Knelley Knits

Come With Me.

2008-07-25T00:17:00.004-04:00

It's not far. Just a mouse click away. Knelley Knits is moving to a new home. Click on the link and you're on your way to see it. Blogger has been very good to me, but this new place might be a little bit better. Don't be afraid. Everything you've seen here is already settled in the new place. No unpacking required.

If I'm lucky enough to be in your favorites, your bookmarks, your Bloglines, or your Google Reader, please update the web address.

See you there!

Girlie Girl?

2008-07-17T09:42:00.005-04:00

I could be one after all - in the sense of being a pampered, fancy-pants girlie girl.

Yesterday, for the first time ever, I had a pedicure.

I'm headed to Cape Cod this weekend for a wedding and a couple of my friends talked me into going for a mani-pedi with them. I had no worries about the manicure part of the deal. I've had a few manicures in my life and even once dipped my toes into the pond that is acrylic nails. (Not me. I couldn't function and was afraid I'd scratch my eyes out in my sleep.) It was the pedicure part I worried about.

My feet shouldn't be touched. Really. There are a few reasons for this. First, I'm extremely ticklish. I giggle and squirm when I touch my own feet. I couldn't imagine how I'd handle having someone else touch my feet. Second, my feet are just gross. I have wonky toes that turn sideways. I have callouses on the soles that one of my friends calls my tap shoes. My toesnails are bumpy and lumpy. They're just not nice feet. I imagined that the ladies who worked at the nail salon would get together for dinner that night and one would say, You would not have believed the feet on that broad! I should have taken pictures!

When we arrived at the nail place, we first picked our colors. I wanted blue for my toes - of course. But then I saw the green. My dress for the wedding is green. I needed green toes. I picked a pretty shade of pink for my fingernails. Then the pedis were first. We sat in a row of fancy chairs, complete with massage functions, reclining abilities, and People magazines. My two friends were taken care of first, which was good. I was able to watch and gear up for what was coming my way.

I got a little nervous when one of the girls started to wince and mouth, That hurts!. She, however, already had a boo-boo on her big toe that was being poked a little. I had no boo-boos, so I figured I'd be fine. I watched as they were trimmed, smoothed, snipped, scrubbed, lotioned, massaged and polished. Looked okay to me.

My turn. Jenny took care of me. She was adorable. She quickly realized that it was my first time and said, You ticklish, even though I was being a grown-up about it. When my foot would involuntarily twitch, she'd laugh and say, You sensitive. Yup. Me sensitive all right. I got through it fine - and even enjoyed it. There were a few times that I had to put my hand in my mouth and bite down to stifle the giggles and stop myself from squirming. This was especially hard when Jenny was weaving a paper towel-type thing between my toes to separate them. The best part, though, was the hot paraffin wax. It was put in a little plastic baggie, then place over the heel and tied around the ankle. Felt so good. After I was polished, I headed to the manicure chair and was pinkified. My nails are short and stumpy, but Jenny shaped them so nicely and the polish made them look so much better.

All this for $25. What a deal. My fingernails look pretty, but my feet . . . they're lovely. My feet have never looked so good. Clean. Not that they were dirty, but they feel and look clean. And neat. And new. And soft. And I like them. And I want to keep them like this.

When we were done and Jenny called out, Goodbye today!, we walked over to Chili's for drinks. I had to remember to respect the manicure as I opened doors and flipped through the menu. I ordered a Blue Pacific Margarita. It came in a glass big enough to swim in. Potent stuff, too. Yikes. You'll be happy to know (Mom) that I didn't finish it. I couldn't have. I would have been ill. I was trying to maintain my new image as a fancy, dainty, pampered lady.

I could get used to that.

So don't you want to see?

Here are my green toes with my green dress:

Pretty good match.

Here are my feet in all their newfound glory.

Here's my dress. Very Greenwich-garden-party if you ask me. I'm not the Greenwich-garden-party type, but I lreally ike this dress. Good for a summer wedding. Good for $29.99 at Marshall's.

In other news . . . I had a blind date the other night. A blind knitting date. Not a date with a blind knitter, but a first time get-together with a knitter I met on Ravelry. We connected on the site and decided to meet up to knit.

I was a little nervous. What if she doesn't like me? What if she's scary? What if she's really a crazed murderer and I end up in a dumpster?

Worried for nothing. Delightful girl! (with a blog) She even invited a few others (one with a blog) and the four of us had a really good time knitting and talking. We're going to do it again. It's great to make new friends.

I've been working on these:

They're addictive.

I Heart Summer

2008-07-14T22:45:00.002-04:00

Guess what this is.

I know it's a keychain.

Don't be a wiseguy.

Do you know what it is - what its purpose is?

It's a chapstick holder. Okay, let's get this right. It's a lip balm holder. Isn't it cute?

It was an easy little knit. Piece of cake. Mmmmm . . . cake. I used US 3 needles and Sugar'n Cream cotton, knitting it magic loop style, K2P2 rib over 12 stitches. Just made it long enough to fit the tube and then did a 3-needle bind off. Cuteness.

So I made a second one . . .

I knit this pink one from the bottom up using the magic cast on for toe-up socks (not that I've ever knit toe-up socks, but I figured it would work for a toe-up chap . . . ahem . . . lip balm holder.) This way, the bound-off end is the open end, so it's a lot more rigid and sturdy. (I think those words kind of mean the same thing, but they help me make my point.) I like it better this way.

I'm planning to knit a bunch of these and sell them at our team booth at the American Cancer Society Relay for Life in Milford in September. Our team is geared around breast cancer (Woohoo! Breast cancer!), so I figure that I'll knit them in different shades of pink. Pinkity pink pink. Hopefully, they'll sell for a few bucks each and all of the proceeds go to the ACS. Good stuff.

Have I ever told you how much I love summer? I hate the heat and I can't stand the hot sun, but I love love love the knitting time. It's a wonderful thing when my real life doesn't get in the way of my knitting.

Issues! Issues! Who's Got the Issues?

2008-07-13T16:34:00.002-04:00

I do.

Over the course of the last few days, I've been doing some cleaning, organizing, and decluttering. As I went through my bathroom cabinet, I found quite a collection of hair products.

I have hair product issues.

I've always had semi-wavy hair. In the past, some days it was really wavy and on other days some parts were wavy, but others were straight. Wacky. Since my hair grew back after chemo, it's been different. When it first came back, it was really curly. (I remember my mother telling me about a friend of hers whose hair grew back super curly and she told me, "It was so cute - just like Little Orphan Annie." Ugh. I didn't want to look like Little Orphan Annie.) It's relaxed quite a bit over time, but it's always wavy/curly - very curly on humid days, wavy on dry days.

I have yet to find the perfect hair product to help style my hair in a way that will make me happy every day. I always air dry my hair part way and then blow dry while scrunching with my fingers. I've tried gels, mousses, pomades, waxes, creams, and pastes. I still haven't found one that I love love love. I keep buying. I keep trying. Some days my hair comes out nicely, but most days it's wonky. One side is frizzy and one side is smooth. One side flips out and one side flips in. The whole head is flat. The whole head is poofy. Never happy.

Maybe it's not hair product issues . . . it's hair issues.

I don't, however, have knitting issues.

Unless it's an issue to always knit more than one of most projects I choose.

Yesterday, I started another Wild Clover Mini Clutch. I needed another one.

This time, I used two strands of Cascade 220 held together and knit with US 6 needles. I wanted this one to be larger and sturdier so that I can use it as a make-up bag. I used another glass bead as a button.

I think I'm done with this pattern for now. I'll probably knit more in the future - they'd be great as gifts, but I'm going to move on to something else.

I just finished reading this yesterday:

I think my swollen, puffy eyes have finally gone back to normal. It was such a good story, but it devastated me. I cried my way through the last chunk of the book. I'm not giving anything away to those of you who haven't read it - there were happy parts mixed in with sad parts. It's just that the sad parts really got to me. It was heartbreaking to read about the conditions that women in Afghanistan had to endure - and many still have to endure.

I'd read this author's first book, The Kite Runner, and I loved it. I'd received it as a gift from a friend, but originally had no interest in reading it. It just didn't appeal to me. One day when I was stuck with nothing to read, I picked it up and couldn't put it down. A Thousand Splendid Suns wouldn't have appealed to me either, had I not already read the first book. I'd knew I'd probably like it. I was right.

If you haven't read it, you should. But make sure you have a box of tissues and a bottle of Tylenol next to you. And maybe even a place to take a nap when you're done. I was exhausted.

Off to find some mindless, happy, light reading.

Decisions . . . Decisions . . .

2008-07-11T23:03:00.003-04:00

In a brief episode of Knitter's A.D.D., I knit myself a little drawstring bag. I was pulled off the black sweater path when I poked through my stash and spotted a few little balls (balls!) of leftover Farmhouse Yarns Fat Sheep. The colors were so pretty - variegated blues, greens, pinks, and purples. Looking at the yarn made me think of the Monet Bag that I knit long ago and gave to my sister. Maybe I could knit another one - ish. It wouldn't look the same, but it might be pretty.

I knit up this little ditty holding two strands of yarn together - each in a different colorway. I randomly dropped one strand and replaced it with a different colorway. I knit until I didn't have much left and bound off. I knit a 5-stitch i-cord strap using some leftover Cascade 220. Voila!

I reallly like it.

Then I looked inside. Ooh. That's pretty, too.

So I flipped it inside-out. Hmmmm. I really like that.

I can't decide which way I want to use it. I've always been partial to stockinette stitch, but the reverse stockinette really shows off all of the colors. Whaddayathink?

In mothering news, my boy ate eggs today! I know, I know - call the newspapers. It's the story of the century. But really - this is a BIG deal. It is. I have been raising hotdog-mac'n cheese-chicken nugget-pizza-french toast-pancake-waffle-grilled cheese-boy for fourteen and a half years. He's never eaten eggs. Wouldn't touch them. Tonight as I was making french toast (with cinnamon and vanilla in the eggs - yum!), I had leftover egg mixture. When the french toast was done, I poured the eggs into the pan, scrambled them, and . . . ahem . . . strongly encouraged my boy to try them.

No way. I hate eggs. They're all over your french toast. Eat them. Yuck. I can't. I know what eggs are like. You do not. Just try them. No, no, no, don't put them on my plate and ruin my french toast experience! Okay, get me a little plate. Try them while they're hot or you really won't like them. Maybe when I'm done. No. While they're hot. They get cold fast.

I put a piece of eggy goodness into my mouth to show the boy how delicious they were. He rolled his eyes, took both of the plates (good sign!) and walked away.

You're right. They're pretty good. They taste just like french toast.

Doy.

Love the Pup Doggies

2008-07-09T12:06:00.004-04:00

A friend emailed me a link to this video and it's required watching if you haven't smiled and said, "Awwwww" in a while. Be sure to have the sound turned up.

Enjoy.

Since Knelley Really Does Knit . . .

2008-07-06T13:07:00.003-04:00

I figured I'd show you some knitting today. No tooth talk. (Even though my mouth is still kind of sore and my jaw hurts when I open my mouth wide. I know, I know. Don't open your mouth wide then.)

Yesterday I went to my sister's house for a 4th of July/Graduation get-together with my family. While I was there, I knit this little ditty. It's with Wild Clover Mini Clutch from Webs. It's exactly the right size to hold a driver's license and credit card - exactly. The button isn't really a button. It's a glass bead that I sewed on loosely to act as my button. It works.

The pattern comes in two sizes, so I'll probably knit a maxi version next to hold my big girl stuff.

I've been meaning to show you my second Anthroplogie-Inspired Capelet-ish cardigan. This one is a six dollar sweater. 3 skeins of Bernat Softee Chunkee that were $1.98 each. I'm using my Leslie Wind sweater pin as the closure. Like it.

Emmie thinks that I've knit another fine resting place.

I'm good like that.

I've also been working on my black garter stitch version of the Anthropologie. It's . . . BO-RING. I like it and I know I'll wear it happily, but the knitting is a big ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz. I need to work on other things to break this one up. I'm determined to finish but . . . yawn.

When I was at my sister Kim's house yesterday, she tried on her Anthropologie - the one that's just like my first one. (Yes, I'll knit a different sweater pattern soon. I feel like I could knit this one blindfolded and upside down while wearing a straight jacket underwater.) She's happy with it and likes the fit, but I just need to lengthen the sleeves few inches to make her completely love it. I'll work on that today.

By the way, Kim is the sister who knits and who doesn't come to Thursday SnB, but really should. I told her yesterday that the SnB girls who were there last Thursday said I need to make her join us, but Kim insisted that I've never invited her. Wrong. I asked her to come after I first started going and knew I loved it. She says that didn't happen. It did. My mother and sister Kathy backed me up.

So . . . . Kim . . .

You are hereby cordially

invited to join a wildly fun

group of knitters at

Stitch'n Bitch

Thursdays 7:00 PM

Panera Bread in NH

Please come.

Did It

2008-07-03T13:55:00.006-04:00

I didn't get an ice cream cone. I deserved one, but I didn't get one. I couldn't. It would have been too messy.

As I told you the other day, I really did go to my dental appointment to have a 3/4 crown put on one of my molars. I was a good girl.

I arrived on time (which is amazing in and of itself), drank a final cup of water (which was dumb because when I get nervous I have to pee like a puppy), and waited for my name to be called. I waited for . . . about 8 seconds. I assured the girl that I wasn't in a rush and if she had other things to take care of, I'd be more than happy to wait. She wasn't buying it.

I got myself settled into the chair and began to go through my mental checklist of all of the things I'd need to ensure my comfort. 1) Lots of novocaine - enough for two people. I made sure the dentist understand that I was completely willing to drool for 3 days following the procedure just to be sure I was truly numb. 2) The noise-cancelling headphones and iPod that I was promised. 3) Gas. Nitrous Oxide. I'd never had it before, but I was looking forward to any help I could get to make myself leave the room while they worked on my mouth.

Check. Check. Check.

We were good.

The iPod I was given was amazing. Eighty bajillion artists and songs were loaded onto this thing. I started myself off with some Dave Matthews Band, which I felt would go along nicely with the drug-induced haze I'd be in from the nitrous. The nose mask was put onto my face (I made the assistant swear that no photographs would be taken), and I was reminded to breathe through my nose. No small feat for a mouth-breather. The dentist did the novocaine thing (Crap! That hurt!) in three places. I took some seriously deep nose-breaths, which made the nose mask grip onto my face with major suction - and we all know how I feel about suction, and I immediately knew that I would not be treating myself to an ice cream cone when I was done. Wine. It would be wine.

The dentist started to do whatever it is that dentists do and I continued to nose-breathe. The headphones worked really well and although I could hear voices, I couldn't really make out what was being said. I do remember that the dental assistant began to sound like a valley girl with lots of Oh my Gods and likes. I know I had to stifle a few giggles because I heard her rambling on and only heard the dentist saying ah-ha and hmmmm.

Then . . . the drama. I started to become more aware of what was going on. My nitrous had been slowed and I wasn't in lala-land anymore. I opened my eyes and saw the dentist looking at me and thought he was going to tell me I was done. Nope. He said something like, I'm going to have to leave now. Huh? I'm not feeling well. I'm having trouble with my vision and I'm going to the emergency room. Huh? Dr. Blahblahblah is going to take over for me and finish the procedure. Huh? He's a great dentist and you'll be fine with him. Huh? I'm almost done with the drilling, so he'll finish that and then make the crown. What?

And then he was gone. The nitrous cranked up and I quickly sucked that nose-mask to my face until I was pretty sure it would leave a permanent impression. Then I realized that my poor dentist needed someone to drive him to the hospital. I attempted to say this to the assistant, telling her that he couldn't drive himself. Someone had to drive him. After a few tries, she understood me and took off to tell someone, while I was wondering why it took a drugged person to think about another person's safety. I switched the iPod over to Fleetwood Mac and nose-breathed again.

I was vaguely aware of a new man next to me and he continued the job. I floated and flittered and I remember thinking about blogging the experience and giggled a little. I thought about wine, too.

I opened my eyes and my original dentist was standing next to me. Huh? He took the nitrous off me and told me that he was fine. He thought he was having a major eye emergency, like a detaching retina, or maybe even a stroke. Ends up it was an ocular migraine, which he'd never had before. Never had the flashing lights or the aura. (Welcome to my world, Doctor.) He was fine and was going to complete the job.

Whatever.

I switched to Steely Dan and was reminded of my childhood, when my dad would play Steely Dan albums on the stereo on Sunday afternoons. Lots of old favorites, but I was giggling at Throw back the little ones, and pan fry the big ones. Fish are funny.

Then I was done. Done done done. Stick a fork and all that good stuff. Two and a half hours after I'd started, I could finally get out of that chair. I was told to rinse out my mouth with some special swamp-water-looking mouth rinse. How was I supposed to do that when the right side of my face was sliding off? I tried. It was messy.

No ice cream for me. Wasn't possible. No wine either. I couldn't imagine myself going into a liquor store and asking for a bottle of Barefoot Chardonnay. Pfffffffttttt Swwwwddddnnyy. I don't think they would have sold it to me.

I went home and tried to drink using the left side of my mouth. Nope. Tried a straw. Not so good either. I waited. About four hours. Then my face finally woke up.

I did it! I'm proud of myself. I'm such a good girl.

Want to see another good girl?

She's sound asleep. Notice her little pink tongue sticking out. Cuteness.

Want to see a bad girl?

She stole a package of Kleenex out of my bag.

Snagged.

Want to see a cute girl?

She thinks she's good a hiding.

I know what day it is! It's Thursday! I'm going to SnB tonight! (I don't even need those day-of-the-week undies.)

I'm Expecting a Medal . . .

2008-07-01T12:14:00.003-04:00

. . . or at least an ice cream cone.

I'm going to the dentist today. That alone is a big deal. The bigger deal? I'm getting a 3/4 crown on one of my molars. I'm a little scared, but I'm going. (Yes, Mom and Dad, I'm going and I'll call you when I'm done. Really. No, you don't have to come with me. Yes, yes, I'll be fine. Yes, of course I'm really going. I'm not going to cancel out at the last minute. I promise. Really.)

I've had a little problem with the dentist - just the idea of the dentist. There were years that I allowed to quietly pass without going to the dentist. Years. I'll admit now that I was being a big baby, but I felt I had good reason.

The Samurai Orthodonist.

It's all his fault. He was mean. He hurt me. He yelled at kids. He made his own dental assistants and hygienists cry. He even made some of them become meanies themselves.

Once I was done with my braces (I think I had them on for eleventy seven years), I raised my middle finger of defiance toward all teeth practitioners. I hated them all and tried to act tough, but I was hiding because I was afraid of them. All of them.

It took me a while to start going to the dentist again. When I became an adult and I was in charge of my own oral health, I figured I'd just brush and floss like a mad woman and I'd be fine. Even when an old filling fell out and left a little hole in one of my molars, I ignored it. It didn't hurt. If it doesn't hurt, let it be. A fine way to live, right? Besides, it was fun to poke my tongue at. Gave me something to do when I was bored.

I don't know what finally pushed me to make an appointment at a new dentist's office. I grew up? Nah. I overcame my fears? Nah. I was jealous of all the friends I had who had beautiful teeth? Probably.

I went for my appointment (now this was years back . . . really) and I loved loved loved my new dentist. She was wonderful. She understood my fear and she understood my very strong hatred of the suckie thing. I loathe suction of any kind. The feel of it. The sound. My skin crawls. She limited her use of the suckie thing as she replaced old fillings for me. She shot me up with enough novocaine to sink a ship. She gave me a STOP signal that I could give her if I got nervous or if something hurt. (No, it wasn't the middle finger.) She fixed me. Loved her.

She moved away.

I retreated again to my dental care-free lifestyle. I let a few years go by again. (I'm not proud of this. I brushed real good, though!)

I started going to another new dental office and they've won me over. The hygienist is a doll. She turned me on the the Sonicare toothbrush and she now tells me that my gums are gorgeous and that I couldn't possibly be brushing any better.

But, of course, a piece of an old filling just started to crumble - a piece of a much larger filling. I need a 3/4 crown. Never had me one of them before.

It'll all be done in one sitting. This office is a state-of-the-art, high tech, computerized, digitized, laserized, bells and whistles kind of place. They'll pull my tooth apart, have the computer figure out what needs to be made to put it back together, a machine will make the -art like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, and the dentist will stick in on what's left of my tooth. I'll have novocaine. I'll have gas. (Oops, the good kind!) I'll have noise-cancelling headphones.

Still, this is a big deal. For going through this, I feel that I deserve some kind of acknowledgement - no - some kind of award for enduring this stressful tooth reconstruction. A trophy. A medal.

An ice cream cone.

What Day Is It Anyway?

2008-06-26T20:51:00.004-04:00

Nobody told me it was Thursday. Nobody. I missed SnB! Thanks to the girls for thinking of me, wondering where I was, and calling me. So sad I missed it. I was sitting on the couch knitting this. Does it look familiar? De ja vu?

It's another, identical Anthropologie. My sister, Kim, wanted one just like mine. And no, Boy, she wasn't just humoring me. She really likes it and wants one of her very own. So there. Go clean your room. I could have been knitting this at Panera surrounded by friends and enjoying a bowl of Summer Corn Chowder. Crappity crap crap.

School is out and no longer do I remember to pay attention to the calendar. Our last day was Monday and it already feels like it was so long ago. So strange. I've been back to school twice since then to get my classroom organized. One or two more days and I'll be done for the summer. I think I have a hard time letting go at the end of the year. I like cleaning and organizing the room. Too bad I can't transfer that energy to cleaning and organizing my home. Home is for couch-sitting and sweater-knitting.

It's also for reading. I stopped at the library on the way home and grabbed these:

Can't wait to get into bed tonight and flip through the books.

As I was going through papers near the end of school, I re-read a story written by my little tough guy/class clown.

Don't know if you can read it, but it really gave me a chuckle. (You can click to embiggen the photo.)

One day I had a football game against Fairfield. I was a left tackle. "Hit," the QB said. Someone tried to blitz. Then a DB ran at me and nailed me big time. But I took the hit like a man.

Nothing better than a 3rd grader who can take it like a man.

Adoption is a Beautiful Thing

2008-06-21T19:54:00.003-04:00

My just-friends sweater has a new home!

My sister Kathy has adopted her! I had a feeling that since this sweater looked small on me, it would probably fit my teeny tiny sister. I was right. It looks really cute on her and even though the sleeves are large for her, I think they look good that way. Stylish.

Kathy, being the kind soul that she is, didn't want to adopt this sweater at first, only because she felt guilty about taking it away from me. It took some convincing and many statements about how the sweater would spend its life folded on a shelf and how that's no life for a sweater. She took it. Yay! I'm so happy that this sweater has a good home where it will be loved and cared for, fed and watered, worn and washed. Makes me all warm and fuzzy.

