Who let Bob Barker in Here?

This place is like a game show today, and I have no idea why.

First Round - Memes for All!
I'm sure you've seen this meme elsewhere... you google (yes, it's a verb! and I've de-capitalized it!) your name and the word "needs," and you post up the first 10 or the most weird. I'm not sure how that part of it works, so I'm just going with the funniest. Here's what "Kathy needs"

1. Kathy needs ...a nap
2. ...to fix (primtrk table for histograms--whatever the hell that is) (I swear I'm not making this up)
3. ...advance notice
4. ...Eating In
5. ...to stick to lower risk funds
6. ...to take advice
7. ...to somehow ruin her squeaky-clean image in order to seem like less of a threat (I have a squeaky-clean image? And I'm more of a threat with it?)
8. ...to enter it to the system (someone set us up the bomb? (warning: animation & sound))
9. ...a hug
10. ...a four to beat Sharon
and my very favorite,
11. ...her gays more than ever.

Thank you for playing the You Need Meme! Prizes will be distributed at the desk, be sure to ask for Carl.

Second Round - Bathmat Construction!
Ms Titanium Rose (whose ScarfMe scarf is currently eating my brain but will be done and in the mail by November 5th if it kills me!!) asked about the t-shirt bathmat, so I decided to give a photo demonstration. We'll see how that goes. (click photos to embiggen [- a word I cannot take credit for, but whose provenance I have forgotten. Provenance.])

First, find a batch of old t-shirts (I'm not sure how many, because I'm still working on mine. At least 7. That's a good number.).
Second, prepare the victim!



Cut across just below the armpit part...

Like so.

Now, take your orange-handled scissors (you have some, I know it) and cut the hem off. Cut it right off!


(The hem being cruelly taken from its family, the shirt)



Here we see the first cut into the t-shirt. Cut at an angle or slope (think on-ramps on the highway) and continue cutting around the shirt in a spiral. Around and around and around. This will take a while. Wine is helpful. So is Sex and the City.


Here are the strips, joined together in holy stitchimony. Join with a square knot and a kiss, and crochet away!

Basic Pattern
ch however wide or long you want your bathmat to be.
sc in ea ch across until the bathmat is as long or wide as you want it to be.
weave in ends.
sip wine while in bathtub; let feet enjoy cozy cotton when you're done!

Prizes for all who complete an actual bathmat and send me photos. Be sure and ask for Carl.

Other Random Trivia Round!
Congratulations, you've made it to the Babblings lighting round! Here I'll discuss nothing of particular value, and you get the chance to tell me how valueless it is! Everyone wins!

1. Pekin Insurance (Beloved's carrier) just now started covering the Pill. Just now. Late 2005. Wankers. But what can you expect from a company based in a small rural (that's rural spelled "c-o-n-s-e-r-v-a-t-i-v-e") town whose high school mascot was, until the late 1960s (and possibly the early 1970s), the Pekin Chinks. (I am only using this word to illustrate the dumb-ass nature of the past. You will never see this word here EVER again).

2. I always forget how hard it is to teach beginner crochet when the students come in expecting to leave that very night with a sweater.

3. Bedazzling seems to be back, but only if you pay sixty bucks to let someone else do it. On a related note, pants for women seem to come in either Too Tired to Care (elastic waistband) or Whore (1.5-inch zipper, top-of-thong-showing low riders). Both come Bedazzled.

4. I just saw my friend Elasa. She is charming and funny and happy and smart and sweet. She might join us for Sit-n-Stitch (I told the Internets! You have to do it now!) Hahahah!

5. I finally got in touch with my Navy friend. He wrote a one-sentence response, the bastard.

You made it to the end! Now you get to spin the wheel of fish!
Prizes for this round can be found in the comments section of the show. Be sure and ask for Carl.

This is not High Drama

But it you can see it from here. Here's why:

(1) My crochet class starts tonight. Am I ready? I haven't got the handouts printed up, I don't know where the teaching hooks are, I think the teaching stash is on the third floor of the Library (hopefully un-invaded by dust), and I've got people calling asking what they need to bring when they aren't even on my class list! No m'dear, you can't just show up! Much as I would love to teach the world to crochet in perfect harmony, I can't handle the entire population of DeKalb all at once. I'm not sure I can even handle 10 students all by myself tonight.

(2) My Beloved informed me that he wants to change our reception location now, 9 months before the wedding. We find ourselves back at square one--finding a new ceremony site, finding a new reception blah blah meh. I nearly had a freak-out in the shower this morning (where I do most of my heavy thinking) trying to figure out (a) if our deposit on Site #1 is refundable (doubtful) and (b) what the bridesmaids are going to wear and (c) all the other details that make up a wedding, which at 8:30 are so very, very important.

My advice to all not-yet-marrieds: Elope. You still get presents if you throw a party afterward.

(3) I can't get in touch with my friend in the Navy. He's on a ship, the ship is on its way or already in South America, and I can't email him. He gave me his shipboard email, and what I send keeps getting sent back. I may have written down the email address wrong, or maybe it won't work while they're underway (although he left 3 weeks ago... how long does it take a big ol' Navy ship to get to South America?).

