picture of my preggo self to the world is humbling. Not only because, well, I'm still coming to terms with it, and shock the hell out of myself when I see my reflection. But because I LOOK TOTALLY 100% PREGNANT. I took a walk around the building the other day and when I rounded the corner and was faced with a wall of reflective windows I thought, wow, look...there's a real pregnant lady walking by me. And then I noticed she was wearing the same shoes. And skirt. And HOLY SHIT that is ME. I must have caught some eyes as I slowly touched my hands to the mound and felt to make sure it really was attached to me. It was.

Can I tell you I recently realized the joy of being pregnant at this very time? You see, I will be eating Thanksgiving dinner with elastic waisted pants on. Think of all that room!!!! And I can just blame it on the baby. Might as well let them enjoy the meal also, right?

Shield your eyes as necessary...

And as if that isn't enough for you...

Also, please note where I'm at in these. Yes, that does happen to be the bathroom at work, otherwise known as my second home.

A true Washingtoneon

2005-09-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

I love the rain. Today is our first rainy, windy, grey, day of the season and I'm in love. I took a little jaunt outside just to breath in the fall air. Ahhhh...there is nothing better. And that is why I will always live in Washington. I get so sick of sunshine I just want to curl up under a blankey and read a book. Don't make me go run outside and put my feet in the hot sand...I DON'T WANNA!! Does that make me weird?

It also gives me a good reason to wear bulky concealing sweaters. I thought it was a great thing, until today my boss came and said she had the first person ask her if I was pregnant. She's a rockstar. She looked right at them and said "I really don't know and really don't care. If you want to know ask her." They were so shocked I believe they just walked away, white faced with embarassment. We had a good giggle. Hehe

Us moms have to stick together in the corporate world. There's a whole lot of sharks dressed in suits I'm finding out.

I'm also finding out that if I drink as much water as I'm supposed to I live in the bathroom. Which could be a good excuse to hide away if there wasn't all you can use free hairspray, and someone on my floor that loves to take full advantage of it. If you wear glasses I'd hop the elevator down to the next floor, cause they'll be coated in 3.5 seconds if you step in there. I thought about jimmy rigging the extra tp door to hide my knitting and give me something to do on all those trips, but got a little worried about the janitor finding it and throwing the "pile of string" in the trash. You know, those tampon strings sure are getting out of hand!

I'm now officially banned from the library...they sent me a letter kindly letting me know. You see, I went through a pretty bad period there, a period with about 30 books checked out and no motivation to return them. And when I finally did they informed me I was SO late I now have $75 in library fees. No joke people, $75 freaking dollars. Who's going to pay $75 dollars in fines? Not this someone, that's for damn sure. So now I'm on my buy all my books kick again. This kick seems to happen whenever my library fines get to be more than ohhh, say my electric bill for the month.

So, since my book selection is severly limited I need some advice....what are some good baby knitting books? I'm getting that itch to knit itsy bitsy baby things. You know, little booties that won't stay on, tiny sweaters to be spit up on....that sort of thing. They are so darn cute...who could resist???

Or course, I'll probably have to end up making matching sweaters as Drake will be insanely jealous. But I'm caught in that feeling guilty because I'm taking time away from my original baby. And I'm sure he'll feed on that guilt and end up with happy meals every day of the week. He's smart like that.

You know it's been too long when.....

2005-09-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

You go to the blogger site and it doesn't have your blog bookmarked anymore.

You can't remember your login to blogger....bad sign.

Sorry ya'll....I was really having a rough time there for a bit. My hormones took over and I have never wanted to punch/run away/sleep/ignore/whine so much in my life. Well, maybe, but I think I was around 15. You'll have to ask my mom about that one.

Something has clicked and now that I'm in my second trimester I have regained a forgotten something once again, ENERGY. I know the hubby wishes it was sex drive, but sorry, not this week. I'm huge right now, like bloated whale huge. Like I look like I'm 5 months preggo huge. I love to watch the look on my friends faces as I come hauling myself out of the car and introduce them to my belly.

Drake, he compares it to a volcano. Thanks bud.

You know, pregnancy, it's an interesting thing. At first you feel like SUCH SHIT, but you can't really tell anyone because you don't want to tell people too soon about it. So you have to suffer in quiet, and be totally miserable. Then, just when it starts going away and you actually feel like a NORMAL PERSON your belly pops out and speaks for itself. I understand I'm just one of the millions of people who are, or have gone through this, but I can't be the first to question that process.

There are still quite a few people here at the office I haven't told yet...I'm just waiting for one of them to have the balls to ask me. And when they do I have my response prepared.

"That is SUCH an inappropriate question to ask. I can't believe you just asked that"

And then depending on whether I like them or not I'll give em the truth with a smile, or just walk away. Heh.

My knitting progress...well, it's been an off & on affair. I started a new cardigan, Buzz, from Rowan 37

which I am totally loving. I'm making it in a grey-blue, and if I do say so myself it's gorgeous. I showed it to the hubby, and the first comment out of his mouth? I hope you're making an XL. Gee, thanks. I'm not doing the buttons, but instead making two little ties at the top so it can go on the sides of my belly, while it's huge, and still be able to wear it after I pop. I'm almost finished with the right front and then all I have left to do is the sleeves.

We find out the sex of this little one in about 5 weeks (my Dr.'s making us wait too long if you ask me) and then I can start knitting lots of little blue or pink bebe things, which thrills me. They are so sweet. Too bad all a baby does when you try and put the sweet little things on them is scream, but hopefully I'll get to admire them before it decides to poop, pee or throw up on them.

Excuses, Excuses

2005-09-06T10:50:00.000-07:00

You see, there might be another reason I disappeared for a while there. Other than I didn't feel like knitting anymore.

I just might be, well, pregnant.

You heard me. The same woman who swore up and down I was not going to have another. I swear no more. I guess I should've known that when you put two of the most fertile people on earth together accidents are bound to happen. And yes, even with measures taken to ensure accidents DON'T happen. I'm telling ya'll....I'm one of those 1%ers.

And yes, after this one there will be scissors (or possibly a razor??) involved in ensuring there are no more accidents. Snip, Snip my friends.

But in the meanwhile I'm gonna be a mommy again, and little man is SO EXCITED. We waited to tell everyone until this weekend (I'm almost 11 weeks). My parents didn't believe me for a full 1/2 hour because I've always been so adamant about not having anymore kiddo's.

We sat down with Drake yesterday and told him he's gonna be a big brother. His little face broke into the biggest grin, totally thrilled. We went to Trader Joe's soon after and he kept going on and on quite loudly how we gave him his greatest wish, just like wishing on a star. He's gonna be a big brother. He then proceeded to tell everyone in sight that his momma has a baby in her tummy.

Maybe I should be thankful....at least now they won't all think I'm just a little pudgy around the middle. And I so am...my pants don't fit, my regular shirts are stretched to their limit. I mean, really, how soon is too soon to start wearing maternity clothes? Do I need to pop a seam first? Bust a button? Cause I'm getting pretty damn close.

With Drake I was sick as a dog. No, worse. There was no morning sickness, nope. It was morning, noon & night sickness. I swore then I would only have one. I just couldn't imagine puking on a regular basis ever again. I have a friend who just found out she is pregnant a few weeks ago also. She came to me wailing "WHY? Why do they not tell you how HORRIBLE this is? WHHHHYYYY???? Why do I only like the cheap mac n' cheese? And nothing else? Not even chocolate." And I totally feel for her.