On our way home from Kathy's house, my boy asked me if I thought she might just be humoring me. Just being nice? (And no . . . I didn't smack him.) Look how happy she looks!

She loves it!

Right? She does . . . doesn't she? Right? Kath?

This Kathy-and-my-handknit photo reminded me of another photo that I keep forgetting to post. Remember I knit a Swiffer cover for my sister? Well, she loves that, too. She said it works perfectly on her new hardwood floors.

Here's the proof.

Ew. It really works.

Anthropologie, The Sequel

2008-06-10T15:16:00.002-04:00

My new favorite pattern. Couldn't wait to make another.

I'm knitting with a blue and white twist in the same yarn I used for the Sunkist Cardi (the one that I just want to be friends with - maybe, as commenter Emily suggested, we'lll just have coffee). I like this yarn so much better on larger size 11 needles (rather than the 10s I used before). I'm going to make this one a longer cardigan, rather than cropped like my first one, with elbow-length sleeves. I also made the two front panels a bit wider so I won't show so much boobage. (I sure have been saying boobage a lot lately.) It's so much fun to sit inside in air-conditioned comfort, knitting a sweater while the world melts outside. I should be knitting a bikini. Okay . . . a one-piece.

Yesterday, one of my little darlins' told me she'd written a song and wanted to sing it to me. In the 95+ degree heat, she belted out her tune with pride:

All right, now.

Not Feelin' It

2008-06-08T17:24:00.002-04:00

Cardigan, cardigan, how do I dislike thee? Let me count the ways . . .

1. Your sleeve length is just plain wrong. Bunching around my elbows. Not good.

2. Your top front area above my boobage is not laying flat. I know you're supposed to have a tie front, but if I give you one, I'd have to put the tie up higher than I'd like it, which would make your neck opening smaller, which will make me feel like I'm choking even though I know it's not that tight because I just have a neck thing. (See? I'm out of breath just thinking about it. I think someone must have tried to strangle me in a previous life.)

3. You make me look . . . um . . . dumpy. You do. Don't even try to deny it. (Okay, I could possibly be slouching in the picture because I wasn't feeling the love, but you'd make me look dumpy even if I stood all perky and proud. You would. You know you would.)

You don't look bad when you're resting on the couch. Maybe you could just do that? Or maybe I could hang you on the wall. You could be art.

Maybe I can just wear you while I'm blogging, like I am right now. You're kind of comfortable, except that I'm really feeling you under my arms. And that bunchiness around my elbows . . . Not good.

Maybe we can just be friends.

Stick a Fork In It

2008-06-06T18:49:00.003-04:00

It's done! And I love it. Love love love.

My version of the Anthropologie-Inspired Capelet. I'm so much happier with the longer sleeves.

I wore it to school today and all my Knitting Club groupies went gaga over it. So sweet. The grown-ups were impressed with it, too. The first big girl sweater that I've finished and worn.

While my kids were at their art class, I went into my friend's classroom to drop something off. She told her class that I'd made my sweater myself, so I started walking like a model on the catwalk, posing and making a fool of myself. The kids got a kick out of it. Then I went to pick up my class. As the little darlings were lining up, one of my knitting girls said to one of the boys, "She knit her sweater, you know." As he took a closer look, I started to do the posing thing again, vogue-ing like Madonna. I stopped after about five poses, holding the last one. Then the boy said looked back at the girl and said, "That was awkward." That kid is the king of the nudges, but he is a riot.

Now I'm ready to finish my Sunkist Cardi, and then I think I'll knit another Anthropologie. I love it.

I'll leave you with a glimpse into my excellent teaching this year - a few words from one of my girl's spelling sentences. She spelled all of this week's spelling words correctly, but also gave me this:

I really thinked that I maked shure that I teached that this year.

Halfway to Love

2008-06-04T18:54:00.004-04:00

Better? I think so.

The longer sleeve works for me. Off to fix the other one. Be back soon.

Waiting to Feel the Love

2008-06-02T20:37:00.003-04:00

I've made lots of progress on my Sunkist Cardi. Just have to finish the sleeve and it's done. Not sure yet if I love it or not. We'll see . . .

Since you heard from me last, I knit this:

It's the Anthropolgie-Inspired Capelet. I got side-tracked after seeing it on Ravelry and couldn't wait another second to make one. I knit on it like crazy, adding some length to the body to accommodate the boobage, and got it finished pretty quickly. Then I tried it on.

Not feeling the love. Yet. But I'm going to try to love it. Really. Tonight, I've ripped back the sleeves a bit so that I can knit them longer. They're too short. I think. It seems to me that this cropped little ditty needs either tiny little cap sleeves (which will call all kinds of unwanted attention to the jiggliest parts of my upper arms) or elbowish-length sleeves. Elbows, here I come. Stay tuned.

I opened the refrigerator door this afternoon, felt a little thud, and heard a little mewing sound. I hadn't seen her, but Emmie was laying inside the kitchen curtain, enjoying the sun, and I clunked the poor thing with the door. Look at the spot she found for herself.

Cuteness.

If My Toes Are Blue . . .

2008-05-25T10:59:00.002-04:00

. . . it must be the start of summer.

While I would never paint my fingernails blue, I'm happy to add my favorite color to my toenails. I tried to pick a teal shade this year after reading about Teal Toes, an organization that works to raise ovarian cancer awareness.

The color of the polish looks more teal in this photo than it does in real life, but I still love it. Thanks for tolerating this picture of my ugly feet with my wacky little sideways toes.

Here's the progress on my Grown-Up sweater. As I planned yesterday, I finished the body and started the first sleeve. (Please don't ask about the other things on my to do list. I didn't even watch Juno yet.)

I'm nervous. I'm really intimidated by the idea of picking up stitches around the front and the neckline. The pattern tells me to use a smaller needle and pick up 2 out of every 3 stitches and knit, then knit a 2 by 2 rib for an inch. I'm so afraid that I won't be able to make it look neat. I'm thinking of putting the sleeve-knitting on hold and attempting the big pick-up. Face my fears.

I've decided to keep my Smock-a-Ruche Scarf as it is, allowing it to remain in its natural, un-dyed state. Although 54% of voters encouraged me to dye it, the voices of the 46% who told me to leave it alone or didn't want to get involved were a little louder. Okay. I'm a chicken. Too worried that I'll ruin it. If I really want a bluish-purple Smock-a-Ruche, I'll have to knit one with pre-dyed yarn. I've put it on my list.

Do any of you have the same problem that I'm having lately? It's hard for me to admit, but it's been said that coming to terms with the fact that you have a problem is half the battle in overcoming it, right?

I've become . . . um . . . addicted to this:

It's embarrassing and humiliating, but I'm afraid that one day soon you're going to see me sitting on the curb outside of Stop & Shop eating this stuff out of the can with a plastic spoon. What's wrong with me?

This Chef Boyardee thing started within the last few weeks. I saw it on the grocery store shelf and before I knew what I was doing, I'd put two cans in my cart. When I checked out, I stared at the cans, wondering how they'd gotten there, but I allowed them to be scanned and paid for. When I got home, my fingers found themselves pulling the lid off the can and dumping the mushy contents into a bowl. (Thank goodness I remembered to throw a napkin over the top of the bowl before I microwaved it. Major splatter issues.) I ate it all within minutes. And I liked it.

Now I buy it every time I go to the store. Any store. Wal-Mart. Target. Any store. I look for it. I know I can't be the only person who eats this. There must be others. Any advice for me? Any recovering canned pasta addicts?

Even Emmie likes it.
That's her egging me on to open another can.

Tagged

2008-05-24T11:57:00.002-04:00

Nutmeg Knitter tagged me for a meme. (I got to meet her in real-life at SnB after being a reader of her blog!) Could you possibly stand knowing a few more things about ME?

Good answer.

The rules: Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5-6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

1) What was I doing ten years ago? Hmmm . . . May of 1998. I was being a mommy to my 4 1/2 year old boy, sticking it out in an unhappy marriage (hey, just being honest), playing around with polymer clay and jewelry-making, and working on a ridiculous Y2K-disaster-preventing new computer program team at Warnaco (see #6 below). I was also plotting my escape - figuring out how I could go back to school to become a teacher.

2) Five (non-work) things on my to-do list for today:
Finish knitting the body of my grown-up sweater and start on the sleeves, go to the store to get cookie-baking ingredients for a memorial day picnic, watch Juno, try the self-tanner thing again without ending up with either white or orange feet like last time, and clean out my closet. The last thing is on the list, but that doesn't mean I'm really going to do it.

3) Snacks I enjoy:
Microwave kettle corn popcorn, Friendly's watermelon sherbet, ice cream, Tootsie Pops, dark chocolate M&Ms, and a ton of other things that could keep me sitting here typing all day. There's that to-do list, you know.

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Buy a really nice house and hire people to clean it and take care of it for me, send my boy to a fancypants college for lazy kids who just want to play XBox 360, give my parents and my sisters lots of my money, fund cancer research, and start a program/summer camp to help young girls build their self-esteem. Oh, and I'd buy lots and lots of yarn.

5) Places I have lived:
Connecticut, Connecticut, Connecticut, and more Connecticut. I've lived in North Haven, Fairfield (for college), West Haven, and Milford. I'm a home-state girl and I don't think I'll ever decide to retire to Florida, Arizona or New Mexico. My family and all of my favorite people are right here, so unless everyone would come with me, I'm pretty sure I'm here to stay.

6) Jobs I have had:
I was a brown-and-orange-polyester-uniform-wearing Burger King employee, a cashier/did-whatever-they-told-me-to girl at Inside Outlet - a paint, wallpaper, and flooring store, a babysitter, a returned-dirty-tuxedo unpacker for a tuxedo rental place (for ONE horrible day), a stock girl at Mammoth Mart (for ONE horrible week), an office girl for a auto finance company, a mortgage company, and an attorney, a customer service rep for a company that makes those annoying beeping timer machines for fast food restaurants, a moved-through-the-ranks-doing-many-different-jobs person for Warnaco - the company that makes Warner's and Olga bras, a waitress, a substitute teacher, a tutor, and finally - my favorite job - a 3rd grade teacher. Now wasn't that a sweet little walk down memory lane . . .

7) Peeps I want to know more about:
Yankee Lagniappe
CostumeChick
WifeMomKnitter
Jennsquared
Passimenterie

Chills

2008-05-17T12:38:00.002-04:00

Yes, I'll admit it. I'm a goober. A goober who got chills when I just tried this on:

It fits! My Sunkist Cardi fits me. It fits my very own body. I'll be able to actually wear this sweater one day in the not too distant future. (Please don't say anything about what month we're in right now and what months are coming next and what the temperatures will likely be. I will wear this even if it makes me pass out.) When I came to the point in knitting where the pattern told me it was time to divide for the sleeves and the body, I got a little nervous. I thought the armholes would be too tight. I hemmed and hawed and sweated a little while I tried to decide what to do. Then I just kept knitting. I thought I'd better give my arms some extra room. Then, I divided. I'm so glad I did. I think it's perfect. Woohoo! Now I can't knit fast enough. So I won't be writing much more in this post. Gotta knit.

Before I leave you, I'll share a funny from my 3rd grade girls. The Bikini Girls and their friends have now channeled their energy into performing a play of the life of Helen Keller. Their idea! We just read the biography of Helen Keller, as we do every year in 3rd grade, and the kids loved it. This book is the only one that I have to read with the class each year that I actually look forward to and love. I get goosebumps at the end of Chapter 5 and again at the end of Chapter 8 (when Helen reaches some very exciting and important milestones- it's delightful!). After we finished the book, we watched the remake of the movie, "The Miracle Worker," with Hallie Kate Eisenberg (from the Pepsi commercials) as Helen.

The girls were so into the book and the movie that they decided to put on a play. They assigned roles, planned costumes, and decided on the scenes they'd perform. The next day, each of the girls came in carrying a bag of their costumes and props. Since then, every day right before recess they run to the girls lav to change into their costumes for their never-ending dress rehearsals. Dresses, hats, books, and even a porcelain-faced doll (whose entire scalp pulled away from her head, leaving a gaping hole that makes the play look more like a Chucky movie.)

Since yesterday was rainy, we stayed indoors for recess. The girls practiced their play, with Helen taking a doll from Annie Sullivan's suitcase and Annie trying to get Helen to spell D-O-L-L in her hand before she'd let her play with the doll. They practiced the scene where the entire family is in the dining room eating breakfast and Helen goes around the table, sniffing and feeling for her beloved sausages on other people's plates. This scene became exciting when Annie and Helen get into a big pinch-slap fight over Annie's sausage. One of my Bikini Girls, playing the part of Annie, said, "Mr. and Mrs. Keller, if you want Helen to learn, you must leave her alone with me. You can't keeping giving her her way all the time. You've spoiled her."

I just kept biting my lip, trying not to laugh at the unbelievable cuteness I was seeing. I took a few pictures that I so wish I could share with you - but I can't. I can, however, show you this. I didn't even read it until after the recess/dress rehearsal was over. Apparently, it's not a play they're making. It's a movie.

Stand behind desk please
injures can happen
Don't get in front
of camras OR
! Actors!
! oreles !

Whoops. Got a little too caught up in this. Must knit now.

Thanks, Mom!

2008-05-11T10:45:00.005-04:00

Last week was Teacher Appreciation Week. It was celebrated by our PTA with a week-long food fest. Each day we found new goodies in the Teachers' Room. I was lucky enough to find some goodies in my classroom, too.

One of my goodies made this goodie for me:

Cuteness! So cute that I'm not letting my blood pressure rise over the use of the wrong your. We've been working on the your/you're thing all year. Think we need a little more work on that, but hey . . . KNITTER is spelled correctly and that's what really matters.

I also found this ginormous cup & saucer planter. Love it! It was a gift from two of my boys whose mothers are best friends. They wrote on the other side, "Thanks for helping us grow." Adorable.

Yesterday, there was another goodie in the mailbox. It was a little gift to myself, but I'd forgotten that I'd ordered it. Here's the envelope:

A close-up of the stamp that made me chuckle:

And the treat I found inside:

I ordered this little guys from Holly's Designs on Etsy and was planning to use the beads as stitch markers. I might have to wear them as earrings for a while first.

And finally, I already broke my promise-to-self that I would finish my WIPs before I started something new. While I was reading blogs yesterday, I came across a free pattern that called out to me, the Sunkist Cardi, by Kirsten Kapur. It's a top-down raglan cardigan, knit all in one piece with chunky yarn and with very little finishing. Perfect first grown-up sweater.

I'm all excited. Because it's my first sweater-for-me, I was honest with myself about my commitment issues, so I didn't splurge on fancypants yarn. I went to Michaels and bought Bernat Softee Chunky for $1.99 a skein. An $8.00 sweater. Sounds about right!

If I'm successful with this one, I might treat myself to some fancypants yarn some day, but then again, I might just put some gas in my car. YaknowwhatImean?

Before I go, some thoughts on Mother's Day.

A conversation with my boy yesterday:

Him: What are you doing this weekend?

Me: Some shopping and laundry today. Tomorrow we're going to K&J's for Mother's Day and birthdays.

Him: When's Mother's Day?

Me: Um . . . tomorrow.

Him: Really?

Me: Really.

Him: They don't really talk about Mother's Day in high school.

Since I knew that my boy would not have a little gift or even a handmade card for me, I've let him off the hook by asking him to simply cut his fingernails. That's a gift to me.

Tomorrow, I'll probably be vacuuming fingernail clippings on the bathroom floor.

TO MY MOM, a poem:

I'm a lucky daughter,

a lucky girl.

Thanks for teaching me

to knit and purl!

I love you, Mommy.

Imagine That . . .

2008-05-04T12:29:00.006-04:00

. . . I actually finished something. I have way too many stops and starts going on right now, so I was determined to stick to my Smock-a-Ruche scarf and get it done. It's done - just in time to . . . um . . . put it away until the fall? Crap. I need to work on my timing.

Here it is:
Now I'm trying to decide if I should leave it as it is, or dye it with Kool-Aid. I'm torn. I like it as it is, but I'd also like it to be a purplish-blue. I'm afraid of ruining it! Help me out here. What should I do? Then she realized that she was on the side of the laptop where the fan blows out the warm air.

Zzzzzz . . . .

Twisting

2008-04-28T18:29:00.002-04:00

Unable to stand the wait, I unwound my newly spun yarn from the drop spindle onto the legs of a stool.

The yarn was trying so hard to untwist itself and return to its original state and I had to work hard to show it who was boss. There it is before soaking to start the set-the-twist process. (I'm learning stuff.)

There it is again, soaking in warm water.

Hanging from a doorknob in all its glorious imperfection.

Weighted by my keys.

Dry and wound into a ball-ish type bundle of joy. And I'm already spinning more!

I'm so proud!

The boy said, "Um . . . you really didn't make much. Whaddayagonna do with it?"

Maybe I'll use this yarn to stitch his lips together.

Fiber Festival Fun and Frolic

2008-04-26T18:54:00.006-04:00

Today was a great day for a knitter. I went to the CT Sheep Breeders Association Sheep, Wool and Fiber Festival in Vernon/Rockville with WifeMomKnitter, Mad Knitter, CostumeChick, Yankee Lagniappe, and Blog-free Pat. It was my first time there and although I knew it would be much smaller than Rhinebeck, it was bigger and better than I'd imagined.

As one would expect, there were sheep.

There were alpacas.

There were angora rabbits:

There were spinning wheels. (That's an antique that reminds me of the one in my parents' living room. No one ever actually used it for spinning because no one knew how. When I was a kid, I would stand at it in front of the window and pretend it was a ship's wheel and I was the captain. Or it was a steering wheel and I was the bus driver.)

There were spinners in pajamas. (I didn't actually expect there to be spinners wearing their pajamas, but I figured there'd be spinners.)

Then there were other things I really didn't expect.

There was an extremely kind spinner who let Yankee give her spinning wheel a . . . well . . . spin.

She even let her take the yarn she made with her. Look how proud she is!

And there were cute kids in funny t-shirts. Yes, it says mama is a yarn ho.

Best of all, there were friends.

I wish I'd gotten a picture with Pat in it, but she must have been busy shopping.

Here's my haul for the day. First, three pins made by two delightful little girls who had a little table set up at their mom's booth. I was happy to support the young fiber lovers.

Two lampwork glass bead stitch markers from Glastonbury Glassworks.

A beautiful sterling silver shawl pin/eyeglass holder from Leslie Wind.

Tiny - and I mean tiny sock earrings from Things by Jeanne.

And my favorite purchase . . . a drop spindle and fiber!

I bought the Kundert Spindle from The Wheel Thing from a fine young man who the girls and I lovingly refer to as Spinning Boy. When I was shopping for a drop spindle I went to The Wheel Thing's booth and asked about the difference between various types of spindles. This appeared-to-be-about-16 -year-old kid very enthusiastically explained what I wanted to know - and he knew this from his own spinning experience. He told us that he got into spinning after going to a spinning guild meeting with his mother. How can anyone not have a little crush on this kid? We were all gaga over him. Spinning Boy.

After a quick lesson from Mad Knitter and CostumeChick, I was off and spinning. Look what I spun so far!

I did that during the ride home. It's so much fun! I don't know if I'll ever spin enough to knit anything with, but even if I don't, the fiber is beautiful and it will look great just sitting on a shelf.

Now if someone tells me to go sit and spin, I will.

The Benefits Outweigh The . . .

2008-04-23T20:56:00.005-04:00

. . . pain.That's me. At Knitting Club yesterday. Frazzled. This picture was NOT posed. It's the real me. My friend snapped it on her cell phone yesterday and I didn't event know she did until she emailed it to me. The girls were wild. The girls wanted lots of individual help. I wanted some Advil.

For as much pain as I endure, I get tons of benefits. The girls are so proud of themselves and thrilled with every dropped-stitch ridden, mistaken-yarn-overed thing they knit.

Another gift has come my way. Here's a lovely bracelet:

I also got a bonus:

This was made by the kindergartener-sister of one of my girls! She's been coming to Knitting Club with her mom, who is one of the two angels who come in to provide me with much-needed support. Last week, this little girl watched a movie on a portable DVD player while we knit, but since this week is Turn Off the TV week, I knew she'd need something to keep herself busy. I bought a Wonder Knitter at Michael's - a tool for knitting cord, and gave her a quick lesson to show her how to use it. With her mom's help, she took to it right away. I told her she could take it home with her and she was so happy she hugged me.

This morning she brought me a necklace.

I looked so fancy today in my basic black with a beautiful handmade necklace in my favorite colors! What a sweet gift. This little peanut was so proud of herself and it gave me a serious case of the Warm Fuzzies.

In other news, there's another baby girl in this world who is wearing a Baby Cuteness Cardigan. More Warm Fuzzies for me. This is the pink cardigan I knit for a friend, who then gave it as a gift for the new baby girl who is the newest addition to a family of boys.

That mom is in the pink now and I'm happy to have been a distant part of bringing some girlie delight into her life.

Some schoolwork cuteness:

This is the spelling homework of a delightful girl (who is also one of the knitters). This kid is so funny without even trying. Check out sentence #2, showcasing the word wrapping:

Exactly as written: "There's a word that sounds like wrapping, rapping and it's what the people do with there boxers showing."

Love that kid.

(You might also note sentence #1 for the word stopped. She just got back from an island vacation. Don'tbe alarmed. I'm sure they were virgin pina coladas. I know her mother.)

In belated honor of Earth Day yesterday, I bought reusable grocery bags at Trader Joe's today.

Emmie approves.

But now she's wondering what Mommy is going to use when she cleans the litter box.

Time for a Little Variety

2008-04-22T19:05:00.007-04:00

They're done! My hand is cramped into a knotty little claw, but the boy is happy. I finished the Beatles jeans at about 11:15 PM last night. What a good mommy I am. I may not cook him any decent meals, but I can write on pants like nobody else.

He wore them to school today (!) with his green peace sign t-shirt. He thought he looked like a hippie and . . . well . . . he did.

I worried all day. My boy and I both thought the jeans were cool, as did many of you out there, but how would high schoolers react? I was afraid the boy would be 9th grade road kill. Happy to report there was no need to worry. Although some kids thought they looked like pajama pants, most thought they were cool and some thought they looked like he'd bought them at a store.

Now I want to write up a pair for myself - in much bigger print, but I need to take a little break. The Sharpie fumes are making me loopy.

In other news, we had the second meeting of our 3rd grade knitting group. Last week, the girls were calm and relaxed, chatting with me as we knit. This week - not so much. Wild children. We did get some knitting done and I even taught three girls to purl. They're SO impressed with stockinette stitch. It seems to look real to them, "like a sweater."

I even got a gift today from one of the girls:

Let's call it a neckwarmer. She intended to knit me a scarf, but greatly underestimated the amount of yarn it would take her. She just had one little ball of this thick puple yarn. I'm making this neckwarmer look good.

