Who Knew

I had no idea that diapers expire. And, I'm not sure what exactly happens if you use one after it expires. But I am sure that I returned these bad boys. Because whatever it is that does happen when you use an expired diaper, it can't be good.

Replacements

Several months ago my husband threw my handknit socks in the dryer, though most survived, my most favoritest did not. They shrunk and felted and were basically reduce to midget size.

Unrelated Tangent I: While searching for my finished object/picture post of the now-midget socks, I came across this post. Look how much I had knit. That is damn near an entire pair of socks. I look at them and love the color of the yarn and the pattern and yet I ripped them out and gave the yarn away. I see over there on my sidebar area under Bad Knitting Karma that I said, "No matter how much I knit them, I didn't like them." Query: WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SMOKING?

Back to our regularly scheduled post ... As I was saying, favorite chevron socks + dryer = midget socks ∴ Jenna sad. So sad, that I knit another pair. Sort of. Though I still have the pattern, I didn't have any more of that yarn left. I ended up using some really Spring-ish yarn that I received in trade. I can tell you nothing of this yarn as it came to me in a ball and with absolutely no identifying information. I can tell you that it will be avoiding the dryer ... just to be safe.


Ain't they purty? I have to say that I like the originals better, but these aren't bad. If you look closely, you can see that the stripes even match up. That was intentional. It is also a sign of my crumbling mental state. It's not like this was real striped yarn that needed to match up. No, it was pseudo striped yarn and I am bonkers.

Unrelated Tangent II: When was the last time you used the word bonkers? Seriously. It is a great word. I vote we all try to use once a day. All in favor say, "Aye!" Right, and the crickets chirped. Bitches.

Back to the socks, yet again. So. Pretty yarn. Pretty socks. Matching stripes. I like the socks just fine, but they leave me short of orgasm. Nothing too awesome. No need to write home.


Though I won't write home, I will wear them. I will also note that I knitted these at the same time (a la Jenna which means not at the EXACT same time but rather, toe, toe, foot, foot, gusset, gusset, heel, heel, leg, leg, cuff, cuff) and from one ball of yarn which means I pulled from the middle. Those who know me know that this was nothing short of a miracle because even when I don't pull from the middle of the ball, my yarns tend to do this. So there you have it.



Yarn: Je ne sais pas!
Needles: Addi Circs, size 2.5 mm (US 1)
Pattern: Chevron Socks, Sensational Knitted Socks. Modified to be toe-up with a gusset and heel that I learned in the Gazillion Dollar Sock Class.
Time: A month.
Care: Hand wash cold, dry flat because I don't know what this yarn is.

Count the Ways

#15,874th way to freak out your husband:



Start to organize your nail polish 'stash' but don't finish before he gets home.

Duet

My MiL is here for a visit with her favorite (and obviously best) granddaughter which is quite nice. Said granddaughter is turning one this Friday and having a party to celebrate same on Saturday. Also, quite nice. The house (mine, as in where the party is being held, not say, the house that Ruth built) is not ready for a party, and this, this is not quite nice. In other words, Holy Shit my house is a mess and twenty-five people are going to come over for LB's birthday and find out we live like pigs. Instead of bitching about our sty-like conditions, I should be cleaning them. After all, my child has a playmate which relieves me of that duty (duty ... doodie ... heh, I am seven) and I have time to remove the hairballs gathering under the buffet. Instead of doing this, I am hiding in the office, checking my e-mail (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and doing everything possible BUT clean. Which is not to say I have not cleaned. For I have. A lot. For example, I removed the nobs from the stove and cleaned underneath them. Now that, THAT is cleaning. Which, I guess is not "a lot" of cleaning. But still. It doesn't explain why I am sitting here, overwhelmed by the wafting stench of the stinkiest cat poop ever (which was really mean of the cat - he saw me in here and was like, Sooooo what? I gotta pooh and this is where my box is suckah). Nothing could explain it. Sheer laziness? I know not. What I do know is that I have killed five whole minutes with this drivel despite the need for gas mask. Go me. And, so as to kill five more minutes, let me tell you about my BRILLIANT anniversary gifts.

As I have mentioned before, we try to do the gift thing in accordance with official guidelines. Which, yah, not so official. But whatever. So this year the things were wood and silverware. In case you were wondering, these things SUCK. I've been married five years and THIS is what the universe deems appropriate. Suck it universe! But, being a sheep, and incapable of developing a thought of my own, I went with the guidelines. Wood? Easy. Toothpicks and matches. Done. Silverware? Now that is hard. Well, I suppose if we didn't have twelve place settings of perfectly fine silverware, then it would not have been hard as I would have just bought silverware. But we do have silverware, fancy and plain, and the last time I checked my husband was a "man's man" and had absolutely no interest in acquiring a new silver pattern, which meant that silverware was hard. I say was because, DUDES, I rock. Drum roll please ... For our fifth wedding anniversary gift, I got Boo some silverunderware. I KNOW. Brilliant. So long as you whisper "under" it is all good! In case you are curious, Boo was much more 'in the box' getting me a nice wooden picture frame and a cheese knife set. He did get creative and gave me a cheap wooden picture frame, with a picture of his friend in it, a friend who's last name is Wood. But I have to say if you put his Wood against my silverunderware, I get the vote for most creative. Granted silverunderware was his "real" gift, so I also get the vote for "cheap ass" and "least exciting anniversary gift ever." But hey, you win some and you lose some. And on that note, I shall shimmy out of here and clean because HOLY FUCK, WHAT DID THE CAT EAT?