Monday, October 24, 2011

Squishy Me

I am a cranky woman. I have a horrible habit of expressing everything including affection through complaining. I loathe when I become that person that relates to others via bitterness.

Don't try this at home kids.

I get on a roll sometime on that negative rainbow. It's not good for business. My anxiety will begin to grow when this happens. And then the insomnia sort of inserts itself until I am just an attractive hot mess of emotions.

I get upset with myself because it is my own fault I have spiralled to this place.

Self blame doesn't help, so the insomnia drags on for a few days longer.

So I grasp at the yarn. Today it helped a lot at lunchtime to just sit in a corner and knit two rows. Another cup of coffee in the afternoon helped. And I've gone from dreading any sort of physical exertion to looking forward to exercise in the past 4 hours. Improvements have been made.

It's funny how allowing some wrong feelings to fester can set off this whole chain of ick in me. But I think the bigger take away for me (and for you -- since I'm bossy) is that one or two positive things can  perpetuate the good too. Simple things, like knitting a few rows, like taking your kid to school because he wanted you to go, even though someone else would've taken him, taking a turn around the office -- even indoors. Change the pace, the setting, change the perspective.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


I'm thinking if I just don't acknowledge it, the truth will never have to be known.

It's a way of life.

Today after dropping off Prodigal Son at school, The Manfriend and I walked down the hill together, prepping out the schedule for the day/week. Somehow "the hierarchy" question came up.

I felt uncomfortable and tried to change the subject. He joked and tried to reorder the hierarchy.

I chuckled nervously, and tried redirection.

Was his joke a joke? Is the restless answer in my mind a joke?

The Hierarchy according to Manfriend:

1) Knitting
2) Zumba
3) The Kid
4) Maybe The Manfriend

The clarification/joke - What's first Knitting or Zumba?

The redirection - "Oh honey, don't make me choose!!"

The truth - it just depends on the day of the week.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

As Predicted

Today The Manfriend and I had our first 3rd grade parent teacher conference.

It was nothing ... surprising. (Which by the way reminds me of what my boss said to me during my personal performance appraisal. "Nothing should come as a surprise.")


The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

We are pleased that he is well behaved and engaged in class. The teacher admitted he is not sure if The Kid gets on well with everyone or if he resolves his conflicts outside the classroom, but the kid seems to be doing okay. Well that sounds all "yay, not too shabby parenting right?"


The Kid is a sloppy and lazy. He wants to be done with his assignments so he hurries and is not paying attention to detail. He just wants to read his book. The thing is most of his work is correct. But what good is the right answer (as I tell him every evening) if no-one can read it? Well we, Mom and Dad swore on my Asian mother's wooden spoon, we will be consistent together on the homework neatness factor.

First evening = verge of tears, lots of sighing but compliance.

True Confession: When the teacher reviewed an example of him working out a word problem ... I totally glazed over. I'd like to blame it on the little chairs cutting off my circulation ... but seriously snoozerific. Manfriend was actually trying to work it out. I saw  his thinking face, ha!

Family time highlight: When asked by his father who the prettiest girl in class was, The Kid just giggled so much he fell out of the chair.

Low score for: Using sarcasm and teasing as parenting tactics.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Sighing Through the Knitting Progress

For the reals. I'm on piece 7 of 10 for the moderne baby blanket. You'd think I'd be pleased. I'm plateauing. These last 3 pieces are getting bigger, that's this pattern, that's the nature of this beast. Picking up clean edges has been more challenging than I thought and when you're staring down a hundred stitches or so at my skill level you start sighing.

So much more garter stitch to do.

But I did complete 2 pieces this weekend so I thought that deserved a reward.

No I did not pick-up either festering sweater at the side of my bed.

I picked up an attempt at a baby sweater! I am trying this one: baby sophisticate, I was feeling good about it. I updated my Ravelry notes and caught the tone. Yes, I'm neurotic, but it's obvious, I'm not happy with what's happening?
I know this project calls for Aran weight, but I didn’t have any in stash. I’ve never done a baby cardigan before, and I noticed that people said the pattern ran a little large.

I used this yarn (ella rae classic chunky - heather) before and thought I could still do it on 8s. I prolly could’ve gone up a needle size and down a garment size. The knit is dense.

However I want to see if I actually follow sweater construction on a smaller scale. I consider this a practice run.

Let’s see what happens. Will my sweater desires be met or unrequited?

I spent a lot of time using my neurosis for paralysis instead of cleaning. I came THIS close to ripping it out, returned to my objective of "practice run" and remembered the biggest personal bullsh*t game in the knitter's handbook. (as reminded to me in a recent post by the yarnharlot), "I'll block the hell out of it."

Good luck with that, self.

But see, I gotta get back to that blanket.

And as the Stark Family Motto says, "Winter is Coming" and I've got some knitting to do. I'm thinking cables somewhere in there, a new hat pattern and maybe a cowl ... or 2 ... or 3? Crazypants I know. I can't be contained.

First though there is a baby coming that needs a shawl collar old man cardigan. Bring on the blocking.

* Blocking is a technique - for shaping fiber garments; a sometimes painful defensive sport maneuver; preventative dating; preventative interweb and cable interactions.

Friday, October 14, 2011

It's Friday & I'm Feverish

I'm hot baby, I'm sizzling. Not like last week, where it took advil to bring me back to normal.