This time, it's like somethings really broken in me...I haven't been all that sick. There are lots of things I still can't stomach (french fries taste way better on the way down) but I'm living and have only puked a few measly times. That's huge people. I might FEEL like puking quite a bit, but have managed to keep everything where it belongs.

Now the laziness...it's getting out of hand. There have been times where I haven't moved from the couch for 5 straight hours. My ass is going to be the size of Mt. Rushmore if I don't quit this. I just don't feel like doing anything. ANYTHING. I just want to sit, and stare off into space. I don't even know if my brain is working in those moments, and I don't really care. Most people who know me, know exactly why I'm so skinny....cause I NEVER STOP MOVING. I can't even sit still in a meeting without kicking my feet under the table, or playing with my pen, or fingers, or SOMETHING. I can't just sit. Which is exactly why I took up knitting. It's perfect for me.

But something snapped and I love to just sit.

Okay, enough about me. I was cleaning my house yesterday and just trying to imagine how much I would freak out if one inch of water was covering my floor, not to mention 20 feet. My heart breaks for all those people, I can't even imagine. I have been lucky enough have lived for 20 something years and never had anything remotely like that happen to me. For that I am infinitely grateful. My heart goes out to all those affected.

Abra Cadabra

2005-09-02T12:06:00.000-07:00

And I reappear.

I'm just going to come right out and say it....I snapped. I haven't knit in ooohhh, well, since my last post. I'm not quite sure what happened, just one day I had NO DESIRE WHATSOEVER to pick up any knitting needles, yarn, or other such paraphernalia. I know there are a thousand heroin addicts out there who would LOVE to wake up and find such a thing happened to them, but you all are shrinking in the corner right now thinking "that will NEVER happen to me." I'm here to tell you, it can, and it just might.

It really freaked the hubby out at first. He kept looking at me sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing but watching tv, reading & eating dinner....and finally burst out "you're freaking me out! Start, I don't know, wiggling around your yarn...or SOMETHING. Please just do SOMETHING."

And I can't.

The kiddo has a week of vacation from school before he starts kindergarten. For those of us that actually have our kids in a daycare/school because we work are a little put out, but the grandparents really stepped up and volunteered to take him on. It's a great arrangement for all of us, really. He loves them to death, and begs to go visit them constantly, they have a great time with him, and me and the hubby get a little child-free time. Ahhhhh.....

And then I miss him like crazy. He called right after we dropped him off at my mom's, sounding the saddest I've ever heard him. "Mom, I really just want you, I miss you already, and I just really, really love you. And miss you" And here I am sitting at my desk at work, wanting to bawl because I miss him like crazy too. I was sad all day, thinking he must be missing me, when I get another call from him later that evening.

"Ya, mom. Hi. I'm all better. And I had a cookie. And I'm all better. Bye!!"

So much for the warm fuzzies. His other grandma took him out shopping, her favorite hobby, and got him all snazzed up for kindergarten clothes. I was rebelling going "back to school clothes shopping" because that would mean he was all grown up. I mean I remember going school clothes shopping, and he's not that big yet. So he called the next day and proceeded to ask me "Mom, what do you think of the yellow letters that go down the side of these pants? Do you think they're cool?" He still hasn't gotten over the idea that you can't actually SEE over the phone. I kept saying I'll let him know when I see him, but he was so insistent that I say I THINK IT'S COOL I finally gave in a did so.

And then he went back to his cookie.

I so wish I was that easy to please. And that I would like knitting again.

Send positive thoughts.

It's good to be 5

2005-08-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

You know, I came into work today and had a total bitch session including: feet stomping, arm crossing, and pouting. I DIDN'T GET MY GOOD VACATION!!! And now I feel better. Those 5 year olds, they're onto something.

My body is in some kind of shock, and I feel like such a freak. The 105 degree heat did something to my internal thermostat and it's no longer functioning. It's August, correct? Why am I sitting here in a TURTLENECK?? Why? And, okay, I'll admit....I also have a space heater pointed directly at me under my desk. If building management knew about that one there'd be a battle. They have a policy against them, but have no ability to make the temperature of the building comfortable. We're either all huddled in our offices, wrapped up in anything remotely heat giving...kleenex. Kleenex provides heat when you're really cold. Or it's the other way around, and suit jackets are flung on the floor, sweat dripping off our foreheads as we plug away.

In Mr. Drake news the hubby found some long lost lego's during his parent's move that are the.coolest.ever. They're not just any lego's....they're pirate lego's. I just don't get it, but if you are a boy you do. Swords, pirates, treasure chests, and ships are the greatest creation. The hubby is even grown up enough to refuse to GIVE them to Drake. Instead he keeps telling him they're on loan. I've asked him a few times what his plans are, but he keeps mumbling something about entering a lego building in the state fair.

And you think knitters are crazy?

Survival of the fittest

2005-08-10T12:20:00.000-07:00

I would be dead. Really. I'm just not that tough.

Instead of being able to handle the killer heat I was passed out in an air conditioned hotel room. THE ENTIRE TIME. Well, except for the time spent in the car, in a hospital, and half a freakin day in the music and sunshine. 105 degree sunshine that is.

And I only got 1/2 a sock and 6 inches of a sweater finished. Pretty damn poopy if you ask me.

See, the hubby is pretty good at predicting when I'll get a migraine, and he predicted right here. Me? I'm always in denial. Until it hits. Then I'm a sobbing, babbling, moaning pile on the floor. Covered in a towel to protect against the light. I remember trying to tell him to cut the top of my head off and trade it with another (just to give you an idea of where I was at). I think between that, me moaning unintelligible things to him, and a little convulsing on my part he decided he'd better get me on down to the ER.

I remember bits and pieces of that involving:

* Being convinced they were trying to kill me when they gave me the demerol for pain.

*Changing beds 3 times because there was a sudden bed-on-wheels shortage.

*Them trying to get me to pee sitting on a seat with a bucket under it. Nuh-uh. I don't care how sick I am.

*Waking up in a totally different room/bed than I remember starting in, and once again being able to feel something other than a giant throbbing mass on my neck.

During this all the hubby was a saint. He called around to find me a hotel room to pass out in, which was not an easy task. You see, Reggae on the River is in the middle of nowhere in Northern CA. And when you suddenly cram bunches of people in the middle of nowhere every nook & cranny is full. And beyond full.

He finally found me a spot in the prestigious Benbow Inn. Apparently the nurses at the hospital were trying to impress him by saying Clint Eastwood stayed there. If Clint Eastwood DID stay there I sure as hell wouldn't want to meet him looking like I did. I had on pajama pants, a crumpled camisole, sandles, and two day old pigtails. SO not a pretty sight.

I promptly passed out in the room while the hubby tried to go enjoy the nightly festivities. He said when the bus pulled up to drop them off there was one window where the blinds were wide open and all the lights were blaring. Mine.

He came into the room to find me totally passed out, facedown on the bed, my face planted in the middle of a pile of sock, yarn, & 4 very sharp dpn's. It's a wonder I didn't poke my eye out. The next night was more of the same...weird medicated sleeping.

But I'm back, not quite at full speed, and dare I say....burned out? I didn't even feel like knitting last night let alone moving my ass off the couch. But I had to go pick up my dear doggy. Remember my brother, the saint? He took such good care of my doggy, the mean thing didn't even act happy to see me. He took one look at me, and promptly passed out in the backseat of the car. DIDN'T EVEN COME IN FOR A DOGGY KISS. And the little bastard had no idea what I had to go through to go pick him up.

