Liftoff.

My mood may be lifting, and it has little, if anything, to do with the giant bottle of tequila and unopened bottle of margarita mix I found stashed in my pantry. (Okay, it does have something to do with that, but that's just incidental.) My dear and long-gone aunt is visiting this week. Usually I complain about this one, but when she's late, I feel such relief that the bitch finally showed that I can't help but be in a good mood. o.0 Anyway, now I realize why I'd been so very darn pissed off and heat-sensitive the last week.
Yesterday I went outside in the heat of the day. It didn't suck as bad as I thought it would. I sat in the shade, even knitted a row, while Bug played in the dirt. It was too warm to stay out for long, but the sunshine and the breeze was nice. DH was late getting home from work, so rather than keep dinner for hours and hours, we went out and had some pasta. On the way home, whilst listening to DH complain about feeling crappy (more on that later) I spontaneously decided Bug needed a park outing. (I thought DH was going to kill me when I mentioned the park in mid-complain, but I asked him to drop me and Bug off and we walked home.) I thought I was a pioneer, but it turns out that I am just dumb. Tons of neighbors came out in the pleasant evening, walking their dogs, playing with their kids, and messing around in the park. I've been living in this desert for 29 years and only now just figured out that I can go out in the evening and not die. The slides didn't burn the boy child, and I could stand there and push him in the swing for what felt like hours and not wilt in the sun. All in all, an enjoyable time. Then we walked/jogged/sprinted home together in the twilight and waved at the neighbors sitting on their front porches. Seriously, if we get any more Norman Rockwell around here, I might gag. But I felt all relaxed in spite of my commitment to cynicism and bad attitude.
DH is having health issues. One would think that the inability to breathe and the fact that there is "something fuzzy" in his lung x-ray would be more incentive to quit smoking, but one would be wrong. He's thisclose but won't let himself make the final leap. The dummy. Anyway, he was tested for RA (no results yet), he's been given antibiotics for pneumonia (didn't work), he's been given a referral to a pulmonologist. Two separate medical professionals we know in private life suggested he get tested for valley fever, but one of them pointed out that it's so common around here as to be a standard test, so he'd probably already been tested and ruled out. Not sure, though, as his PCP is an internist who specializes in diabetes and may not know the local fauna (valley fever is a fungus that lives in the lungs) well. I may never know what he's been tested for because he is a stereotypical man when it comes to doctors, and he doesn't ask questions and only goes in when he thinks he's dying or he can't stand me nagging him anymore. (Seriously - last year he lived with double pneumonia for weeks and finally went to the doctor to shut me up - he SO thought the doc was going to tell him he just had a cold. My I Told You So dance was big and mighty that day.) Anyway, good healing thoughts for DH's lungs, if you please.
I managed to get the Bug sleeping in his own bed for the first time in about 18 months, and it's mostly glorious. The last few nights he's woken up in the middle of the night. This morning at 3:30 I actually heard noises and went in to find that he'd taken down the baby gate, turned on all the lights and was playing with toys and had woken Squeak up. SIGH. I scootched him back to bed, gave Squeak a bink, and bless the little boogers, they both went to sleep with nary a tweet after that.
Not much else is happening, really. I spend my days surfing for jobs (and it doesn't help that the same job appears posted by the hiring company and three different recruiting agencies. I thought the tech writing market in Sierra Vista was a-hoppin' until I realized I'd applied like six times for the same job through different agencies.) and cuddling my kids and mostly ignoring housework. There has been knitting, mostly on Mary Jane. Look! I even have a picture.



You know, as much as I whine about not being cut out for stay-at-home-motherhood, I gotta say that having this time with my boys is pretty excellent. I still start thinking about drinking at 9am, but god, they're great. Yesterday, Bug came over and leaned on my shoulder and said, "Mama? You're my best friend." *melt* I'm glad I get the time, because damn, this kid is getting big.



And this one gets smilier and bouncier and sweeter every day. (And MAN he loves his little satin butterflies.)



You know, I could get used to this.