I normally wouldn't freak out so much (yes I would--who am I kidding), but I had a dream the other night in which I saved my friend from War. Yes, I saved him from War. Not a specific war, but War in general. The concept of war, the idea of war... but in my dream there were swordfights and archers and soldiers dressed in jester costumes. Does that still count?


To balance out the tizzy I'm having, here are some good things. Pictures of Sit-n-Stitch, only a week late:



Anna, really embracing the first part of our name. We visited The House cafe on open mic night. We enjoyed most of the acts, but we didn't enjoy the smoke. Next meeting at my house.



Here's Wendy's doily, the one she was working on last time. It is complete and completely lovely. The woman has magic hands.



And Julia, working on an afghan (I won't say for whom, because apparently her family reads this blog. Hello, Julia's family!).



This is what I worked on all night (and into the next week, and am still working on): a new bathmat. That is a Q hook you see before you (and my feet, if you look carefully), and the tamed remnants of old T-shirts. Yes, T-shirts. If ever you want a shoulder workout for very little money, crochet T-shirt scraps together. A close-up:



Why am I making a new bathmat, you may ask (I'll pretend you did)? Because our old one looks like this:



I'm ashamed! I'm a poor housekeeper! I've had the bathmat too long (3 1/2 years!) and now it's horrible. That's why I'm making a new bathmat. I'm making one, instead of purchasing one, because I really really like cotton under my feet instead of commercial bathmats of uncertain fiber content. And because my grandmother and great-grandmothers made rugs and other useful things from old clothing and it's nice to feel that I'm doing something (however small) that they did.

The walnut tree on the corner of my street says hello

A Little Homesick

A photo essay about missing my parents' house (and envying the crap out of their new deck).



(This is 1/4 of the front yard. See the tiny brown smudge at the top of the picture? That's where my parents live. I live in a 2-br apartment in the middle of concrete, with trains running two blocks away every 20 minutes. You understand my longing.)



(The backyard, where camp-outs and easter-egg hunts have taken place. Again, only about 1/4 of it. The barn used to house sheep--sadly, before I developed my fiber addiction--a horse, a wonderful golden retriever, barn swallows, and various woodchucks who met an early death after innocently poking their heads out from under the barn at the exact moment when my Dad was looking out the back door. Timing is everything in life.)



(The new deck, which I covet. The old deck was lovely, but this one has an octagon--charmingly suggested by my Uncle David, much to the delight of my mother and the chagrin of my father.)



(Taken just beyond the front door.)



(Taken from the octagon (I so want to host UFC events now, in our their octagon)... the seating at the far end is just outside my parents' bedroom.)

And--I can't boast enough about this--the whole deck was designed and built by my very own Dad. He had help building it (and Uncle David did suggest the octagon), but he designed it and made it the thing of beauty that it is. My Dad. My Dad. He's the very best. I love him tons and tons.

All this happened on Saturday, when I went home for half a day (I only live about an hour from my parents). Also happening that day were: apple orchard trip and The Finding Of The Perfect Wedding Dress. More on that later.

Swag and The Aftermath

Ah, yarn. ::gleeful bouncing about my home now ensues::

This...



And this...



And this



And much, much more all came from my friend Emily. Her mom works at Village of Progress, a vocational training center for handicapped adults. Yarn companies from all over the country send yarn samples to VOP for color-card making. And they don't want the yarn back! I've been getting lots of yarn from Emily's mom and using it mostly in my classes and in other projects. But about 2 weeks ago the VOP had a gigantic 3-day long yarn sale. One Dollar A Pound, ladies and gentlemen. And it's not just stuff that you'd expect to see in a dollar-a-pound sale, it's mohair (witness the bottom-most picture), it's wool with silk or alpaca and mohair (witness the orange-y ball in the middle-most picture), and it's all kinds. I couldn't go myself, so Emily went and returned with two enormous garbage bags full of yarny goodness for me (and for Heather, as it turns out; I gave her about a third of the total swag). (And it's extra exciting (or not, depending how you look at it) because none of the yarn has a label. I have no idea exactly what it is, or how best to care for it. The mystery makes it more thrilling.)

This caused a massive reorganization of the stash. I took all the wool and crammed it into an under-bed storage box (Tupperware, I think) using a bungee cord (finally, a practical use for that thing!); I rearranged the drawers in my yarn bureau (I know, who the heck says "bureau" anymore?); I kind of organized the baskets sitting on top of the yarn bureau, and I looked askance at the bags of projects loitering around the yarn bureau. I kind of stuffed them in between the DVD case and the bureau (now I'm just using "bureau" gratuitously. I'm trying to bring it back. I have high hopes.) and told them that they should probably think about finishing themselves if they ever wanted to see the light of day again.

And I did all this sorting and reorganizing and integrating before Nick came home from work. (Don't worry that I'm hiding my yarn addiction from my beloved. He's a neat freak very organized guy, and I want to maintain some cohabitational harmony in these first few months. After that, it's a crapshoot.)

Sleater-Kinney Rocks Hardcore, And I am Old

I completely loved seeing Sleater-Kinney live. Loved.



This picture fails utterly to capture the awesomeness. Ah well.

The opening band (The Ponys) was pretty darn cool. The Metro was cool, the lack of locking doors on the bathroom stalls was not cool. But Sleater-Kinney was the coolest. This guy thought so:



I completely fell in love with Sleater-Kinney again (and specifically with seeing them live), especially after hearing them cover "Fortunate Son" and rock the shit out of it. Hearing their own stuff rocked like dirtbikes as well ("Fortunate Son" was an unexpected and delightful bonus).