The next time I think I can somehow go 20 miles in rush hour in one hour, smack me. My excitement included seeing a few cars (including a cop car) nice and smashed up...even on fire! A person serious about picking their nose, and lots and lots of very bored, pissed of people. All going where I was going.

Moral? Never leave your desk. It's a conspiracy.

Do I Even Need to Say it???

2005-08-03T09:30:00.000-07:00

ONE DAY.

The day before vacation always ends up being a weird day. You really want to throw on flip flops and a tank top, but instead you must dress up, go to work, and pretend all is normal. That your hair will not be braided in cornrows, that you will not be wearing a bra, and that you will not be drunk on margaritas and music the very next day. So today I made a compromise. A dressed up version of flip flops, no life sucking pantyhose, and a summer dress. I feel like a gooney.

I have to tell you all, I have the best brother ever made. Remember the sweet little doggy I have?

I'm a horrible, horrible, TERRIBLE pet owner. He doesn't have his last rabies shot (The doggie, not my brother. Judging by the looks of him, I just haven't been to worried about rabies) Hence, no doggie sitter wants to watch my baby while I'm on vacation. And between that and my really really bad procrastination I was left with few options. I called and begged my parents, but between watching Mr. Drake & having 3 boxers of their own they weren't up to protecting my darling doggie also.

So onto other family members. My parents had four of us for a reason other than washing dishes, right? I figured I'd better start with the most responsible one, and after asking for a huge favor he said yes, not even quite sure what he was signing up for. I told him the whole story, and what a crappy pet owner I am. He laughed, asked if he poops in the house, what he does all day (sleep) and said sure, no problem. I LOVE MY BROTHER.

Now I can leave on vacation knowing all my responsibilities will still be alive and kicking when I return. Life is good.

Well, except for the working, cleaning, cooking dinner part, which can be forgiven because it's not going to happen for a few days during vacation.

The hubby was smart enough to take today off also, bastard. While I am slaving away in my crappy half summer/half work outfit he is out playing frisbee golf with friends. Not just his friends, either. Nope, our mutual friends. I feel so left out. It doesn't matter that I can't throw a frisbee more than 5 feet, and never in the right direction. Nor that when I join in the game takes about 2 hours longer than usual. I am so jealous.

He should be at home doing the loads of laundry that need done before we can leave. How is it that every single freaking one of my bras is dirty? Explain that one to me. Hence, the bra-less comment above. Who needs them anyway, right?

Goodbye all! When I get back I will most likely be burned to a crisp by the unforgiving evil sun, have hair that circles my head in a giant fro once the cornrows are taken out, and hopefully have massive knitting done. I'll let you know. And maybe take a few pictures.

Let the countdown begin....

2005-08-02T08:19:00.000-07:00

Two days, TWO DAYS, people until I'll be cruising in the rented minivan to hot and sunny Calif-or-nia. Like it's not been hot and sunny enough here in the Seattle area. My god, it's been miserable.

Usually every night before bed we run around and do the door & window closure routine. We live in a totally safe neighborhood, but I'm a freak and can't sleep if even one window dares to be cracked open more than the allowed 2 inches (with the lock on, of course!) So this morning when I woke up and the house was FREEZING I ran around and did an inspection because I just knew something had gotten left open.

The sliding glass door was wide open, just begging for someone to come in and take our entire sad collection of belongings. Drake and I got up at around the same time, shivering, and looking at each other like WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED??!! Last thing we remembered we were sprawled out on our beds, wanting to die we were so hot.

But back to the minivan.....I am SO not a minivan person. The trip in the minivan is really pushing my limits. I just want to put a sign on the window as we make the treck, the back of the van stuffed to the roof with brown & orange sleeping bags, camping stoves, etc, "YES, WE ARE INDEED ROADTRIPPERS."

It's so embarrassing to
(1) Be driving in the fast lane pushing 60 (the FIL is a, well, interesting driver. It's all or nothing with him. Either 80 or 55. And no rhyme or reason for either)

(2) Have non-tinted windows so that everyone passing us sees my mouth wide open catching flies while I'm totally passed out with boredom.

(3)BE SEEN IN A MINIVAN.

I agree, they do have some winning qualities. Just not for me.

I still haven't narrowed down what projects I'm bringing with me. For some reason I seem to think I can get EVERY project I have yarn for finished and I've felt a compulsive need to order more yarn because I won't have anything left after this trip. Ya, right. Uh-huh. Very logical.

I am going to bring the lime green Cascade 220 superwash I got at Little Knits for the "Terry Cable Sweater" because Drake is anxiously awaiting it. You should have seen his eyes light up when he saw the blinding-ness of that yarn. It was love at first sight.

I'm also gonna bring some sock yarn, because I'm thinking that will be the perfect project for taking with me to the music. Portable, and easy.

TWO DAYS!!!!

What a weekend....

2005-08-01T09:01:00.000-07:00

Is there anything better than getting to play with yarn and then be rewarded with yarn? Especially when you get to do so with two very fun, nice, cool people. I met Karma & Fulay at Little Knits on Saturday to help organize yarn. Okay, okay, I confess....there was a lot of yarn fondling & oogling involved, but we did accomplish some organization.

And by going and involving myself in yarn porn I was able to sneak away from Mr. Pukey. The big dentist trip is over, and thank god. When he finally woke up, he looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said

"But mom, they forgot to give me my free toothbrush."

And then he proceded to puke for the next 2 days.

Anyone who knows me knows I don't do puke. Or blood. Or any bodily fluids. I faint, freak out, run, scream, and hide. Just the qualities you're looking for in a mom, right?

In fact, last year I was cutting up tortillas, the knife slipped, and I saw blood. Knowing myself I didn't dare peek & see how bad it was, I just shoved a paper towel around it. Drake was, of course, running around half naked so I made him throw some clothes on, and off we went to urgent care.

I still wonder how much they talked about me after I left....I ran in with a bloody paper towel hanging off my finger, holding my whole arm behind me so I couldn't see it, and Drake managed when putting his shorts on to twist the front all the way to his side, so it looked like he put both legs in one hole. And I might have been just a bit hysterical.

They put me in a room and the doctor came in to take a look. I could tell she was trying not to laugh at me once she saw the cut & had cleaned it out. She slapped a bandaid on me and told me it was just a nick, I'd be fine.

Oh, I'm motherhood material all right.

This week I've got to work on getting my projects straightened out and decide what exactly I'm going to bring on The Car Ride. How much can I get done in 22 hours? And 3 days of sitting around listening to music? 5 socks? A sweater?

Think I like Pink Much?

2005-07-29T09:45:00.000-07:00

It's been days, or possibly weeks since I posted pictures. I truly have been knitting away, trying to get some cute summer shirts knit up BEFORE I leave for Reggae on the River so I can wear them there.

See?

and

Ryan, take note that is your stitch marker I'm using!

After having a baby my tummy just isn't show off quality anymore, if you know what I mean. So the V dip is perfect to show some skin, but only the pretty parts. I'll just have to remember not to break loose and start moving & shaking, thus making the protective V move and shake also, exposing bare tummy which will also be moving & shaking.

So last night I was a total pooper. And I mean TOTAL pooper. I didn't go to the M's stitch & pitch game. I was exhausted after work, and driving into downtown Seattle, finding parking, and the whole mess that entails was too much for me. I had the hot ticket right in my hand, and I didn't go. I apologize to anyone expecting me, but I would have probably fallen asleep in the middle of a ssk, and when they panned the camera around during the 7th inning stretch it surely would have found the one passed out knitter.

