Thanks!

Thanks for all the birthday luv for my little man. He had a satisfactory birthday that included a giant Thomas cake, Thomas figurines, new Thomas movies, and the ability to blow out a candle not once, but three times! (The kid can't NOT blow out a candle. He even involuntarily blows at candles on TV or in pictures.) He's enjoyed the new classroom at daycare too. For months, he'd stand at the gate waiting for his morning hug from Miss Sheila, and Thursday, he finally got to run triumphant through the gate and take his rightful place at her table amongst the other three year olds. I never quite noticed the longing he was feeling until I saw his face as he got to join the big kids. It's going to kill the whole family to leave this daycare in a few months. Seriously. It's quite possibly the best daycare in the whole world.

*********************************************

"Made in China" isn't coming so cheap as it used to.

*********************************************

I am making progress on my end of year goals.

First Monkey, done.



Second Charade, started.



I have a little secret project going on myself, which is actually quite tiny and shouldn't take up too much of my time. I still haven't mailed the Lene socks (though as of yesterday I had all the package bits ready to go and just need to pack them up) so I hadn't even swatched for Linden. Fortunately for me, too; there were some errors discovered, and I only got the corrected PDF this morning. Now I just need to decide whether the aunts will be getting applique projects (wallhangings or aprons or something) or lace stoles. Oh yeah, and get to working on all this crap.

*********************************************

OMG, and also, do you see my little counter to the left? People, less than 100 days till the Noob is due to arrive. Holy shit, I am not ready. (And knitters? Less than 100 days till Christmas. Just sayin'.)

Happy Birthday

To my little blessing.





Who told you to grow up so fast?

The weekend is dead. Long live the weekend.

Quite a productive weekend for us. Saturday dawned, cranky and pissy. We had a birthday party to attend, and the parents of the birthday boy were having as bad a day as we were, and the child and parents were about 45-60 minutes late for their own party. However, once everyone got there, they sucked it up, got to grilling and playing and bouncing, and everyone, including my cranky self and my cranky ass family, had a grand time. Then we all went home and had a nap and pancakes for dinner, and really, how could we stay pissy after that?
This morning the DH woke up all ready to clean. It's a good thing, too - it's been two weeks since the cleaning lady came last, and since we aren't terribly efficient, we'd clean bits throughout the week, so the house was never clean all at one time. Today, though, the DH got a wild hair, and gave me new carpet.



Not really, but he spot cleaned and rented a steam cleaner and sucked tons of dirt, mud, dog accidents, kid food spills, etc. I do not exaggerate when I say that the carpet had at least 20 large dark stains this morning. (He even managed to get out the spot where Bug stepped on a blackberry in the middle of the carpet.)
I can't even begin to tell you how much better everything else looks just to have the carpet clean again.

This weekend I also finished the rest of my appliqué homework.



I worked on my end-of-year goal. Haiku, DONE!



I think the little pearly heart-shaped buttons make it special, and I hope they draw the viewer's attention away from the wonky sleeve seaming. What a weird construction - I don't think I'd do another side to side sweater with a one-piece body. I didn't like sewing the sleeves in. BUT! Done it is, and since the little girl it was intended for has long since outgrown it, it will go to one of the Bug's little girlfriends, if it fits her.

Speaking of the Bug, he's growing up. Dammit.

A test of my resolve.

Two of them, actually.

Today, I stayed home from work and went to my LQS. (LFS?) Recently when Cassie and Lene started up their joint quilting blog, my interest in appliqué was rekindled, but I've never really seen it done. I'm quite visual, so to learn to appliqué someone needed to show me. Anyway, they had a beginning hand appliqué class, so I signed up. I was happy to see that there were only two of us in the class, so we got a lot of direct instruction while still having fun and chatting. I came home and finished my little class sample and made two of my homework assignments.



The red one was the first one I did, and the other two I did this evening. I'm supposed to do a total of six - the red one is cut-away, and the other two are needle-turn. (From what I can tell, the only difference between the two is that for the first one, you cut the fabric away as you stitch it, and the second you cut it to the seam allowance ahead of time. Semantics.) Anyway, I kinda totally love this and would still be stitching away if my legs and arse hadn't fallen asleep from sitting there for so long.

The second temptation came in the mail. I wasn't expecting it so it was a nice surprise.



I was supposed to receive a shipping notice, but seriously, how can something from "beaverslide" NOT fail the porn filter?

Anyway, heads up, Lynn in Tucson, because if ever you ask what tweedy yarn you should use for a project and you haven't already checked for Beaverslide, I shall taunt you and deny you cake. This stuff is some serious YUM. Soft but woolly, sheepy but somewhat refined, tweedy without being annoyingly so.