(Oh, and a purely hypothetical PSA. When your kid writes on his face and says, "I'm a kitty cat," and you think, "WTH, they're washable," and fix him up a little, they aren't as washable as you think.)

The cake said eat me, I swear it.

I did not go to the job today. We did some figuring, and after accounting for daycare, said job would have paid $100 a week less than unemployment. (I should never have applied for it. I skimmed the job listing and thought it was maintaining technical manuals as in EDITING them, not like printing out a changed page and filing it. Actually, that was two different jobs. One person printed. One person filed. Tax dollars at work, y'all.) I can use that $100 to buy happy pills when the "what are you makin'? coffee? are you making coffee mama? can I see the coffee mama? are you makin' coffee? where's the coffee? can I see the coffee? are you makin' coffee mama?" routine runs a little thin.

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

This morning I noticed the cover of my new IK was cut up and the scissors were laying nearby. I said to Bug, "Don't cut things like this, and DON'T PLAY WITH SCISSORS!" He smiled sweetly at me and said, and I swear this is a direct quote, "Maybe you should put your scissors away."
Touché.

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

I have been knitting on Mary Jane. I thought it would go all speedy like when I took the armhole stitches off the needles and only had to do the body. I forgot how many sport weight stitches are required to circumnavigate my girth. There are many. It is still not fast.

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

Don't tell Nora, but I jogged the other day. For five whole seconds, whilst chasing Bug on his bike. (Surprisingly, my rack did not smack me in the face and knock me unconscious.) I burned off so many calories, I came home and ate a whole cake.

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

DH did get the job he interviewed for, and started Monday. (They REALLY wanted him.) This exacerbates the mental issues revolving around myself, my attitude toward being a housewife, and my mother, and perhaps a little jealousy regarding the fact that my husband is eminently more employable than I am. I hate cleaning, and the cobwebs in my psyche have been there for a while. It's not pretty. I've been weeping and gnashing my teeth about how my DH isn't supportive and how he sucks and blah blah blah (most of this has been in my head, you can thank me for sparing you) but it turns out most of my recent unhappiness is my own attitude. I gotta say, it sucks deeply to find out you're to blame for your problems. (Not to say he's totally blameless for the fighting, but there is little resolution when the fighting isn't really the reason I'm fighting. Clear as mud?) Will I tell him that? Oh hell no. Can't have too much personal enlightenment at one time, y'all.

Where am I?

Still have no concept of the day of the week (except for knit night, wahoo!) or the time, but that will be changing come Monday morning, when I report for training at oh-dark-thirty. I suspect since I will be working on the base, I'm gonna hafta learn military time. I also suspect that since I have not had any sort of schedule for four and a half months that the idea of working for a whole day and then having to do it again might actually kill me. I have gotten accustomed to being aimless. I might have to bathe regularly, or bathe my KIDS regularly, or something.

The DH is, right now, at his big fancy interview. He wore his suit. *swoon* I had to tie his tie, and people? THANK GOD FOR THE INTERNET. He has big hopes for this job, since he's been given the heads-up that he's at the top of the short list of candidates, and they want someone starting ASAP. My checkbook wants us to start working ASAP too. (ETA: he had his interview and says it went well. We should know something by the end of the week, so keep crossing your fingers and such.)

I finished my March PSC socks. WOO!



Squeak likes them too. They're tasty.



Only a month late. And no, I haven't worked another stitch on the April socks yet, but c'mon - entrelac is a long-term sock pattern. I might dig out some dish cloth cotton and knit up a coupla bibs, because Squeak is eating food.



So far, he's had applesauce, rice cereal, and bananas, and he's quite a fan. It's a little early yet for him to be eating food, so I'm keeping him at that much and hoping that I can get a little bit of milk stashed for his inevitable daycare debut.

A few weeks ago, DH got the wild hair to fix up the back yard and plant a lawn. He spent many hours fixing up the sprinklers that came with the house, and filling in the low spots, and and and. He decided that instead of rototilling the dirt that we already have, he needed to buy some and use it to build up the yard. (Cuz, ya know, when you're unemployed, buying dirt is high on the list of good ways to use your money.) Anyway, it kept him entertained for a few days, and entertained Bug even more. The kid loves him some dirt.