I have to admit (and here is the part wherein I discover that I am an old lady): the between-bands downtime (and only then! The rest of the show ruled!) got a little tedious when I kept getting squished away from my friends, and the very tall dude behind me breathed directly down my neck, and I was beginning to lose feeling in my legs, when I thought, "Jeez, I'd so much rather be home knitting right now."

Someone get me a cane and whippersnappers to shake it at. I've hit senility.

A Very Harlot Saturday

Alright, I'm finally able to talk about last Saturday. Not only was it the day that Nick passed the bar (still in total puppy-wiggle mode over that one), but it was also the day of Yarny Goodness.

I took my friend, co-worker, and knitting instigator Donna with me to Arcadia Knits in Chicago. From the get-go it was a lovely time, driving with very little traffic (I didn't have the intestinal fortitude to take blog pictures while driving), then driving with lots of traffic down Lawrence Avenue, but we got there in plenty of time (a first for me!) and we saw this:



The whole store was set up in rainbow colors (you smart Arcadia Knitting cookies, you!). It was great. I walked in and I immediately saw red yarn, orange yarn, yellow yarn... I was completely in yarn-induced bliss. It was great.

What was even better was seeing/hearing Stephanie speak. (This was my first author reading/signing/thing, and I have liked this woman from afar and I was so excited that I'm amazed I didn't pee my pants. I'm such a dweeb.) After being assured that she would mock me just a little for being a crocheter, I brought crochet projects to work on during her talk, but was having too much fun to stitch. Nice power--the power to stop and start others stitching just by speaking!



There I am with The Harlot. Proof of my very awesome adventure in Chicago involving scatterbrained driving, geeking out on yarn, and meeting some very excellent people.

That is so close to being a Hallmark card. Does Hallmark make yarny cards? For sympathy when your favorite yarn is discontinued, or for congratulations on finishing that afghan you've spent 3 years of your life working up, or for "just thinking of you" including a set of 5 dpns? I think they're missing a huge market.

Anydarnhow, I had an absolutely fantastic day (thanks, Donna!) and received lots of advice on how to integrate my fiance into my yarntastic crafty life. Pictures of the swag tomorrow.

(tonight is Sleater-Kinney Night at the Metro!)

This is Insane Troll Logic

I have about a hundred things to talk about, but this came up and I have to talk about it first.

This is a link to a story about Indiana legislation (make sure to click on the link to the pdf of the actual amendments to the actual laws. Pay attention to pages 5 and 6). This Indiana legistlation is trying to make it so that those people trying to conceive a child outside of the usual way (meaning, they have to undergo various fertility treatments: IVF, artificial insemination, surrogacy, etc) must be married. People who want to bear children (or enter into an agreement in which another woman carries and bears the child for the intended parents), must be married. They can't be long-term-relationship-commitment heterosexuals, they can't be single women, and they sure as heck can't be gay.

Is that goose-stepping I hear? I'm serious. I hear it.

They're trying to make it sound like this is okay, that doing a background check and application process is normal in adoption situations so clearly it applies to assisted reproduction. That this is for the better well-being of the children. That it's okay to restrict parenthood only to those women and men who are in a state- and church-sanctioned marriage. Ugh, this makes me want to vomit all over the place.

http://www.in.gov/S32/ Here is the Indiana state senator who is backing this bill. She has two phone numbers. Use them as you see fit.

Insomnia, situational

I hate the crap out of this weather. It's October 3rd (or it was for most of the time I was awake today... or yesterday... time is weird), and it hit bloody 88 degrees today. With mind-melting humidity on the side. Same tomorrow (Tuesday), then 77-ish Wednesday, and 55 on Thursday. Thanks, Weathergods!

I have apparently angered the Weathergods in some way (surely not with my sarcasm!)--I got a lovely migraine that started Sunday night and lasted most of Monday. Brilliant. This is part of the reason I'm blogging at 1am Tuesday. The only medication that kicks the crap out of my migraines is one that has caffeine in it. I rarely otherwise consume caffeine, which is why I was lying in bed thinking of 8 million things that need doing: crochet and knit projects for Christmas gifts ("I could be working on them right now!"), updating my Christmas list with new needles and hooks, bills, books to be read, and getting some damned sleep because I have to be up at 6:30 to run with Lara and Emily. And of course, sleep never happens when you need it to.

So here I am, considering more drugs (the sleepy kind), but only theoretically. I'm trying to get the ol' corpus working on its own. Hence the running. In 5.5 hours. Dammit.

Ever notice how the most deep-down and heartachey thoughts come about when you can't sleep? I was just thinking of my total lack of self-confidence (and individuality) in my early high school years. Very uncomfortable stuff. I wish I could go back in time and kick my own arse for being so stupid. I wish I had been a better person to everyone. I wish I could stop thinking these thoughts and get to sleep.

Alright. I just decided not to go running, and instead get some sleep. I feel slightly better. Will feel even more better (you see the state of my mind here?) if I can actually fall asleep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Change one letter and it's sheepy sheep sheep. Then, following the natural course of my melted brain: sheep>wool>knitting>christmas gifts>lack of time>worry>insomnia. My mangled mind conspires to further freak itself out. Well done! And with accompanying nausea! Terriffic!

