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Wow. No drama at all. Unless you count the 10 minutes it took for me to get Cheb out of my sister's bedroom when we first arrived. My family is tall, and my family is loud. And we are legion. That combination scared her- we usually see them a few at a time. My nephew Danny coaxed her out, and they hung out most of the time. He taught her how to stand against the wall and "look cool."
I had this long post about waking up with the song "Set It Off" blasting from my clock radio, and I lost it. Can't blame Typepad- I got distracted and looked something up, then closed all the windows without thinking. Ah, well.
No big whoop. I also wrote about finding a dead mouse on the table near my glasses (a present from Babykitty).
I'm going to my sister's place tomorrow. I'll bring extra yarn and knitting needles; not just because the ride to the Bronx is super-long, but because she wants to learn to knit. Watching me do it for years did nothing for her. Meeting a stranger on the train and talking about knitting, that made her decide to learn. Both her daughters are pregnant, so she'd better learn. Lots of baby things to knit.
So. I'll be pigging out tomorrow. And hopefully my family can keep it together and not get all Jerry Springerish for one day. For that, I will be thankful. I will not be anyone's referee: if they start to squabble, I will grab a pie and leave. Whether Cheb leaves with me or not depends on whose side she takes.
Enjoy the long weekend, y'all.
The horror... the carnage... the fact that I have to clean up the tiny bodies....
To make what could be a long, pointless story short: apparently the hole left in the window sill by the building maintainance dude has become the Appalachian Trail for mice. It has taken me two years to make the connection between the appearance of shredded insulation on the floor beneath the window and the appearance of mice. Whole lotta good all that book larnin' has done fer me, I'll tell ya what.
Right now Babykitty is laying a smackdown on Mouse #2. Right beneath my chair. I started posting when I got tired of hovering over them with a plastic bucket, waiting to grab the mouse. Babykitty decided it would be cute to bring the party over to me. If I weren't so sleepy I'd go put on a skirt and heels, leap on the table, and squeal "eek! a mouse!"
Okay. Now Peony wants in on the action. I've adopted two bloodthirsty killers. There's a Lifetime movie in here somewhere.
As usual, I had a zillion things to do today. I accomplished two: I went to the orthodontist to pick up more elastics (amazing how you run through those things), and then walked to KnitNY to pick up a few skeins of greeny-green Manos to complete my cabled sweater. A few skeins of Koigu KPPPM somehow ended up in the bag as well. I have absolutely no idea how that happened. Perhaps I should alert the proper authorities. I'll get right on that.
I need to give up sugar. A stupid thing to say, being days away from my sister's kick-ass sweet potato pie. But I had too many sweets over the weekend and I'm feeling it today. It'll be hard, but for years I was so sensitive to sugar I couldn't eat the slightest bit or I'd get really ill. I once passed out from eating too many grapes. I ended up in the ER after an Irish coffee (just one- I imagine some people have ended up there after quite a few).
It goes without saying that I can give up sugar anytime I want to.
I think also that the winter sluggishness that kicks in around January has already set in. That ain't good. I haven't been as active, and I'm feeling a bit of stress around the job search. Might be a good idea to join the old folks walking on the boardwalk; they'll outpace me, but at least I'll be moving.
The mouse hunt has ended: it seems to have escaped under the bathroom sink. It lives to scurry another day.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. The site's under construction. Again. Hated the colors, but never took time to do something about it. This is what I have so far; it's supposed to go with the new banner, but the new banner is wrecked. Also working on the links: many were outdated, and adding new ones.
Saw the Spongebob movie yesterday. While I looooove Spongebob, the movie was okay. Wish I could say more. I liked it, but I was expecting a lot more. We took the kids to dinner at Galaxy afterwards, where C. and I rolled our eyes as M. got our kids all worked up. All the 'good manners in public' training went right out the window.We plotted against M.- first, we wished she'd have twins, then we planned to feed her kids espresso truffles and chocolate milk, and give'em a toy piano and a xylophone. Our vengeance will not come swiftly, but it will come.