Really.

It's all me.

Look below.

You'll see what I mean.

Go ahead.

Look.

This knitter had started with 5 stitches on her needles and ended up with lots more. We're working on that little problem.

I, on the other hand, have not underestimated the amount of yarn I'd need for a scarf. My Smock-a-Ruche is coming along nicely. I'm into my second skein of Knitpicks Bare (220 yds. each), so it's not a one-skein project for me. But that's okay. I'm happy!

Look what I got in the mail. Arbitron, the company that measures radio station audiences, called me randomly and asked me to participate in a one time radio survey. I'm such a pushover. To thank me for my weakn - I mean willingness to take part, they sent me a crisp dollar bill. Sweet.

And finally, I leave you with a peek at my new eyeglasses. Just got them today. I'm never happy. I have such a hard time picking glasses. I like them when I choose them, but when I go to pick them up . . . yuck. I'm hoping these will grow on me.

I want to have cool glasses like other people. Sadly, cool glasses look dorky on me.

At least I'll have these to give my eyes a break from the contact lenses I wear for weeks at a time. (Don't worry, Mom. These contacts are specifically meant to wear them for up to 30 days straight. Really. And the eye doctor did an eye exam and pronounced my eyes healthy. I'm not lying. No, I won't mess with my eyes. I know they're the only eyes I'll ever have. Yes, I'm taking care of them. Respect the eyes. I know, I know.)

Pants Progressing Perfectly

2008-04-20T17:35:00.002-04:00

I've made some serious progress on the Beatles Lyrics Jeans (The BLJs? - um . . . nope. Don't like the sound of that.) I've finished the whole back side of the jeans and I asked my boy to try them on so I could get a sense of what they look like. I still think they're totally cool . . . but what is up with that baggy-ass look? The boy loves to wear his pants like that. The waistband is at his hips. It's a waistband - not a hipband. And he could double the size of his butt and he still wouldn't fill up the rear-end of those pants.

But anyway - the writing is pretty snazzy.

When my boy was little and wanted to pick out his own outfits, I was encouraged to allow him his freedom of expression. There were days I would shudder at his color and pattern combinations, but I let him go off to kindergarten. I remember wanting to make him wear a note pinned to his shirt that said, I dressed myself today. Now I want to pin a note to the back of his pants: The fit of these pants is in no way endorsed by nor supported by my mother.

I sure hope my boy doesn't read my blog.

Chicken and Jeans

2008-04-18T23:10:00.002-04:00

My April vacation has flown by. It's been a good week, with beautiful weather and a happy, pain-free back. (An MRI showed that I have two bulging lumbar disks. Yuck. Let's just not talk about it.) On Tuesday, I knit these babies during a train ride to NYC.

We went to see Bodies - The Exhibition at South Street Seaport. It was an amazing thing to see. Although some of the exhibits gave me goosebumps and made me put my hand over my mouth as I slowly tiptoed closer to get a better look, I'm so glad I went. It was so interesting to see all of the bones, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, and organs that make up the human body and even though I know I shouldn't say this, I'm going to. . . . . . Human muscles look like chicken. Sorry, but they do. I think chicken has been ruined for me. I've never been a big meat eater, ever since that day in high school when I came home to a pork chop dinner after dissecting a pig in biology. Still, I've always eaten seafood, fish, and chicken. I went out for dinner on Wednesday and ordered a pasta, broccoli and chicken dish. The chicken ended up getting pushed around on the plate as I ate the pasta and the broccoli. After seeing what I saw on Tuesday, I think my list of protein sources has gotten shorter again.

I've made some good progress on my smock-a-ruche scarf this week, but I've been sidetracked by a new project. May I present the fancy pants:

I had an idea the other night that it might be fun to doodle on a pair of jeans with a Sharpie. I pulled an outgrown pair of my boy's jeans out of a pile in the garage and started to play. Fun! I liked just writing on the jeans, rather than drawing. (I'm so not an artist.) I thought about poetry, but unless I were to fill up the fabric with some of my silly and not-so-appropriate limericks, I didn't know what I'd write. Then I thought of song lyrics. I started to write the lyrics to different Beatles songs, just to see what it would look like. My boy thought it looked so cool. So today, I went out and bought him a new pair of jeans and spent a few hours writing the lyrics to a bunch of Beatles songs, like A Day in the Life, Because, Across the Universe, Here Comes the Sun, All You Need is Love, Nowhere Man, Hey Jude, and The Fool on the Hill. I've only finished the back side of the left pant leg. Lots more to go.

The boy wants me to finish them this weekend so he can wear them on Monday. "I don't care if people think they're weird. I think they're awesome."

I guess this makes up for all of the things he hasn't let me knit for him.

I Have Some Ideas

2008-04-09T21:16:00.006-04:00

Last week, when I knocked my back out (actually, my back knocked itself out), the kids in my class got a little nervous. Some of them could see the pain in my face and just kept staring at me. I told them that I was okay, but that my back was hurting me. One of the girls said to another, "Oh, she's just having back spasms. That happens to my grandmother all the time."

I laid down on the rug and pulled my knees up, trying to stretch out my back. Another girl leaned over me and asked, "Do you want me to walk on your back? I do that for my dad a lot." Um . . . no thanks. Yet another delightful young person squatted down next to me and said, "It's so funny that you can even do that because you're . . . " I'm what? ". . . an adult." (Nice save.)

I curled up in a ball on the floor while many of the kids stood around me in disbelief (and delight) and several other kids ran amok. When I was brave enough to attempt a standing position again, I shuffled to my desk chair and slowly sat myself down. Ouch.

One of my co-workers, the one who loves to be my at-school mother, came into the classroom and saw that I was in distress. She took charge of my life, told the principal that I had to leave, arranged a substitute, and sent me on my way.

While I was out, the kids wrote letters to me offering suggestions of how I could make my back feel better. Some even included illustrations. Let's take a look. Shall we?

Here's a fine example of my excellent spelling instruction:

And that's me laying on the rug. I need to do a better job of rubbing in my blush. Oh wait, I don't wear blush.

Here's another letter by a student who had a little more to say. She drew a picture, too (below her letter). I think she and the first girl worked together. Oh - and I'd better keep an eye on her. She might be plotting a takeover.

This student thinks I should get off the floor and do some exercises.

I'm not sure what culups are, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to do any in the near future.

This next wiseguy must have been hanging around with my father. My dad used to tell me to do things like this when I was little. Give yourself a new pain to take your mind off the old one. Great plan.

This next illustration is perhaps the most alarming in the pile. This picture shows me on the floor with my son on my back. Nothing more needs to be said. (Except that when I showed my boy, he said, "What am I? A monkey?")

This last letter and illustration is my favorite. I know I shouldn't pick a favorite, but this child knows how to win me over. Look at #2.

Number 3 isn't bad either.

I feel better now.

Coming Up for Air

2008-04-08T18:21:00.003-04:00

Ahhhhhh. I can breathe again. After a rather nasty episode of bad-backness, a busy weekend, and 19 third marking period report cards, I'm officially back to my regularly scheduled life. My back is still a little wacky, but I'm upright and that's good enough for me. Our April vacation starts on Friday afternoon and I intend to enjoy this one. No flu. No bad-backness. I will be peppy and perky - and I will leave the house. So there.

I love to open my mailbox and find something good. I found something good the other day - a wee tiny sock from the Wee Tiny Sock Swap 2008 sent to me all the way from Denver, Colorado. It was knit toe up with SWTC Tofutsies on size 0 needles. I love it! I had been thinking that I'd love to knit some tiny pink socks and make keychains and ornaments to sell at our school's Relay for Life table in September. Now I have a beautiful tiny pink sock to serve as a reminder of what I need to do this summer. It'll also be a lovely reminder of my very first, very simple and easy (just the way I like it) swap. Thanks, Sue!

Inspired by my friend Anphoe, I've started to knit the Smock-a-Ruche scarf from 101 Designer One-Skein Wonders. It's the coolest pattern. I'm using my Knit Picks Bare worsted weight yarn, mainly because it was the only appropriate yarn I already owned that I knew I'd have enough of. (Sorry for ending my sentence with a preposition, but it is what it is.)

If I'm brave, I might dye the finished scarf with Kook-Aid. I was too impatient to dye the yarn first. I wanted to get right to the knitting - never mind that I already have a bajillion other projects on the needles, probably giving me the finger from their shelves on the yarn wall.

I'm off now to enjoy some knitting time while catching up on a bunch of DVRed TV shows I've missed. I might correct a few papers from the 3 inch pile of my kids' work. Or I might not. I have some chuckle worthy kid stuff to share with you when I get it together. Watch for it!

A One Act Play

2008-03-31T20:30:00.003-04:00

Sister is on the left. Brother is on the right.

Sister: What's wrong, Brother?
Brother: You know what's wrong, Sister.
Sister: No, really, I don't. What's bothering you?
Brother: Just leave me alone and let me sulk in silence.
Sister: Geez. Come on. Just tell me.
Brother: The sweater I'm wearing . . . It's yours.
Sister: What?
Brother: I said it's yours.
Sister: What are you talking about?
Brother: You're wearing my sweater. The boy sweater. Blue, green, yellow. Get it?
Sister: I think this sweater looks lovely on me. The colors are beautiful.
Brother: But the one I'm wearing has the purple and . . . gag . . . pink in it. It's supposed to be for you.
Sister: Oh. Right. But still - I look great! You need to be more secure in your baby boyhood.
Brother: Bite me.

Endless Entertainment

2008-03-29T11:47:00.008-04:00

Another one of my girls has made some serious knitting progress. She brought her project to me and asked me if I could end it for her. You know . . . "make it done." I showed her how I was binding it off, pulling on the yarn when I finished to show her it was "done" and it wouldn't unravel.

"Cool!" she said. "Can I take it home today?"
"Of course you can," I told her.
"Great!" she said with excitement. "I'm going to use it as a . . .

. . . bookmark!"

"What kind of book will you use it for?" I asked while digging my fingernails into my palms to stop me from laughing."

"Just a normal book. I'll probably have to fold it."

And now we move on to the dress designing talents of the former Bikini Girls.

During an indoor recess, two of the designers decided to have a contest. They each created a dress for a 16-year-old princess, complete with accessories. They worked on opposite sides of a white board so they couldn't see each other's designs, and their outfits would be judged by a third, impartial designer.

Here's Design A:

Notice the beaded embellishments. Notice the ring. Notice the earrings. Notice the bag.

And don't miss the tiara.

Now let's take a look at Design B:

Notice we have a strapless dress with floral embellishments.
Notice the necklace. Notice the earrings.

And please, please don't miss the pockabook.

The judge chose Design B. I'm happy that I didn't have to judge, because it would have been impossible to choose.

I'll leave you with this . . .

I spotted this in a friend's classroom. While she was tutoring a 3rd grade boy, the boy's 1st grade sister wrote on the white board. As most kids do, she played teacher, writing a version of the morning message her teacher writes to the class each morning.

A FLIED TRIP! We love flied trips.

You Knew This Was Coming!

2008-03-25T18:45:00.003-04:00

You knew that I'd soon show you photos of my 3rd grade knitters' projects.

WARNING: The images you're about to see may cause serious knitters to experience nausea, headaches, ringing of the ears, and tingling of the spine. Please stay seated while viewing these images. These images may cause non-knitters to spit liquids out of their noses, so please refrain from drinking while viewing these images.

Proceed at your own risk.

Really.

I warned you. Can't say I didn't. The above piece was made by an enthusiastic 9-year-old knitter. I had cast on 10 stitches for her and she somehow ended up with . . . um . . . a lot more than that. When asked how she added on the additional stitches, she replied, "I have no idea. It just happened."

Take a closer look.

Lacework! I'm such a good teacher!

Below is a funky new stitch.

Anyone recognize it? Does it have a name?

Now take a look at the skein of yarn.

Notice anything?

That's what happens when you knit outside during recess.

Here's another knitting sample. From a distance, it's not so bad.

Let's take a closer look. Shall we?

That's what happens when an 8-year-old knitter knits with dirty hands.

Are you okay? Still with me? Should I change the subject?

Before I do, in my own defense, I need to tell you that the OFFICIAL knitting club has not yet started. I've given some of the future knitters a quick lesson and they've been working on their own. They are no way considered to be under my direction supervision when it comes to their knitting. I take NO responsibility for the appearance of these knitted . . . um . . . objects. None. Not me. Uh uh.

Next subject. Now realize I'm really putting myself out there. I've shown you evidence of what a wonderful knitting teacher I am and now I'm about to show you what a great teacher teacher I am. Be nice to me.

As teachers, WE often give our kids fun worksheets to do. They allow the students to do some coloring and have fun as we reinforce skills. Sometimes, WE, as teachers, quickly select the worksheets without . . . um . . . reading and reviewing them carefully. Sometimes. This, I'm afraid, was one of those times.

I present to you . . . the Quilting Bee, published in 1999 by Tribune Education in a Grade 3 workbook. The skill: identifying the number of syllables in a variety of 1- to 4-syllable words. Looks good - right?

Take a closer look:

Can I just ask . . . WHY? Why on Earth would a 3rd grader need this particular word. Are there no other 2-syllable words that were available? Pleasured. Not pleasure, which is also a 2-syllable word. Pleasured.

Go ahead. Use pleasured in a sentence. Really. Go ahead.

Sorry, Mom. I know I told you I wouldn't blog about this, but I couldn't help it. Had to. It wasn't a pleasure, though.

Knelley's Addiction

2008-03-24T16:41:00.002-04:00

I'm hooked. How could I not be? Look at this!

It's my new favorite thing. I love this tiny sock. Love it. I used a different pattern this time - Cidermoon's Tiny Socks. I knit a few extra rounds of ribbing at the cuff, but then I followed the pattern exactly. I can't wait to go knit another.

No school for me today. I'm home with my sick boy. He has the flu, but has such a rotten sore throat that I had to take him to the doctor to be sure he doesn't have strep. No strep.

We're so sick of the flu. It's been getting lot of people we know - and it knocked me on my backside for days a few weeks ago. To mark our displeasure with the flu, some of my SnB girls challenged me to write a flu limerick. I'll share it will all of you, too.

It's torture – this horrible flu.

Makes everyone feel like dog doo.

The whole body hurts. Ouch

Can not get off the couch.

Oh when will flu season be through?

Hope my little knitting girls at school haven't tied up the substitute teacher with their tangled yarn.

Wee Tiny

2008-03-23T23:10:00.002-04:00

Can you stand it? A wee tiny sock.

I just joined my first swap - an easy one. All I have to do is knit one wee tiny sock, mail it off to a swap pal, and wait for another wee tiny sock to show up in my mailbox. So simple. My kind of swap. As you might expect, it's called the Wee Tiny Sock Swap 2008. Sign-ups close on March 27th. Pal info will be sent the following day. Knit a wee tiny and mail it off on Monday, March 21st. Short and sweet.

I won't be swapping this first wee tiny. It's less than perfect, and even if it was perfect, I wouldn't be able to part with my first one. I've started a second and I'm playing around with it to see how I'll like it best. It's a fun knit - all the sock satisfaction I could want in less than a sixteenth of the time.

I finally finished the second Baby Cuteness Cardigan for the twin Baby Angel Babies. The sweaters will be off to their new home tomorrow. The babies will need some time to grow into them, but the Cutenesses will be patient.

I'll leave you with Emmie, trying to figure out how to make the printer go back and forth and make that fun noise again.

It's hard to make her out, but her entire head is inside the opening of the printer. Such a dork.

Welcome to the Club

2008-03-19T22:26:00.004-04:00

My teaching life interferes with my knitting. I have to get up early, go to school, and teach 3rd graders all day. I would love to stay home sometimes and knit. When I'm in school, and have a few minutes of downtime, I often find myself thinking about my knitting. Wanting to knit. Planning my evening's knitting. Looking forward to my knitting time.

I have found times that I can knit during the school day. Once in a while, the entire school will assemble in the gym for a concert or special performance. I used to bring papers to correct so that I felt like I was making good use of every moment of my time. Then it hit me. I could knit. The last few times we had assemblies, I brought my knitting and happily clicked my needles while I watched my class and watched the performance. I'd see little necks craning to see what I was doing. I'd see little faces staring at my hands. I'd hear little voices saying, "Look! She's making a hat." "Look! She's making a sweater!" Look! She's not even looking!" Lots of little girls, and more little boys than I expected, were fascinated with my knitting. Cuteness.

This week, one of my girls came in with a knitting kit that she'd received as a gift. It had fat needles (17s?) and super-bulky yarn. She proudly showed me the kit, in a fancy clear plastic zippered carrying case. "Do you think you could teach ME how to knit?" she asked. It warmed my little heart. Then I spent about 20 minutes of my prep time untangling her blob of yarn.

Outside during recess, I casted on 5 stitches and knit a few rows to get her started. Then, I showed her the knit stitch. She fumbled and fiddled, trying to get used to holding the needles and keeping control over the yarn. I showed her again. She gave it another try. She got it. I watched as she knit a few rows, and then she headed over to sit on the blacktop with her back against the side of the building. She kept on knitting. By the time we had to go back inside, she had knit several inches. The other girls were oohing and ahhing all around her.

The next morning, this little darlin' came in to the classroom wearing her brand new scarf. "I knit it while I was watching Dancing with the Stars," she told me. "You sound just like me," I told her. "Can you start another one for me?" she asked. "Absolutely, I answered."

During snacktime, I got scarf #2 going for her while she walked around the room showing off her scarf to her classmates and . . . get ready for it . . . taking orders for scarves! She had a clipboard, paper, and a pencil and was writing down each person's name and the quantity of scarves requested. Then she grabbed a calculator and totalled up the orders. 32. I only have 19 kids.

She sat down at a table and began to knit. A bunch of the girls and a few of the boys gathered around her, watching and asking questions. I got a kick out of it, but I had papers to correct, so I sat down at my desk and got to work. A few minutes later, there were two girls standing in front of me. "Can you teach us to knit, too?" That's when I noticed they were each holding two pencils. "We can use these as knitting needles!" A-freaking-dorable.

Let me just say . . . pencils . . . not so good for knitting. We tried. We wrapped blobs of masking tape around the ends of the pencils. That was good. The wood tips kept catching the yarn. That wasn't good. I tried to assure the girls that knitting with needles was easier. "Can you teach us? Can we have a club?"

So guess what? I'm starting a knitting club.

To gauge their interest (ba-doomp-boomp), I brought knitting needles and yarn to school with me the next day, and sat with a group of seven (!) kids trying to teach them to knit. I did all the casting on and knit the first few rows of each, and then proceeded to . . . um . . . teach. Under the fence. Catch the sheep. Back we come. Off we leap. I found that rhyme on a few different blogs and message boards and thank goodness I did. The kids loved it and said it really helped them remember what to do. A few of them picked it up right away. A few of them . . . not so much. The great thing was that both the confident knitters and the strugglers asked to take home the needles and yarn so that they could practice at home. Some of the needles were plastic ones that I had bought for myself, but others were needles that originally belonged to my mother. She gave them to me when she taught me. (Thanks, Mom!) I told the girls that they needed to take good care of them and be sure to bring them back to school the next day.

This wasn't an official meeting of the Knitting Club. We won't start the real club until the second week of April. I sent home information and permission slips, and in addition to several of the kids already signing up, I had two moms ask if they could come, too - to learn. Thankfully, one of the girl's moms wrote a note on her daughters permission slip saying that she would love to come in to help. Did you hear that? The angels are singing. I wrote her an email that started with "Have I told you lately that I love you?" She wrote back to tell me that her daughter "feels so special that you let her borrow your mother's needles." I love that this little girl realized the importance of those needles. Another mom wrote to thank me for teaching knitting to her daughter, saying she wished she knew how to knit so her daughter would be able to say, "My mother taught me." I'm so glad that I can say that. I'm lucky.

So again, the next day, the girls brought their yarn and needles. A few had knit up all of the yarn that I'd give them (just little balls) (balls!) and were ready to bind off. I did it for them and then cracked up as they tied the two not-woven-in-yet ends together to make blindfolds and headbands.

I had gone to the store and bought them each a skein of Jiffy bulky-weight yarn. They acted as if I'd just given them a year's worth of No Homework Passes and 50 pounds of candy. So excited. I got them all started again and they sat there knitting and talking like a miniature version of SnB at Panera.

There are, though, a few things that take a little bit of the smile off of my face.

1. They keep trying to knit when they're supposed to be doing their work or participating in a lesson. ("That's going to have to come live at my desk for a little while," I tell them.) The principal even had to "speak" to them when they were trying to knit during play rehearsal during Drama Club.
2. When they mess up, they all seem to mess up at the same time. Sometimes, I can figure it out and fix it. Sometimes, I have to do the best I can and have them continue on. Sometimes, I have to frog it and start over. This is hard to do when there's a girl standing at each of my elbows saying, "I need help." "I messed up." "Am I doing this right?" One girl's knitting was so tight that she couldn't get the needle tip under the stitch. I frogged it and started it over, showing her that she had to try not to pull the yarn tightly. She insisted that she wasn't pulling it tight. A few minutes later, she was back with a tight mess again. "I'm not pulling it tight!" she said. I started her again. "Show me," I told her. She was only inserting the very tip of the needle into the stitch, wrapping and pulling it through. She was making teeny tiny little stitches. I showed her again. She tried. Tight. Almost some tears. (Hers - not mine.) We'll get there.

The club will probably be a little bit stressful, but there's more good to this than bad. I love that these kids want to learn to knit. And if just one of them keeps at it, or goes back to it when she's grown up, and says, "My 3rd grade teacher taught me," that will make it all worth it!

Alphabet Soup

2008-03-17T19:40:00.003-04:00

Thanks for the tag, Yankee! Here's my Alphabet Soup meme.

Here is what you do. Use the 1st letter of your middle name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real places, names, things…nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person you took this from had the same 1st initial. You CAN’T use your name for the boy/girl name question.

1. Middle name letter? A
2. Famous artist/band/musician? Abba
3. 4-letter word? The only 4-letter word I know that begins with A has 7 letters.
4. U.S state? Alabama
5. Boy name? Andrew
6. Girl name? Annabelley - okay, just Annabelle
7. Animal? Aardvark
8. Something in the kitchen? Applesauce
9. Reason for being late? Another bad hair day
10. Body Part? Oh come on. I'll play nice and say Aorta.
11. Drink? Appletini
12. Something you shout: Ahoy, matey!
13. Something you eat? Angel Food Cake
14. A movie you've seen? An Officer and a Gentleman

My job now is to tag 3 people, but I think my blogging friends have been tagged already. Anyone want to play?

Ouch

2008-03-17T19:17:00.004-04:00

A knitting injury:

I seem to be poking a hole in my index finger with the tip of my needle.