I'm talking about bonafide Friday Happy. I'm making lists, checking them twice with all the sweet goodness weekend anticipation brings.

It actually fueled some productivity at work. E N E R GY like a bad radio song.

Baby Patterns matched to stash yarn.
Determination to back-up the laptop and the oodles of photos aka precious memories and the itunes library - happy sustenance for both The Manfriend and The Kid.
Guacamole. I don't know how but I'm workin' it in there.
Bringing back 9am Zumba Zombie Sunday morning.
Bathroom and Watercloset will smell like bleach.
Laundry will be a life factor, not a bedroom obstacle.

2tbl, slide off needle, slide back onto the left and repeat. A stretchy bind off that doesn't make me feel like an idiot. Thank you interwebs. I still don't think it has the stretch of Jeny's stretchy bindoff, but it's still better than mine with bigger needles.

Must knit more. Must knit all weekend long.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011


Everyone is kind of neurotic about their hair. There's something really individualizing about what you do to your hair, or how you wear it and style it or ... how you don't.

I see this with my own boys. Man Friend says he doesn't mind losing his hair, he's ready for the shave etc., and yet when he goes Supercutting ... he never gets it very short.

The Kid watches the cowlicks and peaks and points of his bed head on the sidewalk shadows as he walks to school. He likes the top of his hair and his bangs ... longish, but shudders at any Bieber comments and waves his hand at me like an old Frenchman if I mention anything about the reduced shampooing benefits of a cool and freeing summer buzz cut.

Little Snoopy goes through "hair must change" phases. My sister is always torturing hers with little bobby pins and loves when I let her torture mine (inevitably I stab myself  against my pillow in the middle of the night after I knock myself out from hairspray fumes -- this was vegas as well as cousin's wedding)

HM is very punctual with her bang trimming. She's been rocking barettes lately. Like that look. Sweet but not baby sweet. The list of people and their specifics could definitely go on. But I'll spare you. I will.

It all comes down to my hair. I have been dying it pretty regularly since I was about 26. Though what I thought was "going gray" then ... bah, young idiot.
Now finding the time to actually get it taken care of has been a challenge. I have been trying to wait for the right time and opening to see my favorite person. Alas, I am a pain in the ass.

All morning, my energy was skittish, my sentences impatient all with the proper coffee intake.

I was on Defcon Ponytail for as long as I could hold out.

Today I got a haircut during lunch.

I feel liberated. My hair and my head is mine again.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Knotted Balls of Yarn: A Personality Test

I was flying, or at least I was feeling positive and optimistic about my stash coloured Moderne Baby Blanket. And then something happened. The yarn I was sloshing around with me got tangled. I spent a lot of time last night untangling a bit and then ... knitting and then repeating the whole thing. It was like a bad break-up, I knew the end was coming, but for whatever reason, I thought I could make it last.

And then right before bedtime I looked where I had joined the third colour and saw that it was pulled tight or something was wrong for about 5 tiny stitches. I think this was a side effect of my tugging and pulling. Now this is just maximum sad face. If I hadn't had a knot, then I would've had more rows to show for it. Probably  0 rows with that weird tightness thing.

I picked up my embroidery scissors and snipped  the knot away.

It still seemed wonky to me. There is another section kind of loose and crazy, but loose. I think to myself, I can handle that tangle. I cut away that horrible knot knowing tomorrow yes, I will have to join yarn in the middle of a colour unnecessarily, but on the other hand, I will be able to make a good pace and hopefully peace with this latest piece.

Sometimes you just gotta let go.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Dream Weaver

No worries, my fiber crafting love has not jumped onto the Weaving or Spinning nature. Nope, today I'm talking about real dreams. No, no, not lofty goals and aspirations like having clean surface space or children that chew with their mouths closed. (Really people, we all can't be so ambitious)

Last night was like having an extra day of adventures. Last night was having a super consolidated day off/ vacation with my family. Last night was a confrontation of fears that I could wake from and not sweat. Last night reminded me that essentially I am a freak awake or asleep.

I dreamt that I was naked at Chuck E. Cheese and some stranger woman stole my tokens while I was SO obviously standing in front of the machine. She KNEW they belonged to me and didn't care.

I didn't beat her up. I admit I am slightly disappointed in my dreamself for not throwing down for my tokens. I did give her a firm "Hey!!" or something like that and shook my fist like a righteous pedestrian with an inconsiderate driver. Oh well, I had other issues like making sure my bathrobe hid my nakedness. There was a part of my dream that I was running around Chuck E. Cheese frantically looking for my bathrobe. I didn't know where The Kid was, but hey I needed my bathrobe. And how brilliant am I that after I find my bathrobe I still wanted to play skee-ball. WTF. Well hey, at least dream Chuck E. Cheese pizza doesn't smell as bad as real life.

I also dreamt about some other really cool adventurey stuff with my roommies, but I can't remember them very well, though I was sure to prattle on about it at 5:30 am to Man Friend. I do remember The man friend being worried about me being pregnant away from home and I remember telling him to shut up. WTF? Maybe there is a reason I now only remember the one about being stolen from while in a bathrobe in Chuck E. Cheese.

Naked in Chuck E. Cheese, I think I just found the title of my next novel.