A funny thing came out at dinner: In 2002 I made a sweater for C.'s husband, at her mother's request. I hedged about what I'd charge for it, because we were friends and I just didn't know what to charge for handknits. Also, I delivered it late because I was banned from knitting at work, and it was all black wool (and therefore, kinda dull to work on) so I kept straying from it. I told C.'s mom I'd get back to her on the cost.
Things happened. C.'s father died, then she separated from her husband. I thought I'd wait before asking for the money. And then I completely forgot about it (C. and I lost touch for a while). Last night C. told me her mother's been asking about me, and wondering how much she should pay me. I asked C. about the sweater, and learned that she 'got custody' of it after they separated. (That's my girl! It was damn good Wensleydale wool.) I offered to resize it for her (for free). I still have to figure out what to charge for the original sweater.
Good timing, though. I could use some extra cash.
Another little-known Unfurnished Fact: I sing that "Really Rosie" song whenever I eat chicken soup.
I'm feeling better. I'm forcing myself to just chill out today; I always end up dragging out my illness by running around the minute I feel slightly better. I actually thought I'd swing by Target today to pick up a microwave. I think I can wait until Monday for that....
Cheb is off to school, I've got a lot of yarn, some Netflix flix, and Star magazine. I'm set.
I'm up to the armholes on the cabled Manos sweater (using a pattern from Rowan #32). By the way: pay no attention to the list of projects in the sidebar. It has no basis in reality. I actually start the projects I list there, but then I move on. Don't know why I do that, but I do. Anyway, cabled Manos... I'm not sure who I'm really making this sweater for. I mean, it started out for me, but it seems a bit small. I measured it unblocked, and its about 2-2.5" less than I'd like it. I'm wondering if blocking out the cables and rib will help, or if this will end in tears.
I'll just block the sweet bejeezus out of it and see what happens.
I don't know about the rest of you, but... I'M READY!!!! Tomorrow I'm taking Cheb and her bosom buddy and lifelong pal Ricochet* to the movies. I am way more excited than they are. Disturbingly so.
*The son of a friend, 2 months younger than Cheb. This little kid literally bounces off walls. Like to run straight into them and push off. Should be an interesting movie experience.
Last night the wee one had a fever, so she stayed home from school today. She has a headache and scratchy throat (or thrope, as she calls it). And guess what? Me too. I'm glad we're sick together; usually I nurse her through it, then she runs rings around me while I sweat it out in bed. Now we whine in unison.
Doofstoyevsky came by and stayed with her for a few minutes. I quickly met with Cheb's teacher: no major problems, just the occasional questioning of authority. Welcome to the club, teach. The good thing is, the teacher doesn't see it as a 'behavioral problem' at all. Good to know she's not trying to churn out little Robokids.
No knitting today. I watched a few minutes of television and then cleaned. Why I always end up cleaning when I'm sick, I'll never know. Perhaps I feel like I should always be doing something. On the way back from Cheb's school I stopped at the supermarket for chicken (to make my Mostly Garlic Chicken Soup- a must when I'm sick). On the way back I was so woozy I thought I'd just lie down on the sidewalk for a minute. I didn't, but it would've been nice. That's when I decided to slow it down.
When I got back they were watching Buratino (Pinocchio). Something about the Russian children's movies made in the 1960's: they really trip me out. Maybe it's the film transfer, but somehow they're dark and colorful at the same time. Its like seeing a really strange dream you had captured on film. I just wish he'd bought the dvd version. Subtitles, please.
Dunno. Out.
I'm going to pull an Em and let others speak for me about Saturday. Knitblogger convention at KnitNY. I wanted to meet with Caroline on Sunday, but I was too tired. When you're eating breakfast straight from the fridge while still in your pajamas and it's 1pm, you just know you're not gonna get a lot done.
It's Parent-Teacher Conference time. What does one say to a kindergarten teacher? Is my child eating paste? No? Well alright then. Actually, I do have a lot of questions.
But not a whole lot to say today. So I'll wrap up with this, courtesy of Cari:
Cheb is wearing the scarf I received as a Secret Pal gift from Wendy. You can't see the detail, but it is quite fabulous. Thanks again!
They always say don't go shopping on an empty stomach, because you'll end up with a shopping cart full of snack food. They should also tell you that you'll end up singing- out loud- "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" along with the piped-in music, and you'll be giddy by the time you reach the aisle with the jelly and you'll find yourself thinking "if I say jam over and over, it sounds really weird. And what's the difference between jam and jelly, other than the fact that jam don't shake like that? What- preserves?? Now they're just messing with me."
