Creations

My favorite month is ending and there's nothing I can do about it. From here on out, the year picks up speed, careening through birthdays and holidays until it slams right into December, with all its Christmas cheer and concomitant festive requirements. Dammit, I might as well start writing 2019 on my checks RIGHT NOW.

Ironically, as my life is speeding by at breakneck speed, I'm slogging away at a snail's pace on my January project, which HAS to be finished by tomorrow because I don't want it to drag into February. We knitters have deadlines, you know.

The name of the pattern is Pure Joy; but I'm telling you, this pile of yarn is anything BUT that right now. The problem with these crescent shawls is that they are deceptive. They lure you in with a seemingly harmless nine-stitch cast on, but then they increase every other row, which means those last five rows take FOREVER.

This particular project has, quite frankly, overstayed its welcome.

Of course, that's not the only thing I knit this month.  That would be boring. Also, I wouldn't have any knitter cred if it were. They're a tough crowd, these knitters. No, I also finished some socks (my January socks, if you must know) and I knit that cowl for my yoga teacher and a hat for Susie, to make up for the one I sent north for Christmas. Oh, and there was a stray dishcloth that worked its way in there somehow.

These things happen.

The January project, though, was a special treat for myself, something ambitious knit with special yarn that I got at 30% off way back during my Black Friday yarn-buying spree. It seemed like a good idea at the time; but now? I'm sick of it. I'm fickle. The Fickle Knitter.

Is "fickle" a word?

In other news, no one but myself seems to care what this house looks like, I swear it.

The kids have good stacking skills, though.

"Why don't any of you dump the compost in the bucket outside when it gets full?" I asked Brian the other morning, in full exasperation mode. "Look at that mess!"

"It's not a mess," said he. "It's a visual representation of the wastefulness in modern American society."

You know, I thought I was living with slobs, but apparently? They are just misunderstood artists.

Surprisingly Mundane

Oh, hi! Just sitting here wondering where my weekend went. And you?

Larry drew the short straw, as it were, and had to spend his weekend driving a bunch of Civil Air Patrol cadets (including our very own Rachel) 3 hours away to do whatever it is they do when they spend the weekend together. Drills, physical training, saluting practice...

That left me here holding down the fort. Happily, since the 2 kids left here with me were 12 and 17 (crazy but true), "holding down the fort" meant going about my normal life, occasionally texting to make sure everyone was okay. So I went to yoga Saturday AND Sunday morning, and hung out with friends Saturday AND Sunday afternoon.

Oh, and I finished this cowl for my yoga teacher. Only one month late!

I'd feel guilty about the easy life I am leading at present, but then I remember that I spent, oh, 16 YEARS not getting anything remotely resembling a full night's sleep and I don't feel guilty AT ALL. And that's not even counting all the barf clean-up I've done over the years.

I probably just jinxed myself, boasting about the halcyon existence I'm leading. We'll all be quarantined with the flu for the next month, I know it. But at least I will be well provisioned, because one of my friends went home to Ireland for Christmas and brought me back chocolate.

There used to be 3 of these. I seem to have eaten one already. Whoops.

You know, I'm sure Larry is thrilled I'm preserving all these pictures of knitted items and chocolate bars for posterity. Also, cunningly posed photos of refrigerator discards. Those are my specialty.

Do you know I haven't taken a picture of my own kids in ages? I mean, they take pictures of themselves, and then I beg them to share them with me on Google photos or whatever the thing is we use, and sometimes they even listen to me. But I save my own photography exploits for inanimate objects these days. Maybe because inanimate objects can't roll their eyes at me.

Yeah, I think that's it.

Don't forget to comment on Friday's post (NOT THIS POST) if you'd like a chance of winning a copy of the Yarn Harlot's book Knitting Rules!

Gotta Be In It To Win It

I just realized (a tad belatedly) that it is that time of year again. Yup, it's Yarn Harlot's blogiversary (14 - which is about, oh, 67 in blog years, I'm guessing) and time for me to do a giveaway of the book that, oddly enough, changed my life.