That is 15 skeins of sheeptastic goodness. (Seriously, y'all, making a sweater coat for a plus-sized gal is no small undertaking. And also, thank goodness this sucker doesn't have to button over my bump.)



That picture is fairly true to color, except the tweedy bits aren't so bright in real life.



That's kinda more like it.

So, now I have the means to make my Linden AND I have the knowledge to sit and stitch tiny hearts to tiny squares for no discernible reason, other than the fact that I clearly like fiddly hobbies.

And, filed under Reasons People Suck, here's one for you. Our new house has a pool. It's neat, and I'll be excited to have one, having grown up with one myself. (Seriously, though - we move from the desert to the coast and THEN got a pool? Sheesh, I do things backwards sometimes.) Anyway, the realtor was nice enough to go out again and send us some pictures so we could show our families, since we forgot to do it while we were there. We noticed two fence slats missing that had been there before, so he mentioned it to the listing agent and told her they'd need to have that fixed before we took possession. She groaned, and proceeded to tell our realtor they'd already had it fixed once, in addition to going to the neighbor's and telling them it was trespassing to use the pool since it wasn't their property. What kind of gall does it take to do it after you've been told not to already? And to make it patently obvious who was doing it? (Apparently the listing agent got her husband to dress "like a detective" and hand-deliver a cease and desist letter on her company's letterhead. Hee.) The worst part of it all? There's no effing lock on the effing gate. They could walk in whenever they wanted and not damage the effing fence.
Lest you worry that have enough gall to try it again after we move in, I will show you my security system.



They sound more ferocious than they are, but I'm not telling the new neighbors that.

Is it too early to be nesting?

So I've been thinking. And cleaning. Those two things are things I generally prefer NOT to do in great quantities, but hey. I've been thinking a lot about what to clean next, what to pack up, what we can do without for a few months, etc. And I've also been looking at my blog. Specifically, at that list of WIPs over on the sidebar there. The other day, I was randomly thinking about some strange conglomeration of things, when I remembered one of the members of my blogroll likes to start the year fresh, with respect to projects. (I can't remember if it's Jared or Dave Daniels, or both.) The idea is to finish up what's on the needles and rip what isn't finished, IIRC. When I first read that a year or two ago, I believe my reaction was somewhere along the lines of "that's nucking futs." This year, though, the idea is growing on me. I mean REALLY. Look at that list.
Votive sleeves: I have 2 1/2 left, and I want to finish them for Christmas. Assuming I can still find the wire, that should be eminently doable.
Monkey socks: I have the better part of one done.
Gust: still in the early stages
Lace: I still have doubts about this one - it's a secret project and I don't love it. I'd be avoiding it simply because I don't want to face the inevitability that it needs ripping.
Charade socks: one down, one to go
Slippin' Slidin' Socks: not on the list. Early on, could probably rip without much anguish if I needed to. I think I have, maybe, an inch of cuff done.
Garden lattice socks: need to rip back half of the one finished sock, so if I ripped the whole thing I prolly wouldn't cry.
Faina: I struggled with the charts. I still love the pattern, and I'm much better at reading charts (and lace, for that matter) now. Maybe it's time to let Faina out again.
Sonnet: Going to rip it. No question.
Haiku: needs to have the sleeves and buttons sewn. C'mon, yo, leaving it like that is almost sinful. Finish that dude.

What I have is, at most, two lacy scarves, six socks, 2.5 tiny candle holders, and finishing up a baby sweater. In the writing of this post, I've already decided the secret lace needs to go. (I have this feeling that there are other things, but if they've been UFOs so long that I can't remember them, they're getting ripped.) I also have the better part of four months. Really, that should be doable.
Even if I throw in Linden, I still think it's doable. It starts to get a little dicey when I think of knitting lace shawls for my aunts for Christmas, but I was still batting that idea around and I hadn't settled on it yet. I obviously am not going to finish my summer knitting goals, but hey, at least I got a little mojo back. I think I might be talking myself into this idea of finishing up the year's (and last year's) projects before moving on into '09. Do I sound like an annoying go-getter? Do we hate me yet?

It begins.

We have a purchase contract on a house in CA. I have an acid stomach. I realized over the weekend that I have never once intentionally moved more than a few miles in my adult life. (I ended up in Tucson for school, always intending to move back to my family in Phoenix, but never did, so intentions-wise, that doesn't count.) All the moves in the past 20 years were close enough to run back to the "old place" for another load of stuff after work. This time, it ain't gonna work that way, and I think I might be in denial.
However, I had reached the point where there weren't any closets left to clean out that could be done without a hazmat suit. (The guest room is now a giant pit of despair, and I never moved all the craft stuff out of Bug's closet when my craft room became his room, so now all the craft things are wedged in there with pieces of toys and parts of cribs.) I cleaned out my closet.

