A Finished Object, just not the one you think

Since the ~*~Cleaning Fairy ~*~ came to visit me I had all this free time that I usually spend cleaning. What's a poor girl to do with all that unscheduled time on her hands? I suppose a good mom would have taken her kids to the park, but, hey, I did that last month*. Instead I plopped my butt down in that butt shaped indentation that has recently grown on my couch and put in another Buffy DVD. In addition to gaining a larger derriere, I finished this.



And I've even blocked it!

Pattern: Samantha Sweater size 3 months

Yarn: Shine, before it became Shine Sport in Green Apple, 4 skiens

Needles: Size 4 Addi Turbos, Size 3 Aluminum straights

Modifications: My stitch gauge was larger, but my row gauge was perfect, so a little math was involved. I tried to modify the hem, but that didn't turn out well for anyone. Sometimes it's just a good idea to follow the pattern as written.

Review: This sweater is so freakin' cute I might have to make one for Bird. C'mon, who can resist faux smocking.



And no one would ever guess how easy this was to knit. I made it in four nights (Started Sunday, but didn't get to knit on Wednesday, so four nights). It's the kind of knitting I love: deceptively easy. Can't wait to see it on the precious recipient. (You didn't really think this was for me did you? No, I don't have anything that I'm trying to tell you). Although if you look closely you'll notice the sweater is missing something......stupid buttons, the bane of my existence. I don't know why I keep making cardigans when I can never find buttons to go on them.

*any statements alluding to gross negligence on behalf of my parenting skills are made in jest and not to be considered grounds for calling CPS. I let my children outside in the sun for an hour each day, just like prison inmate.

A miracle or a sign of the apocalypse?

Hmmm...A sink full of clean dishes.

Is this really bloc-worthy?

Ordinarily no. I do the dishes all the time. No Biggs. Happens almost every day.

The keyword in that sentence is "I". "I" do the dishes all the time.

But these dishes?

I didn't do them.

I didn't even ask anyone else *cough*The Greatest*cough* to do them.

I went out last night on a super secret mission and came home late.

I got up this morning prepared to clean the house and do the dishes. There are people coming over this afternoon and I don't want them to realize how I actually live. I want them to think I live in a nice clean organized house (shhhhhh, I've so got people snowed on this one, as long as they never go in my basement my secret is safe).

But I wandered into the kitchen and found a clean stove. Counters were wiped off. Dishes were scrubbed. But it doesn't end there. The toys in the living room were all picked up. The bikes that are being stored in the dining room due to rain (but ridden all over the kitchen) were put away. The carpet might even have been vacuumed. Everything is done, I just need to make the beds.

It's a Thursday miracle. I don't know how this happened. I've heard of this but I've never actually met anyone who actually had this happen to them: I've been visited by the ~*~CLEANING FAIRY~*~.

I've gotta run downstairs and see if they did anything in the basement.

Some laundry perhaps?

The Exciting Unveiling

I know everyone is anxious to see pictures of finished objects from my wanton weekend of unsupervised knitting.

And I promise, you will not be disappointed.......

Interweave Knits Eyelet Chemise


Knitpicks Candle Flame Shawl


Knitty's Mon Petite Chou


......Or maybe you will.

No, don't go, I can explain. I really can. I was going to have finished objects. I was going to have beautiful garments to show. I really was. I had the best of intentions. Without the Greatest here to keep my insane urge to knit in check I was going to go hog wild (although I really don't know what hogs do when they get wild). It was going to be all dry cereal and chicken nuggets eaten off paper plates. No baths, no rule, no nothing, just insane knitting. It was going to be heaven.

The lack of FOs is all Sarah Michelle Gellars fault. Her and her evil master Joss Whedon. I'll admit it. I made a real mistake when I made the last minute decision to combine Knitfest 2006 with Buffyfest 2006 (not to be confused with Buffyfest 2005).