I don't know if I've always done this, but I've been pushing the left needle tip with my right pointer finger in order to drop the just-knitted stitch off the needle. It may have started when I was knitting with a cotton yarn that didn't want to slide and now it's become a habit. I have to put a bandaid on my fingertip when I knit because I keep jabbing it. It hurts! I'm afraid I'm going to end up with a gaping, cavernous wound - or worse - I'll poke straight out the other side of my finger. My goal is to break this bad habit. I'm trying, but still . . . jab, jab, jab. It's not easy being such a fragile flower.

Now, let's look at a baby. Shall we?

This is the darling daughter of a teacher-friend from school. Her proud mama gave me a photograph of her wearing my very first Baby Cuteness Cardigan! It really is cuteness. Of course, I covered the baby's face with a napkin before taking a picture of the picture in order to protect the innocent. What a bundle!

I leave you with this:

Emmie has taken control of the mitered mitten. I haven't been able to knit it at all because every time I go to pick it up, she's on it. She's there again as I type - right next to me, curled up on the mitten.

I think I need to get her a kitten.

Take a . . .

2008-03-14T19:04:00.002-04:00

. . . guess. What do you think it is? Any idea?

Is it a purse?

Nope.

Is it a broom cover?

Nah.

Is it an upside-down hat?

Not that either.

Ready?

It's this:

It's a nutty little elf-like slipper.

I had to make myself finish the first one completely before I decided if I wanted to knit the twin. I will. I already cast on for it. Don't know if I'll ever wear them around the house, but I might. They're called Pocket Book Slippers. I found the pattern through Ravelry. I don't know how - I wasn't searching for slippers. Just stumbled upon it. Really easy. Knit it in a few hours today during a long, boring stint at jury duty (jury doodie). Used Sugar'n Cream cotton and Us 7 needles. Plastic circular needles that could not be used as a weapon at the courthouse. No sharp, pointy objects, please. (Believe me, if I had a sharp pointy object with me today, I would have used it to jab myself in the thigh to check if I was still alive. Thought my body might shut down after sitting in the same chair for hours with a roomful of crabby people. None of us wanted to be there and the grumbling didn't make it feel any better. Good news is that I was sprung at 3:15. Not needed for a jury - not even questioned. Sorry SnB girls, I didn't get to try out the thinking cap. Next time!)

Another wacky view.

I found some cute charms at Joann's the other day, so I hung one on the Baby Cuteness Cardigan that I knit for a friend to give as a gift.

Here's a close-up. Made with love. So sweet.

And don't worry . . . I put a note in to remind baby's mommy to remove the charm before putting the sweater on baby.

Now I'm going to watch last night's Lost episode. Goosebumps are popping up on my arms already.

You Can Almost Fool Me Once

2008-03-10T21:16:00.003-04:00

I'm going to share something with you. I'm hesitant to tell you this because I don't want to gross you out. Please don't be grossed out.

I have some . . . um . . . warts on my left hand. I hate them. I've had them frozen off by the dermatologist twice and they've come back both times looking for a fight. They're bigger and badder than ever. I've tried the apple cider vinegar treatment, putting the vinegar on a little piece of cotton ball, putting it on the . . . um . . . offending area, and covering it with a bandaid. It works - somewhat. The acid of the vinegar eats up the . . . um . . . bad spot. Unfortunately, it also eats up the innocent skin around the wart. Ouch.

Next attempt: duct tape. Supposedly, if I cover the offending areas with duct tape and keep them covered, in about a week they'll have been suffocated. It could take longer, of course, but the duct tape thing is supposed to work.

Why am I telling you this?

On Friday, I was sitting in front of a computer (and no, I wasn't on Ravelry) in my classroom during snacktime. Two girls came over to me and one of them asked, "Do you have any duct tape?"

Hmmmmmm, I thought. I think I might have duct tape. I was pretty sure that I had my roll of duct tape with me, at the ready to cover my . . . um . . . imperfections. Yes. I knew I had my duct tape with me.

"I think I do have duct tape in my bag," I said to the now excited girls. I stood up and started to walk toward my desk. I stopped. Duct tape? Scotch tape, always. Masking tape, maybe. Duct tape? Wait.

"What do you need duct tape for?" I asked with a confused look on my face.

"Oh, we're going to play this game where we have code words and if someone says a code word, we cover their mouth with duct tape."

"Um . . . no."

Can't believe I almost gave them duct tape.

And what if the New Haven Register or the Connecticut Post found out?

March is for Mittens

2008-03-09T22:19:00.004-04:00

Another mailbox jackpot. Opened my box to find Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitter's Almanac. I ordered it from Amazon solely for the Mitered Mittens pattern. I fired up my US 7s and cast on with my Knitpicks Bare Kool-Aid-dyed yarn. I knit this much while I was at birthday dinner day at my sister's house today:

I love them. This pattern makes me like my yarn more than I did before. I've come to accept the purple. It's not as bad as I thought.

I had cast on 48 stitches, as the pattern stated, but after knitting a few inches, I thought the mitten would be way too big. My gauge was a bit off, but I was on the greater side of the stitches-per-inch count, so my mitten should have been smaller than EZ planned. Oh well. It was BIG, so I frogged and started again with 40 stitches. Perfect. It's going to have a nice, snug fit.

Although this patten is easy - simple to knit and simple to memorize, I'm getting a little nervous. The thumb. I'm frightened of the thumb. No, I'm not worried that it will be a wacky, way-too-long, no-human-ever-had-a-thumb-like-that thumb like my friend Yankee Lagniappe knit. (Boy, I wish she'd posted a picture of that. Thumbs up, girlfriend!) I'm afraid because EZ tells me knit the entire body of the mitten and fasten off. Then she says I should do this:

Try on, snip 1 st. at joint of thumb, unravel in both directions to release 15 sts, pick them up on 3 needles, blah blah blah.

Okay, she doesn't say the blah part, but snip? Snip? Snip a stitch in the middle of my pretty mitten? Is she nuts? I'm not snipping anything. Instead, I'm going to try her other method - the thumb trick. As I'm knitting the body of the mitten, she tells me to use a piece of contrasting yarn to knit 7 stitches at the place I want the thumb to start. Then I put those 7 stitches back on the left needle and knit as normal. Later, I'll go back, pull out that yarn, and use the stitches to knit the thumb. That still sounds scary, but at least there's no snipping involved.

Here's a view of the inside of the mitten with my 7 stitches with waste yarn.

Okay. I did that. I might need some help from SnB friends on Thursday night to make this work.

Bed time. This lose an hour thing has messed me up. March is for mittens and messed up sleeping.

Her Wish is My Command

2008-03-08T21:41:00.005-05:00

Any idea what this is?

How about this side? Does that help? Know what it is yet?

While perusing knitting blogs, I found a post where a woman knit two different versions of Swiffer dustmop covers and tested them out. I thought it was a riot and sent the link to my mother and my sisters to give them a giggle. Wouldn't you know it? One of my sisters thought it would be the pefect thing to use on her brand new hardwood floors. So I whipped one up today in a color that will complement her newly painted walls. Her wish is my command.

The pattern is called Zoom and the mop is meant to zoom all over the floor capturing dust and other unwanted yuck. It can be thrown in the wash when it's dirty and used over and over. Beats buying all those Swiffer cloths and throwing them away.

Here's the mop in its natural habitat:

I'll let you know how my sister likes it. I'll be at her house tomorrow for my parents' birthday dinner. My dad's bday is March 6th and my mom's was March 7th. Isn't that cute?

Speaking of cute . . . here's another Baby Cuteness Cardigan in pink. It's knit for a friend to give her friend for her new baby girl.

What to knit next?

Keep It Clean

2008-03-04T21:43:00.002-05:00

Been busy busy. Knitting a pink baby cuteness cardigan for a friend. In the meantime, a mom of one of my 3rd grade girls sent me this. Just yook at it.

First Born Monkey

2008-02-24T18:18:00.002-05:00

I just finished the first re-done no-purl Monkey. My pictures are not the greatest - tried some with flash, some without. None of the shots seem to show the true colors of the yarn. Enjoy, please, the toe with its wobbly kitchenering. Kitchna, baby!

This last picture is not one I would have been able to take by myself (unless I removed my left leg and I'm unable to do that at this time). The foot was originally upside-down in the photo and I flipped it. I think the sock pattern looks pretty cool, even without the purls.

Now I'm going to immediately cast on for the twin.

In a little while.

Later.

Maybe tomorrow.

Really.

The Kool-Aid Yarn

2008-02-23T13:11:00.004-05:00

I actually had a dream last night that I was winding my Kool-Aid yarn on a ball winder. It wasn't my ball winder - it was a wacky automatically-crocheted-my-yarn-into-a-big-blanket ball winder. And the big blanket was shiny. Residual flu dreams, I guess.

As soon as I woke up this morning, I ran (read: walked slowly) downstairs to wind my yarn. Ta da!

The grape color lightened up a lot when it dried and it's much more likeable. I grabbed US 6 needles and knit up a swatch. Here's the front:

Here's the back:

I don't know what I'll do with this yarn. I'll flip through OneSkein, One-Skein Wonders, and 101 Designer One-Skein Wonders to see what strikes me. Maybe mittens, mitts, or a scarf.

Now I'm itching to run to Stop&Shop to buy more Kool-Aid. I want to do a pink yarn and a blue/green yarn. Can't wait.

I made progress on my no-purl Monkey sock.

It's coming along nicely - much better than the one I frogged.

My boy is cleaning his room today. Shhhh. Did you hear that? Yup. The angels singing. I'm going to snuggle up on the couch with my knitting and with these:

Mailbox jackpot.

So Kool . . . -Aid

2008-02-22T15:42:00.003-05:00

Part 2:

After letting the yarn cool (well . . . almost), I rinsed it. I was amazed that no dye - not a drop - came out in the rinsing process. Clear from the start.

After swishing in mild, soapy water, I rinsed again and squeezed out the excess water.

Now it's hanging to dry. This will be the painful part. I want to wind it into a ball to get any idea of what it's going to look like. I love the blue color, but I'm not crazy about the purple. At all. It's so dark and muddy looking.

Emmie, however, is a big fan.

Gee, your yarn smells terrific.

Hey! Kool-Aid!

2008-02-22T14:09:00.005-05:00

Part 1:

It's a snowy pajama kind of day - a good day to try dyeing my Knit Picks Bare yarn with Kool-Aid I downloaded the instructions from Knitpicks.com and read them carefully. Well . . . kind of.

1. In quart jars with water, I mixed 2 packets of Ice Blue Raspberry Lemon in one, and 1 packet of Grape in the other. Ready to go.

2. I dunked one end of the yarn hank into the blue and the other into the purple. Here's where I realized that I hadn't followed the directions. I was supposed to wash the yarn in water with a mild soap and let it soak while I prepared the Kool-Aid. Crap. Forgot about that part. Too late to stop. Pressed forward.

Emmie supervised. Too bad she can't read.

3. I microwaved the yarn-filled jars for 2 minutes, as directed. Here's what the yarn looked like at that point.

4. I shifted the yarn to try to cover more of the un-dyed yarn into the blue dye and sent it back into the microwave for another 2 minutes. The idea is to keep this process going until the water is clear so the yarn has absorbed all of the color.

5. Here we are.

At this point, I stopped. Although there was still a little blue color left to the water, I liked the way the yarn looked. The purple yarn had absorbed all of the color and the water was clear.

Here's what the yarn looked like.

Now, we wait. I have to allow the water and yarn to cool, and then I'll rinse it until the water runs clear.

I'll show you later what it looks like. I can't wait for it to dry so I can wind it into a ball. So impatient. Can't stand it.

After supervising the yarn-dying process, Emmie went to watch the movie, "A Snowy Day."

She thinks it's almost as good as "A Windy Day," and "A Really Windy Day."

Then we both saw a lovely site. It's one of the best things about living here.

A young man with a snow blower shows up without even being asked. We love him.

Monkey Business Revisited

2008-02-20T19:09:00.004-05:00

After looking at my lone no-purl Monkey perched on a beer bottle and resting on a shelf of my yarn wall, I decided that today was the day to start its long awaited twin. I cast on and began to knit magic loop style and I'm all excited about knitting this sock again.

As I knit, I kept comparing the slowly forming twin to its sibling and saw a difference I didn't like. Hmmm. I tried the first born sock on. As I suspected. It was loose. The K2P2 rib at the cuff looked to be already stretched out before I tried it on and feeling it around my ankle confirmed that it was too loose. I'd knit the first sock a while back on dpns and was less than masterful as I knit the ribbing. I remember fumbling with the dpns while getting the sock started - always have trouble getting things going on dpns. Once I have an inch done, I'm good, but that first inch is iffy. I'm much better with magic loop. So I did this:

I frogged the monkey. What fun! I turned that crank on my ball winder like a mad woman and watched that sock unknit itself. I threw my head back and cackled, and . . . No I didn't. I'm not that nuts. I giggled silently - inside my own head. No one watching me would have guessed how delighted I was watching that yarn go back into a ball. There was no pain in frogging. I figured that if I'm going to knit a new one after all this time, I might as well knit two. I'm up for it.

And in case you're wondering, Emmie is still being a good momma to her baby.

Cuteness.

Perkin' Up

2008-02-19T21:19:00.007-05:00

Happy to report that I'm feeling SO much better. I spent the entire day out of bed and spent a good chunk of it upright and knitting. I even drove to the grocery store and back with my boy as my navigator/driving monitor.

Thanks for all your well-wishes. You made me feel all warm and fuzzy (and sweaty and clammy).

I finished this:

A Baby Cuteness Cardigan for the baby boy twin. I did the front right side today and all of the finishing. So happy to knit. I lost four days of valuable knitting time. Four whole days - not just four partial after-school days. Whole days. I had such knitting plans for those days. Now I need to knit baby boy's sister's Cuteness. And all of the other things I want to knit. I'm sure my mother is reading this and worrying that I'm going to stay up all night knitting (knighting?), but I won't. I wish I could, but I won't. I'll go to bed and have more wacky dreams like the one where an ex-boyfriend was trying to drown me or the one from last night where I lived in a weird room that had sprung a leak in the ceiling during the heavy rainstorms and I had to climb a big hill of dirt to set out a bucket to catch the water and it kept filling up right away and pouring onto the carpet so I had to call my father to come help patch the ceiling and when he came to help we realized that what I thought was a big rock in the dirt of the hill was really the head of a camel that was buried in the dirt with only its face sticking out and it was still alive but near death so my aunt had to come to put it out of its misery with an injection of something in its face and she's not even a vet. Horrible. Makes me want to stay up all night and knit. Safer. Dreams are always nutty when I'm sick.

Remember this?

The apple jacket I bought on Etsy? I love it. It's so cute and it's practical, too.

Emmie loves it. She's made it her own. It's her baby.

She rubs her face on it, licks it, carries it around in her mouth, and occasionally tosses it up into the air. Now before you judge her competence as a mother to her baby, just remember that lots of moms and dads toss their older babies up into the air and the babies giggle with glee. Emmie is trying to make her baby happy when she tosses it. She just has to work on catching it. Hey, you're not born knowing how to be a great mother. You have to learn. Trial and error.

While Emmie's baby napped, she went up to her loft to take some time for herself.

On top of the kitchen cabinets on her Red Sox mat. Can't beat it.

I'll leave you with the cuteness I spotted outside of a kindergarten classroom on our very rainy Valentine's Day.

Can you stand it? So glad I had my camera with me.

Blah

2008-02-18T19:34:00.002-05:00

No knitting at all to show you.
Can't do much 'cause I have the flu.
I can't read, I can't knit.
Lay in bed - that is it.
Can't wait to feel shiny and new.

I don't recall ever having the flu before. It's horrible. Fever, aches, chills, shivering, headache, congestion, sore throat, painful chest, no appetite, extreme exhaustion. Hit me like a truck. As I write this on Monday night, this is the first time since Friday early afternoon that I've spent any good stretch of time sitting upright.

I'm definitely on the mend and the worst is over. So tired of this. It's my VACATION! I should be having fun. I should be knitting. I should be cleaning.

I wanna wear my sandals. I wanna go out to lunch. I wanna be normal again!

(Do you remember that movie quote? Which movie? Who said it?)

My boy has been taking good care of me - bringing me drinks and medicine, cooking rice and pasta for me, reminding me to try to sleep, attempting to catch me when I fall down the stairs.

I did that. Luckily I was more than halfway down the stairs before I found myself no-longer in control of my body. No major injuries, but the glass I was carrying broke. I guess it was dumb to attempt a trip down a staircase on a day when my temperature had been 102.6.

I got up for a little while last night and walked around after taking a very safe trip down the stairs. (I was tempted to sit down on the stairs and go down step by step on my butt like a toddler. I watched Jon & Kate Plus 8 and that's what their sextuplets do. They're smarter than I am.)

When my boy asked me why I was up, I told him that I just felt like I needed to move around a little. My back hurt from being in bed for so long. My whole body was sore and achy.

His reply? "Ya, and your bedsores."

"My what?"

"Your bedsores. You said you were sore from being in bed. Bedsores."

Just when I think my boy is too old to say anymore cute things, he proves me wrong. Chuckle chuckle. Luckily, I can roll myself over frequently to avoid bedsores.

I'm going to go roll over now.

Don't get the flu! Don't. Do whatever you can to avoid it. Slather yourself with Purell. Wrap yourself in Saran Wrap. Lock yourself in a very clean closet. Just don't get the flu.

Fully Dressed

2008-02-11T20:50:00.000-05:00

The Bikini Girls followed my directions. I present to you the first Dress Girl. Don't you love the demure neckline and the red strappy shoes?

I've heard talk of a line of prom dresses for spring, so I'll keep you posted.

I treated myself to a new cell phone this weekend. I love it, but it looked . . . well . . . kind of naked. Almost like a bikini girl without the bikini.

I hated the thought of this pretty-in-pink naked phone thrashing around in the bottom of my bag with keys, coins, and other nonsense items scratching and clawing at it.

So I made it a sock. A cell phone sock. Don't you love the demure neckline and the sleek, body-hugging silhouette?

It was pure luck. I cast on 18 stitches in my tried-to-remember-how-to-do-it-like-a-toe-up-sock-figure-8 cast on (don't think it's right, but it worked) and just knit my little heart out magic loop style. Two strands of Knitpicks Cadena on US 10 (6 mm) circulars. Purled a round when it was tall enough, knit one more round and then bound off. Voila. Fit like a glove. No swatching. No frogging. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Amazing.

Cuteness.

I Used To . . .

2008-02-05T20:19:00.000-05:00

. . . wish for indoor recess. I would wish for rain, sleet, snow, hail, and/or temperatures below 32 degrees. All 19 of my kids contained in one room. For the kids: no running, no falling, no bumps, bruises, or blood. No pushing, no shoving, no attempted dodgeball playing. For me: no shivering in the cold and the wind, no referreeing, no breath-holding while silently chanting get up, get up, get up, when one of the kids took a spill. Indoor recess meant kids sitting on the floor building with Legos, gathered around the computers playing games, laying on the floor playing a board game or Connect Four, or sitting at a table drawing pictures. It meant that I could sit and correct papers, answer parent notes, write lesson plans, and tackle the endless paperwork.

During indoor recess, a few of my girls would play school, with one lucky girl getting the role of the teacher and the others being the students. They'd set up their classroom near my desk and most of the time, the worst thing I'd have to deal with was cringing as I listened to the teacher-girl say something exactly as I've said it. Boys and girls, I have go to go to a quick meeting. Mrs. B. will be here with you while I'm gone. I know she'll have good things to tell me when I get back. Love you - mean it. (I really say that?) Then there's the old favorite, Are you making a good choice? And the always popular, Thank you for remembering to raise your hand. It was painful to hear, but hey - at least someone was listening to me. Teacher-girl would write with a dry-erase marker on the whiteboard, and ask for a volunteer to answer a question or solve a math problem.

Well, a few days ago, the whiteboard-writing girls stopped playing school . . . and started drawing.

This is Bikini Girl #1.

I got quite a chuckle out of this drawing - a self-portrait of the artist in summertime. The girls were tired of being cold and were expressing their longing for the warm summer sunshine. I got it. I didn't have my camera with me, so I grabbed my cellphone and snapped a picture. The girls got a kick out of my enthusiasm and really got into this bikini girl thing. Shortly after I took the photo, the artist added an interesting oval-shaped object on the bare stomach of the bikini girl. "What's that?" I asked. "It's my tattoo," the artist answered. Yikes.

Here's Bikini Girl #2, wearing a lovely and more modest green two-piece swimsuit.

I love her blue hair and her adorable freckles. So sweet and innocent.

The next time we had an indoor recess, the Bikini Girls got right back to it. This time, though, they positioned the whiteboard so that I couldn't see it. I heard occasional fits of giggles, but let them continue to follow their artistic whims. The giggles got louder, and louder, and louder, so I got up to check out the artwork.

This is what I saw:

Oh my.

After I snapped a quick picture, I made them erase it - immediately and completely.

I told the artists that from now on they had to draw one-piece bathing suit girls. Or shorts and t-shirt girls. Or dress girls. No more bikini girls. Done done done.

Imagine the look on the principal's face if she'd walked in to see that? The look on a parent's face? The "Do It" mother's face? I shudder.

I want to go outside for recess now. There may be bumps, bruises, and blood. Bring it on. That I can handle.

Knitterly stuff . . . My new earrings! Love these. I bought them for $10 at a 50% off sale at Given to Gauche, a cute little store in the center of town. They made me think of balls of yarn. Balls. They were meant for me. Balls.

Here's my Knitpicks Chunky Cable Purse.

I used Knitpicks Cadena in the color Neptune. It took me 2 days to finish and it's my first successful finished project with cables. It needs to be blocked and lined, and then I need to choose handles. It's small and cute and I'm happy.

Now let's go outside and run around.

Crushed

2008-01-19T12:00:00.000-05:00

Lemonade, lemonade,
Sweet and sour.

How many boys can you kiss

in an hour?

One, two, three . . .

(My mother is getting nervous right about now, wondering where this is going. No worries. This isn't about me.)

When we were outside for recess the other day, a group of my 3rd grade girls were jumping rope. They were singing this rhyme as they jumped and counted until the jumper messed up. Then they giggled over how many boys they "kissed." One of them got up to 14. "I kissed 14 boys." I rolled my eyes. "I kissed 9 boys!" Again, my eyes.

Then one of my sweetest little darlings took her turn. She was jumping. "How many boys can you kiss in an hour?" Messed up. None. "I didn't kiss any boys." I high-fived her. "Good girl," I said. That's when another girl, the lone voice-of-reason in my class, stepped up and said, "We shouldn't be kissing boys anyway. We're only in 3rd grade."

Love that kid!