Before: (La, don't look at the shelf, if you value your eyesight or your sanity)


I took everything out.
During:


(That laundry basket is DH's work shirts, which go to the laundromat to get washed and pressed, because Mama don't iron, and apparently, neither does Daddy. Mama's just smart enough to buy clothes that don't require it.)

I sorted it into piles. One to sell, one to donate, one to wear, one to pack.



Then I decided I was too lazy to take them to the consignment store, so I smooshed the to-sell and to-donate piles together. I hope someone shopping at the Goodwill store finds a great job wearing my interview dress.

I packed the to-pack stuff in a box. GASP. The first box of stuff to move. Holy crap, y'all, that means this is actually happening. (Living in the southwest desert generally means that one does not really have "summer" and "winter" clothes, one has short-sleeved and long-sleeved t-shirts. I do not pack away summer clothes in the fall, etc. so I can't even pretend it's just seasonal.)
Some of the wintry-looking stuff (velour skirts, sweats, that type of stuff) got thrown in the washer, and I hung up the remaining clothes.



It's hard to see there, but I think after all is said and done, there were three bottoms and 5 tops in there. Sigh. I have more in the wash and a few maternity things winging their way to me, but for the most part, I'm going to have to be really good about the laundry for the next several months...

(Sadly, I am aware that for a great majority of the world, what I'm whining about is actually an abundance of wealth. I will try to remember that when it's 7:30am and I realize I forgot to run the dryer with all my pants in it...)

Some observations.

If you have to go to city court, all the world's unwashed masses will be there, and they will sit by you.
If you have to go to city court, you should go early in the morning, in the hope that said unwashed masses will not have dragged their overhung arses out of bed and marinated in that cheap cologne yet. If you wait until after lunch, may God have mercy on your soul.
Thank FSM, Hestia and Cthulhu for remembering to stash your knitting in your bag before heading to city court after lunch.
Thank every other deity out there that you do not work at city court and have to listen to all those sob stories all freaking day long.
The time it takes for them to call numbers I916 through I957 (not to mention the As, Cs, Ds, and Fs) will allow you to turn a whole heel and knit one Monkey repeat. Even if you are a slow knitter and stop to admire the yarn each row.
Just because you *call* them formal shorts doesn't mean I won't ridicule you for wearing them with heels or pretending they're work-wear.
The pleasantly warm feeling you get when you leave the icy building and step out into a warm September afternoon dissipates quickly when you parked too far from the court building and have to walk through the scary part of downtown where there is too much concrete and no shade to speak of.
Toll House Brownie cookie sandwiches with mint ice cream are pretty durn tasty.
Toe-up gussets, Wendy-style, mean you don't have to alternate which rows start with a slipped stitch to get eye of partridge when you turn the heel. If you do this, you will end up with a standard slip-stitch heel pattern, which, while lovely, was not what you were going for.
Some people will be too lazy to rip it out and will pretend it was done intentionally.
People who do not like teenages as a rule are probably best served by avoiding the 7-11 near the bus-stop near the local high school at 2:45 in the afternoon.
People do not like others in their personal space might consider letting the teenagers pay for their drinks first when they're standing behind you cussing about the bus trundling up the street.
It's also probably best to avoid striking them. There are more of them than there are of you, and they are younger.
The fact that Blogger spell check recognizes Hestia but not Cthulhu may surprise you.
One of life's little pleasures is walking on a recently-mopped, cool tile floor barefoot.
Waiting for a box of yarn is like waiting for Christmas.
USPS's online ordering system is fan-freaking-tastic. Use it for your holiday shipping and suddenly you will love the post office, instead of passing it with dread each day your packages go unmailed because you do not have the intestinal fortitude to stand in that line with all the other lost souls. (Bonus - when they ship you your stamps, you get a nice email telling you they were "carefully packaged".)
When the bank sends you the signed purchase agreement on the new house in another state, you might be surprised that your reaction falls more along the lines of "Oh God I gotta pack" than "YAY!".
For all my tough talk and swagger about not giving a shit what others think, there are still a few people who can shut me down and make me feel like a shy, nerdy, awkward 7th-grade shadow of myself in 10 words or less.

You people.