Living in Arizona

Inspired by Squish and Nora,

How to tell if you're from AZ

1. You notice your car overheating before you drive it.
2. You no longer associate bridges or rivers with water.
3. You can hear the weather forecast of 115 degrees without flinching.
4. You can be in the snow, then drive for an hour...and it will be over 100 degrees.
5. You discover in July it only takes two fingers to drive your car.
6. You run your air conditioner in the middle of winter so you can use your fireplace.
7. The best parking is determined by shade.....not distance.
8. You realize that "Valley Fever" isn't a disco dance.
9. You can make sun tea instantly.
10. Hotter water comes from the cold water tap than the hot one.
11. It's noon in July, kids are on summer vacation and yet all the streets are totally empty of both cars and people.
12. You actually burn your hand opening the car door.
13. Sunscreen is sold year round and kept right at the checkout counter.
14. You put on fresh sunscreen just to go check the mail box.
15. Some fools will market mini-misters for joggers and some other fools will actually buy them. Worse.....some fools actually try to jog.
16. You can pronounce Saguaro, Tempe, San Xavier, Canyon de Chelly, Mogollon Rim, Cholla, Gila and Tucson.
17. You can understand the reason for a town named "Why"
18. You can fry an egg on the hood of a car in the morning.
19. You know hot air balloons can't rise because the air temperature is hotter than the air inside the balloon.
20. You see two trees fighting over a dog.
21. You can say "Hohokam" and people don't think you're laughing funny.
22. You see more irrigation water on the street than there is in the Salt River
23. You have to go to a fake beach for some fake waves
24. You hear people say "but it's a dry heat!"
25. You buy salsa by the gallon.
26. Your Christmas decorations include sand and l00 paper bags.
27. You think a red light is merely a suggestion.
28. All of your out-of-state friends start to visit after October but clear out come the end of April.
29. You think someone driving wearing oven mitts is clever.
30. Most of the restaurants in town have the first name "El" or "Los."
31. You think 60 tons of crushed red rock makes a beautiful yard.
32. Your house is made of stucco and has a red clay tile roof.
33. Vehicles with open windows have the right-of-way in the summer.
34. Most homes have more firearms than people.
35. Kids ask, "What's a mosquito?" (ETA: NOT TRUE)
    
36. People who have black cars or black upholstery in their car are automatically assumed to be from out of-state or nuts.
37. You know better than to get into a car with leather seats if you're wearing shorts.
38. You can finish a Big Gulp in 10 minutes and go back for seconds.
39. You take rain dances seriously.
40. When it rains, everyone smiles and talks about the great weather.
41. When you drive two miles around a parking lot looking for a shady place - even in the dead of winter.
42. You feed your chickens ice cubes to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs.
43. You "hug" a cactus only once in your lifetime.
44. When you have to look up "mass transit" in the dictionary.
45. A hundred ten in the shade is sorta hot, but you don't have to shovel it off your driveway.
46. A haboob happens.
47. Petrified doesn't mean scared.
48. The temperature drops below 95, you feel a bit chilly.
49. You've lived in AZ your whole life and have never been to the Grand Canyon
50. You would give anything to be able to splash cold water on your face.
51. You can attend any function wearing shorts and a tank top.
52. You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.
53. You realize that snowbirds aren't really birds at all, but just really bad out of state drivers that you learn to hate
54. There are only two temperatures, hot and hotter
55. Even thinking about not having air conditioning makes you sweat
56. You travel out of state and any sort of humidity nearly kills you
57. You have no idea why 48 other states (Hawaii doesn't do it either) insist on changing their clocks twice a year for this thing called "daylight savings time"

again with the random.

Thanks for all the supportive comments last time around. We are a tad stressed around here, and neither of us is at our best when we are stressed out, so YAY! We fight a lot and that helps the stress. o.0
Anyway, admitting you have a problem is half the battle, right?