My little man is heading into the dentist today, and getting quite the job done on him. You see, he ended up with really weak teeth, and that combined with the candy his mama fed him turned out to mean lots of cavities. No amount of brushing (and believe me, we brush that kid!) could take care of that combination.

We have had a few visits in to see this particular dentist. It's a pediatric dentist, so everything is made for a person of 3'5, including the toilet I had the pleasure of using. At the end of his first checkup visit he walked out saying

"But mom, I thought they had to do more work than that. You know, bubblegum flavored work."

He thought the dentist was the coolest and begged to go back. Well, he sure got his wish. Times 10. The next visit to work on one cavity the hubby was assigned to take on. I got on IM with him after the visit and asked how it went, fully expecting his answer to be Great! Wonderful! Piece of cake!

AWFUL.

He was actually so worn out that's all I could get out of him. I got the full story when we got home.

Apparently the cotton they put in his mouth to absorb the spit hurt Drake SO BADLY he felt the need to kick the hygenist square in the face, leaving a huge bruise on her cheek. And if the cotton wasn't painfull enough, they DARED try to drill his tooth and all hell broke loose. We had no idea Drake knew how to do a backwards flip right out of a chair. And he even included a few summersaults for the viewing pleasure of all in the room.

We thought maybe it was just a fluke, and we'd try another trip, this time premedicated. Premedication only works if it actually does something to your child. The medicine did nothing to mine. He was running around the house screaming "I feel kind of sleepy!!!!" Heh. Joke's on you.

So we had to resort to the last option available. General anesthesia. This totally freaks me out. So, today is the day. Hopefully he'll wake up cavity free, happy, and no dentists will have been harmed in the act.

Just send me some positive CALM DOWN vibes, please? I'm in total panicky freak out mode. And that's not good for someone who already spends most of their life halfway there.

You choose

2005-07-27T08:12:00.000-07:00

One of the joys of having small children is knitting them things. Because, you see, they are small, and so whatever you knit for them is small. And it takes a hell of a lot less time than a sweater for a man with a chest the size of my car.

So I regularly take requests from Mr. Drake, and he's even so kind as to help pick out the yarn. So it was no surprise when this week he came up and told me he wants me to make him a sweater. I must say I was a little surprised when I asked him what he wants it to look like and he grabbed my hand and lead me into the bathroom. And I was shocked when he reached in the linen closet and pulled out a towel.

And not just any towel. Oh, no.

This towel is a hideous gift from the MIL, a CABLED TOWEL. You heard me right. On one side the cables stick out in great tufts of terry, and on the other they are bald. I won't even go into detail why we rarely use this towel to actually DRY OFF, the word bald should just do the trick. And did she give us one of these towels? Nope, we own two of the great beauties.

They are usually hidden deep in the linen closet, behind the towels we use to dry off the dog. But when we get desperate (or when mama goes on a laundry strike) we have to resort to these towels, and it was during one of those desperate times that Drake discovered them. It was love at first sight. He loves the tackyness of them, tracing the lines of the bald cable with his fingers.

And now he wants a sweater designed after them. So being the dutiful mama I am, I pulled out the big book of Aran's and he found the perfect sweater in there. I used to really, really dislike Aran's. But lately, I've had a change of mind. They're really quite beautiful. But you know, I really prefer to knit stockinette, or ribing, or simple things. Because then I can do other things at the same time, such as, well....

1. Drive
2. Watch t.v.
3. Carry on full conversations
4. Read
5. Stuff my face

That's a pretty damn strong case for simple, eh?

What to do with myself

2005-07-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

I just realized that our vacation to Reggae on the River is coming up, and soon. For any of you who have no idea what Reggae on the River is...check it out. It's become our once a year retreat, and what a retreat it is. The kiddo stays with my parents for a couple days of train rides, parks, and all the ice cream he can eat (or some other equivilent that will keep him quiet).

We spend day one huddled in an overstuffed minivan for the treck from Washington to California. It's mandatory everytime we come to a stop to hunch down otherwise risk being taken out by a cooking stove, or other such camping gear. Needless to say, the car ride is miserable. I am usually a big car safety nut, so knowing that I risk my life for the trip down just to ensure a hot breakfast in the morning scares me a bit.

This year however, the 11 hour car ride has different meaning. Last year I loaded up with books, so much so, that when we arrived at the campgrounds at 10pm, and tried to unload the van in the dark, books were flying out everywhere. The next morning when we unzipped our tent it looked like a Barnes & Noble had exploded in our campsite. This year it will most likely be the same scene in the morning, with one expection. YARN. Instead of Barnes & Noble, it will be Knitpicks that will have exploded in our campsite.

Can you imagine?!?! 11 hours of doing nothing but KNITTING. My brain is still unable to wrap around that idea. And if you add on the fact that it is just 11 hours one way, and three days later we get to make the treck again, that is 22 hours total of uninterrupted knitting time. 22 HOURS PEOPLE. Not including all the time I'll spend camped out in my chair at the festival knitting away & enjoying the music. I AM SO EXCITED.

Why can't it be time to go yet?

In other news, those of you who live in Seattle know that I have once again turned on the sprinkler to water my garden, because of course this morning it's raining. I've jinxed us once again. And the hubby and I even argued about whether I should water the plants or not, I siting that they were wilting and I DON'T CARE IF THERE'S A CHANCE OF RAIN, they need water TODAY. And him insisting that it "felt" like it was going to rain and not to water them.

And last, but not least, Drake decided to have himself a party.

When? Last night.

Where? Our house.

What time? 10 pm.

Why? Mom's asleep in bed, and dad's at a soccer game.

What to do? Oh, how about throw things all around the house, run up and down the hallway, torment the dog, throw his doggie bed upside down in the middle of the living room, get completely naked, and fall asleep with no blankets and the fan on full speed.

Now doesn't that just sound like a fun night at the house of yarn.

Doggie Competition?

2005-07-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those inner competitions with yourself? You know, the "I wonder if I can make it an entire day without peeing?"

(I'll have you know, I did manage that one. My doctor just luuuved me when I came in the next day with a roaring bladder infection. BUT I DID IT.)

Or "I wonder if I can drink an entire gallon of water in one day." Who cares if you have to LIVE in the bathroom.

Or "I bet I could jump on one leg all the way to that corner over there."

I have these little competitions with myself all the time. Maybe I'm just a total quack, or a crazy competitive person, but I like to think of myself as normal. Everyone does these little things. Right? RIGHT??

Perhaps to give you a little insight into how competitive I am, I should share the story that has forever marred me in my friends eyes...the one involving the board game Sorry!. A few years ago when we were all in college our house was the hang out spot. When you have a 2 year old, it's much easier to ship him off to bed at 7 and enjoy the rest of the night....plus when it's time to head off to bed we would just have to walk down the hallway, not throw a passed out 2 year old over our shoulders and lug him to the car.

Once it was discovered that I would promptly pass out in the first 5 minutes if we watched a movie, board games were our best bet. We had a good stash of them and worked our way down to Sorry!. (BTW...If you ever want to play a good game, get Attack Uno. The first time someone brought it over they told the hubby to hold it up, look inside, and push the button. Cards came shooting out at him, barely missing blinding him for life. It is crazy how fun that game is.) Sorry started off nice....drawing cards and moving however many spaces the card tells you to. Everything was hunky dory until someone drew a Sorry! card. And they took me out. MY ONLY GUY! THEY TOOK HIM OUT!!