Here I post about DH's reaction to my weird dream, and you all chide me for subconsciously picking Jessica Simpson instead of some hotter, brainier chick. ;-P
The Lene Socks are washed and dried and awaiting the rest of their little box of stuff to join them. I told DH I'd mop tonight, but I think it might be more important to go shopping. >:-) Actually, I could probably do both, but I don't want him to know that.
I ordered my Beaverslide yarn this morning. I went for the new 3-ply McTaggart Tweeds, in a medium brown. (Autumn Dogwood, if you care.) I'd originally envisioned the coat in a bright lipstick red, but lately I've been rocking the brown maternity shirt, and DH mentioned how nice I looked in brown, and well. Brown coat it is. I can't wait to get started on it. Please remind me I said that when I'm whining about the acres of stockinette.
In the meantime, I've been Monkeying with some Fleece Artist (in Marine) to keep me busy. It was part of a prize from Joan, who knows from good prizes. Blogless Lynn wasn't kidding, that pattern goes fast.



I'm learning that I really don't like turning heels, except for the standard heel flap, but I hate casting on stretchily (is so a word) and prefer to knit toe up. Even knitting a toe-up gusset is distasteful, as the gusset grows and grows instead of shrinking, as it does from the top down. I'm giving some thought to knitting a sock starting at the top of the heel, with a provisional cast on, and then knitting up from there. That way I can make best use of the yarn, I don't have to do that heinous cast on, I get to do the beloved heel flap, and I know I won't run out of yarn on the foot. Best of both worlds, or ridiculous fiddly overcomplicated procedure? Who knows until I try it? (Hey, I only just heard about Houdini socks, so I still have a ways to go before I get to Most Complex and Unintuitive Way to Make Socks.)

Friday FINALLY.

The other night I had one of those hormone fueled pregnancy dreams. I dreamt I was cheating on DH. With Jessica Simpson. (Can we just take a minute and say EUW?) I told him about it this morning. He thought for a minute and then said in all seriousness, "I think I would let that one slide."
Men.
(I mean, it would be understandable if it were Angelina or Kate Winslet.)

I have finished the Neverending Socks of Unending Infinity. Yes, it's true! I will never bore you with them again. (Unless you're Lene, and then they're your problem lovely socks!) I hope like crazy they fit you, because I might have to throw myself on a pile of dull DPNs if they don't. However, I managed to get them on my own pregnancy-puffy hooves, so maybe I'm collecting DPNs for nothing...



Mmmm, cankles.



Yarn: Classic Elite Alpaca Sox, Terra Cotta (whoever named that was high, or had never seen terra cotta)
Pattern: Waterfall Lace (I think) from Sensational Knitted Socks in the 6 stitch section. Magic Cast-On (18 st), short row heel, stretchy bindoff a là Evelyn Clark and the Swallowtail Shawl.
Started: a ridiculously long time ago (Feb 20, 2008)
Finished: joyously, last night (August 29, 2008)

I am no Cookie.

But they are done, and when they are in the mail (and can we take a minute to lavish love on the USPS buy-your-postage-online website? LURVE.) ON TO LINDEN!

And maybe some Monkeys.

Ugh Sunday.

So, thanks for all the input last time. I do plan to buy the Beaverslide. I have the color all picked out and everything, and now it's just a matter of finishing up the Lene socks so I can allow myself to order the yarn. (The new yarn and Linden are my reward for finishing these long-overdue socks. Orders will be placed when they are in the mail to their new home.)
I love posting about stuff like this on the blog. Almost always, I think I have it all straightened out in my head, but your comments and the ensuing conversation help me see things that I hadn't noticed before. (In the money case, I have come to the conclusion that I will spend money like water on fleeting things, but if I actually BUY something with it, I will know where my money goes and it will be much easier to live in denial about my spending habits. Hey, you don't come here for maturity or grown-up behaviors, let's be honest.)
Further along the lines of spending money we don't have, we went to California on Friday. We left at lunchtime, drove over and stayed the night, and came home yesterday. 14 hours on the road for 16 hours in the state, including about an hour at the beach. (The kidlet LOVED it and was soaked in a matter of minutes.)



The purpose of the trip was house-hunting. We are in the running for two houses in Escondido, and we wanted a walk-through and to see the neighborhood to make sure we weren't making a mistake. I hadn't been planning to take Friday off, but house worries kept me awake all Thursday night, and I was pretty well useless Friday morning anyway. Happily, we liked them both, and DH got a chance to test out his new commute (without much traffic, but at least he knows where he's going). Then it was back in the car and back to the heat. I'd been calling Tucson Satan's Armpit, but I have since decided I was wrong about that - that's Yuma, for sure. Ick. We managed to get home at a fairly reasonable time last night, but today, I still feel like this:



I have managed to do a little laundry, and I might do a little knitting, but other than that, it's nap time.