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

I have gotten a job. It is woefully inadequate, and I could work all month and still not earn enough to cover the mortgage. I start in two weeks and if I haven't found anything else by then I will go gratefully and work my ass off. The DH has gotten an interview (next week). Please keep your fingers crossed for him, because it would be a lovely job (that WOULD pay the mortgage) and he'd still be home most nights for dinner, as opposed to only being home on weekends, since most of his other prospects are several hours to several states away.

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



Bug: "Mama! My castle is broked!"
Me: "Fix it please and pick up your toys."
Bug: "I can't fix it, it's broked."
Me: "Well, I guess if it's broken and you can't fix it, we have to throw it and all your toys in the trash."
Bug: "Um, should I fix it, Mama?"

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

We have unwanted houseguests.



Can't see them? How 'bout now?



Bees. Many bees. That swarm is about two feet long, and from what we can tell, about six inches deep in the middle. Apparently it is "bee season", which means the exterminators are so busy they have told us to wait a couple days to see if they leave on their own, because they do that sometimes, and also the exterminators have no available appointments this week. In the meantime Bug stays inside and climbs the walls. (See castle story, above.) Sigh.

ETA: By the time I posted this, the exterminator was on his way and the bees are gone. If I get another swarm I'll see about calling a keeper, but it's too late for those in the picture...

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

Bug likes bread. 'Specially homemade bread. When he said he wanted "the big piece" (aka, the loaf) he wasn't kidding. Next time after lunch I will put the bread away FIRST.



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

I have not knitted much, due to depression and general malaise (and the fact that it's &@(#&*)@)%^&#( hot and I'm mad) and I will not post any more pictures of the SIP until I finish the bloody thing.

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

The combination of left-shift and the semicolon/colon key doesn't work. The left-shift works with every other key on the keyboard, and I can make a colon with the right-shift. My keyboard has outsmarted me somehow.

We hates it, my precious.

Life, that is. (Warning: big time whining, kvetching and moaning ahead. If you don't wanna read it, and OH BOY I wouldn't blame you, there are socks-in-progress at the end.)
GAH!
I am a big whiny depressed ball of blah, ladies and gentlemen. Looking for jobs SUCKS ASS. Truly, madly, deeply, not even kidding. Right now we're applying for any job that might possibly pay the bills, in any state we think we could afford to live in. Currently, the plan is, we move to wherever the first place one of us gets a job. Montana, Texas (shudder), Phoenix (double shudder), Utah, Colorado, whatever. At this point, most of DH's job prospects involve much travel, so if he gets one of those I might not have to go anywhere, but I myself have applied for jobs in DH's home town, Phoenix, Tucson, Austin, SLC, and San Diego. And Denver, I think. It's surprising to me that I suddenly WANT to work and would be looking for jobs even if DH was raking in buckets-o-cash. I miss talking to adults each day (specifically those who don't think that everything I say is an invitation for afternoon delights. Seriously, ONE TRACK in that mind). I miss using my brain for things besides crossword puzzles and figuring out what the hell noob mistake I just made in my knitting. (I miss my cleaning lady most of all.)
Couple that with crappy windy weather (the Bug says, "Mama, it's winding out here!" and I think that's hilarious) and the fact that I realized cousins of the DH lost their first daughter ten years ago on the date of my wedding anniversary and I watched their tribute video and cried my fucking eyes out, and I haz sad. Oh yeah, and when the guy at the bank told me he'd stopped the payment I'd wanted stopped, and it wouldn't go through? Yeah, jerk lied, and there was no record of it, and the bank decided it was all my issue, but decided to rescind two of the NINE overdraft charges I got as a result, you know, to be magnanimous, and let's just say I'm NOT HAPPY WITH MY BANK and we had to pay back the overdrafts with the money I was planning to send to the medical bills from Squeak's birth because prenatal care was covered but not the actual birth, and I'm so resentful that I owe the damn anethesiologist $350 for NOT GETTING THERE IN TIME.
I'm tired and depressed and tired of being depressed and depressed about being tired and MY GOD DAYTIME TV SUCKS and someday when I have a job and I'm whining about having to work someone PLEASE remind me of this dumbass post so I can remember what a loser I turn into when I'm not working and stressed about money.