The sarcasm content is a little high tonight.

With Flying Colors

This man that I love, he is wonderful. He cooks, he cleans, he is learning to accept the yarn stash. And yesterday we found out that he is amazing at something else:

He passed the Bar Exam!

(wild applause and much dancing around the house in a gleeful manner)

After waiting 2 1/2 months to get the results, they were posted yesterday. He passed, he passed, he passed!!

Huzzah!

I love this man.

Crossing off the Big One

Yep, finished the baby blanket. I did. I finished it on Monday. I even have proof (ignore the horrific lighting, please and thankyou).

Here are all the stitches in all their glory. Glory, I say.

I swear I didn't take these pictures while participating in a horror flick, but that's what it looks like. The blanket itself is not this bleak and uninviting. :sob:

Right. That's over and done with (until the next baby comes along... I really do love this pattern tons and tons). I've got the ScarfMe project on deck, getting some rows in here and there, though I'm not sure if I'm happy with it. It may want to be longer, in which case there will be much frogging and much drinking of wine whilst doing so.

In knit news, I'm working up a very easy scarf (only slightly above my level!) in a 4x4 rib "pattern" in some inherited acrylic (the label says it's a DK weight. I scoff at that assertion! The yarn is clearly very nearly a sport weight, you lying dogs! I challenge you to a ... um... nevermind). It's working up very nicely and it's a good chance for me to practice my knit and purl. Here is a visual:

Now, I'm wondering. I'm going to see the Yarn Harlot on Saturday (and I can't tell you how awesome this is); can I safely bring a crochet project to the fun and games? I'm okay at the knit, but I have to watch what I'm doing or I'll stitch my sleeves into the work. With crochet, I can avoid looking and therefore have more eye-availability for watching the Harlot (and not looking like a crazy super-self-involved person who must whisper to herself the whole time that the Harlot is speaking). I think it'll be okay... Unless I run into the mad scary knitters who loathe the crap out of crochet and beat me to death with my own hook. I'll try to avoid them.

Tomorrow, we should have CABLE INTERNET at our own home, and I won't have to use the work station to snatch bits of blogging on breaks and lunch and such. There's a long story there, about how Comcast lost our registration (yet sent us the modem and installation kit, apparently without reason. How kind.), how they tried to charge us more than they should have, and how they are generally bastards. I'll save it for another time. Or I'll just leave it at the summary.

This is how autumn looks to me, and it's looking good!

My Love for Sit-n-Stitch Knows No Bounds

If I could form my abstract happiness into a physical form every now-and-again, it would be Sit-n-Stitch. We had so much fun last night, despite being exiled to the Fiction Room of the library (we sat in full view of the Romance section, so we got to see who was reading the trashy novels. We invited those people to come join us). Here's what we crazy stitchers got up to last night, while our husbands, dogs, children and fiances languished without us:



We finished the afghan! (clockwise from left: Tammy, Heather, Anna, Coni [my mom! she taught me how to crochet], and Julia) Okay, Anna finished the afghan's edging last week, but here it is, all official. We're so proud, and so critical of it at the same time. But overall, proud as a bevy of peacocks.



This is Anna's husband's scarf. He gave her the yarn, requested a warm (not drafty) scarf be made from it, and she rejoiced. Significant others who support the yarn addiction are wonderful and to be prized. She did a great job on the stitching and he did a great job on the yarn choice. Heather couldn't stop petting it.



Speaking of Heather, this is what she's working on. It may look like a cute little hook-cozy right now, but when it grows up it will be a double-layer (I almost typed "lawyer"... sheesh) trivet for her mom. It's ww cotton, worked in an E or F hook, in slip stitch. I hope Mary isn't holding her breath. (just kidding, Heather, it's lovely and you may even finish it by Christmas. In 2006.)



Speaking of moms, this is my Mom. Or rather, these are her hands. She's making a square for the next Very Afghan, because she is a wonderful lady. She drove down to DK from Rockford just to hang out with us and stitch a little. I love her. She's working from 200 Crochet Blocks for Blankets, Throws and Afghans by Jan Eaton, which has become the Very Afghan project bible. Thanks, Mom!



this is Tammy's project... a bookmark in tinytiny thread crochet. This is the third (?) one I've seen her make, and they're lovely when they're finished. The bookmark looks nearly complete here, but seconds after I snapped the picture she frogged it. Sic transit gloria, my friend.



Here is another contribution to the world of thread crochet. Wendy, who was new last night (but who will now be a fixture, we hope), was just firing off the flowers (the edging on the doily) last night. I think she made one every 10 minutes or so. She's amazing with the stuff and very patient with everyone exclaiming over the minute size of thread and hook, and over her ability to look up and talk while crocheting (I'm still boggled).



Here's the fun. Julia is making a lovely scarf for an equally lovely friend (or family member?), so I'm told. Her new pup loves this yarn, so it must be worked up soon or suffer the cheerful yet destructive attentions of the dog. Ribbon yarn is a slippery thing and there was much concentration on Julia's part.