Some serious shit hit the fan.

Whenever I drew a Sorry! card I would look right in the eye of the person as I knocked out their guy with my own, sending it flying across the room. HA. Sorry my ass. I'm not sorry. HA. I was out for sweet revenge against everyone, and the sweet Sam image people had of me up until that point COMPLETELY disappeared that night. I even had one of my friends confess he was scared of me that night. He'd never seen anyone take a game of Sorry! so seriously.

And now I'm convinced my dear sweet doggy is getting in on the act. We've had this routine ever since he came to live in our crazy, house full of yarn. Every night before bed he hears me get up to go wash my face and does about 15 big doggy stretches to get himself ready to face the great outdoors that is our backyard. And he goes around, sniffing everything there is to be sniffed, pees, and comes tromping back up to the back door ready to come in and go to bed.

The last few nights though, he's done the doggy stretches, walked outside, sniffed around, and HAS NOT PEED. Maybe, it's because he's spending lots of his time in the afternoons out there. But I secretly think he's pulling my trick....let's see how long I can go without peeing. And make this lady crazy to boot.

I bet the neighbors get a good laugh listening to me beg the dog to "just Please, Please go pee. Come on, Toby. See that nice spot over there? Doesn't it look inviting?"

I heard the hubby secretly snickering inside last night and just knew all the neighbors were doing the same.

Revelations

2005-07-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

Is there anything more surprising than realizing you've been wearing the wrong bra size for the past two years? I mean come on, it's only OTHER people who do such things.

We've all heard the statistic....over 80% of women are wearing the wrong bra size (or something like that). But seriously, not me. WRONG. Once again.

You see, my entire life barring pregnancy & nursing I've always been a 34B. Not that I've ever been measured or anything, but when I would try that size on I wasn't falling out the top, or having empty cups wrinkling through my shirt. So it was....34B.

And up until my birthday I though I was still a 34B. I kind of noticed my boobs falling out the top, but that's cleavage, right? And those angry looking red welts at the end of the day? Ah, my straps must be too tight.

Well, the dear hubby bought me a new bra for my birthday. A 34C. And whaddya know. No more falling out. No more angry red marks. It actually fits. I AM A 34C. Now, do you remember back in the junior/high school days when that would have been a dream. I always had two strategically placed mosquito bites, carefully covered by my white AA training bra with a bow in the middle that stuck out further than the mosquito bites. When I finally reached a decent bra size at 16 I was in heaven. However a 34C seemed totally unattainable.

If only I had known then the sagginess & bagginess that comes along with big boobs. Give me back the AA's.

Have I frightened ya'll away yet with way too much information?! I am just amazed at how comfortable a bra can be! It blows the mind.

Onto knitting. I like to knit socks for people, it's my thing. I have only made myself one pair, but that's because it's just not as fun to make socks for yourself. Sweaters, purses, cami's? Fun. Socks for ones self? Not.

So I started a little project to make socks for my parents. My mom loves homemade socks, and my dad...well, he just doesn't know how TRULY WONDERFUL they are, yet. He'll learn. I finished one sock for my mom, and had almost a sock done for my dad. I joked that they'd each get one and take turns wearing the mismatched pair. They looked at me and said HA, get working woman.

So I worked away until I though my dad's socks were ready for the toe decreases. I made him take off his shoe & sock to try the thing on, and the first words out of his mouth? Not, "oh wow, how nice!" Nope. He grabbed the very top of the sock and pulled it out. "This part is too loose."

For any of you who are not sock knitters, to get to the top you have to take out the whole damn thing. I pulled it off his foot and started ripping away. Frog city, here comes a sock just for you. When he realized what I was doing he made a mad dash for the sock, trying to save what was left, yelling the whole time "I was kidding Sam!" "It's fine!" Too late dear daddy.

So late last night I finished the revamped smaller sock, and I started it's mate this morning. I just dare him to say it doesn't fit.

Grrrrrr

2005-07-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

I don't think there is anything more frustrating than wanting to get on blogger and blogger not wanting you. The rejection! I tried, and I tried, and I tried. It's like loosing your car keys and running around the house screaming...knowing those keys are somewhere secretly laughing at you from a totally obvious spot.

The worst case I ever had of this was when we were moving and there were boxes all over the house. I was late for a presentation, Drake was late for a field trip, and the hubby, wonderful key finder that he is, was out of town. What began as a careless look through my bag, key holder and table turned into an all out frantic race through the house. Had I packed them? Were they hiding in/under/around a box?

I finally collapsed, crying on the couch while Drake tried to console me. Those damn keys were nowhere. They must have simply walked away during the night. I couldn't stop crying and whining. I finally got up, dragged myself over to my purse to look one last time before giving up. And what do you know? They were hiding.

Blogger did not want me today and I'm fighting back. It was a hard battle, but I'm here. No more "page not found" messages for me. Nuh uh. I'm gonna fight for this one. Even if I have nothing enlightening to say.

Please be thinking of this us weekend. You see, the hubby's parents decided they were sick of their old house and needed a new one. A bigger one. To hold all their crap. They are the sort of people who save the box to the blender they no longer own "just in case". They have every Berenstein bears book from the hubby's childhood saved for Drake. In a box somewhere, and not a clue where to start looking for it. They have lived in this house for over ten years.

Just to give you an idea of the pain we will be going through.

The hubby volunteered us to come help with a garage sale this weekend, and moving all the crap that's left the next. To be fair they have helped us move in the past, but I DO NOT HAVE ORANGE & GREEN FLOWERED SHEETS SAVED FROM 1972. She does not know this yet, but those sheets will no longer be on the premises after this weekend. Along with quite a lot of other things.

I had the pleasure of meeting Ryan for lunch & a ticket/money swap. She's such a doll, totally sweet & nice. And she has the cutest little nose I ever saw. She even brought me this

As a present for my birthday, handmade my hers truly! How cool is that?! We got to chow down on yummy pasta & compare notes on our knitting. I had a few socks for my drive home in my bag to show off, even if they were nothing special. I even found out TMK's real name and am sworn to secrecy. Oooohhhhh.

Yesterday we were out digging in the massive dirt mound in front of our house. You know, the launching pad in case anyone misses the stop sign? That one. It is enormous. Huge. We have a few little baby plants scattered throughout it hoping they don't look too pathetic.

Well, the nice lady from across the street with the most amazing garden casually asked if we would like any plants. Think we looked pathetic?!? She was so sweet, and took us on a guided tour of her gardens. Yes, GARDENS. She has this whole garden mecca behind her house. It's so amazing I couldn't stop myself from oooohhhing out loud. I mean Better Homes & Gardens worthy. She led us around, pointing out plants we could take. I mean massive, entire plants. It will take wheelbarrows & lots of work to get all those plants planted, but I'm so excited! I'm always amazed at people's generosity.

But then again, what goes around comes around. Think she'd like a little knitted bag?

White HOT Pants, Literally....

2005-07-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

Whew, what a birthday that was. I'm still recovering. Shopping? By myself? That takes days to get off the high from. The hubby had a good laugh at me. He came home and I was in a black slip dress and flip flops. He asked me, shocked, if I was actually going shopping "In THAT?!" I explained to him what every woman instinctually knows. A slip dress is easy to get in and out of and flip flops you can stand on, instead of the dirty dressing room floor. He had a good laugh at my planning.