Spring is in the air in my classroom. I know it's only January and the temperature is below freezing, but the songbirds are singing, the butterflies are fluttering, and the girls and boys are gushing about their crushes. They're 8 years old! I hear them talk about girlfriends and boyfriends and who likes whom. I find the notes that say, "Will you be my secret girlfriend? Yes or No? (Circle one.)" It's all cute and adorable, but geez. Can we possibly just focus on reading, writing, and math? I had to give the, "We don't do this in 3rd grade" speech, telling the kids that we don't talk about who people have crushes on, and which girl likes which boy, because it makes people uncomfortable and feelings can be hurt. Happens every year. We're even having girls' lav graffiti issues, with the girls writing about the boys they like or saying rather unkind things about the girls who the boys they like like. (Following that one? Me neither.)

I don't remember being like that in 3rd grade. Things have changed. Yesterday after school, an alarmed-looking mom stopped me and asked if I had a minute for her. She said that while trying to get her son to do something he was trying to avoid she said, "Just do it." He said, "I know that that means." "What do you mean?" "Do it. I know what that means." "What?" "S-E-X."

Oh, this poor women - the look on her face as she told me this. She said that when she asked him where he heard this, he said, "In school." (Quickly thought back over my lesson plans for the week. Nope. Wasn't me.) She couldn't get out of him who said what, but I encouraged her to try to find out more this weekend. Who said what and where it was discussed. Then I'll, um, call in the social worker. Not touching this one.

Let's go to the yarn, shall we?

Look what arrived at my door in a big box:

A big bag o' Knitpicks yarn.

Four hanks of worsted Natural Bare Peruvian Wool so that I can try my hand at dying with Kool-aid. Can't wait to do it. Two hanks of Cadena in the color Neptune. It's a bulky weight that I plan to use for Knitpicks' Chunky Cable Purse. I saw it in their latest catalogue and I'd really light to try it. It's a small bag that will let my give cabling another try. I've only knit cables once on an ill-gauged neck-warmer, but I'm ready to try again.

A close-up of a neck-warmer knit for Bigfoot.

I also bought this new book. So many great patterns! I'm setting a personal goal of knitting all 101 projects.

You didn't believe that for a second, did you? First, I have to finish this:

The main part of my Satchel Grande is done. It only took forever (I've had NO knitting time this week. None. My real life has been interfering in my knitting life. Crappity crap crap.). I'm determined to finish it this weekend. Two little sides and two straps. Can do. I think.

I'll Grow Up Someday . . .

2008-01-17T18:26:00.000-05:00

Until then, I'll laugh at things like this.

Paulie Walnuts, Jr. (and I mean Jr.!)

2008-01-14T11:36:00.000-05:00

I'd like to begin today by thanking my school district for making the dum-dum call to close schools due to snow. We have no snow. Woohoo! I'm sure the big guys are kicking themselves, but I have nothing but good things to say about them. Sometimes our mess-ups make lots of people happy.

It seems that whenever I go out for drinks with my teacher-friends, a Paulie Walnuts-type character is lurking. Here's the Paulie story from Saturday night . . .

A bunch of us went to a local restaurant/bar to see a band which stars one of my former 3rd grade students -one of my all-time favorite students. This girl is only 14 years old and is an amazing drummer. She doesn't play like a teenage girl - she's unbelievable. (And don't worry about her now that you're thinking she's playing in a bar. Her father is the guitar player and her mom was right there, too. She's not hanging out in bars on her own at 14.) As the band was getting ready to start, we got a table and pulled a bunch of chairs around it. My friend C. and I were standing behind our chairs while the rest of our group sat down. From behind C., a little (and I mean little) bruiser-type guy walked up to her chair and said, "Hey, ya mind if I sit here? I gotta sit down." I don't know if she spoke or just nodded, but the guy dropped himself into the chair. The rest of us looked at each other with raised eyebrows and then at C. She just shrugged her shoulders.

We watched him as he sat there, wiggling and squirming like he couldn't sit still. He checked his phone, sipped from his beer bottle, and looked around. We couldn't help but notice his tattoos on his neck and his arms. Now, I'm not tattoo expert (although I have watched quite a few episodes of LA Ink), but his tattoos weren't the nice kind. They weren't crisp and clear and well done. They were bluish and blurry. The one on his neck was the Playboy Bunny symbol. (Must make his mama proud.) After a few minutes he got up and walked away. Good. He was gone. A little bump in the road. We return you to our regularly scheduled evening out.

Not to be. C. and I walked to the bar to get a drink (just milk, Mom) and C. found herself standing next to the barstool on which Paulie, Jr. was sitting. He leaned toward her and put his hand on her back. (Why do men think it's okay to touch a girl when they're complete strangers? Ew.) I didn't hear what he said, but she told me when we walked away (with our milk). It went something like this: "I hope ya didn't dink I was disrespecting you sittin in your chair. We should go get cawfee at da end of da night." C. smiled politely and side-stepped away, and we very maturely broke up into fits of giggles.

Paulie weaved and bobbed throughout the crowd for a while, seeming to be looking for something or someone, but hanging out on his own. He ended up back in a chair at our table. This time, there was no polite request to sit in the chair. I don't know if I can paint the picture with words here, but his hand shot out toward the back of the chair, he grabbed it, pulled it back hard and let it go, then walked around it and dropped. I was thinking he must have learned that move through a Be-A-Tough-Don't-Mess-With-Me-Kind-Of-Guy correspondence course. Again, we all looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.

At this point, I kind of lost track of what happened. Apparently, Paulie did or said something that offended K., a fellow female teacher who takes no nonsense from anyone. She asked him to leave our table. Yikes. Pushed Paulie right over the edge. After this, there was testosterone flying everywhere. (I think some of it got in my hair. Yuck.) There was Paulie, toe to toe with one of the guys in our group. Then there's R., the adorable husband of one of my friends, approaching with a smile, hand out ready to shake, introducing himself and asking Paulie his name. (Didn't he already know it was Paulie?) It seems that someone in our group heard this tough guy telling someone that he'd just gotten out of prison and that he got during some prison "down-time." R. was playing the role of the good guy, trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. Paulie wasn't having it. He did shake hands, but then puffed his chest out even farther. (He might have even flapped his wings. I could have been imagining that, though.)

Suddenly, there were more toe to toe, nose to nose, and, well, nose to chest pairings among the males as they took turns trying to get rid of Paulie. Paulie kept reaching behind his back and touching the waistband of his jeans. Checking to be sure his gun was still there? His knife? His shiv? Was he really packing? It was kind of scary. It got even scarier as all of the men started puffing up their chests and I heard the word "outside" spoken by one of them. Luckily, one of our guys had armed himself, sticking a fork up the sleeve of his sweater.

The man-pack moved outside, leaving us girls to worry about our men as they went off to battle (and leaving us to handle the harvest and the hunting on our own). Even though I didn't have my own personal man in the group, I was nervous. Actually, one of our guys had remained behind, staring at the TV and looking very bored. He told me that he had their back, but he didn't want to further antagonize the guy by joining the pack. Still not sure if I'm buying that one.

After only a few minutes, our guys returned. They were all in one piece. No torn shirts or bent forks. Relief. "Is he gone?" we asked. "Nah, he'll be back." And he was. As if he could float, Paulie was suddenly back behind the group. It wasn't more than a few minutes when there were more puffed up chests and noses nearly touching. This time, an employee had called the police and a cop came in to have a chat with Paulie. I couldn't hear what was said, but I figured that the cop was strongly encouraging him to hit the road as they walked outside together. Big sigh. Catastrophe averted. Jobs saved, as we noted that there were several school district central office administrators among the patrons of the bar.

Now we could all relax and enjoy the band. We told C. that all of this trouble could have been avoided if she'd just agreed to go for cawfee with him. Geez.

Onto the enjoyable part of the evening. Smooth sailing the rest of the way. Not.

We move on the the next bad guy story. When the man-ruckus was happening, a handsome white-shirted guy had joined to good guys to help them out. He stuck around and started talking to our group. He was attractive and had an adorable Boston accent. (His fawtha was a cawp. So waws his brotha.) C. and I remarked that he was cute. He liked C. He moved in on her and I was thinking, Good. He likes her. He's cute.

A few minutes later, she was at my side again looking angry and scared at the same time. He's cute, no? No, she told me. He wasn't. He was a pig. He had invited her to his hotel room. Creeped her out. Did I also mention that he was touching her arm and back as he talked? Why do they think they can do that. Men think they can touch you when they don't know you. Why? (Now don't think I'm generalizing about men. I know that not all men are like this. I happen to know some good men. Let's see . . . there's my dad, my uncles, a few cousins, my brother-in-law, and okay, I'll count my son. And there's, um . . . I'll need more time to think about this, but I'm sure there are more.) C. was grossed out and very uncomfortable. She did her best to stay away from him, but wasn't successful. He kept coming back. At one point, he was talking to her as she was standing next to me - and then she walked away. Leaving me. With him.

He kept tawking, telling me that he was that kind of kid who gawt in trouble at school. Even though he had cawps in his family, he was a bad kid. I told him I believed him and that I think I'd read about his family once. I rejoined our group and he seemed to back off.

We did end up having a good time overall, staying until closing at nearly 2 AM. As C. and I were leaving, she told me that the Boston guy had given her his phone number and hotel room number. I told her that she was just being a baby. She just had to choose how she wanted to be murdered that night. In a dumpster behind a diner after coffee? Or in a hotel room after a dip in a hot tub? One way was dirty. The other way was clean. (I'd pick clean, but that's just me.)

So, my friends, once again, I've learned something. We're all just better off staying at home and knitting.

I've been working on my Satchel Grande and I'm getting there. I'll post pictures of it soon.

Sounds Like Me

2008-01-08T17:58:00.000-05:00

Knelley --

[noun]:

A level headed person who always makes the wrong decision

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

The Big 100

2008-01-02T18:49:00.000-05:00

To celebrate my 100th post, I'll share with you 100 things about me. They're listed in no particular order - just the order they popped into my head.

1. I lick the bowl when I eat ice cream.

2. I still have my Dressy Bessy doll, my Tim Bear, and my Fisher-Price Cry Baby Bear from when I was a little girl.
3. When I was a kid, many of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my sisters. Since lots of the pants were too long, and I didn’t want the bottoms to drag on the ground, I would walk on my toes. For this, I earned the nickname Twinkletoes.
4. My other nicknames? Kelley Belly, Smelly Kelley, Kelley Jelly Belly, the quintessential Smelly Kelley Jellly Belly, and just plain old Smell.
5. I named my son after my father, who is named after his father. After having three daughters and two nieces, my dad deserved a little recognition.
6. When I was a teenager, my mother used to braid my hair for me every morning and tie a ribbon in it.
7. Before I became a teacher, I worked for a bra company. Used to get a lot of free bras. Now I pay retail.
8. In college, I changed majors three times.
9. I wore braces on my teeth for nearly six years on my bottom teeth. Now they’re all crooked again. (Sorry Mom and Dad.)
10. I eat popcorn almost every day.
11. Sometimes I snort when I laugh.
12. I feel naked without earrings.
13. On my very first date ever, when I was almost 16, a boy with a curly perm took me to see the movie Arthur. The boy was so nervous that he was sweating like a pig. At one point during the movie, he shook his hair, probably to unstick it from his head, and I got sprayed with his sweat.
14. I have bad luck with men. (It all started with #13.)
15. I can’t fall asleep without my sound machine. I listen to cricket or rain sounds.
16. I’m afraid of clowns.
17. I crack my knuckles, my wrists, my toes, and my back.
18. I stopped eating red meat and pork the day I came home from high school after dissecting a pig in biology class and found that my mother was serving pork chops. And I won’t each chicken unless it’s boneless.
19. I used to have such rough spots on the bottom of my feet that my friend used to call them tap shoes.
20. I get really crabby when I’m tired.

21. I have a blue spot under the skin on my palm from poking myself in the hand with a pencil when I was in kindergarten.
22. I have a blue spot under the skin on my left cheek from poking myself in the face with a pencil when I was in 6th grade.
23. My favorite color is blue.
24. I love pie. Pah.
25. When I was pregnant, I craved Slurpees, hotdogs, and stuffed clams.
26. I used a dishwasher for the first time this year.
27. I once had a polymer clay bracelet project published in Jewelry Crafts magazine.
28. I love limericks.

29. I’d like to write a children’s book.
30. I pay for my gym membership every month, but I never go.
31. I hate to sweat.
32. I used to be afraid to go to the dentist.
33. I went through a red phase in high school when I wore red boots or red shoes all the time.
34. I also went through a purple lipstick, purple blush, and huge earrings phase.
35. I always seemed to lose my purple lipsticks, purple blushes, and huge earrings. I later found out that my father sneakily confiscated my wacky items – one by one. He gave all of them back to me when I didn’t want them anymore.
36. My mother taught me to knit.
37.I knit every day.
38. I’m very easily startled.
39. Even though I’ve been divorced and single for more than seven years, I still sleep on my side of the bed.
40. Sometimes I drool on my pillow when I sleep.
41. I wear socks to bed.
42. When I was in 3rd grade, I was proud that I could spell Czechoslovakia.
43. I took dancing lessons – ballet, tap, and jazz – for ten years.
44. When I was old enough to drive myself to dancing lessons, I would blow off class and drive around for an hour. I still have nightmares that it’s recital night and I don’t know any of the dances.
45. I once cut my bangs off right at the scalp. They were frizzy.
46. I love mermaids.
47. When I was in college, my friends and I used to crank call a group of guys in my dorm on Sunday nights after the Dr. Ruth show was on the radio. I could do a mean impression of Dr. Ruth and the guys never knew it was me.
48. My pocketbook and wallet are always a disorganized mess.
49. I have good intentions, but don’t always follow through.
50. I love my garage.
51. I dropped my son on his head when he was little. I’m still really sorry about that, but he’s okay. Really. He didn’t fall far.
52. I hate hate hate baby squeaky toys.
53. I can’t stand suction of any kind.
54. I love Hello Kitty.
55. I put way too much Splenda in my coffee. I do this every day.
56. I love orange food - anything made with pumpkin, carrots, or sweet potatos.
57. Lost is one of my favorite shows. I get goosebumps when I see commercials for it.
58. I love watching Project Runway.
59. I still have a nightgown that I got for Christmas when I was a teenager. Both of my sisters got the same one.
60. My son recently told me that I’m becoming more and more like my mother. He meant it in the nicest possible way.
61. I love my family.
62. I often dream that I have to pee and can’t find a bathroom – or the bathroom I find is gross – or there’s no privacy.
63. Other times I dream that I’ve gone to school without wearing pants.
64. Nearly every time I go to Panera for Stitch ‘n Bitch, I get the Portobello Mushroom and Mozzarella Panini.
65. A few weeks ago, I went into a Starbucks and ordered myself a latte – all by myself. I didn’t get intimidated and leave without ordering like I did that other time I went to Starbucks.
66. I used to have a wicked lisp when I was a kid. I went to speech classes in elementary school. I think I was cured during that class when a mean, lisping girl named Sally Sachse put a big blob of past on my tongue with a craft stick. Thally Thacth.
67. I still lisp sometimes when I get really nervous.
68. I crack up on the inside when little kids and old people swear.
69. When I was in high school, my friend and I were standing at the door of our English classroom waiting for the bell to ring. We saw a banana peel on the floor in the hallway. We looked at each other and laughed. One of us said, “I wonder if anyone ever really slips on a banana peel.” Seconds later, a boy came around the corner, slipped on the banana peel, and fell on the floor. My friend and I laughed (we were teenagers – no self-control). The boy thought we’d put the banana peel there on purpose. If only.
70. I’ve reached for the remote control to turn down the sound . . . at the movie theater.
71. My sister and I used to compete to identify which episode of the Brady Bunch was being shown within the first 30 seconds. Oh, my nose!
72. I’ve never been able to buy a toothbrush, coffee mug, or bicycle license plate with my name on it.
73. I love to read and always have a book in the works.
74. I like to read the book before I see the movie.
75. I’ve never read a book with a long-haired, shirtless man on the front cover. I never will.
76. I cried at the movie Titanic, right at the beginning of the movie, when things were still happy, because I knew what was going to happen and all those poor people on the ship had no idea.
77. I make up dumb songs in my head. Sometimes I sing them out loud. Some of the lyrics are angry and have 4-letter words. Most of them are sung to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
78. I once made up a little song about my cat, Emmie Ming May, and I would sing it to her all the time. I drove my boy nuts. When I showed pictures of Emmie to my 3rd graders, I sang the song to them. It drove most of them nuts, too, but quite a few of the kids loved it and sang it with me. Then I called my boy’s cell phone and had the class sing the song on his voicemail, just because he said I couldn’t get them to do it.
79. I clip coupons, but forget to use them.
80. I’m really uptight about my money. I balance my checkbook to the penny.
81. I often brush my teeth in the shower.
82. I used to take extra Equal and Splenda packets from Dunkin’ Donuts until my then-5-year-old son pointed out that I could buy them at Stop & Shop.
83. One of my all-time favorite movies is Baby’s Day Out. I bought it on DVD for him for Christmas since our old VCR ate both of the copies we owned before.
84. I like Sudoku.
85. In order to retire some day, I’m going to have to find myself a sugar daddy.
86. When I was little, I cried when my sisters went to Girl Scout camp and I slept in their beds while they were away.
87. I used to have a hard time sleeping over at a friend’s house. I’d last until about 10 or 11 pm, and then I’d call home pretending to be sick. My dad would have to come pick me up. I finally spent the whole night at one friend’s house after my father bribed me with 4 shiny quarters.
88. I once stuck a bead up my nose.
89. I weigh myself every morning.
90. My mother caught me with a cigarette in my hand when I was in high school. I blamed it on another girl, telling my mom I was “holding” it for her. She never believed me.
91. I am still friends with two of my favorite people who I’ve been friends with forever. They’re goodies. One of them has been with me since we were tiny, and the other we picked up in junior high school.
92. I sat at the same blackjack table as the actor Paul Sorvino in Atlantic City. I played one hand. I lost.
93. When I was 16, I worked at Burger King. Eddie Murphy came through the drive-thru one Saturday afternoon. He ordered two cheeseburgers, mustard and onion only, and an orange soda. He had a real, live cat sleeping on the dashboard. This is a true story. No one believes me, but it was him. Our Burger King was right off I-91. Easy off – easy on.
94. When I was a kid, my mother liked to keep my hair cut short. One day, at the North Haven Fair, a horribly nasty woman said to me, “My husband thinks you’re a girl and I think you’re a boy. Which are you?”
95. I once won $101 by calling into KC101’s Worst Joke Wednesday.
96. I accidentally killed my son’s beta fish by dropping it into the sink when I was trying to change its water. I fell into the drain and I tried to fish it out with a spoon. I got him out, but he didn’t make it. Still feel bad about that.
97. One of my favorite pictures of myself was taken when I was little, sitting on our back porch reading a book and wearing a sweater hand knit by my mother.
98. I still love to call out, “Huckle Buckle Beanstalk,” when I find something I’ve been looking for.
99. I’m extremely ticklish.

And the big 100 . . . I’m happy and healthy.

One Down . . . Eight To Go

2008-01-01T16:42:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned in a previous post, I've written my New Year's resolution to model for my 3rd graders tomorrow. These are the questions they'll have to answer by writing complete sentences:

- What is your New Year's resolution?
- Why do you think your resolution is important?
- How can you make sure you'll keep your resolution?
- What will you do if you break your resolution?
- Would you suggest that other people make the same resolution as you have?
- Why or why not?

* * *

Here's my example:

My New Year’s resolution is to organize all of my yarn, knitting books and patterns, and my knitting needles. I think this resolution is important for me because my living room is a mess. There are balls of yarn all over the place, spilling out of baskets and rolling across the floor. The yarn gets tangled and I can’t find what I need when I want it. To make sure I’ll keep my resolution, I’m going to buy a big bookcase and sort out all of my knitting supplies on the shelves. Then, whenever I use something, I’ll put it back where it belongs. If I break my resolution and end up with yarn balls and knitting books all over the place again, I won’t allow myself to buy any new yarn until I get organized. I suggest that other people make a similar resolution to mine. Although others might not have the yarn mess that I have, I’m sure they have something messy they need to organize, like their desks, their take-home folders, and their backpacks!

* * *

Well, people, I'm not letting any grass grow under me. I tackled Knitterly Resolution #1. I went out to Ikea yesterday and bought myself a yarn wall.

Here's Emmie behing helpful during the building process. My boy was a huge help, too. It was definitely a 2-person job. And I only swore a few times. They were very bad words, but there weren't too many of them. Really.

Here's the new yarn wall, anxiously awaiting its yarn. Emmie pronounced it fabulous and quite suitable for that string.

This is just some of that string she was talking about.

The yarn wall is partially loaded and stocked, with Emmie trying to convince me to save her a spot.

And I present for your viewing pleasure . . . the yarn wall.

Knitterly resolution #1 . . . check.

* * *

A happy find: Yarn Ball Boogie - a blog written by a very entertaining man. I want to invite him over for dinner. Too bad I don't cook.

Happy New Year!

My Knitterly Life

2007-12-31T12:47:00.000-05:00

My friend Yankee Lagniappe tagged me to review my 2007 knitterly accomplishments and my 2008 knitterly resolutions. Here goes:

My 2007 Knitterly Accomplisments (not necessarily in order, because who can remember?):

1. I was a big, brave girl and went to my first Stitch 'n Bitch meet-up. One of the best things I've done - knitwise and lifewise. I've met a wonderful group of girls who have become great friends - and they share my knitting addiction. Can't beat that.

2. I started this knitting blog!

3. I got my invitation to Ravelry and found yet another endeavor to keep me from doing laundry and dishes.

4. I knit my first pair of socks. Socks. I made socks. From scratch. With a recipe. Proud!

5. I learned the magic loop method of knitting in the round. Love love love it. Nothing against dpns, but magic loop really helps me avoid lots of dropped stitches and mess-ups.

6. I spit-spliced! Thanks CostumeChick!

7. I went to Rhinebeck! It was my first trip to the New York Sheep & Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY with 4 fabulous friends from SnB. What a great day. It was knitter's heaven.

8. I knit lace. Okay, so I didn't use laceweight yarn (even though I bought some at Rhinebeck). I tried, but I just wasn't ready for that tiny little string. I consider my Candle Flame Shawl my lace, so I'm taking credit for this accomplishment. Humor me.

9. I figured out how to modify an existing pattern to knit something I really wanted to make. Believe me . . . this was a proud moment!

10. With a lot of help from smarter knitters, I completed Elizabeth Zimmermann's Baby Surprise Jacket. EZ patterns, to me, are so not easy!

11. Two men fought over a sock that I made!

Okay, so maybe I'm going a little overboard with this accomplishment thing, but I'm having fun.