At one point last night, I was hearing bits of conversation underlaid with whispered counting. Heather was on my right, counting the number of slip stitches already made, Julia was across from me counting stitches on the ribbon yarn, Mom was next to Julia counting stitches to the increase, and Wendy was on Julia's other side counting the flowers she was making. It felt both extremely schizophrenic and delightful at the same time. In a good way.



Here are Julia, Wendy and Anna, being industrious and lovely.

I've posted it on the sidebar, but I'll mention it here too: We've decided that we'll meet at The House coffee shop next time (Oct 10) because of the water, pastries, pierogi and beer. And couches. It will be extremely cozy. I used to meet with a bunch of girls for Cribbage Night at the House, but we met on a Wednesday and there was always live jazz (bad jazz) on Wednesdays, and the cover-charge dude would always try to pester us for money even though we were clearly not there to witness the jazz. Mondays, happily, are open-mic nights. Come round to The House in two weeks and you may see some crazy stitchers up on stage singing about our yarn. Actually, I hope that never happens.

In other stitchy news, I finished the baby blanket. Photos of that will have to wait until tomorrow, though, because the days go by too quickly.

Julia also brought Crochet911 to my attention. It's like an online, 24/7 helpdesk for stitching (they also do knitting). Good stuff, ignore the primitive site look.

That is all, my chickadees. I leave you with this sparkling reminder that we are not alone.

Nothing To See Here...

Well, I'm trying to be a good girl. I started working up the goods for Ms TitaniumRose's ScarfMe scarf, but I've only gotten 2 rows in, so it's not very photogenic at the moment. I'm still trying to discover the absolute best way to work up this delightful yarn (which is also camera-shy just now), so the second row may find itself gone later tonight. We'll see.

I'm also trying to learn how to increase and decrease whilst knitting (because I've got that shit covered in the crochet realm). It's taking me a while because I am new to the knit, but I have high hopes for myself.

I'm even getting around to doing the wedding-planning stuff I've been putting off. I'm taking the Moms (mine and his) and the sisters (mine, soon to be his) and possibly the sister-in-law (his, soon to be mine) to watch me try on wedding-type dresses this Saturday (could be fun! could be insane!). And I'm hoping to have a few minutes to write to our intended officiant this weekend, to make sure he can be there to make us husband and wife (words which still make me slightly dizzy). And maybe I'll even get to writing the caterer with some of our ideas for a meal. Maybe. Or I'll just try to send him a mental picture of what we want and hope it shows up on the appropriate day.

(Have I distracted anyone from the topic of the baby blanket? Yes? Good. Because, really, I haven't worked on it and probably won't work on it and I feel guilty and horrible, but also delightfully free and unencumbered. *sigh* I'll get to it... Sunday? Saturday night? Monday at Sit-n-Stitch? Maybe some of my Sit-n-Stitchers will point and laugh and jeer at me so much that I'll be shamed into working on the baby blanket. Guys?)

And look what I found over at Yarnification (when I wasn't working on the baby blanket):

You Are A: Squirrel!

Squirrels are quick and cheerful animals who spend their time scurrying, scavenging, and playing. As a squirrel, you are often seen jumping happily from branch to branch up in the treetops. Squirrels are foragers searching for nuts and seeds, and they are social animals often seen chasing and playing with other squirrels.

You were almost a: Pony or a Monkey
You are least like a: Turtle or a ChipmunkDiscover What Cute Animal You Are!

This just cracks me up because my group of friends often talk about what animal we most resemble, and which is our power animal. Mine is--hands down--always a squirrel. I love seeing them do backflips (that actually happened), and jump from tiny tree branches, and throw nut remnants at people. I often find myself wanting to be a squirrel. What cute animal are you? I bet Nick is a monkey and Margaret is a kitten or a hedgehog.

Happy First Day of Autumn! Bring on the sweater weather!

ADD-afflicted or Yarn Whore?

I have trouble with this one.

I've been dilligently working away at the Not-at-all-boring baby blanket, knowing that the babe is but weeks (eight, maybe?) away from greeting the world, and what do I do when my beloved asks if I want to hit the Michael's? I cast the lacy confection aside, heedless of its near-the-end status and the looming due date, and run away to buy this:



It is a ball of string/thread. It is for a semi-well-conceived project that still resides in my noggin. The thread/string will team up with this shell I found on a beach in Maryland about 2 1/2 years ago and have always wanted to turn into a pendant. I never have, and it has languished in my crafty embroidery floss kit all these years. Why do I pick now to work the thing up into something? Because I'm near the end of a project, of course. Why on earth would I want to actually finish a dern project? Especially when it's a rather easy piece and nearly finished? That would limit the drama factor, my dear. I wouldn't have the same rush of adrenaline and mad cackling power that I get from having 7 or 8 (or 14 or 15) projects going at once, abandoning one at a critical and difficult point in favor of a peaceful little dishcloth, which in turn is tossed aside when a sassy new wool blend finds its way into my field of vision. What will I make with the sassy new wool blend? Who knows!! I don't have a pattern for it yet, but I'm sure I'll find something in my two binders full of patterns (maybe).

I'm starting to wonder if I've got the ADD, or if it's a mere matter of being a yarn whore (in which case I know I'm not alone). There could, of course, be a deep-rooted emotional issue at fault here--one that prevents me from letting go of projects for fear of being alone (because I can finish them, you know. I just choose not to.).



By the way, I didn't even start the thread/shell project. How lame am I?