And now, lovely challah from the 5-minute book, and some socks-in-progress. (I made caramel pecan rolls from the first ball of challah dough, for Easter morning, but those got et so fast there were no pictures. You should make some.)




March PSC, sock #2, almost at the heel.


April PSC, sock #1, long term project.

Down with Amazon!

Unless you're a fan of censorship... See this post for more details.
I've cancelled my account there and let them know in no uncertain terms that it was their "deranking" policy that did it. (Well, that, and the fact that they call LGBT-friendly books "adult", while 60 years of Playboy is not.) I hear tell that Powell's is good. I dunno what Barnes and Noble's policies are on the subject, though I should check. (I remember reading that the charities and causes BN donates to are more liberal than those of Amazon.com, so I hope BN is less inclined to censor, or push "gay cure" books.) I'm not entirely sure we have any local bookstores anymore. :-(

ETA: this morning I received an email from customer service with abject apologies, and saw a Yahoo article saying the "glitch" was repaired and won't be happening again.

It's a special day

So I have a special video. (It's a little quiet, so you might have to crank the sound.)



Then go here and give some love.

a follow-up

I have been knitting. If you must know, it was a beret. I have yet to block it, but so far it falls into the Epic Fail category. Well, okay, maybe not. I mean, it is hat shaped. I will block it, and if it stays looking like it currently does, we shall never speak of it again.

A while ago I referred to the fact that I wasn't jumping on the diet and fitness bandwagon this spring. Nora called herself one of the evil perpetrators, and lots of people said, "Oh, well, I'm only just doing a little" and went on to rationalize their choices. That was entirely NOT my intention. My intention was, and still is, to choose what feels good. If that's a run on a beautiful morning you are clearly out of your mind, great! If it's giving in to a big ol' slice of cheesecake, fantastic! I jokingly called it the Cheesecake Manifesto and framed it in terms of fat acceptance, but really, I am going to teach myself to accept people. I know, I just lost Cookie, (don't worry, Cookie, I'm not accepting STUPID) but think about this. Our lives are full up with responsibilities. There's work, or housework, or volunteer work. There's spouses, friends, parents, kids, neighbors all asking for time. And it seems (even The Harlot posted about this recently) like while we're doing one thing, many of us feel guilt about not doing the others. We're working and we feel bad about leaving the kids. We're playing with the kids and we worry about taking time away from the career. We go out with friends to blow off some steam, and we worry about our parents who've been asking for a visit. Then we add diet and exercise on top of that, and where is the fun? I may enjoy riding my bike, but if it becomes a responsibility, it might lose some of the joy. I may really like eating broccoli, but if I force myself to eat only it and not other things that might not have the same nutritional content, I'm gonna get tired of it right quick. I got In Defense of Food from the library the other day, and this line got me:

The scientist haven't tested the hypothesis yet, but I'm willing to bet that when they do they'll find an inverse correlation between the amount of time people spend worring about nutrition and their overall health and happiness.

He goes on to talk about the French Paradox, about how the French eat butter and cheese and wine and enjoy the hell out of their food, and they're healthier than we are, a nation of guilt-riddled carb-counters.
There's so much I can't control about my life and the world and the economy and all that stuff. Can't I take my enjoyment where I find it? Obviously I will have to pay the piper if my joy comes from eating Twinkies and drinking Pepsi and never moving off the couch, but I'd venture to guess that for most people, *some* activity, coupled with a selection of good food in reasonable quantities, is enjoyable.
So that is my plan. I choose enjoyment. I choose to stop feeling guilty about my choices. I'm going to enjoy bread and chocolate and good meat and cheese and chocolate and walks in the park and running after my kid. I choose to not rationalize my choices to others and to let them know they don't have to rationalize theirs to me. I choose to recognize that my body will never be on the cover of a magazine, and that's okay, and that I don't have to hide away and forgo shorts and swimsuits because of it. Cuz I sure enjoy swimming at the beach.