I started with season 1 on Saturday. I finished my Candle Flame shawl on schedule. I also finished a few little things I was making for my SP, but I can't show them, they're a surprise. Not to be thrown off course I finished the sleeves for my Eyelet Chemise.

On Sunday I began Season 2 and started weaving in ends. Ends were woven in, string was strung for blocking. Things were moving right along. I got hung up and spent most of the day working on the crochet edging for the eyelet chemise. I'm still not satisfied with it, but the crochet hook was giving me a blister so I decided to block it and see how it goes. I had my shawl, my chemise, secret presents, and my Mon Petit Chou (which I finished knitting the same weekend I finished Leda's Dream) that all needed blocking. I was sprinting towards the ribboned finished line of Finished Objects.

This is where things went horribly wrong. I can only block things in my bedroom. It is the only place that is somewhat safe enough to have all those pins just laying around while the children are conscious. There is still no guarantee that they won't wander in and pull all the pins out, but it is safer than having it in the living room. The only problem is there is no DVD player in my bedroom. I could not block and continue Buffyfest 2006. I could not pin my shawl and still admire Sarah Michelle Gellar's perfect hair, or cring at Willow's horrible sweaters paired with unusually cute necklaces. I could not openly drool (since The Greatest wasn't home) at Angel, and still block my hand knits. I would have been forced to block while listening to cable television, but only up to channel 70, no higher tier channels in the bedroom. We're too cheap to spring for that second cable box. Sure Lifetime Original Movies are just vapid enough to fill the void, but they lack the witty conversation, the made-up words, the joie de vie that is Buffy. (I am pretty sure that's misspelled, but hey, I'm not french, my apologies to France).

What's a girl to do? She's got nothing on the needles but Evil, a pile of knits that need blocked and three more Buffy disks calling her name.

There was a choice to be made here.



By casting on for a new project I think I made the right choice.

So if you'll please excuse me my tiny sweater and season 3 are waiting for me. This is the year the school gets swallowed into the Hell mouth. What can I say? Good times.

The Green Screen of Death

Evidently the Purveyors of Evil have decided to declare a full on war with me. For the past few days my blog has only shown green with no words, pictures or anything.

Stupid Evil People.

But my spirit is not broken, and neither is my camera. I think my memory card needs replaced, but the camera itself appears to be functioning properly. So evil do-ers, my blog is back, and my camera is working. Operation K1, YO, K2TBL has been successful. Here's proof.

Here is my beautiful birthday girl reading her birthday present.



She's so happy to be six years old. Just think in a few years she'll be lying about her age just like her mother (only she might be lying to be older, not younger).

Here's my ghetto girl.



She shoved that hat on her head, grinned and declared "I like mah hat." Why is this kid so sweet?

She also likes Diet Coke with Lime.



She took a chair from the dining room into the kitchen, pushed it up to the counter and climbed up to reach her contraband coke. Stupid smart children, using chairs to reach tall things. And of course she's so cute standing there guzzling her elicit coke, instead of taking it away from her I run for the camera to take pictures.

Here's my cool kid in his Thomas the Train sunglasses.



I don't know where he learned the word cool, but no everything is "Mommy, that's cooooool." I don't think I'm prepared to be the parent of a child who is three going on thirteen. I'm not ready for teenagers.

And in a little knitting related news I received this package from my Cheap Ass Secret Pal.



Inside were all these pretty packages.



Inside those were these.



The world's cutest ice cream bowls with spoons, little sharks that exploded into washcloths when they got wet, candy for me and The Greatest, Sweater storage bags, and a box of rolls for coins (believe me when I say I really needed that box). Not to mention some very yummy yarn! A ball of Elsebeth Lavold Cotton Patine, and a skein of Knitpicks Shimmer in Stained Glass. Two things I adore, cotton and Knitpicks. Do I have to knit them or can I just sit around and rub them against my cheeks? And that tiny foot? That already belongs to me, or more appropriately Bird.

Thank you so much Secret Pal. I loved my package.