Yarrr!

I'd fergotten that today be Talk Like a Pirate Day. I first heard tell of these goings-on Saturday night, when me mates and I were having a bloody good time (what with the grog and all). We gathered round belowdecks and every man jack of us (including the wenches) got pirate names. I can't be telling you what they are, mind, because they're too filthy for the likes of you.

This past Sunday was a day for looting and pillaging the local crafty store, where me First Mate and me found some precious booty (paints for him, yarn for me ScarfMe pal's scarf). I don't have none of yer fancy pho-to-graphs of the yarrrrn, because I've been a lazy bastard. I may deserve to be sent to Davy Jones' locker for it, but I'll fight everyone o' ye who tries to send me there, ye scurvy dogs!

Yarrrr!

My pirate name is:

Bloody Charity Rackham

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

Melty Brain

I'm at work and starting to process a DVD (meaning "put stickers all over and make it look like the Library owns the darn thing") called Musa: The Warrior. It's Korean, or possibly Chinese and I have to type up a label that says "Foreign Language Film" and my brain just cannot handle the word "foreign" this morning.

I just kept staring at it and the word kept looking weirder and weirder to me. In fact, the word "weirder" is looking very odd right now.

I should have stayed in bed this morning.

Listing slightly

I've been doing this running thing for about 3 weeks now, and I love it. I love being able to chat with my friend Lara while we run, I love having more energy, I love feeling like I'm working toward losing weight (although, so far I've only stopped gaining). I'm even starting to like getting up at 6:20 every morning.

What I don't like is this very annoying pain in my behind. I'm not even being metaphorical here, either--I have a big ol' pain in my right hip. I went to the chiropractor yesterday morning after my run and had a long-overdue adjustment (I can't even remember the last time I had my bones popped). Turns out that my hips are so cockeyed that my right leg was visibly (to the doctor) shorter than the left. Brilliant! I've been running around on mis-matched legs! That's so like me, though. I just want to do something and I jump right in before checking all the facts (for instance, checking to see if I'm symmetrical and all). At least that pain can be treated and sent packing; I also have the shin splints, which I've had since 1995 (my first season of high school track). They're not really going anywhere, the buggers.

But enough of the snark-fest. I have a list of things about which I'm doing the puppy wiggle of happiness. And the Dance of Joy (PS: anyone who can identify the quote, "Numfar! Do the Dance of Joy!" gets a hat. Crocheted by me. Don't crowd, don't crowd.)

1. Autumn has come to northern Illinois! The temperatures have dropped, the leaves are starting to fall, and we get awesome views like this on our walks to work:



Yay! I also love autumn because I can work on the afghans and bigger pieces (possibly a sweater this season) without wilting under the brain-melting heat and humidity that make our region what it is. Plus, snuggling with the beloved is better when we don't stink or otherwise repulse each other.

2. I'm not in high school anymore. Not that this is a recent development... I've been out of high school for--counting... holy hell!--seven years. Okay, so I feel a little old, but it's way better than being a high school girl. I bring this up because I passed some on my run Tuesday morning and they were all low-riding tight pants and attitude. And they smoked! They thought it was cool, even! I'm so glad to be 25 and done with that phase of life. Not that I was Ms Sainty-Pants then (although I didn't smoke or drink in HS, so maybe) or during college (when I did smoke and drink), but I'm done with engaging in stupid activities just to amuse my friends. And I'm just not down with the whole hip-hugger butt-cleavage thing, either.

3. I'm (I almost typed "beginning my journey"--what a dork!) starting the process of doula certification. I will be a midwife someday, and becoming a doula is sort of a stepping stone to that goal. I ordered the materials from Doulas of North America and have started in on the required reading list. Working toward a serious life goal is an awesome feeling.

4. And the most immediate: The Yarn Harlot is coming to Chicago! Wooooo-freakin'-hoooo! I'm so excited, I'm literally falling off my chair (though that may have more to do with the hip pain). She's going to be at Arcadia Knitting on October 1st at 4pm. I'm totally going. I hope to bring some Sit-n-Stitchers with me, but if it's just me I don't care. She has a new bookbookbook and she's going to talk and she's going to sign books and she's going to be funny and she's going to talk about knitting and ... am I becoming the crazy stalker? Sorry, didn't mean to. ::wipes drool off keyboard::

Good stuff, eh? I think so.

I'm not a Cupcake.

I'm not. I don't wear makeup, I wear $4.00 pairs of pants, I barely pay attention to my hair (if it's symmetrical, it's good). And I don't really have dreams of a super-princessy wedding dress. If I get out of the house without the skirt tucked in my pantyhose it's a bleeding miracle (Note to Margaret, Christine, Laura and Maribeth... you have to make sure this doesn't happen).

When it came to picking out wedding dresses that appealed to me, I had some trouble. There were lots of this kind of dress (everywhere), and tons of this kind, and it was all too crazy. I even tried this dress on by accident (the sweet girl helping me try things on--with whom I went to high school, as though the experience lacked weirdness--snuck it in the dressing room and dropped it over my head before I could see what it was). This dress kind of weirded me out--as though the model forgot to put the dress on over her long-line bra (which costs $65.00, by the way). There are also the photos of the dresses to deal with, not just the styles. This photo is completely bizarre; is she about to perform a backflip, because that would be awesome. All the models in these pictures are just vamping it up, or have insanely huge hair, or are about to perform acrobatic tricks. It's too much to deal with.