March didn't kill me

so April is taking its best shot.
The DH is away again, finishing up the last of that job that should have been finished weeks ago, but for the nardo in charge. Whilst there, he has been stricken with his FOURTH fever/flu/yuck in about 7 weeks. Fortunately for him, he's in a crappy hotel somewhere, rather than here with the sick, barely breathing, hacking wife and two children who also don't feel great but still have energy to burn.

A couple of days ago I posted about squares for Luke. I had half a skein of Cherry Tree Hill in some lovely denim shades (I think it was Moody Blues) that I'd used for Cathy's comfort blanket a while ago. That stuff is nice and soft and I love to work with it (and I knew, roughly, the gauge I got knitting it doubled on 8s) so I went to town.
And my swatches GREW in the hot water. WTF people? Every time I've knit squares for Cindy's blankie projects, they grow when I wash them. Why is that? It's not like my CTH socks grew several inches upon washing, so why should the squares? Scheisse. (If they dryer doesn't make them behave, I'll pull them out and reknit them, but DAMN. ETA: the dryer worked! YAY!) At least I used up just about all the yarn. (And why didn't anyone tell me mitered squares were addictive?)



April 1 was, of course, the next installment of the personal sock club, as well. I should really have known better than to open the package on that date, because a) DUH, and b) I hadn't finished my (dead easy) socks from March. You know, the ones that are basically stockinette? Yeah. Oh well, says I, I can just finished them up and whip out these new ones and get back on track for May. What did I pick, you ask?



Entre-fricking-lac. Even my freaking STASH is trying to kill me.

(BTW, if you didn't see yesterday's post, please go there and see the opportunity for the wonderful sock club! Sign ups start tomorrow!)

we interrupt your regular slackitude

With some yarn club pimpage.
(Note: This is not an April Fool's joke. Miss out at your own peril.)

My dear friend La (KnottyLa on Rav), and her buddy, the lovely Bobbie (KnittyKnitterton on Rav) are providing you with the amazing opportunity of owning some super-secret, special-snowflake, exclusive hand-dyed yarns, with the Mean Girls Sock Club!

Here's the scoop:

• Sign-ups begin April 3, 2009 (Go here to do so.)


• First shipment goes out in June


• Shipments will go out every other month for 1 year


• The cost: $150 for the entire year, payable either in 1 lump sum, or in three $50 installments. This includes shipping.


• Membership will be limited to 50 people.


• The colorways are to be club exclusives. Never to be sold by us. And it’s all super secret until you get your installment.


• Feel free to guess to your black heart’s contents. There’s actually a theme within the theme.


• Each skein will come with a little something COLLECTIBLE attached to the band, and an additional little something extra.

Go here to see examples of La's fine dyeworks, and here to see examples of KnittyKnitterton's. (Sorry, I can't call her Bobbie, or Joan Crawford will come back from the grave and beat me with a wire hanger. Or I will get sharkbit. Or something. I fear the Knitterton.)

50 slots, people. Reasonable prices, people! (Not jacked way the heck up like some super-secret sock clubs we've all heard of.) Seriously, if I had a job, I'd be on this like a chicken on a june bug.



We now return you to your standard blogslacking.

So, I had this plan

I am sick as the proverbial dog, and while I tossed and turned I planned my snarky blog post about how I was dying or maybe not and we'd know in a few days (and also regretting not giving DH more sympathy when HE was sick, but not like it'd matter cuz he has to go out of town again). It's 3am (roughly) and I got up because I was tired of tossing and turning and thought I'd work on my hat. (Oh, didn't I tell you I cast on for another hat? Yeah, monogamy, not so much.)
Anyway, I woke up to find this.
See the face? The sweet little face with the cheeks you want to pinch and the hair you want to tousle and maybe get him a gig on the Disney channel? Yeah. Knit a square or ten, please? Pretty sure I can crack one out with some astoundingly soft CTH by the time the sun comes up. (I think - I'm gonna hit publish and go try.) If you are inclined, think about sending in a square? 5" is all he needs. Well, and some prayers.