A knitting book. How stupid is that? But really, Yarn Harlot's Knitting Rules is about so much more than just knitting - it's a rumination on the creative process, as it were, interspersed with commentary on how it is possible for a sane person to end up with a completely insane amount of knitting needles. It's permission to be your creative self, with absolutely no regard for what you produce as a result.

Also, it's funny. What more could you ask?

So comment below if you are interested in participating in the drawing for her book. I'll give it until Monday or Tuesday or maybe Wednesday, so you have lots of time. And if you happen to already be a Yarn Harlot fan, feel free to donate to her People With AIDS Bike Rally fundraiser for 2018. Stephanie does the 6-day ride from Toronto to Montreal each year to help raise money for people and their families affected by AIDS. Because, obviously, she's a much better person than I am. Also? More fit. Which is pretty amazing for someone who sits around and knits all the time, come to think of it...

Time Travel

Hi! I spent 3 hours napping this afternoon, and 3 hours yesterday afternoon, too. I assume I'm fighting off the flu. I don't know. I still feel sorta weird (at 8 PM), so I figure I'll spend the rest of the evening knitting while watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

My 17-year-old self? Would be horrified to read that paragraph. HORRIFIED. In a KILL ME NOW sort of way...

But first, before plunking myself down in front of the TV, I thought I would spread my germs all over this keyboard so the rest of my family can suffer with me. I mean, it's not as if they are leaping to get the dishes done and the bathrooms wiped down while I am ailing. So what does it matter? We'll all get sick together, like in Little House on the Prairie, and a traveling doctor will have to stop by and save us all before we die.

You know, I don't think the Ingalls even had to give him a co-pay. Those were the days.

My 17-year-old self didn't have this
gorgeous hair. Just sayin'...

I knit a bit after my nap today (note to 17-year-old self: I'M SORRY) and listened to the audio book of Troublemaker, because my friend recommended it and even showed me how to download it to my phone using Overdrive. I've been meaning for 3 YEARS to put Overdrive on my phone, but I never got around to it. Also, it needed my library card number and password, which just added another layer of complexity.

I'm a very simple person, you know.

Anyway, my friend helped me and I didn't have to ask Brian, which is a plus. He's getting a little sick of Larry and me and our technological helplessness. Actually, I think he's sick of us in general. He and I drove to Home Depot yesterday so he could help me buy the right light bulbs, because OMG have you seen the light bulb aisle lately, and yes, this is yet another example of technological helplessness on my part, but WHEN did light bulbs get so complicated, huh?

Where was I? Oh, yes, I pulled into the parking lot of Home Depot and said something like, "Oh, wow, it's so busy - where did all these people come from?" and Brian said, "You ALWAYS say that when we go to the store!" And I said, "No, I don't," and he said, "Yes, you DO - here, and at Target, and Harris Teeter..."

Look, I don't really care whether or not Brian is right; but, considering we had just come from 3 HOURS at the DMV so he could get his driver's permit, I think maybe the better part of wisdom would have been for him to keep his mouth shut.

Teens: making me feel lousy since, oh, 2006 or so. Thanks, kids!

And my 17-year-old self would be thinking, "OMG, they're right, you're a loser." Shut up, 17-year-old self. Just SHUT UP.

Bakery String Only Looks Useful

Today? I tackled this:

That's half the junk that is in the (not supposed to be a) junk drawer next to my stove. I emptied out the drawer and went at it. I don't remember why. Probably, I was tired of not being able to close it anymore. Or I was looking for something and got sidetracked. I don't know.

I found some things that I didn't even know I owned:

Why do I have these?
As discussed previously in these pages,
I'm not Ma Ingalls and I DON'T line dry clothes.

Strawberry hullers? Tell me,
did I really use to be
the sort of person who
would buy strawberry hullers?

In the end, I managed to throw out all this:

You know, this picture could be turned
 into a really irritating jigsaw puzzle

And this:

I KNOW that knob belongs somewhere,
and I'll probably want that mug hook tomorrow

And this:

My kids made this. I tossed it anyway.
It's a tough world, kids.

I wound up with this:

I kept the strawberry hullers, I don't know why

Every time I open that drawer now, I sort of cry with happiness. Or with dismay, because my family has already tried to sabotage my beautiful work by throwing other things in there. I will prevail, however. I WILL PREVAIL.