So off I went to flit around without constantly looking behind me to make sure my slow, non hand holding, child was still there. He insists on walking just enough behind me to make me nervous, but not enough to warrant yelling at him.

Anyway, I found the most perfect pair of pants at Ann Taylor. For those of you know don't know, Ann Taylor is having a big additional 40% off sale. I got the most beautiful white lined pants for $35 buckaroos. Run, I tell you. Good deals.

I was so excited to pair them with my new black & white polka dot shirt. I though I was pretty hot stuff walking across the lobby and into the elevator, that is until a very nice woman stopped me and pulled me aside to discretly tell me I had a giant PRICE TAG sticking out the back of my shirt. Oh ya, forgot about that.

I ripped it off, and went back to being hot stuff. If I only knew how short lived that would be. I made it through half a cup of coffee & a Costco muffin when my phone rang. What happened next is all in slow motion. If I could imagine music playing it would be that tune from Sesame Street. You know the one that plays when the muppets are in slow motion? That one.

The phone cord dared to wrap around my coffee cup and as I pulled the phone toward my face I watched in disbelief as that damn cup flipped up, spun around and splashed coffee all over my beautiful pants. And by all over, I mean ALL OVER from the knee down. I stood in the storage/kitchen room of the office, in shock.

GOOD GOD, how did this happen? And what the hell do I do? Before I realized it a whole circle of girls I work with came in and stood back in horror. We had a quick brainstorm and the best solution was to run the pants under cold water to get the stain out before it dried.

"Do you have any other pants?"

Um, I regularly carry other pants with me, RIGHT?! HA! Even when Drake was a baby I'd find myself with a blow out diaper and no clothes. We'd show up somewhere with him wrapped in the blanket and a strong smell of poop eminating from our car. I have no concept of preparedness.

So I climbed onto the counter and put both legs in the sink. My boss sat there and rubbed my pants, freezing cold water pouring over us from the faucet. I tried to see if we could do kinda warmish coldish, but the anwser was a strong NO. It had to be FREEZING cold. I then climbed out of the sink and realized in the process we had run cold water up the back of my pants and they were plastered to me from my ankle to my waist. WHITE PANTS PEOPLE!! Not a pretty picture. And remember, I work in an office full of people in Ann Taylor and expensive dress clothes. Why am I always the one who manages things like this???

But I did manage to save my one pair of Ann Taylor pants. I had to sit at my desk for a few hours with the bottoms of them dripping water all over the floor. And with them just a leettle bit plastered to me.

And in the middle of all this I'm remembering I'm meeting Ryan for lunch. And I've never met Ryan. And she's going to think I'm a total quack showing up like that. But here's where the story gets really good.

We had arranged to meet up for lunch and so I could pick up my tickets for an M's game conveniently created for knitters called "Stitch 'n Pitch." Knitting and baseball, perfect. Baseball is so boring, the knitting keeps you entertained. I printed out Ryan's directions and set off.

She told me to follow the one street all the way up to another. Turns out the one street does not meet up with the other the way I came. A few turns later, and wala, I had it figured out. Her next direction was turn LEFT, and look for the building with red curbs, 3 driveways down. I turned left, waited 3 driveways and turned. It was a restaurant. I, for some reason, don't think Ryan works at a restaurant. Maybe she got her driveways mixed up.

Next clue. Red curbs. I start driving up and down the street looking for red curbs. THEY'RE ALL RED. She mentioned her building had some stucco so I figured what the heck, the La Quinta Inn is stucco, maybe she's a big wig there. La Quinta was driveway #4, it's easy enough to mix up 3 & 4. So I went in to the front desk where I found a lady with a few missing teeth. I asked if a Ryan worked there and was told a resounding no. Thank god. I didn't want to imagine sweet Ryan working at La Quinta Inn.

That was the last straw to me and I made the sad trip back to the office with no lunch, no meeting Ryan, and no tickets. I found an email from Ryan waiting for me asking what happened, and when I told her the details she gently said I must have accidentally turned left. I had to make a quick reply gently reminding her SHE TOLD ME TO! She apologized profusely and we're on again for later in the week.

And Ryan? RIGHTRIGHTRIGHTRIGHT.

Does life get any better?

2005-07-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Than a Coldstone ice cream cake on your birthday? And the sweet hubby taking you out for lunch, and then promising to take you out shopping after work? The same hubby who happens to HATE shopping. Like my MIL said....it's MY birthday so he can't even make me hurry up.

It's just too bad that in the grown up world we can't stay at home and play all day. Remember those days?! And to think back then all I wanted to do was drive a car and go to work...I thought it all seemed so...so...cool, and grown up.

Like the hubby said on his birthday....I wish everyday was my birthday. It's so nice to have everyone bow down to your every whim. Maybe, I guess, you might get sick of it, but damn it'd be nice for a week or two.

Happy Thoughts

2005-07-08T09:06:00.000-07:00

I am so excited to show you pictures of my stash run at the Skeins sale. I was thinking yesterday, you know, they have places for alcohol addiction, drug addiction, and just about any addiction you could dream up. But do they have a place for yarn addiction? Because I would have to admit myself.

It's getting THAT BAD. Proof? (And please notice my beautiful backgrounds I so carefully planned out. Even if it meant getting my yarn slightly dirty.)

(for the Perfect T from Magknits: 8 balls)

(Button up sweater for the little man: 6 balls)

(Who knows (yet)??: 10 balls black, 7 balls red)

(Socks for mama: 2 balls)

(Ribbony yarns for summer tanks: 10 skeins blue, 12 skeins white)

Believe me now? (and that's just from Saturday's run) Lock me up.

I find myself pondering when I can sneak away and head to another yarn store. What excuse can I come up with this time to NEED to be in downtown Seattle between the hours of 11-4? And better yet, an excuse I haven't used yet. The hubby's starting to see through my "just because" excuse, and poor Drake has been used once to many times also. But anyway, yarn diet. That's what I keep telling myself.

Everyone in my family has very addictive personalities. We're all a little like cookie monster. C-O-O-K-I-E-S. My brothers? They started smoking and have tried over and over to quit. Same with my dad. My mom goes through fits; quilting, knitting, baking, sewing. I never tried smoking, don't like alcohol all that much, but YARN. GIVE ME YARN.

My birthday is this next week, and my son is convinced that on my birthday I will officially be "Old." I love it when you tell your child what year you were born in and their eyes get big and round, unable to comprehend there were years that started with 19__. "You mean you were born before there were 2000's?" Why yes, I am THAT old. I will no longer be mid 20's. I'll be midish to late 20's. I don't know why I'm so surprised that I'm getting older, but I really am.

In my head I'm still the hot little 18 year old with perky breasts, flat stomach, and wearing a size 1. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I've had a child, must wear "uplifting" bras, have gained 20 pounds, and my stomach can no longer be described as pretty (and definitely not flat). This whole coming of age thing, I swear, is harder on the mind that the body.

Which could explain why I looked in the mirror last night and had the sudden urge to run in place in front of the tv for excercise. It dark, we don't have a treadmill, and I was so frightened I decided I must do something. That is, until I collapsed on the floor in a panting, sweaty mess and reached for the shortbread for strength. And courage. Did ya'll know shortbread gives courage? We've uncovered the mystery behind the strength of Scottish warriers. Shortbread.

I decided I'd just get up early and go running, but we all know that didn't happen. I swear, my brain is programmed hit the snooze button. It has no idea how to just get up at the first buzzing. So hopefully this weekend will find me out running around the neighorbood. And if you see a woman with short dark hair collapsed on the sidewalk, please be kind enough to scoop her up and give her some shortbread.