I've had enough

Like robins heading north, the bloggers are showing the surest signs of spring: talking about exercise. Spring into Summer, 100 miles, Walk like an Egyptian (yeah, okay, I made that one up) they're everywhere. So now it's my turn to talk about it:

Not.
Gonna.
Do.
It.

This year, I'm giving up on healthy diet and exercise. I flap my bingo wings at fitness. I stick my tongue out at mindful eating. I accept my fat! I love my rolls! (Bread AND belly!) I eat what I want and sit on my flabby butt as long as I want to! I consider cheesecake a breakfast food and "vegetable" is a four-letter word!

WHO'S WITH ME?!?!

/crickets

Eh, more cheesecake for me then.

(PS - I support you all in your efforts toward health and fitness, and weight loss if that is your goal. Just don't ask me to. I plan to love my body the way it is for a while.)

When times get rough...

...I do a little hooking on the side.
So, last time I said I was mostly monogamous. Less than 15 minutes after I hit Publish Post, I was getting out the yarn for not one, but TWO new projects. Sigh. (I hate to be pigeonholed.) For one, the yarn was the wrong size so I must swatch and math, and I have not done that yet. The other one, well...



My SIL saw a hat like this while we were in CA, and she so subtly suggested I make her one by saying, "You should make me a hat like that." I said, more or less, "No way." I couldn't get it out of my head, though, so I went to Ravelry and looked around for a pattern. You know, just in case, for later. Then I remembered I had some Classic Wool in the stash, so I got it out. You know, just in case, for later. Then I told y'all that I was a monogamous knitter, so my fickle little heart demanded that I start it immediately. Sigh.



The pattern was well-written, and I didn't change a thing, despite the fact that the brim took an act of faith. (It totally looks wrong while you're working it, but comes out okay in the end.)(ETA: if I were to make this again, and I might, I'd go up another hook size, but that's just cuz I'm a super-tight crocheter. Make of that what you will.)

The other thing I finished was my handspun. I estimate I got about 410-415 yds of 3-ply. It came out a bit thicker than I meant for, what with the blooming of the fiber, so I prolly could have done a 2-ply and been spot on. Still, it falls between STR lightweight and STR mediumweight (it's about 5.6oz), so I will still prolly use it for socks.



I'm pretty durn happy with it. Thanks, Blogless Lynn!

Oops, and for Cookie: sometimes you need purple cupcakes.

Turns out I'm not such a tramp after all.

I'm just a serial monogamist with ADD.
I can't knit on two projects in the same time period. I can't alternate in a day, or every other day, or whatever. I currently wish I could actively work on the PSC socks and Madli, but I can't. I can only knit on one thing, until forced by circumstance (too many people around to concentrate on lace, going out to stand in the unemployment line and lace is too big, finally quiet in the house so must work on lace, etc) to change to the other. I practice project monogamy. o.0 (I only just practice on a short scale. No way will I ever be the person who knits on one thing only until it's done. Those people are just weird.)
Anyway, I have knit a few more repeats on Madli. I'm up to 8 now, and still enjoying the pattern.

I CAN, however, be multi-craftasmic with abandon. In a stunning example of delayed gratification, restraint, and self control (given that it took me FOUR HOURS to remember the phrase "self control" - all I could think of was "self denial" - you can tell the concept isn't practiced much around here) I have finished one bobbin's worth of future sock yarn and have started the singles for the second bobbin's worth, rather than plying the first bobbin right away. This makes it harder for me to succumb to second-sockyarn-spinning-syndrome.



Of course, it's pretty easy to take some time to spin when my mornings look like this.



Yesterday during my morning spinning time, these two little guys kept me company:




(Look, the Evil Twin blankie in the wild! This photo is MUCH closer to actual color.)

The voices in my head say Hi.