In real knitting news I'm nearly done with my IK Eyelet Chemise, I've just got the sleeves to finish and they're short cap sleeves, shouldn't take more than a day. I've only got two pattern repeats and I'll be finished with my Knitpicks Candle Flame Shawl. I'd show pictures of my WIP, but The Greatest has gone fishing, and the camera has gone with him. Think of how much knitting I'll get done in the next four days without him around to distract me and make sure I'm doing things like washing the dishes, or running the laundry, or feeding the children. By the time he returns Monday night I should have some FO's to photograph and display on Tuesday.

So take that Evil Doers.

An open letter to the purveyors of evil

Dear Evil Geniuses (Genusi?),

I'm not precisely sure what we, the humble knit bloggers, have done to gain your attention. I can not imagine what sin we have committed against you to incur your wrath. I don't know what we have done to make you turn your evil powers against us. But I would like to apologize.

The humble knit bloggers just wants to share their knitting. We spend hours crafting masterpieces from two pointy sticks and a bit of string. Sometimes the results are sublime, sometimes ridiculous, but always worth sharing. We have no underlying plot against anyone. We have no hidden agenda. We are not a terrorist sleeper cell. Purl, Yarn-Over, SSK and KTBL are knitting terms, not code words. We have done nothing to you.

Yet you have inexplicably chosen to turn your attention to us. You have decided to harm us, to bring our communication and sharing to a complete stand still. And you have formed the most effective plot. You have found a way to bring all communication and sharing to a stop. Like flipping off a switch, you have halted knit blogging. You have brilliantly chosen to attack our digital cameras. Without pictures we can not share knitting. We can write that we have finished a raglan sweater, but without pictures we can not share the brilliant stitch pattern, the perfectly matched sleeve increases, the smooth, even knitting. We can write about a finished lace shawl, but without the accompanying picture the reader will never truly appreciate the cobweb-like delicacy, the intricacy of the knit stitches and yarn overs. Without pictures we can not ohh and ahh over the perfect shade of yarn, or at least a close approximation therein.

So Evil Doers. I admit your plot is pure genius. You have hit Batty, Pyewacket, and Myself. Only you know how many others you have stricken with dead cameras, or in my case suddenly defective cameras. But I must ask you to immediately cease and desist.

As I have said the humble knit blogger is a peaceful creature, intent on merely sharing her handiwork with other knitters who can truly appreciate the time and effort that went into the creation therein. But if you continue to attack against us we will turn our attention to you.

Do you not understand that we carry pointy sticks with us wherever we go? Do you not understand that we have an extensive communication structure already in place, not only through knitblogs, but through on-line communities like Knitty, and Craftster as well? And when I said KTBL was not a code word, I might have been fibbing. I've written it twice in this post already. Our counter-strike might already be in motion.

You should be afraid. Although afraid might be too mild a word, it doesn't really connotate what our intention are. You should be trembling-terrified-sleeping-with-one-eye-open-wetting-yourself-when-you-hear-a-loud-noise-behind-you afraid.

So in the future you might want to leave peaceful us, and our digital cameras alone.

Thank You,

The humble knit bloggers

Just for fun until a real post comes along

Totally stolen from The Giving Flower until I can write a real post.

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me — it can only be one word long. Then copy and paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you

More of my sickness

I admit it.

I've tried to deny it, but I can no longer live with this lie.

I have a problem.

I enjoy dressing my children in matching outfits.

I just can't help it. I've tried but they look so cute.

So to indulge my illness I made these.



Pattern: Tater's Cotton Cardi size 2 and 6 (Sorry I can't figure out how to link to the PDF, but the pattern is on her side bar)

Yarn: Knit Picks Shine in Green Apple, 9 skiens total

Needles: Size 4 Addi Turbos, and Size 4 DPNs

Modification: None

Review: I'd never made a top down raglan, or any raglan sweater for that matter, so this sweater construction was a bit of an adventure for me. I highly recommend it. No seams, just a few end to weave in. This pattern is flawless. I had a bit of trouble in the beginning, it was user error, and the designer was so kind helping me with it. You gotta love talented people who shine on us less gifted ;)

I think Pork Chop likes her sweater.