12. I knit with Knitpicks Options needles. (Thanks Mom & Dad!)

13. I wound my own balls. With this.

I think I'm done. I think. That's enough, right? Are you bored?

My 2008 Knitterly Resolutions:

1. I will organize my yarn and accessories. I'm in search of a yarn wall (like CostumeChick and Anphoe). I want to have my yarn in a place where I can not only find it, but enjoy it by just yooking at it.

2. I'll knit real lace. With that tiny little string.

3. I will knit a sweater for myself. A grown-up, adult-size sweater.

4. I'll finish my WIPs. Be quiet. There's no laughing allowed. It's rude to laugh at someone's resolutions. Geez.

5. I'll teach some of the kids at school to knit. Maybe. I have some major concerns about sitting in a room with a bunch of 8 and 9 year-olds while they're holding pointy sticks. Maybe we'll try crochet. One stick per kid - and not so pointy.

6. I'll do some charity knitting - maybe for the Snuggles Project.

7. I'll try colorwork. Maybe just a little swatch.

8. I'll organize my knitting patterns into a pretty binder with page protectors. Right after I finish my WIPs.

9. I'll finally go to WEBS in Northampton, MA. SnB girls - you're with me, right?

I think I'm done, although it would be nice to have a nice round 10 things on my list. Wait . . . what am I thinking? 9 is more than enough to tackle.

When we go back to school on Wednesday (ouch . . . that was painful to say), I'm going to have my kids write about their New Year's resolutions. I make it easy for them by having them write answers (in complete sentences, of course) to a series of questions about their resolutions. I think I'll pick my first resolution to write as a model for them. If I do, I'll share it with you. Chuckle, chuckle.

Gotta get knittin' now.

Ur Not Funny

2007-12-30T23:12:00.000-05:00

DON'T LAFF.

UR HOUZ MITE FALL ON UR HED .

Now my mom wants 2 sho u sumthin she is makin wit dat string i likes 2 chase.

My knitting A.D.H.D. continues. Yesterday, I started my new Satchel Grande using Lion Brand Wool-Ease Thick & Quick.

I love the color - Sky Blue. So far, this knit is moving along pretty quickly. Despite the fact that I hate hate hate seed stitch, this super-thick rope of a yarn lets me make fast progress on US 11 needles. My gauge is a little off (what else is new?), so the bag will be an inch wider than it's supposed to be, but that can't be a bad thing.

Tomorrow, I'll be back with my 2007 Knitting Accomplishments in Review, along with my 2008 Knitting Resolutions, a la my friend Yankee Lagniappe.

Emmie says:

My mom shood makes rezolooshun to nit a noo kitty carrier cuz dis iz not wurkin fur me.

To Market, To Market

2007-12-26T23:40:00.000-05:00

I forgot how quickly I can get a project done when I'm using big needles. Yesterday, during our family Christmas get-together at my aunt and uncle's house, I started knitting the Fantasy Naturale Market Bag with my Cotton & Eco-spun Organic Cotton/Recycled Soda Bottle yarn (167 yards for $1.79!). Using my, ahem, Knitpicks Options needles in US size 10 1/2, I knit the bottom square in garter stitch, then continued the pattern in using my, ahem, Knitpicks Options Harmony Wood needles in US size 15.

If you look carefully, you can almost see the pretty wooden needle tips at the top of the picture below.

I cranked through the bag for quite a while yesterday, a little more last night, and then a lot of the day today. I did have a little snafu yesterday when the needle tip unscrewed from the cable, but it was completely my fault. I hadn't tightened it with the cable key, thinking I was manly enough the screw the tip on tightly myself. User error. I put the tip back on the right way and fumbled through finding my dropped stitches. Kind of hard when you have 80 bajillion yarn-overs and K2togs, but I think I did okay.

I had almost finished the bag, using just one of my purty little yarn cakes, when I realized that I was going to need to start a second cake. I needed a teensy bit more yarn. Crappity crap crap. I don't like joining yarn when I have such a loose knit. How do I weave in the ends so that they stay in? Hmmm. Did a little research and I did a Russian join. I can't remember where I saw this join mentioned, but a little googling led me to the link that showed me how to do it. Totally worth the effort. The picture below shows my newly joined yarn. I didn't have to be perfect, because the textured yarn hides my less-than-stellar job, but it worked.

I knit the few more rounds I needed, and voila . . .

Done, done, done.
I followed the pattern almost entirely, changing it only to add 4 additional rounds of garter stitch to widen the handles. They seemed like they'd be wimpy if they were left too narrow.

This bag is loose and stretchy, and it'll be the perfect bag to use when I stroll through the market, carefully selecting fresh fruits and vegetables.

Um . . . wait . . . I never do that.

It'll be the perfect bag to use when I . . . um . . . give me a minute. I'll think of something.

I know! I know! It'll be the perfect bag to use when I stroll through the CT Sheep, Wool & Fiber Festival in April. When I'm shopping at WEBS. When I go to Rhinebeck next fall. I'll load it with tons and tons of yarn! That's what I'll do.

How do you like them apples?

I Must Have Been A Very Good Girl

2007-12-25T22:50:00.000-05:00

Hope you don't mind if I share a few of the knittingish Christmas gifts I received. My mom knit me a beautiful turquoise throw. (She also made one for my son and each of my nieces. She's got to get busy knitting a few more!) And who gets mittens to match their throw? So much fun! (Both of my sisters got these mittens, too. Is our mother still trying to dress us alike?) My sisters and I also got 5 new cross-stitched Christmas ornaments to add to our collections. I snuck mine onto my little tree while Emmie wasn't looking.

Lookie, lookie! I'm the proud owner of a set of Knitpicks Options nickel-plated needles, some Harmony wood tips in the large needles sizes, and an assortment of accessories. Woohoo! I also have a new ball winder and swift, and the 2008 Stitch 'n Bitch Knitter's Calendar.

When we came home from Christmas Eve at my sister's house, I set up the ball winder and swift before I even took my coat off. Couldn't wait to make yarn cakes.

And another cool gift . . . this sweater from my sister. I opened the box and thought, This is pretty. Black with purple trim. Cute!

And then I pulled it out of the box and got a good look.

Love it!

It's been a very merry and very knitterly Christmas for me. I had a wonderful time with my family with lots of laughs, gifts, and food. More tomorrow. My new needles are calling me. I can tell already that they're going to demand a lot of attention.

Hope you all had a fabulous holiday!

Yum

2007-12-24T15:03:00.000-05:00

What's more fun than smashing candy canes with a hammer?

Eating the peppermint bark that the smashed candy canes make. Yum! (No worries . . . the hammer was covered with many layers of plastic wrap. I think I should check to see if Martha Stewart sells a candy hammer. It's possible.)

Then I made these . . .

Carrot Cake Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

Talk about yum! Here - take a closer look:

100% delicious goodness. Here's how to make them:

1 box carrot cake mix

1 15 oz. can of pure pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)

6 oz. chocolate chips (or white chocolate chips)

Dump the cake mix into a bowl. Plop the pumpkin into the same bowl. Mix until combined. Really. That's it. NO eggs. No oil. No water. No nothing else. Except the chocolate chips. Mix those in now, too. Bake at 350 degrees on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper for approximately 15 minutes. Check the bottoms of the cookies to see if they're golden-ish. If they are, they're done.

So easy and so good. Really good. Want to know how good?

This is the cookie from which my boy took a bite. After he took the bite, he said, "Mmmmmmm. These are good." My boy does not eat carrot anything. My boy does not eat pumpkin anything. My boy was sucked in by the chocolate chips. Now he likes Carrot Cake Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies.

We're going to work on broccoli next. Any ideas?

Merry Christmas Eve!

Whoosh

2007-12-22T20:21:00.000-05:00

That was just me . . . exhaling. I'm sitting on my couch with the TV on, our new little Christmas tree lit, presents wrapped, grocery shopping done, knitting on my lap, and enjoying my freedom. After a week spent with wound-up, sugared-up 3rd graders and having a 5-day headache the size of Nebraska, school is out until January 2nd. I don't even want to know when January 2nd is. It's in the future. Far in the future, right? Don't tell me.

I must admit that the school week was a whole lot of fun . . . if you were 8 years old. For me, it was stressful babysitting while trying to convince myself I was really teaching the kids some valuable things. I tried. I gave it some good effort. I even gave a math test. I haven't allowed myself to look at the tests yet, though. Don't want to ruin my holiday.

In the end, I had to give in to the needs and wants of the masses and just . . . make paper snowflakes. We spent an afternoon cutting out snowflake after snowflake after snowflake. I have to admit I get a little charge when I show the kids how to make a really good one. It's all about the square. You have to start with a square sheet of paper and fold it into triangles. No matter how you cut, you can't mess it up. It's going to be cool. After I cut the first one, the kids ooohed and ahhhed and wanted to know my secret. I showed them and they made a room full of beautiful snowflakes. I wish I took pictures, but when I went to grab my camera out of my bag, I must have gotten distracted by the giant bottle of Advil and its promise of headache pain relief. Never took any. Pictures, I mean. I took lots of Advil. Here's a photo of one I've just made for your viewing pleasure:

But don't think that just because the kids were caught up in snowflake making that they were little snow angels. Oh no. There was most certainly some running with scissors. Not good. There was shouting and silliness. There were unkind words exchanged between classmates who may or may not have been taking things that didn't belong to them. And there were threats of last-minute notes sent to Santa from the teacher. I told them it was never too late for a teacher to get a note to Santa. And oh, how Santa gets upset over those last minute notes. Luckily, he's well stocked with lumps of coal. Big lumps. But no, my threats didn't make a bit of difference.

On Thursday, we had Polar Express Day. The kids came to school wearing their pajamas. So did I. (Have to admit, it was very freeing - despite the funny looks from the people in Dunkin' Donuts.) We pushed all of the desks to the side of the classroom and the kids sat on the floor on blankets they'd brought from home, holding their stuffed animals. I read The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg while we drank hot chocolate served by some wonderful parent volunteers. The children in the story were wearing their pajamas, so that's why we wore ours, too. (In the movie version, hot chocolate was served on the train on the way to the North Pole. We were planning to watch the movie the next day.) We all loved the wonderful story and had a lively discussion about how we know that Santa is real.

In the afternoon, more parent volunteers came in to help us with a holiday craft. Each child made a bobble-head snowman with curled wire arms - a photo holder. After we were done making the big, gluey mess, I gave each of the kids their Christmas gifts from me - a stack of three books and a candy cane tied together with curling ribbon. The kids were excited about the books (imagine that!) and quickly untied the ribbons to look through them. Now . . . remember those stuffed animals - the ones they were holding while snuggled up on their blankets listening to a heartwarming story? Yes. Those. Well, within three minutes, the majority of the boys (and I have 9 boys) had tied the ribbons around the necks of their animals and were swinging them around. The girls were quick to catch on and soon most of my 19 children had leashed their bears and puppies and bunnies and were having bashing battles.

Here's when things get iffy for us teachers. When a child goes wild - I mean makes poor choices - while his parents are right there in the classroom, who yells at - I mean reminds the child to make good choices? As a teacher, I have a hard time disciplining a kid when Mom is right there. As a parent, I think Mom is thinking I'm in the teacher's territory. Better leave it to her. So not much happens. I tried to calmly and sweetly bring the class back under control while the parents hung their heads and cleaned up the gluey messes. Then, one or two at a time, the grown-ups said they were leaving. Without seeming desperate or begging, I tried to get them to stay. No dice. They were out of there. Can't say I blame them.

I did get some delightful gifts from the class, including a handful of Milford Money - gift certificates that can be used at lots of different shops and restaurants around town. Such a great present! Another fantastic gift from one of the girls was a Macy's gift card with her photo and a message to me printed right on the card! So cool. I'll keep it forever - especially since it's from the girl who, when I joked that I had once gone out on a date with Santa, said, "If I were a guy, I'd date you."

But the most heart-tugging gifts were these:

Above is a hand-woven ornament from a delightful little girl who I've wanted in my class since she was in kindergarten (and I got her!). She told me she did the weaving all by herself. I told her it was unbeweavable.

Below is a silver and gold shell wreath made by one of my sweet little boys and his younger brother. They even signed the back.

Okay, okay, so the week wasn't as bad as I thought it was. But I was still exhausted and slept last night as if in a coma. And I'm happy happy happy that I have a break from those adorable little hooligans. I kind of miss them.

On the knitting front, here's one of my latest acquisitions - my first Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Merino Wool in the River Run colorway. It's even better in person. I bought in on ebay for $19.99 with free shipping. Not a bad deal! I can't wait to knit some socks with it. I'll keep you posted.

Here's the progress I've made on the Karaoke Drop Stitch Scarf. It's so pretty - the colors are gorgeous.

Don't thing you're going to get through a post without a reference to balls. Here it comes. I gave away 15 balls so far as gifts to teachers, staff members, and parents at school. They were a big hit. My ball bowl was emptied. I made one new one today, and I've got a second on the needles. A few more to go, and my affair with balls will end. For this year. Balls.

We Just Can't Have Nice Things

2007-12-15T11:42:00.000-05:00

We tried. We wanted to have a nice Christmas tree this year. We've always had a beautifully decorated tree. Always. Until last year. It was Emmie's first Christmas and she was a tiny little peanut of a kitten. When we put up our tree, she immediately climbed in to play and sit in the branches. No big deal. She was too little to knock the tree down, so we let her have her way, but fearing electric lights would zap her and our ornaments would be ruined, we lived with a plain old artificial tree. Sad, but necessary.

This year, with Emmie being a well-behaved, no-longer-a-kitten (cough cough) kind of cat, we thought we could have a pretty tree again. We bought a new artificial tree (because we pitched our old one when it began losing more needles than a real tree and I don't want to talk about the fact that our new one does the same frigging thing) and put it up. Emmie climbed at first, but then left it alone. The next night, we added lights - all blue this year (not nearly as pretty as I'd hoped, but whatever) and Emmie climbed and played in the branches. We left it that way for a few days, then I was ready to try some ornaments.

I figured I'd start with the cross-stitched ornaments lovingly made over the years by my mother and happily hung them on the branches. They're so beautiful! (And look, Mom, almost enough to do a tree with just these ornaments! Hope you're working on more for this year. Hop to it!)

Look at one up close. Pretty nice, huh?

Emmie played in the branches as I hung the ornaments, but when I took a break, so did she. She went into the kitchen for a few minutes. Then the sneaky little $&@! peeked into the living room, went back for a running start and FLEW across the room toward the tree. She jumped up and whacked off two ornaments in one smooth motion. Crap. Within five minutes, there were seven or eight ornaments on the floor. We just can't have nice things.

M. came downstairs, looked at me with tremedous sadness in his eyes, and proceeded to take all of the ornaments off the tree. Can't do it this year.

We decided to leave the tree up with just the lights. An attempt at being festive, at least. Then, this morning, I came down to see this:

She had pulled out some of the branches and pulled the lights down from the top of the tree. After telling her what a bad girl she was, I tried to put things back together. Then this happened:

Guess I should just give it up.

Let's look at some balls, shall we?

Eleven 1/2 done, a little more than that to go. Must knit more balls.

Feeling Crabby? Getting Grumpy?

2007-12-11T21:22:00.000-05:00

Watch this and it'll cheer you right up.

Santa Gets Flats, Too

2007-12-11T21:16:00.000-05:00

Balls

2007-12-09T11:12:00.001-05:00

Tired Up and Tired Out

2007-12-08T21:47:00.000-05:00

Today was not at all the day I planned. I was going to relax. I was going to knit. I was going to correct papers in an attempt to put a dent in the 75 pound pile that has so quickly accumulated. I might have ventured out for a few errands if the mood struck, but really had no interest in battling pre-Christmas Saturday traffic.

In preparation for knitting the Christmas ornament cover pattern that Jennsquared at Cafe Eclectic has been knitting, I went into the garage in search of a plain glass ball ornament. As I bent toward my big Rubbermaid box of ornaments, right next to my car, I heard sssssssssssssssssss. Uh oh. I have the worst luck when it comes to tires. As soon as I heard the hiss, I knew it was my tire.

It was the right front tire. Crappity crap crap. My day was no longer my own. The tire wasn't flat yet, so I knew I could drive on it to get it fixed. I went inside, took a shower and got ready to go. I planned to go to Town Fair Tire, my usual tire place, but since it's right across from the mall, I figured it wasn't a good idea. Instead, I headed to Stratford, where the Town Fair isn't near a major shopping mecca. No luck. Their parking lot was full of cars and one of the employees met me right at the front door to tell me they we overwhelmed and couldn't fit me in today. Double crappity crap crap. 1:00 PM.

I headed to the Milford Town Fair. Same friggin' story. Overwhelmed, blah blah blah, snow tires, blah blah blah, snowstorms, blah blah blah, we're open until 7 on Monday, blah blah. Triple crappity crap crap. 1:20 PM.

Across the street to Sears Auto Center. No line. Parking spaces. Angels singing. A nice young man went outside to look at my tire and take my info. When we went back inside, there was a line of about 15 people. Where did they come from? As the tire guy put my info into the computer, another tire guy came out from the back and said that they couldn't take any more customers today. Totally backed up. I had to be the last person. "You're so lucky," Tire Guy 1 said. "I know," I said. "Not too lucky," said Tire Guy 2. "Your car won't be ready until 7 or 8 o'clock." Quadruple crappity crap crap. 1:45 PM.

I headed into the mall, prepared to force myself to shop among the throngs of people. I figured I could shop, eat, read a book, knit a little. I'd get through it. I called my boy to tell him my story and he suggested I go see a movie. Brilliant child. I hadn't even thought of it. I window shopped from one end of the mall to the other where the movie theater was. The only movie that I had any interest in was Awake, starting at 2:45 PM. It was 2:40.

I went inside to buy my ticket. "Just one?" asked the sweet old lady at the counter. "Just one." She looked at me with pity, wondering what a fine girl like me was doing all alone at the movies on a pre-holiday Saturday afternoon. I had to tell her. "My car is being fixed and I have hours to kill." "Oh good. You're in out of the cold and you can sit." So cute.

I handed my ticket to the old man ticket taker. He looked at me with pity and said, "I hope you enjoy the movie." "Thank you," I said. I didn't need to tell him, too. He pointed me in the direction of Theater 3 and then started to walk with me. I gave him a little wave and said, "Thanks" to assure him I was okay on my own.

Inside Theater 3, there were 4 other people. 2 couples. And me. Loser. I've never gone to a movie alone in my life. Not that people who do are losers. Really. I remember hearing that it's a sign of intelligence to go to movies alone. I'm not making that up. I really heard that. I don't believe it, of course, but I heard it.

I watched the movie. I was going to knit, but realized that I was knitting on 3 dpns and I'd left the 4th at home. Quintuple crappity crap crap. I just watched. The movie was good enough - not great - not horrible. There was a long stretch where I had to pull my coat over my face and try to peek just a little. Ew. I was also happy that I've successfully gone to sleep during surgery under general anesthesia or else I'd never do it. Ew.

The movie ended and I returned a call to my parents, who had called to check on me during the movie. Then I called one of my sisters. I considered going back into the theater to have my sister talk to the counter lady and the ticket taker, just to prove that I do have family and friends and people who love me and that I was only there alone on a pre-holiday Saturday afternoon because I had hours to kill while waiting for my flat tire to be fixed because everyone in the state was getting snow tires put on because they're afraid of a little snow and I couldn't possibly spend 5 hours shopping shopping shopping at the mall. But I didn't.

I bought myself a gingerbread latte (it came with a mini gingerbread man cookie!) and shopped. I smiled at the kids waiting in line to see Santa. I made a few purchases. Then Tire Guy 3 called. "Nail in the sidewall. Can't fix. Must buy new tire. Come." Um. Sextuple crappit crap crap? Not sure about that one. Looks wrong. Sounds wrong.

Tire Guy 4 said, "Let me show you what we have. Here's a Dunlop blah blah blah." "It's a beauty," I said. "Please just give me a tire and let me have my day back. I'm a girl. I don't know tires. I want to go home." Tire Guy 4 smiled and took my credit card. Back to the mall. 5:30 PM.

Now I felt pressure. I had to do some power shopping. My car was going to be done soon. Now I was hot and sweaty and had to lug my coat. And bags. Then more bags. Then more. At the Sears end of the mall, I realized I hadn't found the glass ball ornaments. I had to buy them. At Target. Other end of the mall. I won't even say it.

Home. 7:30 PM. Sat. Knit. Look:

Ball! I love it.

I wish I could have knit two of them in this time. Then I could say . . . balls.

Worth Watching . . .

2007-12-04T20:05:00.000-05:00

Chuckle chuckle.

A Sock, Obama?

2007-12-03T22:38:00.000-05:00

Was about to go to bed when I found this. Tracy at Stringativity got Barack Obama to hold her sock knitting! Go look. Really. He's adorable with yarn and needles in his hand!

And if I am elected your president, I will ensure that every American will have access to the finest sock yarns.

It's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate

2007-12-02T12:28:00.000-05:00

Or maybe it's a thin or broken or knotted string of yarn.

Yesterday was a bad day for knitting. I was quietly knitting a Drop Stitch Scarf with a gorgeous skein of Karaoke, loving the yarn and minding my own business . . .

. . . and then this happened:

I know. I couldn't believe it either. I am the Bamm-Bamm of knitting. I break needles.

I still don't quite understand how it happened. It just . . . happened. I'm pretty sure this needle was from the collection that my mother passed on to me. It was old. No offense, Mom. Maybe it was brittle with age. I don't know. After I took the picture, I set the needle pieces down on the coffee table and shook my head in disgust. I knit on with another set of needles, but the broken pieces kept distracting me. I grabbed them and jammed them into the trash. The long length of needle broke again. Yikes. Bamm-Bamm.

I decided that it might be a good idea to take a break from the scarf before I hurt myself - or someone else. I dug up a pattern for a Christmas ball ornament that I had made tons of last year. (I found this same pattern on-line, too. It's here.) I made this one with some leftover bits of the Karoaoke I used for my Calorimetry. Pretty, huh? Love this yarn. And notice the metal dpns. Can't break 'em. Tried. This was the little good knitting part of my day.

Okay, so then I looked at my scarf. As I started to knit it again, I said to myself, My, isn't that ball of yarn rather small? Hmmm. Will I be able to knit a scarf of a decent length? Hmmm. Doubt it. I figured I'd put it aside until I could go back to the store and buy a 2nd skein. I decided to start a new one with my remaining 2 skeins of Karaoke. They were different colorways, but I thought they'd work okay together if I alternated them. And I could spit-splice them. It was all good.