I really don't have much else, but Stacey wondered about my radio silence and thought maybe it was because my man was home, but we can't have her thinking that. (Actually, it is partly due to that - I haven't done this many dishes since, well, before he left. How the man can use every pot, pan, utensil, dish, and flatware cooking two meals for 3 1/2 people I will never know. He thinks he's a tidy cook.)
No, I did spend what felt like ages in the unemployment office, only to find out it was really the welfare office and the unemployment office was next door with no waiting. I would have been really pissed if I'd waited that whole time to have my number called (there were 20+ people ahead of me and they managed to help about 10 an hour, based on what I'd heard yesterday) only to find out I was in the wrong place. Then when I went to the unemployment office (with the letter that said, "You must appear in person and bring this letter with you") the guy said, "Oh, that just meant your job service log in didn't match, but you coulda fixed that online."
o.0
And also, there seems to be a serious shortage of operators in the unemployment call center. That call took 35:01 minutes (seriously, how did I survive without a phone that told me how long I was on hold?), of which 3 minutes were spent with an actual person.
When I'm in this kind of pissy mood, I should not watch movies with sweeping views of the mountains, old crabby ranchers, Morgan Freeman, and down-on-their-luck women and kids. Seriously, I could just about kill myself, if I weren't so lazy. (And also, I think it might hurt, and I don't do pain much.)
And since I'm about to bore the rest of you (the one or two of you who've managed this far without clicking away in disgust) to death, I will spare you further rantings and give you instead, fiber and babies and little boys who are way too little to be riding bikes and who told them they were allowed to grow up so damn fast?

(Click these for short videos of teh cute.) (ETA OMG turn off your volume for the Squeak one because OMG I SWEAR that is not my real voice.)







(Slippin Stripin sock the first, from this month's PSC, a seriously entertaining knit. Yes, that is laceweight, doubled.)


(Bobbin of hopefully 1/3 fingering weight singles, from the Birthday Batt that Blogless Lynn made me.)


(The rest of the first half of the Birthday Batt.)

Speaking of Blogless Lynn, see this article. That's my preferred LYS pictured, that's the woman who taught me to spin (Jill Holbrook, holding the lovely sweater), and that's Blogless Lynn in the back of the last photo. Woohoo!

My evil twin is better than your evil twin

Cuz she sent a snuggly blankie for me Squeak!



Snuggly soft garter stitch blanket on the bias, with a sweet little eyelet border. No pictures, because, um, I was too busy taking artsy macro photos (or trying) to get the border detail. /facepalm



The left one shows all the swirled colors in the yarn, but the right one gets the tone of the yarn better. Apparently, I suck at photographing blue things too.

She also sent a needle gauge (did I post that I lost mine or has she been rummaging in my brain again?) and some Silkie (color In The Navy, and now I have that song stuck in my head) and it's delicious.



Speaking of the squeaking, he's been squeaking for three months now.



I know it's all cliché to get nostalgic about how fast they grow, but damn. My last baby is so big. /sniff

If anyone has seen my brain, I'd like it back, please.

Sigh.
Two more days until the DH is home from his trip and I can go somewhere and be ALONE. (He thinks he's going to be all huggy and kissy and lovey and "I missed you so", but really, I'm going to chuck the kids at him and run away screaming for an hour.)
Toward that end, I let the Bug stay home from daycare today. o.0 (Please see title.)

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I'm the only one in the JoanCookieOtteralong who hasn't flashed her Madli. Or her nupps. Actually, mine are not real nupps - they're fakes.



That color, while lovely on my monitor, is nowhere near the deep dark teal/marine blue of this yarn. I have no hopes of catching up with Ms. 20 repeats in a day or Ms. Poor me I only did 15 in a day. I'd be worried, but a) it's not a race, and b) someone has to finish last...
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Look! Sweet peas! Stock! Petunias! Gerania! Green leaves and (achoo) pollen pods! (Click to embiggen.)



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In other news, I'm enjoying the heck out of the slippin' stripin' socks. The laceweight makes them nice and squishy and the stripes hold my interest. (Nora said something about easily-entertained mouth-breathers the other day - count me in that group.) I have no pictures as yet because I forgot to take a picture while I had my camera in there and now I'm too lazy. I've turned the heel on the first one (subbing a short row heel for the called-for gusset and heel flap) so I hope to have a finished one to show off soon.