Friday, February 19, 2010

Oh For The Love Of Cookies

My poor sweet LB just can't seem to catch a break. First she got tossed about in the car accident, then she got a nasty stomach virus, and now she has an upper respiratory virus. In an attempt to be more empathetic I am trying to concentrate on her being my poor, sweet, pitiful sick girl and not the whiny brat who has passed on her funk to the rest of the family. Which ever way I look at it though, it has meant a string of cancellations for things we had planned to host. Can you say SUCK?

The latest thing to bite the dust was our monthly dinner gathering wherein we were hosting Mardi Gras night. To say I was psyched about this would be an understatement. I picked February solely because I wanted to do a Mardi Gras theme. I had planned a Bloody Mary Bar and was going to make vats of Hurricanes and a King Cake. I had beads! And masks! So canceling made me sad. Very sad. Knowing how disappointed I was, my husband sent me the following politically incorrect e-mail (an e-mail which reminded me that yes, I am married to the right man):

I’m sorry about having to cancel. I know you were looking forward to it. Maybe we can take the one in June and make it a South Africa World Cup theme. That way, we wouldn’t have to provide food.

Get it? Famine?

Try the veal. I’ll be here all week.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Sweater Scmeter

I don't like knitting sweaters. It's true. I like wearing sweaters. I like owning sweaters. But the knitting part, not so much. That last few days LB has been sick, we've been housebound and I've been a surly bitch. My patience is nil and my empathy for whiny little girls, sick or otherwise, is negative nil. I've repeatedly thought that I should turn on Elmo so that she could veg out on the couch and I could sit and knit next to her and maybe mellow out a tad. And this is a wonderful plan, except when I pull out the sweater I get more grumpy and more surly and then when LB drops her cup of milk, because apparently she is incapable of holding her cup for extended periods of time but also refuses to put it on the table because I asked her to and that means she must not, um, anyway, she drops her cup, creates a minute shower of milk droplets all over the couch, her sister, and the floor, and I explode. That sentence was so long, even I got lost in the middle.

So yah, I hate knitting sweaters. I do not, however, hate knitting socks. I like knitting socks. Speaking of which, here is a pair I finished knitting some time ago.

I find these socks to be quite comfortable when I am pole dancing. They prevent blisters when I am working a long shift and they keep my feet warm too. A+ for function. Also, A+ for form. See how aesthetically pleasing they are with their precisely matching stripes? Nice, eh? I suspect those matching stripes get me better tips.

Yarn: Regia, Design Line, Kaffe Fassett, 4253, 27053.
Needles: Addi Circs, size 2.5 mm (US 1) WHICH I HAVE SINCE LOST!?!
Pattern: Jaywalker
Modifications: Toe up.
Time: One month.
Care: Machine wash, tumble dry low heat.

Sunday, February 14, 2010


You'd think that with my public declaration that BY ALL THAT IS GREAT AND HOLY THYSELF SHALL KNIT A SWEATER, I SHALL, that you know, I would be knitting on that sweater, or at the very least, thinking about knitting on that sweater. So it is with some chagrin that I tell you that I forgot, I KNOW, forgot ... forgot? Yes, plum forgot, that I was suppose to be knitting a sweater. Whoops!

I have since remembered but fear I may be so far in the hole that no amount of speeding knitting will make up for the time I spent doing ... stuff. I thought about trying to sound mysterious as if I have been doing something quite exciting instead of knitting but the truth is I haven't done diddly. I've been dealing with the oven. What oven? The LB oven, she burns at a steady 103.7, coughs like duck mimicking a fog horn and whines likes well, something, something annoying. Despite my dear heart's malady, I have done some knitting. Only time will tell, however, if it was enough to keep me in the race.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Under Pressure

I decided to sign up for the Knitting Olympics, which, quite dorkie, I KNOW. But still. Short of fingernail painting becoming an Olympic sport, I really can't see my advance-maternal-age-assed self entering the real Olympics any time soon, or ever. So yah, the Knitting Olympics, my chance at a gold metal.

