I suspect someone else will have used that title before. But I'm fine with that. I've been knitting a bit more and using my new Schact hand spindle to spin a fine single just to keep my hand in. It hurts too much to sit down to spin sometimes. Standing is a nice change.
I'm going to try and head out to the pdx knit bloggers meeting at Starbuck's in Tanasbourne tonight. I'm excited to meet up with some of the folks whose blogs I read each day. I want to make more connections as I feel the connection to my oldest daughter slip away.
I want to stay connected to my youngest daughter who still needs me very much. It's a delicate balance. One that is made all the more difficult by the fact that my oldest is being viciously unkind to everyone. Especially to me.
I;m wondering if this is a failing of my mothering of her, or just normal 16 year old behaviour. Everyone tells me, she'll be back in 15 years or so. I don't know if I can wait that long.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Fair Isle Freak Out
Yes it's me, again. I disappeared for awhile. Work was so stressful and it was all I could do to get going in the mornings. Here's an update on the Ivy League vest
Only now in retrospect can I write about the latest news of the Ivy League Vest. It's been one of the toughest projects for me to complete and one of the most enlightening.
I have a significant curvature in my spine that makes clothes fit me differently than most people. The front of the vest was too large between my shoulder and neck on both sides. I tried it on an cried, I was never going to wear this vest because it just looked funky.
Enter my bright idea to rip out the armhole ribbing and then re-pick the stitches closer in. What a great idea - and it worked. Until I cut the steeked area too close to the ribbing. I thought I was doomed. After a good cry I took Elizabeth Zimmerman's advice to knit on through all crises. I took out the armhole ribbing on the other side and recut - c-a-r-efully. I then ripped out the "bad" side and re-picked up the stiches a second time.
Success! And it fits me beautifully. To think I almost tossed it into the trash now makes me cry almost as much as the bad cut. I have blocked it just so I could admire it's loveliness and watch the steeks fuzz up and become more bulletproof. I read Eunny Jang's blog on steeking and Fair Isle and she talked about the lovely quality of the wool after blocking and how serging is so counter to the way that Fair Isle sweaters are generally constructed. I am glad I read her words before I serged away. The sweater has a light fluffy feel with no rough, flat or stiff edges. And it really does fit me.
I've always felt that I was not able to tailor make things to fit me. It's either been the luck of the draw or store bought, but Knitting Daily's written pieces on shaping and this experience have taught me that maybe I can do this thing, in fact I have done it - and I didn't ruin my garment. Although for awhile it looked as though I might.
I'll post pictures soon.
Only now in retrospect can I write about the latest news of the Ivy League Vest. It's been one of the toughest projects for me to complete and one of the most enlightening.
I have a significant curvature in my spine that makes clothes fit me differently than most people. The front of the vest was too large between my shoulder and neck on both sides. I tried it on an cried, I was never going to wear this vest because it just looked funky.
Enter my bright idea to rip out the armhole ribbing and then re-pick the stitches closer in. What a great idea - and it worked. Until I cut the steeked area too close to the ribbing. I thought I was doomed. After a good cry I took Elizabeth Zimmerman's advice to knit on through all crises. I took out the armhole ribbing on the other side and recut - c-a-r-efully. I then ripped out the "bad" side and re-picked up the stiches a second time.
Success! And it fits me beautifully. To think I almost tossed it into the trash now makes me cry almost as much as the bad cut. I have blocked it just so I could admire it's loveliness and watch the steeks fuzz up and become more bulletproof. I read Eunny Jang's blog on steeking and Fair Isle and she talked about the lovely quality of the wool after blocking and how serging is so counter to the way that Fair Isle sweaters are generally constructed. I am glad I read her words before I serged away. The sweater has a light fluffy feel with no rough, flat or stiff edges. And it really does fit me.
I've always felt that I was not able to tailor make things to fit me. It's either been the luck of the draw or store bought, but Knitting Daily's written pieces on shaping and this experience have taught me that maybe I can do this thing, in fact I have done it - and I didn't ruin my garment. Although for awhile it looked as though I might.
I'll post pictures soon.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Dashing about!
It's just maddening to have so little time to sit and think. Or type. Or knit. I'm feeling unhappy about it.
The best thing that happened is that the Neighborhood Watch big meeting is over and it was easy. I screwed up by not getting the post cards printed and I feel bad about that. But I just can't handle everything and expect something to not fall through the cracks.
The best thing that happened is that the Neighborhood Watch big meeting is over and it was easy. I screwed up by not getting the post cards printed and I feel bad about that. But I just can't handle everything and expect something to not fall through the cracks.
Monday, February 18, 2008
A Tiny Sliver of Spring
This weekend was filled with cool things. I only wish I'd not been sick so I could appreciate them more.
It was my youngest daughter's birthday and I was able to bake her a lovely yellow layer cake with lemon frosting. She had pizza and a slumber party. They were well behaved for the most part. It was a lot of energy and hullabaloo for me.
Sunday we went out to distribute flyers for the Neighborhood watch meeting. It was a lovely day. Spent sometime with friends having coffee and I made lasagna in my slow cooker - really - I did.
Now I am exhausted. I'm thinking I need a restorative weekend. I'm going to have to work on that.
I other knitting news - there isn't any. I haven't picked up needles in over a week, bewteen the cold and the colonoscopy and Marc's visit. But it's OK. I'll pick them up soon. Instead I used my water color pencils to draw some of the oregano I'd bought for the lasagna. It was fun. It takes a lot of time and observation that deep takes energy. Something I'm very low on right now.
I'll get home early today and maybe nap.
It was my youngest daughter's birthday and I was able to bake her a lovely yellow layer cake with lemon frosting. She had pizza and a slumber party. They were well behaved for the most part. It was a lot of energy and hullabaloo for me.