Why?

2005-07-07T08:43:00.000-07:00

My god, such a profound sense of sadness & loss woke many of us up here in the states today as we sat glued to the tv or radio and heard about the London attacks. I don't know one person closely in London so I wasn't bombarded by the instant fear of "I hope so and so is okay", but I was hit by the cruelty of it.

Why do people feel the need to hurt others? How can one person's heart be so filled with hatred that they have no room left for love, kindness, humanity?

Maybe I'm naive, but I have no understanding of how anyone can hate so strongly. But who am I to be speaking? I can walk into a grocery store and buy all the food I want. I can walk around on the streets without a worry. I can be indignant when I am spoken to rudely. Not many have the freedom of that.

I have a real love for England & Scotland. Surprising, considering I've never been there. I remember being 5 and wanting desperately to have an English accent. I practiced, and practiced, driving my mom nuts trying to perfect it. I watched Mary Poppins so many times I could repeat the whole movie on command. My favorite author is Rosamund Pilcher, and when I found out there was a British market in my town I promptly got in my car and drove down to check it out. My dream vacation? Not to some hot, tropical spot, but to start out in Cornwall, and drive up through Scotland.

My heart goes out to everyone who lives in that beautiful country, and know that there is someone in Seattle, WA thinking of you today.

p.s. I took lots of great shots (HAHA) of my stash from the big Skeins Ltd sale, but I'll post em tomorrow.

Yard Work from Hell

2005-07-06T08:34:00.000-07:00

I know that everyone thinks a big spacious yard is cool beans. But I am here to tell you THEY'RE WRONG. I'd much rather have a spacious house; carpet does not require weeding. And vacuuming? Much better than weeding.

We have tons of open space, grass, flowers, and lots & lots of flower beds. Just in case you didn't know, flower beds require constant weeding. You finish one end and it's time to start at the other end again....a practice in futility I tell you.

The thing is that we live at a T in the street and everyone has the pleasure of looking into our yard and either Ooohhing and Aaaahing or saying "Holy Crap what are they doing with their yard?!" Lately we've been causing heads to turn, people to take off their sunglasses to take a closer look, and jaws to drop. And not in a good way.

We had 17 yards of dirt delivered a month (or possibly 2) ago and you people have NO IDEA how much dirt that is. I had no idea until a industrial size dump truck pulled up one Saturday morning to dump it's entire contents into our front yard. We watched in awe as it lifted it's back end up to the power lines and our front yard was buried under a massive pile of dirt.

We have this great plan to make a nice raised flower bed to shield our yard from strangers eyes, and make a nice launch pad should anyone miss the stop sign and come barreling for us. It took us all day to wheelbarrow dirt from the massive pile and spread it out. By the time were were finished all we wanted was a DQ Blizzard and an hour in the hot tub, we could care less what the hill looked like. So for the past month it's been a hidous mishapen lump.

Yesterday we decided we were sick of it looking so awful and really got to work on it. We smoothed it out all nice and neat, made way for the water meter, and threw some plants in. I really think my brain is out to get me because afterwords all I wanted was a DQ Blizzard and an hour in the hot tub. We're programmable!

Even after the hot tub, this morning I woke up and realized I have muscles in my back. And my stomach. And my neck. And arms. And they all hurt. What I wouldn't give to sit at home all day today and knit. And ask myself again why we didn't just hire some landscapers.

The Insanity

2005-07-05T10:18:00.000-07:00

The insanity that is knitters never ceases to amaze me. That, and the insanity of 100,000 people letting off fireworks in my neighborhood after 11 pm. All you evil firework blowing up people do not make this mama happy.

On Saturday there was a super duper yarn sale at the local LYS. And by super duper I mean INSANE. Everything was 40% off, and that surely justifies standing in line for a hour and a half waiting to give them my money. For anyone who was there I was the one with the bright red face covered in a sheen due to the fact I decided it was cold enough to put a sweatshirt on. Sure, outside maybe. But in a small shop full of rabid knitters? Bad idea.

I was also the one who cast on a project and had a few inches finished by the time I handed over my Visa. The ONLY ONE!!! I was sure other people would start knitting, I mean what better time is there than standing in a line. And by line I mean a not moving one inch line. But nope, I was the lone novelty....people were pointing at me. I can only imagine what they were saying. Were they criticizing my technique? Were they admiring my incredibly red, sweaty face? Oogling over the piles of yarn I ran around wildy scooping into my bulging bag(s)??

The only comment I got out of the hubby when I finally arrived home was "wow, that must've been some sale."

You think??!!

I am somewhat regretting how crazy I went though, because I spent my yarn budget for at least the next 6 months. What am I going to do with myself?!?! Yarn buying is my de-stresser. When I feel like my eyeballs are going to burst from looking at Excel spreadsheets, I go on over to Knitpicks or some other life saver and just stare away, plotting what I cannot live without. And now I must LIVE WITHOUT.

Will I make it? The next few months will be a real test.

I have been mysteriously missing for the past few days, no? I have been in a world of work, work, and more work. Work at home, work at work, work on my brain. I was brushing my teeth this morning and suddenly work popped in.

WORK DOES NOT BELONG THERE.

I should be able to brush my teeth in peace. Needless to say, work has been insane. I have help arriving next Monday, but making it till then is questionable. There is sooo damn much on my shoulders right now. And all I really want on my shoulders is a nice tank top and a cool breeze.

This weekend was an awesome break though. Time for cold drinks, yard work, knitting, visiting friends & family, and sleep. Sleep is the cure. all. It makes everything better. When I woke up on Sunday I knew I was feeling great, but only when I learned it was 11:30 did I realize how great life could be. I. slept. till. 11:30. UNINTERRUPTED.

Yesterday was a beautiful day here in the Seattle area. Quite warm (bordering on hot), sunny, and not a cloud in the sky. I made sure to slather myself with sunscreen, but got a shock when I looked in the mirror this morning. You see, I did a fabulous job getting the sunscreen on my arms, chest, shoulders, face. But I seriously neglected my back. Not my whole back however. Just bits and pieces of it. So I have great white streaks all over my back surrounded by bright red. Oh, it's a pretty sight I tell you. So pretty I probably would post a picture of it, if I could figure out how to take a picture of my own back.

All in all it was a good 4th though. Drake loved the fireworks and even stayed awake till the wee hours of the morning to join the others in late night firework lighting. I went to bed with a pillow over my ears while the hubby handled that one. Heh.

BAD SAM

2005-06-29T11:45:00.000-07:00

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.

So this is why we do it

2005-06-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

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.

TGIF

2005-06-24T08:16:00.000-07:00

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.

The Finished Product (or is that Project??)

2005-06-23T08:10:00.000-07:00

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?

Ironing

2005-06-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

3 ways you can tell I don't like to iron.

1. My clothes are wrinkled.

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.

Ruh-Roh

2005-06-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

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.

Why?

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.

Dads....

2005-06-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

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.

One mad mama

2005-06-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

Note to self:

Cute Shoes + Walking = Blisters

Blisters + Walking = Retarded Duck Walk

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!

Pronto!

2005-06-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

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.

So, sunburns eh?

2005-06-14T12:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Sunburn.

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.

Now that's a sunburn.

I present to you

2005-06-10T08:07:00.000-07:00

Doggy Pi

Turned out cute. A little floppy, but cute.