Love and Hate

And it's not even Cookie's fault! But I do love my Cookie.
Okay, icky friendy stuff aside.
I love The Loopy Ewe. Can I just tell you? I ordered my bag (which I also love) on Friday morning. The darlings packed it all up and shipped it the same day (after writing a personal welcome to the Loopy Groupies on the invoice) and it was waiting for me on Monday when I got home from work. LOVE the service. Also, love the perks. This was my sixth order, so in with my bag and my lone ball of Trekking, there was another tote, a pattern in a nice sleeve, a skein of my favorite sock yarn (CTH) in my favorite colors, a keychain and a little bag of mints. Now people, I am a bargain shopper when it comes to yarn (see below for more on this) and they aren't marking up all their stuff more than any other shop I see. I think they just like to make customers happy.



Also, I LOVE my new bag! This thing really has enough room for the better part of a sweater, plus all the stuff I usually try to stuff in my purse. It's going to make a fantastic diaper bag, and it's so soft I can't stop petting it. (Plus it's all cruelty-free and stuff, not like I really care about that when it comes to soft leather, but still) I am a fan. Even the DH complimented it.



Now for the hate part. I hate my attitude about myself and money. (Not my attitude problem. I am PERFECTLY fine with that.) Ages ago I got myself into some heavy debt, and got into the habit of not buying ANYTHING useful for myself unless it was completely unavoidable. I wore the same clothes for YEARS, I used my chipped dishes and grocery-store-cooking-aisle flatware, I saved my cups from Taco Bell. Somewhere along the line, laziness trumped frugality, so I bought junk food and ate out a lot, while still denying myself the ability to buy anything useful. Even after the debt was gone, or mostly. Enter DH, who is a spendthrift extraordinaire. The man can find more reasons to spend money than a knitter standing next to a bin of half-off Sea Silk. I have curbed his spending somewhat, but also managed to ingrain further that I Should Not Spend Money on big stuff. I will piss away a little here (Target) and a little there (Costco) and still eat out, but I AGONIZE over spending money on, say, a diaper/knitting bag, or maternity clothes. (People, I am 22 weeks pregnant and still squeezing into my pre-preggo clothes. Hooray for low rise.) I have been thinking about yarn for Linden for, well, since the day that pattern became available. I asked my dear Joan, who has exquisite taste in yarn even though she voluntarily knits with Noro, and she suggested Beaverslide. I have heard fantastic things about Beaverslide, and every blogger I read who's knit with it loves it heartily. Margene, the aforementioned Joan, Jared, Cara, all raved about it. I've wanted to try it and here's the perfect chance, it's from Montana, and I have been waffling for WEEKS. Because it's expensive. It's not too expensive to afford, it's still less than a comparable coat at the store, and it gets rave reviews. But I have to argue with myself to say I deserve it. WTF is that, people? I think nothing about dropping $50 on a meal out, I buy lipsticks when I'm depressed and could easily spend the cost of that yarn at the salon getting a cut and some shampoo. SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME why I will spend chunks of cash on fleeting things like food and haircuts, why I will piss away $20 here and $15 there on trifles and nothing, and can't bring myself to spend $30 on a pair of pants or buy the Good Yarn that would be perfect for the sweater I actually DREAM about? What the hell is my problem?
And also, shopping for real estate bites ass. Especially when you aren't even in the same freaking state as the shopping. And the husband, who does most of the communication with the realtor, does not entirely listen to the wife. I need to punch something.

Apparently random is all I got.

As I am primarily a lazy human being and I can't be bothered to think of anything coherent.
The Bug is potty training. He was doing okay with #1, though #2 required vigilance and the ability to recognize impending doom. Suddenly, none of it was good (at home - at school he's fine) unless he's entirely pants-free. Apparently, crapping on Thomas the Train is okay, but crapping on the carpet is not. They're going to LOVE him at school tomorrow.
I am making progress on The Socks That Ate My Summer.



I don't know if I'm worried about packing, or if I'm nesting already, but the last couple of weekends have found me cleaning out and ruthlessly purging stuff from closets. Last weekend it was the coat closet, from whence I removed probably 15 coats and sweaters, a broken toy from 7 years ago that we never got around to exchanging, about 40 gift bags and 2 or 3 pounds of dog hair. This weekend it was the armoire and my bathroom. The armoire is an entertainment style one, so instead of having nice useful shelves it had space for a giant TV, and it had become a catch-all. I cleaned it out, folded up some stuff and stored it nicely in there, purged a whole bunch of makeup that had been hiding under all the junk, and collected another bag for Goodwill. The DH is not truly as impressed as he should be.

In an effort to tidy up, and also, to keep the DH and the Bug from ripping my needles out of my knitting again, I put my SIPs (that's Socks In Progress) in the cool black and white box from Sephora.