I spent a ridiculously long time trying to find blueberry jam. Blueberry preserves, blueberry jelly, but no blueberry jam. Had to make do with raspberry. And then I giggled over the name Smuckers.
Hee.
Again, I fought with the stash closet. The wool jacket is put away and the down coat called into service, but scarves just don't go with it, ya know? So I decided to rip off be inspired by a pattern I saw in Knit1: a ribbed collar that subs for a scarf. And I knew of the perfect yarn: Joseph Galler Tweedy Alpaca that's been in my stash since last winter. I have enough for the collar and maybe some fingerless gloves. (Or a hat.) And the color complements my coat. Poifect.
Only I can't find it. Again, with the yarn falling on my head. I put the yarn back (with Cheburashka scolding me for having too much yarn), and looked in the bin near the sofa. No go. So, again, back to the closet I go. And there it is, in the first place I looked, at the very bottom of the closet. Duh.
Did I mention the capelet I made in Manos? Didn't like it. Can't exactly say why, but I don't. May frog it. Cheb's Kersti sweater is done, but for the seaming. I have a few hats & scarves to make, then I'll tackle another big project. I'm still reeling from the Peace Fleece incident. (You'd think I'd have learned not to mess with anything Russian. But noooooo.)
Peony was spayed yesterday. Today, she's acting as if nothing ever happened. Resilient, she is.
While trying to get Babykitty into the carrier often turns into a bare-knuckle, bench-clearing brawl, Peony went willingly. Poor thing had no idea. Babykitty poked her nose into the gate; probably saying "you'll be sorry." She didn't seem too thrilled with the subway ride but most days neither am I.
We sat in the waiting room with four other cats. One woman's cat wore a blue crocheted sweater. She was crocheting collars for all five of her cats. Alrighty. I once had a cat that had the run of the backyard. He rebelled against the flea collar by repeatedly hanging himself from the window blinds, using his weight to help him slip out of the collar. I don't know how she got her cat to wear a sweater; I suspect drugs were involved, though I'm not sure who was taking them.
I'm kidding. She was actually very nice, and had rescued each of her cats.
When I returned to pick her up, Peony was very groggy. Even so, I noticed the staff didn't have such an easy time getting her back into the carrier. I guessed she learned a lesson. When we got home, she climbed out of the carrier on her own (when Babykitty was spayed, she could barely move). After adjusting herself (she seemed to have little control over her hind legs), she went back to the business of stealing food. In a couple of hours she was running around as usual. Nothing gets this cat down. Nothing.
And- I'm not sure which cat is doing it, but one of them has learned to force open the plastic storage box where I keep the dry food. A couple of times I awoke to find it open, and thought maybe Cheb took pity on the "starving" animals and opened it, but last night I heard them. That explains why I haven't gotten the help-us-we-haven't-eaten-in-days rush the past few mornings.
Did you know acrylic can be hazardous to your health? I went into the yarn closet and pulled the orange acrylic (stop making those gagging noises!) from the bottom of the pile. Later I went back into the closet for some Rowan Polar to make a quickie hat, and half the stash came tumbling down on my head. There's probably a message there, but I'm ignoring it.
Seriously. Pissed. Off.
First of all, what's going on with Typepad??
Second- I finished the Peace Fleece cardigan. Put big, lovely cables on the front. Knitted in gigantic buttonholes for gigantic buttons. Washed and blocked it. Sat down to seam it and... somehow I'm off by 2.5 inches on the front right panel. I changed the pattern to be off-center, and I was sure my measurements were correct. But I was oh so very wrong. And no amount of blocking could fix it.
So I frogged it. Oh, it was so painful. I don't think I can look at it for some time. I think I'll pick up the Kersti pullover I frogged; I haven't touched that in a while. Or maybe break out the acrylic: there's some burnt orange Patons Shetland from last year's Smiley Yarn Freakout Riot that is meant for a cabled pullover.
Yeah, I said it: acrylic.
Go see The Incredibles. I think I enjoyed it more than Cheb did.
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