Feeling Crabby? Getting Grumpy?

Watch this and it'll cheer you right up.

Santa Gets Flats, Too

Balls

Tired Up and Tired Out

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 . . .

Chuckle chuckle.

A Sock, Obama?

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

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

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

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

into this:

and 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

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

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

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!