Once again, I was quietly knitting my scarf, minding my own business, when this happened:

What? Not sure what I'm trying to show you? Let me try to 'splain. As I got through the skein, I found that a second strand of yarn had been wound into the skein side by side with the strand I was knitting. Get it? I know I'm not making myself clear. It's as if at some point, a separate, unattached strand of yarn got balled up with mine - and it went all the way to the center of the skein. I had to separate the strands and wind them into two separate balls. Hating this yarn.

This was it. Now I was well beyond the ticked off point. The first skein of Karaoke I'd used to knit the Calorimetry had lengths knotted together AND two separate lengths of yarn - one blue and one purple - in the center of the ball, both unattached. Not even knotted. Hating.

I went to the SWTC, Inc. website and got the email address so that I could fire off a complaint. I'd spent $9 each on these little skeins. Little skeins. I explained the problems I'd found with the skeins and offered photos if they wanted to see them. This morning, I had an email from their president (!) telling me that Karaoke is not a yarn they see problems in often, so she'd like to see my photos to help her understand. I sent several, including this one. It shows the 2 projects I made with one skein and the blue and purple lengths of yarn that were stuck inside.

I also sent the picture of that mess of yarn on my lap. She emailed back, agreeing that this was weird. She said that they'll send out some yarn to compensate me and she apologized for the surprises. I was really impressed with how quickly she responded and very happy that she's going to send me some yarn. Good customer service. Loving the yarn.

So today, I'm doing a little bit of knitting. I'm staying calm. Breaks in yarn and breaks in needles will not get me today.

Be careful out there.

A Knitting Meme

2007-12-01T19:56:00.000-05:00

Tagged for a meme by Wife, "Mom", Knitter and CostumeChick. Here's some knittingness about me:

1. What are your favorite things to knit?
Baby things. I like small projects that go quickly and baby sweaters, hats, bibs and booties are so freakin' cute. I'm also loving socks lately. I wore my Thujas last week and I felt so smart all day. It's true. Wearing handknit socks that you've knit yourself boosts your IQ.

2. What yarn/fiber do you like most?
I'm the furthest thing from a yarn snob, so I'll use anything. Lately, I'm loving Karaoke (wo0l and soysilk fibers). I also love merino wool, cotton, and Soxx Appeal sock yarn.

3. What needles do you tend to use (i.e. type/material)?
I use a little bit of everything. I like circulars, and I have metal, plastic, and bamboo. Love bamboo. I use straights sometimes, but really don't like knitting with them that much anymore. They always seem to get stuck up my sleeves. I'll knit with dpns sometimes and I have 22 size 2 dpns in a mix of metal and bamboo. I guess you just never know when you'll need them. (No, I'm not a lunatic. I've been the recipient of needle collections from 3 people who don't knit anymore. Well, one of them has started knitting again, so I'm just waiting for the Indian-giver business to begin.) I've put Knitpicks options metal needles on my birthday/Christmas list, as well as a few Harmony tips for them. I . . . um . . . happen to know that I'll be getting them, since I was on the phone with my mom guiding her through the Knitpicks website as she ordered. I can't wait!

4. Do you tend to knit more in one specific part of the year than others?
I knit all the time. All the time.

5. What style of knitting do you use?
I'm a thrower (English style). I'd love to knit continental style, but it's awkward for me. I think you stick with the style in which you were taught. Mommy taught me to throw. It works for me.

6. Do you consider yourself a “fast” knitter?
Nope. I'm not slow, but I'm not fast. I can get a little speed up when I'm just knitting garter stitch, but beyond that, I can only call myself steady.

7. Who is your favorite knitting author(s)?
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is probably my favorite. I really enjoy her books and her blog. I get a kick out of her.

8. What is your favorite by said author(s)?
Knitting Rules is a goodie. This is the book that got me through my first pair of socks. At Knit's End is fun. Makes me laugh.

9. How long ago did you learn to knit?
Maybe about 6ish years ago. My mother taught me and I've been hooked ever since. She thinks I have a problem, but it's a good problem to have.

10. How do you knit small in-the-round objects? (i.e. double points, 2 circulars, or the magic loop)
I just learned magic loop and I'm hooked on it. It's much less fidgety for me than dpns. I feel like there's less of a chance for me to mess up.

11. What is the most useful technique you’ve learned so far?
Spit splicing. CostumeChick taught me one night at SnB and I couldn't wait to have an opportunity to use it. I tried it when starting a new skein on my Candle Flame Shawl and it works like a charm. No ends to weave in. I know how gross the spitting things seems, especially since we saw the spit-marking lady on Project Runway, but it works for splicing.

12. Do you prefer to knit fine gauge items, mid-range gauge items, or large gauge items, or do you like it all?
Mid-range gauge, I guess. I like large gauge things, too, since they go so fast and I'm so impatient. I'm slowly working my way toward more small gauge projects. Size 2 needles are as small as I've gone.

13. How do you like to knit your sweaters?
In one piece. I've really only knit baby sweaters and I like patterns with minimal seaming. I guess that I'd be a top-down knitter for big girl sweaters.

14.) Who do wish to tag?
Anyone from SnB who's left!

Another WIP . . . Wait . . . a New FO

2007-11-28T20:03:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, all in one day, I turned a ball of Karaoke (my recent purchase from The Yarn Barn)

into this:

and this:

It's Calorimetry from Knitty. I found it on Ravelry as I was searching for something to do with this gorgeous yarn. This next picture shows the colors a little better, but I like the way both pictures look.

This thing is a ponytail wearer's answer to a hat. The description with the pattern says, "this headscarf allows you to wear your hair up while keeping your ears warm and preventing heat from escaping from the top of your head." Very clever. If you look at the pattern on Knitty's website, you'll see it on a person. I'm just not feeling up to modeling it for you. I don't even have a ponytail.

Good Day

2007-11-26T21:40:00.001-05:00

Today was a good day.

A few hours at school.

An appointment with my doctor. Given good news and sent on my way.

A little Christmas shopping.

A little yarn shopping (Shh . . . I told my mother I was going to fight the urge. I blew it.)

A visit to the dentist. Given good news and sent on my way. (Believe me - it's just plain old good news that I went! I HATE going to the dentist and have been working a 12-step program to quit my addiction to blowing off appointments.)

A rest on the couch.

Finally seamed up and made ties for the Opal Baby Cutenesss Cardigan:

Made progress on the next one:

Wore my Thujas and they kept my piggies warm.

Good day.

The Circle of Life

2007-11-25T11:20:00.000-05:00

Woohoo! I finished my Thujas last night! So happy. They'll have their first outing tomorrow - I'll be wearing them to school. And yes, I will lift up a foot every time I pass someone to say, "Look what I made." What? I shouldn't do that? It would seem odd? You guys are no fun.

And so . . . when one project comes to an end, another project begins. 'Tis the great circle of life. Here's my next Baby Cuteness Cardigan. It's for the boy half of a set of twins due to arrive in February. I know I have plenty of time to knit this, but after seeing the twins' mom on Wednesday night and taking note of the size of her belly - already, I thought I should get things going. It's the same Bernat Softee Baby yarn I've used before, this time in Dreamy Blue. In this photo, it appears to have girlish undertones, but it really doesn't. It received the Official Boy Stamp of Approval from my very own 14-year-old boy. We're good.

I got a nice little surprise in my Ravelry message box yesterday. Another knitter is now knitting the Baby Cuteness Cardigan. She saw my finished project on Ravelry and found the pattern using the link I'd posted to my blog post and she's knitting it. Here's what she said: "My philosophy about baby knitting is that it needs to be cute as a button, able to take hard wear and machine washing, and be quick and fun to knit up. It's such a delight, having given up my 20 year tradition of baby blanket knitting in search of sweaters, to find patterns like yours."

Isn't that something? I really don't feel that this is my pattern - it's a modified version of the Mason Dixon Knitting Heartbreakingly Cute Baby Kimono. I NEVER could have come up with this pattern completely on my own. Never. I just think it's wonderful that this woman is knitting it following my modifications. It makes me feel so . . . smart. Boy, do I have her fooled!

In other happy news, I am the proud owner of a new milk frother. My electric hand-blender with the frother attachment was just teasing me the other day when it gave me one final frothing. It's dead. After searching high and low on the internet, I ordered an Aerolatte from Amazon.com. I threw a couple of knitting books onto my order to reach the free shipping minimum and sat back to wait for it to arrive. No dice. Although everything was "in stock," the order is due to ship on December 17th. Couldn't wait. Back to the web, checking the sites of several stores in my area. I finally just had to get in the car and go look. I found a Hot Chocolate set (!) that had a frother in it. $20. Done. Mine.

I'ts battery operated and quiet. It uses the same rechargeable batteries that I use in my camera, so it won't cause me any battery grief. Look what it does:

This frothy goodness was made from 1/3 cup of skim milk with a little squirt of chocolate syrup. Amazing. You might be blinded by this next photo, but it shows the amazingly thick froth made whipping a ton of air into skim milk.

Emmie is happy, too. She's a fellow frothy milk lover and she always gets a blob of it before I add the chocolate syrup. She knows good stuff.

I've been doing a whole lot of knitting and frothing this weekend. Knitting. Frothing. Frothing. Knitting. Knrothing. Fritting.

Oh! And my boy cleaned his room! Shhhh. Wait. Did you hear that? It was the angels singing.

I Love My People

2007-11-23T13:32:00.000-05:00

For me, this was a very special Thanksgiving. This holiday is a favorite for me - and not just because of pumpkin pie. I have so many things for which to be thankful - three of which are my wonderful family, a job that I love, and my health. These three things came together yesterday in an unexpected gift bag filled with tissue paper. After arriving at my sister's house, my mom presented me with this:

She did the beautiful cross-stitch and she and my dad picked out the matting and framing. I love it. I love that it comes from my parent's hands and it celebrates the career I love, but I love even more that it comes from my family's hearts. Take a look at the label on the back:

I cried like a baby. This time of year marks the 2nd anniversary of my battle with breast cancer and lets me say, "Wow. I got through it!"

My family members all seem to think I handled the whole thing really well. I guess I did okay. Believe me - I had many moments when I felt sorry for myself and had the poor-me attitude, but I guess that overall I was a pretty tough cookie. I did everything the doctors told me to do (mainly because I thought I'd get in trouble if I didn't) and dealt with every single appointment for surgeries, tests, treatments, and check-ins for 18 months. I had to put myself on auto-pilot once in a while, but I did it. I did it because of AND with the help of my family: My son, my parents, my sisters, my brother-in-law, and my nieces. They are my people. I love my people. Thank you, my people!

(There are lots of other people who did so much for me during this time - extended family and friends - and I'm so grateful for all of them. They're my people, too. But . . . my family . . . !)

Okay, now let's share some cuteness:

This is an apple jacket. I ordered it from JaquelineKnits on etsy.

It's meant to protect your apple from being banged and bruised when you throw it in your bag to take to school or work. Isn't it adorable? I would have loved to be able to knit my own, of course, but I couldn't find a pattern anywhere. I was happy to support a fellow knitter by buying one.

Here's more cuteness. One of my student's moms made a turkey cookie for each of the kids as a pre-Thanksgiving treat. There was one for me, too - one of the may perks I get as a teacher. I love it!

I hope all of you had a happy Thanksgiving and had a chance to think about all of the good things you have in your lives.

On this day after Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I woke up at noon and now have the rest of the day to knit. It's a beautiful thing.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-22T11:29:00.000-05:00

Mary You? I Don't Even Know You!

2007-11-20T18:04:00.001-05:00

This is what happens when indoor recess runs amuck (or amok - both spellings are in Webster's.) Little girls go nuts with the mini white boards and dry-erase markers. They start writing me notes about how much they love me and how I'm the best teacher ever. Then, this happens . . .

This is from a delightful little girl who thinks I'm the bee's knees. I'm all that and a bag of chips. I rule.

I told her that I'm very sorry, but I can't MARY one of my students. It's completely and totally a violation of the rules.

Cuteness.

Creative Censorship

2007-11-19T17:21:00.000-05:00

I dragged myself to school this morning, forcing myself to show up for the first of 2 1/2 more days before the Thanksgiving break. (Okay, okay, you normal job people - I know your hearts just bleed for us teachers. Hey, YOU try spending 6 1/2 hours a day with 19 kids calling your name at the same time, disappearing to the lav for 20 minutes instead of doing their work, passing notes about saying "Will you be my girlfriend? Yes No (circle one)", whining "My knee hurts from when I fell last Thursday. Can I go get an icepack?", calling out, "I'm done! What do I do now?", making armies of eraser people (!) on their desks, stealing each other's skinny markers, asking "Is it lunch time yet?" and yes, even sometimes calling me Grandma. Really. Do that and then decide if I deserve my Thanksgiving break. Thank you very much.)

I feel better now.

Anyway, I was at my desk getting myself geared up for the arrival of my little Honeybees (Yes, that's what I call them - each year my class gets a new name. I've had Lovebugs, Guys and Dolls, Angel Babies . . . I'm just a big mushball.) when Mr. S., one of our few male teachers, came in and asked for chalk. I pointed him in the right direction, and he took a piece and headed toward the exit door. Curious, I followed him.

"What are you doing?" I asked of the man who one year encouraged a first grade class to save ALL of their pencil sharpening shavings for months to try to fill this giant contraption he made. This is the same man who built a sailing vessel out of styrofoam lunch trays and proved it was seaworthy by launching it at Gulf Beach during a downpour.

Mr. S. answered, "Somebody did some graffiti on the outside of the building and I'm going to make it more appropriate for the season."

On the bricks of the building right outside my classroom was a big, white 4-letter word. It's the same word that can be used to identify a male chicken. First graders would be lining up next to that wall in less than 15 minutes.

Mr. S. used the chalk to change the letter C into an O and added the word "Turkey." Then, he altered the graphic stick figure by adding a chef's hat and putting a stove in front of him. Voila!

The picture isn't the greatest - had to use my cellphone camera, but boy, oh boy, was I glad I took it! COOK Turkey, people!

Scuzzday Sunday

2007-11-18T20:26:00.000-05:00

It's amazing what one can accomplish while spending the entire day in pajamas. Today was an official Scuzzday Sunday in my house. The name comes from a friend who told me how she loves to spend a Sunday in pajamas - no shower or hair washing - and just do nothing. Scuzzy - thus Scuzzday Sunday. Since yesterday was my choice day, there were things I had to do today. I didn't choose to do 300 pounds of laundry, but I did it. I didn't choose to wash the kitchen floor and vacuum the whole place, but I did it. I did, however, choose to do this . . .

. . . and I did it. I finished my first Thuja sock. I only made one mistake, but it's minor and I can get over it. The toe came out a little funky looking . . .

. . . but when it's on my foot, it looks pretty normal.

And to prove that I won't be suffering from Second Sock Syndrome, I already cast on the twin. It's just that kind of day.

It was okay for me to have a Scuzzday today, because I didn't end up staying in pajamas all day yesterday. I took a shower, got dressed, and went out to run some errands. I chose to do that. I went to the book store and to a few stores in the mall. It was SO crowded. I returned some impulse purchases that I didn't need - nor love. (I do that once in a while. It's not really a big problem. Really. It's not.) Then I shopped for shoes. As I was poking around the shoe department in Macy's, I saw a woman staring at me. I kept wandering around looking at shoes and she kept turning to watch me. I got a little nervous. I was trying to figure out if I knew her from somewhere. Teacher? Parent? Neighbor? No, no, no. Uh oh . . . did I have toilet paper trailing from my shoe? Nope. Had I tucked the bottom of my skirt into the back of my waistband? Wasn't wearing a skirt. Then she said, "I love your bag." I was carrying my B-4 felted bag. She asked me where I had gotten it, and when I told her I made it, she oohed and ahhed as she petted it. What a great feeling. Macy's didn't have any of the shoes I liked in my size, but I still left there happy.

So Scuzzday Sunday it has been. After my big conference week, I think I just needed a weekend with minimal human interaction. The mall visit must have pushed me to take the day off from the world today. My son was in the same kind of mood, so it worked for both of us. My blood pressure did go up a little bit when the doorbell rang at about 6:00. There was no way I could have answered the door. No way. I was scary. M. looked out of my bedroom window and didn't see a car, so it had to be a neighbor. If it was important, they can catch me when Scuzzday is over. It will be better for them that way. I'm scuzzy.

You May Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Life

2007-11-17T10:58:00.000-05:00

I can do this:

And this:

Woohoo! I have my life back. I'm sitting on my couch wearing a ratty nightshirt, my snuggy bathrobe and warm slipper socks watching The Soup on a sunny Saturday morning. This day is mine. MINE. There is nothing - not one thing - that I have to do today. I get to choose every thing I do - for the whole day.

I slept late. I watched TV in bed when I woke up. I got up when I was good and ready. I fed the cat. (Of course, I chose to do this. I didn't have to. I'm sure Emmie would have let me off the hook.) I made coffee - and my milk frother miraculously started to work again. My oh my, this really is my day!

Now, I get to write a blog post. I'll knit for as long as I want to. Will I take a shower? Get dressed? I don't know. I haven't decided.

It's been one of the longest weeks of my life. Three days of parent conferences - two of them causing me to spend 12 1/2 solid hours at school. The grown-ups of 19 children sat across the table from me. There were tears. Only some of them were mine.

The last conference was a bit difficult - an intimidating dad who made it necessary for me to put on my sweetest Suzy Sunshine smile and my sing-song voice. It ended rather nicely, though when this tough guy said, "You're what, 28? 30?" I told him I loved him and that I needed to go home and write in my diary.

I went home exhausted, but thrilled that is was OVER. Done, done, done. Stick a fork in me. I'm done. I still had to get through a full day on Friday with the kids, but I did it. One of the things that made me smile was this:

It's my Teacher's Pet. It was made for my by a little dollface girl as my report card gift. I didn't know that teachers get report card gifts! So cool. She made it completely on her own - her own idea. No directions or model - nothing but a 3rd grader's creativity. At the end of the day, she wanted me to eat some of it. Um. Hmmm. "Oh, I can't wait to eat some," I told her as I looked at the fingerprints in the caramels and the scotch tape that was holding the craft sticks together. "Yum! But I want to show it off to the other teachers first. Then I need to take pictures, but I don't have my camera with me." She bought it. After I took pictures, I pulled off a few caramels and one of the lollipops and hid them in the trash. Yum!

I'm now choosing to have more coffee. Then I'm going to knit my sock. No, wait. I'm going to knit my shawl. No, wait. I'm going to seam up my baby cardigan. My, oh my, it's so hard to choose.

This Post is Brought to You by the Letter A

2007-11-11T11:01:00.000-05:00

A is for AVOIDANCE. I am playing a game of hide'n seek from my parent/teacher conference preparation by knitting, shopping, watching lots of TV shows I DVR'd, and knitting some more. Look at the progress on the Candle Flame Shawl:

A is for AMAZING. I'm amazed at the beauty of this shawl and I'm amazed that I haven't messed it up again. I love the way it's growing quickly and I might just have to keep it on my lap during conferences. If I get tongue-tied, I'll just hold it up and say, "Look what I can do."

A is for ADDICTIVE. I put my knitting A.D.H.D. to good use by trying out the magic loop method of knitting a sock. Yowza. I love it. Look!

I'm using Moda Dea Washable Wool in Coffee and I'm knitting a version of Knitty's Thuja pattern. It's easy, but has a little oomph. Here's another look:

Maybe I'll keep this in my pocket at conferences so if the shawl doesn't impress, I have a back-up.

A is for AWFUL. That's the way the black jeans I bought last week at Macy's smelled. I had picked out a nice-looking pair of simple black jeans. They fit me well and I was happy. I brought them home and tried them on again. Hmmm . . . what's that smell? I wondered. It was my pants. They smelled like sulfur. No, really. Sulfur. I threw them in the wash with my new fruity-scented laundry detergent that makes all of my laundry smell edible. Still, they smelled. I had taken the tags off, so I was a little nervous about the attitude I might get when I tried to return them. Yesterday, during my avoidance game, I went back to Macy's. Before I went to the counter, I grabbed a new pair off the rack and brought them with me to the cash register as proof of the smelliness they had before I washed them. Much to my delight, I watched two of the sales people smell both pairs of jeans and pronounce them, "Eew." I was refunded, found a new odor-free pair of black jeans, and bought them. So if you ever have smelly pants, you can return them. You should never have to keep a pair of smelly pants.

A is for AW, CRAP. I just realized that I won't be able to make it to SnB on Thursday night. It's a conference night. Crappity crap crap. Thanks, friends, for missing me last Thursday. I missed you back. Please miss me even more this Thursday and have a Portabello and Mozzarella Panini for me. Hold Katie in your lap and work hard to make her smile. Pet other people's yarn and make a few inappropriate wisecracks. It might be a while until I see you again, so please hold a seat for me! Miss you!

A is for ADIOS.

Isn't She Lovely?

2007-11-10T12:00:00.001-05:00

After a slow, angry start, I am loving my Candle Flame Shawl. Okay, I'm loving the bottom point of my Candle Flame Shawl. I haven't gotten very far. It could be due to the fact that I tried to read blogs and watch TV while I was knitting this complicated-for-me pattern. It could be due to the fact that I knit the pattern for row 25 when I was on row 27. It could be due to the fact that I had to rip it out and start over. Now, I feel like I have a handle on what I'm doing and on the need for me to pay attention as I knit. I'm so used to mindless garter and stockinette stitches because I don't always have a lot of brain power left to put toward something that's supposed to be relaxing and fun. I'll need to work on this in small bits and chunks, but I'll finish it. It's just that lovely.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love cake. Now I love yarn cakes. They're so cute. The middle one is my favorite only because it looks edible. It's the organic cotton/recycled soda bottle yarn from Rhinebeck. Looks like my favorite carrot cake.

Now that I've experienced the pleasure of using a ball winder . . .

Yuck. That sounded absolutely horrifying.

Once I was able to use a ball winder and swift to make sweet little yarn cakes out of my hanks of yarn, rather than wrapping the yarn around one bent knee and a foot to wind my own messy attempt at a ball, I knew I needed to have my own. I've added these items to my birthday/Christmas list and I'll keep my fingers crossed. Last weekend, my mother asked me about the "ball wonder" I wanted. After I giggled, I thought that it was a pretty good name for this helpful invention. Only it's hard for me to hear anyone say the words ball or balls without laughing.

It all comes from having a son. I grew up in a girl family and there was never a mention of balls in any other context than the kind you bounce, roll, and throw. The first time I ever took my boy to a Target, I was amazed at what I saw in front of the entrance area. I said, in a rather loud voice, "Look at the big red balls," to which my boy responded in that disgusted, embarrassed can't-believe-you're-my-mother voice, "M0-0-0-mmm!" Can't say balls to a teenage boy.

One of my SnB friends alerted me to the fact that the next time I take M. to the mall in Milford, I can point out that the big red balls are right next to the Dick's. Chuckle chucke.

Okay, now that my parents are thoroughly mortified at the content of this post, I'll move it along.