Overall, I had some ideas about pretty dresses that would suit me, but they were all bridesmaid dresses and for some reason, most bridal salons actually looked down their collective nose at me when I asked to try some on. They feigned lack of knowledge about certain style numbers and remarked on my preference for dresses without trains. "Oh, are you having a destination wedding?" they'd ask brightly (destination weddings are usually somewhere with a beach and without all your insane relatives). "No," I'd reply, thinking I'd be nuts to walk across a beach or other tropical flooring in a $600 dress. Seeing they were waiting for more details (because whoever heard of a bride who didn't gush about every detail of her wedding plans to the cranky and unhelpful attendant?), I added, "I just like simpler dresses."

Even better was the attendant who wouldn't let my maid of honor and me try on dresses on the same side of the store (because of the natural animosity between brides and their bridesmaids, I assume), and then AND THEN insulted my friend and tried to pass it off as a joke. Uncool, dude. Uncool.

I also encountered salons that wouldn't let me see the designer/manufacturer and style number of the dresses I was trying on. They supplied their own weird code number. This keeps those sneaky and trecherous brides from price-shopping the dress at another store and finding that it's not really $590 in real life, it just costs that much at the overpriced one-stop wedding shop (if you're in Rockford, IL, take note!). This store also did not allow us to take pictures of ourselves in the dresses. Weird.

I did find some things I liked, though. I tried on and really liked this dress, but will not be getting it because I took pictures of myself in it (because David's Bridal is cool), showed the pictures to my beloved, and he wasn't as keen on it as I thought he would be. Thank gods I showed him the picture--what a crappy thing to find out on my 15th wedding anniversary: "...And I thought your wedding dress was ugly!" or something.

After all the searching, I found a dress I really like. It's simple, but with some pretty details. It's long, but doesn't have a train (though I can add one for very little money!). It fits me much better than the empire-waist dress. It's kinda sexy, but nowhere near whorish. It's a bridesmaid dress, and the lovely attendant I had didn't even bat an eye when I asked to try on the Bmaid styles. She even picked this one out for me. (By the way, her name is Angela and she works at Vera's House of Brides in Rockford) Huzzah! And of course I don't have a picture to show you, because the style isn't up on the manufacturer's website (and I'm not showing you the pictures Amy took of me in it, because my back is surprisingly chubby and it's not a positive thing for me right now).

Right. Now I'm done rambling on (and no pictures to break up the monotonous words! I'm sorry!). No more dress talk. Now I have to think about all the other important stuff, like food and drink. Who wants to help!

Numfar! Do the Dance of Joy!

We had such a fun time last night. Look how much fun we're having:



This is the tricksy bit where three people on the one side of the table are playing tug-of-war with two people on the other side of the table in order to get the group project finished. Tammy, Janice, and KathyT are winning, of course. Julia and I did what we could, but were vanquished. (The table set-up reminds me of descriptions I've read of wool-waulking sheds, where a huge worm-shaped bundle of wool is laid down in the center of the shed, and women agitate it with their feet in order to felt it. Granted, this description does come from a book set in the 18th Century... Still, it's very cool.) At the end of the night, though, we came up with this amazing thing--our Very First Afghan.



Yes, we finished the afghan. Thank-you to those who made the squares (Carol, Julia, Sandi, Anna, Tammy, Kathy T., Janice, Melissa, & Heather. If I've forgotton anyone, I'm terribly sorry and will make it up to you if you tell me.) , and those who helped stitch the dern things together over the past two meetings (Anna, Julia, Kathy T., Janice, Tammy, Sandi, Emily, & Heather). Uber-thanks!

We also had a little bit of trouble at one point last night



which involved performing minor surgery on the afghan. After extensive searching, the root of the trouble was found to be a wayward ply from the middle of a square worked into the joining stitches. Bloody little thing. Tammy and I managed to right it, though, after cutting the ply (*gasp!*) and knotting it back together. It was highly dangerous and the room was quite tense for a moment, but the patient pulled through.

Needless to say, I'm doing the dance of joy right now.

We ended the meeting/gab-fest with talk of our next Very Afghan. It's going to be in bright rainbow colors, and we're thinking of finishing each square in an inch-wide black border. This accomplishes two things: (1) The afghan will be very very pretty and have a lovely polished look to it, and (2) The squares will be much bigger and therefore we need make less of them. Thank gods.

Huzzah, and thank you.

(Tomorrow I talk about wedding dresses. Trying them on, trying to decide which one I like best, and having weird crazy dreams about white ruffles and beading flying at my face.)

New Toys!

Yee-ha, my friend. I have received gifts from above, and I am bowing at the altar of KnitPicks. I asked for, and was granted (after suitable payment, of course), the delightful... ah, delights seen here:



That's two balls of Merino Style in Cornflower (to hopefully round out a future shawl/stole I'm crafting--in my head, at present--in a knitty type craftership) and 7 balls of Wool of the Andes in Mist. That had a more concrete and immediate purpose, which has naturally escaped my feeble brain at the moment. Maybe it was a shawl. Yes, it was Serafina's Shawl. I'll have to get more yarn to make up the whole thing, though. Gosh, I love it when I don't think things through. It adds more excitement to my life.