It holds two SIPs comfortably, plus some notions and a few extra things. I am thrilled to find a use for the box, partly because it keeps my knitting mostly safe, and partly because DH has stopped threatening to throw the box away. (I am genetically incapable of disposing of boxes.) I say "mostly safe" because



the Bug likes boxes as much as I do.

Reading up on fleece, I came across the opinion that a dirty fleece attracts bugs more readily than a clean one. The general consensus was that fleeces should be stored relatively clean, in cotton rather than plastic, in a light location if possible. This is bad news for the dirty fleece in the closet in the plastic bag, so I planned to wash it this weekend. Then I read that dirty fleece has a slim chance of being contaminated with toxoplasmosis, which is Not Good for pregnant chicks. Fortunately, I read that a stay in a standard domestic freezer will kill off the little buggers. And so...



Five pounds of corriedale are currently sharing space with the chocolate and the chicken. I expect to wash it in smallish batches in the next several days.

GAWD I miss coffee.

The Bug thinks his fighter jets make good phones. He had a whole conversation with Daddy about Thomas the Tank Engine with those things pressed to his ears.



I'm super proud of the kid, though - he came in the other day while I was watching Star Wars (ANH) and he was enthralled. The next morning when he woke up, before he even opened his eyes, he said, "I wanna watch space ships." A chip off the ol' nerdy block. I love it.

I ordered my new diaper bag from The Loopy Ewe the other day. I was all excited about having a unique bag until Notorious Norma mentioned that all the cool kids going to Rhinebeck had one. Oh well, if I can't be unique, at least I got in on the Hot New Thing while it was still Hot and New. Anyway, that purchase made me an official Loopy Groupie (which I am thrilled about, for some reason) and got me to a $25 credit. I have quite a bit of sock yarn and want to knit what I have, so I'm thinking lace. Maybe lace for Christmas presents. What is your favorite laceweight (that TLE carries)?

Randomness abounds

Some more environmental Bush crap to keep an eye on. (It's like he's ACTIVELY trying to be the most detrimental president our baby country has ever seen.)

Flying turd.


The good thing about ridiculous heat is that yarn dries in about 12 seconds when hung outside.



Handpaint. Going for southwestern, ended up with Clown College. (It's much brighter in person.) Still, will make fun socks.



Dip Dye. I'm pretty happy with this one, even though there isn't as much difference between "medium" and "light" as I'd like.

If you can't tell, I was going for my own version of Duets yarn. Not to sell, of course - it was her brilliant idea - but just for my own use. I suppose it's one of the dangers of handmade. Those crafters among us think, man, I could totally make that! (Recently after a skein of Wollemeise went for $90+ on eBay, someone on Ravelry asked a general question regarding the upper limit you'd pay for yarn. Apparently, I will spend $25 on a skein, but not $28.)

Of course, with me, it can never be easy.



There is a fine line between tying the skein too tight and too loosely.

Hooray - an article pointing out that thin and fit/healthy are not necessarily the same thing!

Debit cards don't like the dryer.



I love that the Bug's hair is long enough to play with in the tub.



I also love that when he looks into that mirror, he says, "SO handsome." Heh.

Till my dyeing day.

Warning: cranky whining and moaning ahead. Skip this post if you don't wanna read it.

What does one do when it's &)%#*(&@)()%^& hot and one's ankles are &*)#&(@)(*$& swollen?
One attempts to do a quick dye job for some instant gratification. Alas, the best laid plans, and all that...



After two days of untangling (that pile up there was only half the original skein) I finally got two roughly equal balls. (Not bad, given that I broke the yarn once at random and was only two grams off.) Anyway, I skeined up one of the balls...



...and decided to attempt something I saw Jen do once, a million years ago. Only in this case, I wasn't using RIT, or taupe, or salt, I was using Wilton's and vinegar. I left it a little too long before I dumped the second part in, so the third part will be almost white, but hey, that's why they call it an experiment (and also why I do't cook).



For the rest of the day, I am going to indulge my cranky-ass self by sitting around complaining about the heat.



For those of you who think I'm a wuss for whining about 84 degrees in the house, keep in my that I showed you my thermostat. The thing that is supposed to regulate the A/C. The thing that is NOT set to EVER reach 84 degrees. There is something wrong with the &%)(#@*(&@)(%&*#$()@) thing and I must turn it off periodically to get it to work again. (The DH thinks the compressor is icing over since it's been so humid here, and we have to turn it off to let the ice melt before it will work again.) During the week this is not a problem - I set it way high while we're gone and when we come back the cool comes on and all is well. When I'm supposed to be sitting with my feet up to reduce the swelling, and "laying down" makes me sweat, we have a problem. What, you mean that isn't the best time to have a large pot full of boiling water in the kitchen? Huh, that's an interesting point of view.
Anyway, in between bouts of whining about the heat, I've been working on the Lene sock. Did you know, if you Keep Your Shit Tight™ and your husband or child pulls the needle out of your stitches, the stitches pop out of the wraps and you have to rip the whole heel? Yeah, I serve as a warning of what not to do. Anyway, I have moved past the heel and have at most four pattern repeats before I can slap some ribbing on the sucker and call 'er done. I can't wait - Twist Collective has gotten me all in the mood for fall (I dunno why, since we have nearly three months of summer left in this horrid place) and I'm not allowing myself to buy yarn or pattern until I finish and mail those socks!