Sunday we went out to distribute flyers for the Neighborhood watch meeting. It was a lovely day. Spent sometime with friends having coffee and I made lasagna in my slow cooker - really - I did.
Now I am exhausted. I'm thinking I need a restorative weekend. I'm going to have to work on that.
I other knitting news - there isn't any. I haven't picked up needles in over a week, bewteen the cold and the colonoscopy and Marc's visit. But it's OK. I'll pick them up soon. Instead I used my water color pencils to draw some of the oregano I'd bought for the lasagna. It was fun. It takes a lot of time and observation that deep takes energy. Something I'm very low on right now.
I'll get home early today and maybe nap.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Up Periscope
This time tomorrow I will be a large part of the way through a liquid diet in preparation for a colonoscopy.
I am not excited about this in the least.
Tomorrow a liquid diet, then the laxative from hell, then no food at all until I wake from my drug induced sleep and I can eat again.
Oh yeah, and I'm having a meeting at my house for the Neighborhood Watch. Right when I should be guzzling massive quantities of colon blow. It should make for an interesting night.
Never a dull moment.
I am not excited about this in the least.
Tomorrow a liquid diet, then the laxative from hell, then no food at all until I wake from my drug induced sleep and I can eat again.
Oh yeah, and I'm having a meeting at my house for the Neighborhood Watch. Right when I should be guzzling massive quantities of colon blow. It should make for an interesting night.
Never a dull moment.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Slipping the bonds
OK, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm speaking metaphorically here, about slipping the bonds of spiritual and emotional captivity. That wet sloggy feeling I've been having, due almost entirely to my whoremones. I feel as though I've been shipwrecked on Skull Island from the latest remake of King Kong - or the Pacific Northwest, they look a lot alike this time of year.
Eventually I return to my sunnier self who regains an interest in conversation outside of monosyllabic grunts. I stop eating in a manner that more closely resembles a rabid monkey who has discovered, after being locked in a cage foodless for a week, a cache of potato chips, bon bons and layer cake whose icing has been applied with a mason's trowel. I can restrain myself from rolling my eyes at the foolish and irritating things people say, such as Can I take you to lunch? or I love you Mom.
Those whores can moan - um I mean sing. They rap to me about my imminent firing for being the worst employee ever. Complete with driving beats, misogynistic lyrics and crotch grabbing. They warble endlessly about the wonders of sugar, or fat or salt as a food group. They perform an aria of exquisite beauty about the lack of affection and proper respect I receive from my progeny. Carmen would be proud.
As if all of this bounty wasn't reward enough my face begins to pump out enough oil to rival all of OPEC. I woke this morning to a chin which more resembles a high school freshman classmate who had the nickname Pizza Face.
As suddenly as it comes, it goes. The clouds break, my children love me again. I'm no longer a workplace pariah. I deal with wrinkles instead of wrinkles AND pimples and I stop looking like Gollum over my 50 lb sack of chocolate chips, whispering My Precious...
They are coming back next month whether I invite them or not. The good news is I've survived my week of whoremone hell without happy pills and lived to tell the tale.
Eventually I return to my sunnier self who regains an interest in conversation outside of monosyllabic grunts. I stop eating in a manner that more closely resembles a rabid monkey who has discovered, after being locked in a cage foodless for a week, a cache of potato chips, bon bons and layer cake whose icing has been applied with a mason's trowel. I can restrain myself from rolling my eyes at the foolish and irritating things people say, such as Can I take you to lunch? or I love you Mom.
Those whores can moan - um I mean sing. They rap to me about my imminent firing for being the worst employee ever. Complete with driving beats, misogynistic lyrics and crotch grabbing. They warble endlessly about the wonders of sugar, or fat or salt as a food group. They perform an aria of exquisite beauty about the lack of affection and proper respect I receive from my progeny. Carmen would be proud.
As if all of this bounty wasn't reward enough my face begins to pump out enough oil to rival all of OPEC. I woke this morning to a chin which more resembles a high school freshman classmate who had the nickname Pizza Face.
As suddenly as it comes, it goes. The clouds break, my children love me again. I'm no longer a workplace pariah. I deal with wrinkles instead of wrinkles AND pimples and I stop looking like Gollum over my 50 lb sack of chocolate chips, whispering My Precious...
They are coming back next month whether I invite them or not. The good news is I've survived my week of whoremone hell without happy pills and lived to tell the tale.
Monday, February 4, 2008
My Winter
Life over here does not suck. Let me set that out there. I live in a warm home, we have plenty to eat. My children are healthy. My parents are still alive. Why does life seem so hard right now?
I feel barely human.
Once I head out to the different blogs I read, I see that I'm not alone. I have plenty of company. It's a grey, dark, miserable time and I'm so thankful to have a warm place to hang and not be out on the street.
Hormones are doing a number on me, and I'm worried about the colonoscopy, not because I'll be in pain, because I'll be out. Because I don't want to have to stop taking my vitamins that make me feel better and because there are dietary restrictions for a week. And the whole prep of taking a nuclear laxative is just unappealing to me.
I'm hoping I can wax poetic about the "clean ans a whistle" feeling I 'll have once I've shat my brains out.
I feel barely human.
Once I head out to the different blogs I read, I see that I'm not alone. I have plenty of company. It's a grey, dark, miserable time and I'm so thankful to have a warm place to hang and not be out on the street.
Hormones are doing a number on me, and I'm worried about the colonoscopy, not because I'll be in pain, because I'll be out. Because I don't want to have to stop taking my vitamins that make me feel better and because there are dietary restrictions for a week. And the whole prep of taking a nuclear laxative is just unappealing to me.
I'm hoping I can wax poetic about the "clean ans a whistle" feeling I 'll have once I've shat my brains out.
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