I Love My People

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!

Mary You? I Don't Even Know You!

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

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

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

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

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?

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!

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

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

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

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.

Go

!

Please.

I Can't Even Stand It

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



Wish it fit me.

Look What I Just Started

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

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.