I tried to get a picture of the dog sleeping with her tongue sticking out, but when I got out the camera she woke up. I got the next best thing.

How do you make a blonde dizzy?

Stick her in a round room and tell her to quickly find the penny in the corner!

Or, go here. The blonde is already dizzy, but there's yarn!

Yup, tomorrow, 08/08/08, and 8:08am La's etsy store opens with her fiberific tribute to inspiring blondes.



Go forth! Buy! Knit! Just keep your hands offa mine.

Wow.

The responses to last post were very interesting and intelligent. I believe that was my favorite post ever and it really made me think. (Mostly I hate that, but in this case it was a good thing.)
The most interesting thing, I thought, was that those who favored genetics actually proved my point (in my thinking). Sarkasmo indicated that she'd lost weight, but at her current activity level she doesn't lose more. BigAlice mentioned that it took an extraordinary level of effort to lose weight, and that her brother did it once but didn't maintain it. To my way of thinking, both of those comments indicated that they COULD lose weight. Their genetic makeup may have made it more difficult than it would have been for someone else, but they did it. Sarkasmo lost to a point and has maintained from there, and BigAlice made the decision that the level of effort necessary to achieve further weight loss was not fitting in with what she wanted out of life. Both ladies (and one brother) lost weight - they just didn't lose weight down to Hollywood standards. For which I am profoundly grateful, cuz, YUCK.
Anyway.
I have no knitting, I have no pictures. It's been hot, dry and yucky. The rain is supposed to come back tomorrow YAYIT'SABOUTDAMNTIME but it's still gross outside. The DH is off again to California to do a whirlwind real estate tour. I'd go with him, but I'd never leave the beach, so I'm holding down the fort here while he checks my list of homes against what he should know about me by now after eight freaking years knows about my tastes, likes and dislikes, and his own. It is my profound hope that he will find The One that is really great (unlike the previous three The Ones, all of which were purchased before we could make an offer) and I won't have to think about anything anymore. For those of you who don't know what the hell I'm talking about, what's new? we are planning to move to southern California at the beginning of the new year and leave Satan's armpit behind.
In other news, I have made another boy. DH is ecstatic, I'm pretty happy (because the boys will share a room and I'll get a craft room back) and I'd be completely over the moon if he hadn't blabbed the name we hadn't decided on completely yet to everyone, including the namesake of the name I hadn't settled on yet. (Sorry Uncle Jim Bob, we're naming him Billy Joe instead of Jim Bob like we said before.)
If you are inclined, send nice thoughts or prayers to my little bump. There's nothing wrong with him except that his mother is completely neurotic and stresses over all the things that could be wrong. Maybe you should send valium instead.

So, I have this question

It's about weight issues, so if you're easily offended and plan to flame me after reading, let me save you the time - if you flame instead of discussing nicely and intelligently, your opinion means nothing to me. Kiss kiss!
Also in the interest of full disclosure, I am obese. Significantly so, according to the NIH - a BMI of 37.1 which comes out on the NIH scale as "WAY FAT". I may be paraphrasing. (And it has nothing to do with my pregnancy, as I have not gained much of anything yet.) And it doesn't seem to affect my self esteem (at this point in my life) one little bit. I rock, and I know it. :-D
So, there's this study on weight discrimination, and there's a little bit of hand-wringing going on for the subject. There's lots of discussion about how we're all getting fatter, how our kids are getting fatter and showing signs of heart disease and weight related ailments before even teenage years. How all our food is junk and our lives revolve around TV and computer. Doctors and scientists point to this alarming trend as signs of the apocalypse. I think we can all agree that this seems to be the case (the increasing weight part, not the apocalypse part). There is where opinion diverges. Some people say that overweight people are just slackers and slobs, they're lazy, they should pay extra for their healthcare and their weight related issues, including wider airplane seats, extra for the bus, (OMG, think of the extra gas you'd save if your ass wasn't so big!) etc. Then there are the people who wring their hangs and say, Oh, it's not their fault, it's soooo hard to lose weight and stay active! We mustn't discriminate just because someone is overweight! Oh my goodness.

GAG.