Although I should be enjoying a long weekend, I'm hanging in that uneasy time/space that Milford teachers experience at this time of year. We sent our first marking period report cards home yesterday. We should all be taking deep breaths, smiling, patting ourselves on the back, and planning fun ways to spend our free time. Except next week brings with it one long afternoon and two long evenings of parent/teacher conferences. I'll be spending time this weekend reviewing folders full of 3rd grade student work, writing notes of things I need to share with parents, and chewing Tums. People might expect that after going through conference time for 7 years already, I'd be comfortable and confident. Never gonna happen. It's scary. Although I always have 80 bajillion positive, happy, wonderful, and just plain old good things to say, there are a few not so good things I have to say, too. The parents love their babies and don't want to hear that their babies don't always follow directions and don't always put their best effort into their work and aren't always respectful of their peers and aren't always good listeners and don't always take responsibility for their actions. These people hate me for telling them these things sometimes. And I so don't like to be hated. It's hard to say things that people don't want to hear.

So I eat Tums.

My shawl is calling.

Love the Boy!

2007-11-05T18:44:00.000-05:00

At 7:45 PM fourteen years ago, this boy arrived:

Of course, he was much smaller then. He was an adorable little peanut and he's still an adorable peanut - just a bigger one.

Throughout the years, he's brought me more joy than I could ask for and a whole lot of laughs, like . . .

. . . shouting across the mall at Christmas time, "Look, Mommy, Canna Sauce!"

. . . driving past the Milford green right after Thanksgiving, seeing the white lights decorating all of the trees, and whispering, "Look what Mommy did."

. . . kneeling on the floor of his bedroom angrily throwing all of his Matchbox cars and Hot Wheels and mumbling under his breath, "F*&#ing cars."

. . . years later, coming home from first grade asking me what the "F" word was. "Is it fudge? Fib?"

. . . and asking me just the other day, "Can a person as old as you go out and still call it a date?"

I could go on forever. I love this boy and I wish him a long life full of funnies.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Knitter's Heaven . . . with Food

2007-10-22T11:37:00.000-04:00

That's how I can describe Rhinebeck in 4 words. Yesterday was the big day. I went to the New York Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, New York with four wonderful additions to the list of people I proudly call my friends.

Allow me to tell my story with the help of some visual aids.

Rarely is there a Sunday in my life where I will set my alarm clock. For this adventure, it was set for 5:45 AM and I bounced out of bed at 6:00 on the dot. Okay, I slid out of bed, but I was bouncing on the inside. This was the view from the driver's seat as I pulled off the highway to meet the girls. (Yes, Mom. I had come to a complete stop at the red light before I raised the camera. I know I shouldn't take pictures while driving. It's kind of like what your middle child's daughter said about her many years ago, "My mommy doesn't drink and drive. She only drinks at the stop lights." I only take pictures at the stop lights.)

The sun wasn't even above the horizon yet.

After fueling ourselves on Dunkin' Donuts coffee, we hit the road for a pretty drive with lots of fall foliage to admire. This is what I knit in the car as the Mad Knitter was driving us to our destination. It's another Baby Cuteness Cardigan made with Opal 6-fach self-patterning sock yarn. Not my usual baby colors, but it's good-looking and will be great for a baby boy.

We all felt like little kids as we walked through the gates. It was the first time each of us had been to Rhinebeck, and we were drooling. These are a few shots of the festival - some of the outside tents and booths. The majority of the yarn/knitting booths were inside buildings. Some of the buildings are usually meant for livestock during the Dutchess County Fair (this event was on their fairgrounds), so we were walking on hay with lots of high wooden edgings for us to carefully step over. Happy to report that I did not witness nor hear of any shoppers falling on their faces. Yikes. I worried about that all day.

The weather was gorgeous - sunny and warm, but not too hot. Perfect.

There was an overwhelming amount of vendors to see. One building after another filled with yarn, knitted items, fleece, roving, spinning supplies, needle holders, gadgets and gizmos . . . So much to look at - and to buy. After going through our first building, I felt like I'd gotten my money's worth for the $10 admission fee. Amazing.

We took a lunch break. The Yankee Lagniappe stood in an extremely long, slow-moving line to get fried artichokes. I don't understand that at all. I mean, she could have gotten the deep fried pickles or the deep fried garlic.

I went to get a humongous cinnamon and sugar pretzel while CostumeChick and Wife"Mom"Knitter had lamburgers. Really - and they loved them. The Mad Knitter had what she called a hockey puck hamburger, but she didn't seem to care much after her brush with celebrity - or should I say celebrities? She bought the Mason-Dixon Knitting book had it signed by Ann Shayne and Kay Gardiner. Then, she met Jess and Casey from Ravelry. She kindly brought me over to meet them and I got a button to wear to identify myself to other Ravelers. I was a dum-dum and left my camera at out lunch table, so I didn't get to take a picture. Here's my button, at least.

After lunch, we headed toward more of the vendor buildings and we even braved some of the animal buildings. Do you recognize this guy? No, it's not my last boyfriend. He's a very handsome alpaca and I braved a through-the-fence picture before he spit again. I guess he doesn't like aggressive women.

This guy, however, had a crush on me. Just look at the way he was staring at me. He was in the middle of an obnoxious cat-call as I snapped the picture. Puh-lease. I was just there for the yarn.

At one point, the Mad Knitter, CostumeChick and I went out to the parking lot so they could pick up their Ravelry t-shirts and we could put out purchases in the car. My return stamp looked like a prison tattoo.

Toward the end of our day, as we walked through the last few buildings, look what/who we saw! It's the Kauni Cardigan on the back of the Yarn Harlot. Okay, so it does appear that we were stalking her. We weren't. Really. Well, the Mad Knitter was, but I can't be responsible for the actions of everyone else, can I? (She had stalked her earlier in the day - and a few months before at RJ Julia Bookseller. She has an issue. She'll work on it.)

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee was very kind and friendly after she turned around to find out what the hullaballoo was all about and she even took a picture with us. We admired her sweater and explained that we had to take a picture of it. She said that it wouldn't be hard to see her in it in the future because she was never going to take it off. It's really beautiful. We chatted for a little bit, and then she needed to get back to the wool.

A few minutes later, we saw this. No, we weren't stalking. We just came upon the scene. The Yarn Harlot is talking with another woman who was wearing the same Kauni Cardigan. How could I not take a picture of that?

After a bit more last-chance shopping, we headed home with our purchases and our happy memories of a great day. This is what I bought:

Being the furthest thing from a yarn-snob, I followed Wife"Mom"Knitter's lead and bought 4 skeins of Cotton & Eco-Spun yarn for $1.79 each. (!) 167 yards on each skein. (!) As you can see from the label, it's a blend of organic cotton and recycled soda bottles. I love the idea of that. It does have a plastic-y feel to it, so we were thinking it might be great for a market bag or some other kind of bag. I doubt it would be suitable for a hat - imagine the sweating. My mother suggested kids' mittens. They might be water-resistant. Good idea.

With advice from CostumeChick, I bought a bajillion yard hank of beautiful laceweight wool. Okay, it's only 1,375 yards. I'm going to try my first lace shawl. Can't wait. Just have to choose a pattern.

I bought some pretty dyed-roving. It can be used for spinning my own yarn (don't thing I'm ready for that, although I'm tempted to try it) or for felting. I have some plans for it for Christmas gifts, so I won't tell you what I'm going to make.

At the top of the picture below is my ball. Doesn't everyone need a ball? It's a felted ball made of fleece. $4.00. Had to have it. I can toss it, roll it, hold it, or squeeze it. It's my ball. If you're nice, I might let you hold it. Also pictured is my favorite new gadget!

It's called a Lucet. It's made of wood and it's used to make "strong, tightly woven square-shaped cord." The cord it makes is durable and stays tied if you tie it. The Lucet was "used during the mid-to-late 18th century and for a time during the Edwardian era." You can use any kind of yarn, string, thread or floss with it. I tried it out at lunchtime and I was making a mess. I went back to the booth and the woman who sold it to me gave me a quick lesson. With some practice, I think I've got it. Did I need this tool? Nope. Did I have to have it? Yup. I love gadgets. I especially love them when they work.

I had a fantastic day and I'm so happy I went. In the picture below, I'm the one with the big smile on my face. Wait - we all have big smiles. I'm the one in the middle, holding my ball.

I'm grateful to have been invited to take the last seat in the car and to have the opportunity to enjoy the big event with a great group of girls. It wouldn't have been the same without them to laugh with and ooh-and-ahh with. We'll do it again next year, and we're already making plans for new yarn adventures to go on while we're waiting for October 2008.

Not Matchy Matchy

2007-10-20T19:31:00.000-04:00

I knit a hat to go with the Baby Cuteness Cardigan. I used the same yarn, and I even worried that it might be too matchy matchy. Some poor baby girl would be lost in a sea of variegated yarn. Not likely to happen. As it turned out, it's not at all match matchy. The two pieces look so different. The picture might not show it, but believe me - they don't go together. With the combination of being knit in stockinette stitch instead of garter and the way the colors pooled, some of the hat colors look duller than they do in the sweater.

No worries, though. The variegated Cuteness will just have to have a solid hat to go with it, and vice versa for the variegated hat. I have to knit more of each anyway, so each one will still get to go to a good home. Hopefully, the families who adopt these baby items will keep them and not pass them on to other families without my prior notification and my written consent (a la Ellen), so I don't have to take them back anyone. (What a sad, sorry state of affairs. What could possibly break my heart more than seeing Ellen cry? And not just any cry. A sobbing, splatting cry. I want to have her over for ice cream and Oreos to help her cheer up. With this country in the shape it's in, American citizens deserve to see a happy, dancing Ellen at 4:00. It's important to us.)

On another note, I've been having some morning trouble. No, Mom, not morning sickness. I said morning trouble.

On Thursday morning, I overslept. Normally, my alarm goes off at 6:01 AM. I hit snooze. I hit snooze again. When the alarm goes off at 6:28 AM, I don't hit the snooze anymore. I let the radio continue to play and I listen to top stories on CBS 880 News. Then I get up and get into the shower. When I'm done, I wake my son and we get ourselves ready to leave the house at 7:15 on the dot. On this particular morning, instead of hearing the announcer say, "CBS News time 6:28," he said, "CBS New time 7:07." It took me some time to process what I was hearing. 7:07? That'ts not what he's supposed to say. What could that mean? What does 7:07 mean to me? Crappity crap crap. That's what it means. I had to jump up and race into my son's room, apologizing while I tried to get him to get out of bed. He got ready speedy quick (thank goodness he's a boy) and I drove him to school in my pajamas. I couldn't let my mess-up make him late. I raced home, jumped in the shower, got ready and made it to school on time at 8:10 - even stopping at Dunkin Donuts for my large french vanilla with extra milk and Splenda. Amazing, but exhausting.

On Friday, I got up on time. When the alarm went off at 6:01, I didn't hit snooze. I left the radio on - LOUD - and I woke myself up. I decided to read my book for a while since I had time. Everything went smoothly. M and I both left the house on time and I dropped him at school at 7:19. Good mother.

As I was driving, I realized that I hadn't put on any jewelry. Not a big deal. Although I feel naked without earrings, I knew I could get through the day without them. No rings on my fingers? No big deal. No watch? It's raining, so we're not going out for recess. Don't need a watch. It was when I stepped out of the car after I parked on the street in front of Dunkin' Donuts that I felt the cold air. On my stomach. I looked down and realized that I had only buttoned one button on my shirt. Just the top one. Everyone who drove by got a peek at my stomach.

Now, you may not know this about me, but when my stomach was created, it was never intended for public viewing. It serves its purpose, but it's meant to be cleverly hidden under shirts, sweaters. and comfortable nightshirts. Really. And since it's been cleverly hidden for all of my 41 years, it's extremely white. Well, maybe it's more than just your average white. I think it could qualify as glow-in-the-dark.

I quickly yanked the shirt closed, clutching the fabric between my fingers while my heart pounded. It's really not that I was embarrassed - although I was. I felt a combination of guilt and fear. Guilt over having innocent drivers and their passengers get their days off to a bad start after catching a glimpse of my belly. Fear that I was going to cause an accident when headlights flashed off my glow-in-the-dark skin and blinded a driver who might rear-end someone else or end up face first into a telephone pole. Luckily, I was able to button up quickly.

On Monday, I'll wear a pull-over.

Tomorrow is a happy day. I'm going to Rhinebeck with 4 fun friends from SnB! I'm so excited. I never even considered going because I thought it was so far away. The girls have a seat available in their car and it should only take about 2 1/2 hours to get there. Rhinebeck is what all of the knitters call this event, but it's really the New York Sheep and Wool Festival. I've never been - never even heard about it until the last few months of blog-reading and SnB chatting. From what I've been told, it's a knitter's dream with an overwhelming abundance of yarn, yarn and yarn. There will be yarn vendors, demonstrations, and I don't-even-know-what. Can't wait. I've got my money and my camera. That's all I'm worried about. That, and being sure I'm fully dressed before I leave the house.

My Mommy Taught Me to Share

2007-10-16T18:52:00.000-04:00

So here are the details of the cuteness:

Baby Cuteness Cardigan

(Pattern is based on Mason-Dixon Baby Kimono with a little tweaking.)

Yarn: Bernat Baby Softee - Sport D.K. weight (color: Rock a Bye Baby) - 4 1/4 oz. 333 yd. skein

(used less than one skein)

Needles: US size 6 (4mm)

Gauge (Now stop laughing. Of course I figured out the gauge. Geez.): 5.5 st./inch.

This cardigan is knit in one piece and folds over with only a few seams to sew. Easy.

-Cast on 44 st.

-Knit all rows in garter stitch for 5 inches, ending with a WS row. (You're beginning at the back bottom)

-Next row (RS): (Beginning the sleeves) Cast on 4 st. using backward loop method.

-Repeat this at the beginning of the next 13 rows. (14 increase rows = 7 4-stitch increases on each side = 28 st. per sleeve = 100 total stitches - How's that for helpful?)
-Knit even in garter stitch until sleeve measures about 2.5 inches from the last increase row, ending with a WS row.

-Next row (RS): K 38, bind off center 24 st. (for neck opening), K to end.

-You're now working on the left front.

-Next 3 rows: Knit in garter stitch.

-On next and every following RS row, increase 1 st. at neck edge.

(To increase I did this: K2, yo, K to end. You can also K1, yo, K to end OR K1, M1, K to end OR even K, Kf&b, K to end. It's up to you. Choose your poison.)

-Continue to knitting with increases until there are 50 st.

-Knit even until sleeve is 5" wide at wrist. (You may already be there - or you're close - after stopping the increases. Only a few more rows to knit at the most.)

-Bind off 4 st. at beginning of the next 7 WS rows to finish sleeves.

-Knit all rows even (22 st.) until front is the same length as the back.

-Bind off.

-Now you'll work the right front:

-Rejoin yarn to sts. of right sleeve at neck edge (WS).

-Next 3 rows: Knit in garter stitch.

-On next and every following RS row, increase 1 st. at neck edge.
(You'll mirror what you did on the left front. I did this: K to last 2 st., yo, K2.)

-Continue to knitting with increases until there are 50 st.
-Knit even until sleeve is 5" wide at wrist. (Just like before.)
-Bind off 4 st. at beginning of the next 7 RS rows to finish sleeves.
-Knit all rows even (22 st.) until front is the same length as the back.
-Bind off.

Finishing:

-Weave in ends.

-If necessary based on your yarn, block using your chosen blocking method.

-Sew up side and underarm seams.

-Add on the closure of your choice. I crocheted two chains and sewed one on each side at the opening of the v-neck. You could also knit narrow i-cord or use ribbons the same way. You could also crochet a button loop for one side and sew on a button.

So that's it. That's the Cuteness.

I'm knitting a hat to go with this sweater, and then I'm going to start another Cuteness. I really wish I could knit one for myself, but I doubt I could make this translate to an adult size and have it not become one of those things you fold up and keep in your closet permanently. If anyone has ideas, let me know.

And one more thing.

Please.

I Can't Even Stand It

2007-10-14T22:04:00.000-04:00

Just look at this cuteness. My baby cardigan. Love it.

Wish it fit me.

Look What I Just Started

2007-10-08T11:09:00.000-04:00

What? I started another project. No big deal. It's okay to have more than one thing going at the same time. It's not as if I can't stick to a project and finish it. I simply choose to try new things before I finish the old thing. Things. Lots of things. But really . . . it doesn't mean that I have some great weakness of character. It doesn't. Does not. I'm not weak.

Much.

Now if you went to A.C. Moore, innocently making a yarn purchase for your mother so that she could finally start knitting the perfect gift for her only grandson who has named as his favorite color a certain shade of green that just does not seem to be manufactured by any yarn company which sells its products in the state of Connecticut and you looked once again online and thought you found something that just might be right so you ran out to take a look and you saw this:

you would have bought it, too. It's going to be a cardigan for one of the many new babies that will be born to friends within the coming months.

And it really isn't an additional project, now that I think about it. It replaces the light yellow baby kimono that I was knitting along on happily until this morning when I realized I'd made a big mistake. I'd really rather not talk about it right now.

It was almost done. Just a few more rows to go. I don't want to talk about it though.

It was going to be so cute, but the neckline was all wrong. I tried to widen the sleeves, but hadn't considered the need to adjust the neck line. When I took a good look at it this morning, I saw that it would be perfect for a baby who would want to show off the smooth skin of her upper back while appearing to be choking from the sweater bunching around her throat. I haven't met any babies yet who might go for that. Actually, I could have had a lawsuit on my hands if a mother put that on her child. I really don't want to talk about it.

Here's a look at it. We can look, but just don't say anything. Here's the front.

And the back:

See what I mean? Don't say it. Thanks.

Emmie is really getting tired of my nonsense.

Let's talk albino squirrels. Here's a little guy that M. and I saw across the street as we we're pulling out onto our road on the way to school. He's completely white with pink eyes.

I'm happy I got to see him, because I've never seen an albino squirrel before. But . . . I worry. I hope he has friends. I imagine a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer kind of life for this little guy. What if all the other squirrels laugh and call him names and never let poor albino join in any squirrel games?

A Poem

2007-10-01T18:06:00.000-04:00

Roses are red.

Ribbons are pink.

It's time for a mammogram,

Don't you think?

It's October.

It's Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

This month brings the 2 year anniversary

of my very first mammogram ever

- and my breast cancer diagnosis.

Here's some advice based on what

I've learned in the last 2 years:

Be good to yourself.

Put yourself first sometimes.

Be good to others.

Let others help you.

Be ever so grateful for your family and friends.

Do your monthly self-exams.

Schedule your mammogram appointment.

Knit something pink.

And perhaps the most important bit of advice I can give . . .

Listen to your mother.

Bada Bing

2007-09-28T23:19:00.000-04:00

Maybe I don’t get out enough. I got out tonight and it was enough.

I went to Biagetti’s in West Haven for drinks with my friends from school. When I arrived with one of the girls, two others had already beat us there. They’d left two open barstools for us. Being the kindhearted person that I am, I let C. take the stool closest to our friends, and I took the stool next to . . . um . . . let’s just call him Paulie Walnuts. He looked to be about mid-60ish and was sitting alone at the end of the bar near the wall, so I presented his only opportunity for conversation. We exchanged a few words when I first sat down, mainly me checking with him to be sure the seat wasn’t taken.

When the manager set out some amazing happy hour food right in front of us, we talked about the good looking tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and basil, with him encouraging me to “Eat, eat. It’s no good when it’s not really cold.” After talking to him for a few minutes, I had to keep looking around to assure myself that I was at a nice, normal restaurant bar, and not a New Jersey strip joint. I kept turning to the left toward my friends to join their conversation, but I felt like I was being rude to Paulie. And it didn’t seem like a good idea to be rude to Paulie.

Paulie (not his real name) (I should say that I don’t know his name) started to tell me how great a place Biagetti’s is. “The food is great. That kid can cook. You gotta get Clams DeMaio. There was this guy, DeMaio, who came in one time and didn’t know what to eat. The chef took some clams, took out the clams, put in a shrimp and a scallop, put the clam back in, and put bread crumbs on top. Then he baked ‘em. Man, they’re so good. They’re not on the menu, but people in the know can order them. Clams DeMaio.”

“So I can order Clams DeMaio if I come in for dinner?” I asked him.

“Sure you could. Sure you could. I mean if it’s busy, they ain’t gonna make ‘em for you, but if it’s not busy, sure they’ll make ‘em for you.”

Our conversation went on. During this time, a few more of the girls came in and had pulled up new bar stools behind the others. They were all yucking it up over my new friendship with Paulie. I spotted one of them holding up her cell phone to try to get a picture of us, but I leaned back just in time and I found out later that she was only able to snap a shot of C.’s boob.

Paulie continued singing the praises of Biagetti’s. “You can’t get a bad meal in here. The people are real nice. It’s a good place. People watch their mouths. Somebody comes in and causes trouble, they get ‘em right out.”

“That’s good to know,” I told him.

“Yeah, somebody comes in and causes big trouble, I just call my nephew. He’s a lieutenant in the . . . . “

You know I fully expected him to say MOB. Then I took a breath and thought, no, he’ll say West Haven Police Force or State Police. It’s okay.

“ . . . . Hell’s Angels.”

That, of course, led Paulie to start talking motorcycles. He said the weather turned out to be really beautiful today and too bad he was told it was gonna rain because he didn’t ride his motorcycle. It was then that I really got a good look at what he was wearing – a black long-sleeve button down shirt with a black leather vest over it.

“You ride?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t,” I answered.

“You should ride. There’s nothin’ better,” he told me.

I shared my concerns about the fact that there’s nothing between the rider and the road and that lots of car drivers don’t treat motorcycles as true moving vehicles and pull out in front of them and cut them off. Too scary.

Paulie said, “Ya gotta be a real safe driver. Every day that I ride I get cut off at least 4 or 5 times. I want to pull out my 38 and shoot their tires out. That’s why I don’t carry when I ride.”

Gulp. (That was me.)

“You didn’t ride your motorcycle today, right? Does that mean you’re carrying?” I think I kind of whispered. (Holy SH*T! My idea of carrying is bringing my purse.)

Chuckle. (That was him.)

“Nah, I ain’t carrying.”

Luckily, a short while later, the bartender asked him if he wanted another drink. “Better not,” Paulie said. “I gotta get home or she’ll cut my balls off.”

Paulie Walnuts gathered his money off the bar, took the last slug from his drink (I shouldn’t have said slug) and told all of us how nice it was to meet us.

Right back at ya.

The girls fell apart into fits of giggles after he left and I had to tell them all they had missed. J., the school social worker, tried to put the positive spin on my experience: It gave me an opportunity to practice my meet and greet skills so I can get back out there and start dating.

I think I’ll just stay home and knit.