I also received gifts from just across the room, from my beloved. When we were at the craft store the other day (rejoicing in the fact of the Bob Ross Travel Easel), the love of my life insisted on buying me not one but two sets of knitting needles. And (and!!!) two cable needles as well. The man may look askance at the yarn stash, but he knows what makes me happy. Huzzah, I say, because I have a man who contributes to my yarny madness. *sigh* ... here's what he gave me:



(I have since taken them out of their cases and used them, of course). Yeah, I think I'll keep him around a while.

Today I got the skinny on my scarf pal for the ScarfMe project. This is going to be awesome! I'm all excited to start hunting awesome yarns & patterns for the scarf (I hope this can be crochet and knit... better ask Cara).

Not this weekend, though. Despite my day off from work on Saturday, I have much to do. My good friend Amy and I are off to see the various wizards of wedding-dress-ness, if ever a wiz there was. We will leave our menfolk and enter a world totally run by women, for women: the bridal salon. I hope we won't die of estrogen poisoning--neither one of us is very girly.

Note to self: wear decent underwear (the semi-public kind. The kind that--if your mother had to come get you at the hospital--would not cause her to die of shame at the sight of you in them).

Wedding Sentiments

The Library is going through seasonal cleaning of some kind, and my department is deleting books left and right (taking them out of the computer system and kicking them out the door). I was deleting a bunch of books and came across one titled Here Comes the Bride and so forth, by Irvin S. Cobb, published in 1925. Being a bride-to-be, I opened it up and read the first paragraph, which is just too delightful to keep to myself.

"Here comes the bride! She has been coming ever since she was born. From the hour when the nurse slipped out into the hall where the distressed father was pacing back and forth like a caged lion and told him it was a girl, she has been progressing toward the blessed estate of matrimony. All that has gone before in her life has only been prepartion for the great step she is about to take. Behind her stretch the years of her babyhood, her childhood, her budding youth. Ahead of her, arched in by rainbows of hope and shot with the star-dust of her maidenly dreams, lies womanhood and wifehood and, very possibly--unless she expects to take up housekeeping in one of those city apartments where children are barred, but dogs are not--motherhood."

After I picked myself up off the floor, I had a few thoughts.
1. The second sentence. I didn't know that was possible, but holy crap.
2. Of course she's been progressing toward the blessed estate of matrimony. Is there anything else to progress toward? Psh.
3. I don't know about you, but I always see rainbows of hope and star-dust of maidenly dreams. All the dang time. I had to get special pills to make them go away.

It's like Irvin S. Cobb looked into the future and saw my life and wrote it down! I love star-dust and rainbows! I've never been a real person unless a man participated and acknowledged my being! I can't wait until I'm married and can begin looking forward to womanhood and wifehood and motherhood, unless we get one of those pesky city apartments and our hopes for children wither and die under the iron-fisted rule of the homeowner's association!

Are you there, Blog?

Wow, so much has happened since I last saw my computer. I can't add anything new or profound to the discussion of the Katrina tragedy. I feel like my words are too trite and small--"my thoughts are with the victims" is an easy enough thing to say, but it doesn't do anything other than make me feel better. I don't need to feel better, the people in New Orleans need to feel better. As far as I know right now, the agencies in charge [yes I know, let's not bicker and argue about speed right now] are in need of money, so if you can, head over to the Red Cross website and give them a bit of your hard-earned cash. It's nice to help. Let's be nice.

***Big Deep Breath***

In other news, I have gotten this far on the BabyBlanket:



This is the in-the-round baby blanket at its near-halfway point. I adore this pattern and hope this yarn (Carn Simply Soft in White) adores the pattern too, as I don't want to rip this dern thing out again. The pattern is so fun, with two kinds of stitches (dc shell group [2 dc, ch 1, 2 dc all in same space] and cluster [dc2tog, but with more spaces than usual]), so just when you get sick of one it's time to switch to the other. It's like picking up another project, but without the guilt! I hope I can finish it by November. I should be able to. Right? Right!

My beloved and I have also been experimenting with paint and pseudo-canvas. We have some artist friends and have become inspired to make pretty pictures. While at the local Michael's we saw a sight that warmed our hearts:



We saw the Bob Ross Travel Easel. You remember the happy little trees, don't you? Of course you do. I used to watch Bob Ross when I was small, lulled into coziness by his soothing voice and entranced by his hair; watching a lovely painting appear before my very eyes. I had no idea what he was doing and never had the desire to get me some paints and brushes, but I felt like I could paint if I wanted because Bob Ross made it easy.

Anti-climactically, we didn't buy the Bob Ross Travel Easel. But we've been going nuts with the cheap "canvas," easel, paints and brushes that we have, and it's been much fun. And I won't be posting pictures of my paiting experiments. Not unless I get bitten by a radioactive art bug and become awesome.

We were also fortunate to be able to see our friends Mark and Amy yesterday, which was Mark's birthday. Fortunate because they live in Chicago and we live in DeKalb, and we were able to purchase gas to drive there. Thank gods we did, because we would have missed this if we didn't:



[No kitties were harmed in the taking of this photo. No kitties were headless in the taking of this photo either (Ramona just turned her head whilst she sat upon Amy's).]

I love days off.