What this entails is picking a project that would be a challenge for you to complete in seventeen days. And then you know, COMPLETING IT. You start it once the Olympic flame is lit and have to finish before the flame is extinguished. Straight forward. Well, except for the whole picking a project that is challenging. I am by no means an expert knitter. I am, however, somewhat educated and have good reading comprehension skills (so sayeth the SAT's). So there are very few knitting things that I have come across that are too challenging once I read the pattern. Granted, I am lazy and so the whole READING THE PATTERN? That can the be the challenge (ergo why I hate knitting lace charts). All of this is my verbose way of rationalizing why I am picking a simple sweater as my Knitting Olympics event. I picked the Holla Hoodie, a stockinette sweater with a few cables here and there. A sweater that even labeled "tangy" which means so simple a blind, one-armed monkey could do it. But this sweater, despite its easy skill level, will be a challenge. Honestly.

If you are observant, you might notice that Holla is listed on my sidebar as one percent done. This is not because I am a cheater and jumped the gun. No, this highlights why I chose this as my Knitting Olympics project. Several months ago (pre-baby #2) I started this sweater. I cast on an insane amount of stitches, realized my gauge was fucked, and quit. I quit because I was too lazy and time-deprived to knit a proper gauge swatch and start again. Thus, what seems to be my biggest knitting challenge right now is time. It use to be I could knit at work. I could knit at home after work. I could pretty much knit whenever the mood struck. Now, I only knit for a few hours a week when I meet my lady friends at Starbucks. The rest of my free time is eaten up by dishes, laundry, and dishes. So I am committing that for seventeen days, I am going to use my free time to knit a sweater. I am also probably going to use some of my work time (uh Elmo, can you babysit?) to knit a sweater. Because whatever it takes, did I mention ELMO???, I am going to knit that sweater.

Now this all sounds great and I sound very GO SWEATER! But. But, more observation would note that there is another sweater, the Kangaroo Duo, sitting over there on my side bar. Minimal investigation shows that this sweater has been sitting in a pile, unworked on, since November 2007. Yes, that sweater has been on sleeve island for over two years. Apparently I have absolutely no follow-through when it comes to sweaters. So, in addition to the time challenge, there is also the finishing a sweater challenge. I am hoping that the pressure of signing up for something, of publicly putting it out there, that this is enough to make me Git R Done, and, at the end of the seventeen days I will have a sweater, and a gold metal.

Monday, February 08, 2010

C is for ...


Last week we were hit by a truck. I KNOW!

I was just minding my own business driving down the road when a wiener in a jumbo pick-up truck turned into us instead of the gas station. As his truck pushed us over the curb and I was heading toward a man pumping gas and an electrical pole I kept chanting in my head, "Don't hit the guy, don't hit the pole, don't hit the guy, don't hit the pole." I was also mentally screaming, "FUCK!" Though for the purposes of the A-B-C along I should take literary license and say I was mentally screaming, "CRAP!" In any event, I missed the electrical pole and the gas pumping man, and the gas pumps for that matter. Some would attribute this to providence, I, however, attribute this to a misspent youth during which I drove my cars ridiculously fast and extremely dangerously. Some instinct must have stuck in my brain. That or we were really feakin' lucky.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

B is for ...

Baby Booties.

Some of the cutest freakin' baby booties out there. I'm not sure if it is the shearling innards or the big ole yarny stitches, but something about these booties tickle me and I lurve them. I lurve them so much that I am cramming them on TD's feet despite them being close to too small. I say close to too small because if I say too small I'd be a bad parent for cramming her toes in there. Anyway, I lurve them so much I am ignoring several disparaging comments regarding them from people who typically have good taste. In fact, I lurve them so much I am ordering her another pair, in a bigger size. Yes, I could make her a pair, but come one now, I still haven't even finished her C'mas stocking.

P.S. I totally hate the word lurve. It is so 'sloppy drunk' and yet, I used it a bazillion times in this post. I apologize.