Now, I'm not going to try to tell you that our version of "overweight" isn't completely fucked, or that it's easy to lose weight and stay thin. BUT. I know people who have done it, successfully. (I have not, but that's due to my choices, not my genes or the fact that Twinkies magically absorb into my skin because Nature says I should be fat.) However, our collective national weight is INCREASING. 100 years ago, people were, on average, thinner than they are now. Someone is trying to tell me that it's all genetics that make people get fatter over generations? Fatness as natural selection? I don't think so. We are becoming a nation of sitters. Especially people like me. I sit at a desk all day, then I come home and either sit in front of the internet or sit on my ass and knit or spin. I HATE exercise. I HATE to sweat. I LOVE to eat, the fattier the better. Given the choice, all things being equal, I will NEVER choose to exercise, or pick broccoli over ice cream. And this makes me fat. Yes, I had fat parents, and skewed food issues as a kid, but MY CHOICES RIGHT NOW are what makes me fat and keeps me that way. Knitting is more important to me than exercising. Air conditioning in my car is more important to me than walking to work. If the loss of some opportunities comes along with those choices, shouldn't that be a consequence I'm willing to accept?
I mean, if your doctor reeked of smoke, wouldn't you wonder about his priorities, and the kind of gall it would take for him to instruct you on health issues? Smoking is evil and addictive and hard to quit (ask me how many times I've done it) but we view it as a choice not to break the addiction and look down on people who still do it. Or at least pity them while we're fake coughing about the smell. We chide them for willfully damaging themselves and we scold them for making our collective healthcare costs and taxes rise. How is that different from being overweight? It's hard to lose weight and keep it off, just like it's hard to quit smoking and stay quit. It's expensive and damaging to the health, just like smoking. It causes chronic diseases, just like smoking. So if we cut fatties a break and say it isn't their fault, don't we have to do the same with smokers? (Cuz I'm so starting again if we do.) If your nurse is so obese that she requires oxygen, wouldn't you wonder about her ability to care for you?
I'm not suggesting that all weight discrimination is equal. I have a desk job that requires no more of my body than my brain and my fingertips, and the ability to occasionally walk to the printer. I don't even have to walk to a meeting room if I don't feel like it. So discrimination in my field is senseless. (Actually, you could make the argument that my fat ass is well-suited for sitting all day, and that since I am sedentary by habit and by nature, I'm less likely to get fidgety and spend time away from my desk.) What about police officers? Fitness level and weight (to some degree) is an important part of the job. What about flight attendants? If they have to scoot sideways down the aisle because they're too wide to walk straight, is that their responsibility, or should the airline make the plane wider to accommodate? Obviously I haven't mentioned people for whom weight is a disease or injury-related issue, or people who lack the ability to exercise in any traditional manner. I also haven't mentioned people who are discriminated against because the hiring officer doesn't like looking at fat people. I briefly touched on our society's skewed view of weight/overweightness. (For an eye opener, see this slideshow.) I'm not saying that people who are fat should be ashamed of themselves, or that they are inherently worth less than people who are thin. Or that fat people aren't sexy, or smart, or funny or all of the above. I do suggest that, in absence of medical reasons for overweightness, fat people can (and do) get thin by choosing to do so and consistently upholding that priority over the desire for cheesecake or the wish to sit and veg in front of the computer/tv/knitting pattern/whatever for a night or ten. And that if I don't choose to do so, I can expect there to be some consequences of my choice. Am I wrong?

I have almost nothing

Except I have this:



My sad camera-phone photo skills do not show the glory of this dessert. Peach, kiwi, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry and strawberry on fabulous custard in a touch-me-and-I'll-disintegrate pastry shell. Oh. Yeah.

While photographing that (what? My coworkers already know I'm insane) I felt the need to show you my desk, so you might understand me and the way my brain works.

(La, you might want to look away at this time. No, seriously. Okay fine, you were warned.)



Yes, it really does always look like that. Occasionally I tidy it up, file things, toss trash, etc. But then I can't find anything.

While I was doing that I figured I'd better at least pretend I still knit.



This sock has stalled for many many reasons, the last of which was that I was POSITIVE I'd knit it long enough for the foot but I wanted to measure to make sure. The sock to the right has been to Toronto and back for a fitting, and the length was good. (Width bad, hence new sock.) I was so sure I was almost done, and last night I measured to make sure and found out I have FOUR FLIPPING REPEATS left. Sigh. I can't afford to have SSS on this one since I still have to knit a THIRD sock (see "width bad" above). (At least having to knit both socks means I'll be eligible for sock-drawings for SoS, right?) I love sock knitting, but I will be thrilled when this particular albatross is in its new home warming the feet of a certain smart-ass Canadian/Danish blogger.