And another pic with the dear doggy in it.

Yes. You may laugh.

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 Soliel without 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.

Rrrriiiiippppp

2005-06-07T08:39:00.000-07:00

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.

Silence.

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?

Self striping sock yarn.

Blah

2005-06-03T14:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Advil & Coffee....fabulous stuff

2005-06-02T14:34:00.000-07:00

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?

This, my friends, is waiting for me.

But in these colors

Purty aren't they?

Oh, and BTW....do you think I like pink?

Nah?

Didn't think so either.

Reason #526 not to drink a margarita before bed

2005-06-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

#524. You will wake up with a headache.

#525. You will wake up with a headache.

#526. YOU WILL WAKE UP WITH A HEADACHE.

Will I never learn?

Bad pictures & new opportunities

2005-06-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

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?

Here

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.

I promise I won't tell.

More about mememememe

2005-05-31T09:49:00.000-07:00

First off, do they try to make this whole blogging thing difficult on purpose? Why can't they just say things like "Put your picture here!" and "Put your links here!" Versus something that looks like this: < { code }xhtml.> Who understands that? NOT ME.

And you do realize that this is the best picture ever taken of me. If I'm gonna put one on here it might as well be a good one, right? That's me on my best day ever.

So, I'm trying to put a picture in so you all can see I'm not thaaattt skinny. I mean, I'm totally setting myself up for failure here. I can hear you all out there in imaginary blog land saying "Well, humph. She can't be that skinny. And who exactly does she think she is? Skinny my ass." Did you know that you can HEAR over the internet? Well, there you go. It's true. You see, I sat here at my desk (yes, at work. Shush) and tried and tried to think of something that identifies me. And I look down at my fingers typing away and am amazed once again at how FREAKISHLY SKINNY they are. Toothpicks really. I won't even try to explain the toes.

So there you go. And I am not as skinny as I once was. I remember the day when I jumped on the scale in gym class to be amazed that I topped 100 pounds!!! The JOY! The PLEASURE!! Only to be reminded by those surrounding me in my glory dance that I was WEARING MY BACKPACK. FULL OF BOOKS. I will never forget the disappointment.

Now, onto the knitting news. I will have you know I have no feeling in my right ring finger. NONE. It's a little scary, but I'm thinking it'll come back some time. I was on a knitting streak this weekend. And given the choice between a numb finger and stopping knitting....well, I'll let you guess what I chose. I, at some point, had to ask myself - Would you rather live life with a numb finger, or stop knitting? And I decided I would rather live with the numb finger. I mean, think of the advantages! Slam your finger in the car door? No worries! Need something to clamp onto when you're in pain? No problem! Here's my yummy finger. You can even take it with you when you leave.

The other problem with my knitting? I seem to think my torso is only oohhhh....about 5 inches long. How else can I explain my need to put armholes around my belly button. Oh, the disappointment when I had knitted the entire front of a tank top only to realize I had created a halter top. I hear you out there, but you're SKINNY! HAHA. True, I am skinny. But I had a baby people. And a baby tummy + halter top = not good. Not good at all. Once I figure out how to get a picture on here I'll show you all. However I will not be posing in it. I'd be shut down for sure.

I did visit my parents this weekend and they have a FAB knitting store right down the street. It calls my name the minute I pull into their driveway. It starts WAILING if I don't make it down there precisely 2 hours after I've arrived. Of course we didn't want that. It'd wake up all the napping children between me and the yarn store. So off I went. Can I tell you why I love this yarn store? Yes, it's got all kinds of truly wonderful yarn. Yes, it's light & bright and friendly. But the real reason? She lets me bring my dog in. She lets him sniff all her yarn and get doggie luvs from people who come in. She even lets him come in after he got VERY excited when she was holding him and showing everyone how cute he was. And she couldn't figure out why everyone was trying to divert their eyes.

That, my friends, is why I LOVE that store.

Sandals & Bandaids

2005-05-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

Is there anything sexier??? I slowly turned into one of those girls you laugh at. You know, the ones wearing the incredibly cute, horribly uncomfortable looking shoes hobbling down the sidewalk. They are trying so hard to float along and instead they are stumbling along with a painful grin on their face. We've all seen them. Today, that was me.

A beautifully warm sunny day in Seattle calls for a walk. Especially if you're cooped up in an office all day. ESPECIALLY if it's Friday, in the 80's, and you're dying to go home, but can't.

So I decided I'd walk around the block a few times and get some fresh air. Ahhhh, car exhaust and iced coffee. Does life get any better? So I'm walking. And walking. And suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my left foot. I was in such bliss I failed to notice my shoes were rubbing holes in my feet. I looked down and BOTH feet had holes rubbed in them. Painful holes. I realized this as I was at the farthest point from my building on that block. Nice lady in the Jag with the windows up and a/c on....wouldn't you like to give a sweaty lady with bloody feet a ride? No? Didn't think so.

So I trudged back. Slowly. With my feet hanging out the back of my very cute sandals. I was one of those.

And bandaids & sandals? Not so cute or sexy.

Work is for the Birds. I mean Bugs.

2005-05-27T10:18:00.000-07:00

So yesterday as I'm leaving work I notice black dots on all the papers surrounding the flowers on my desk. I'm thinking holy cow that everything bagel went crazy, when I realize they're moving. Thats right. THEY'RE FREAKING BUGS. Itty bitty black bugs. In my profound laziness I though maybe they'd just go away if I left them. So I went on my merry way.

Get in this morning and do my yawn and stretch when I see black dots all over. EW EW EW. Remember those awful days in September in middle school? You know, where there's the one lone fly buzzing around and you're scared to death it will choose your desk to land on? That people will think that means your desk must be dirty and hence you must be dirty? Oh, I loathed that fly. Go away fly and find some other nice CLEAN respectable person's desk to land on.

So I quietly pick up the vase and throw the flowers away in the garbage can in the supply room. End of bug invasion, right? HA. Think again. I go back in there to refill my water when I notice coffee grounds all over the garbage can lid. And the water cooler. And the boxes surrounding the garbage can. And they're all moving. Time to fess up and call in the backups.

Windex does wonders on bugs. Mission completed.

Who am I kidding?

2005-05-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

No. Don't ask. I still haven't figured it out yet myself. I mean I know I'm not that interesting, and soooo not Yarn Harlot or Mossy Cottage Knits worthy. My life is.not.interesting. Unless you count a four year old, one crazy Shih Tzu doggie, a fabulous guy...and....well....hours sitting in front of the tv knitting. Doesn't that just sound exciting? Throw a few margarita's in the mix and that's my life. Oh, and did I mention I'm an accountant? Oh, yes. I am. Don't go running all at once. You might make blogger just decide to turn me off before I even get started.

My excitement for the day yesterday? Getting yelled at on 405 because I am knitting while driving. And yes, it IS TOO very safe. My eyes never leave the road. Well, except for very brief intervals, like when I pull out a needle without looking thinking it's my free one. And it's not. So I have to steer with my knee trying to get 22 itsy bitsy stitches back on a 2 dpn. VERY SAFE I TELL YOU. So some big meanie happened to look over just as I was getting my last few stitches back on. And because it is close to a zillion degrees in Seattle right now both of our windows were down. And he YELLED at me. YELLED....."Put down the goddamn yarn and drive lady."

He obviously doesn't have a wife who knits. And he's lucky if he has a wife at all. Jerk. And who needs to have free hands when you're only moving at 20 mph anyway? Knee driving is perfect.