Don't mind her zipper, she's still only five. I'm sure she'll stop making such glaring fashion mistakes once she turns six next week.

Bird on the other hand put her sweater on under protest.



We all know how she feels about wearing my hand knits. I swear she only put it on because Pork Chop was wearing one. She's my little "Me Too" kid. Anything the older kids do she does too. Jump off the jungle gym? Of Course. Eat Broccoli? Only after Meaty does. Take a nap? Well, she's on her own for this one, she is my ONLY napper. She's such a good napper too. Sometimes she'll put herself down for a nap. But I digress.

At least she didn't scream the entire time she wore the sweater. She quietly tried to hide from the camera. I chased her all around the coffee table trying to get a good shot. It was a very calm affair compared to previous attempts to photograph her in my handiwork. It's like she's just given up. I fear a tiny piece of her soul died today.

What do you mean I'm done already?

I am done! And I am gorgeous! Just look at me!




Yes, those flowers are pretty. No I don't know if they used "Miracle Grow" on them. Yes they smelled as good as they looked. No I don't know if they were all roses, or a mixture of roses and another flower. No I'm not going to ask someone.

STOP LOOKING AT THE FREAKIN' FLOWERS AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

Isn't it a lovely picture? It was hard work lying just right among the roses. I was injured in the process.



I swear I am surrounded by incompetence. Then they insisted that I must appear artfully draped around the dog because the "public demanded it".



And they swore all the other shawls are doing it. I don't care if all the other shawls are staying out until dawn snorting coke with Lindsey Lohan and having threesomes with Paris Hilton in an effort to increase their visibility. That doesn't make it a good idea. *sniff* So undignified. Not to mention I want to know who these freaks are who want to see a dog wearing lace. Talk about people who need to lay off the drugs.

Then they dangled me over a railing to take this shot of my shadow.



I don't care how "cool" and "artistic" "she" might think it is, that was a pain in my stitches. Balancing like that just wore me out.

When she finally released me I needed a drink.



And a nap.



Despite my partner I turned out beautifully. Just admire my stitch detail.





Soon I shall leave all this behind and go to live where I truly belong. I hear it is quiet and peaceful there, with a woman of true dignity and beauty. I can hardly wait!

And if anyone was wondering I was made with 2 skiens of Knitpicks Alpaca Cloud on size 4 Addi Turbos, and I am as wonderfully soft as I look.

My Bad Day

Today is a bad day.

It's my Mom's Birthday.

She would be 52 today.

That's far too young for her to be gone already.

I remember when I first learned she had cancer. It was the day before Bird was born. Bird was already a week overdue, and I was huge, heavy, and swollen with child. I was so focused on the impending birth I almost forgot my Mom had an appointment for her biopsy result that day. The site they biopsied was so small they had to put a wire in it to ensure they took out the correct piece of tissue. We were so sure it was going to be nothing. Or at least I was sure it was going to be nothing. She was my Mom, it had to be nothing.

I remember standing in my kitchen with my ugly blue marble counter top barely listening to what my Sister was telling me. She had gone to the appointment with Mom. They had stopped at my house to drop off mail or something on their way back home. Mom was too tired to get out of the car and come in, so my Sister was sent in alone to tell me the news. There I was in my kitchen wearing my favorite maternity top barely listening to what my Sister was telling me. In fact I wasn't listening to a word she was saying until she said my name quite urgently to get my attention, followed by the words "It's cancer."

Things spun around me for a moment, the air was surreal. Things were going to be different. This was going to be hard. But I didn't think she was going to die.

And when the cancer came back in August (I guess technically it never left, we just thought it did) I still didn't really think she was going to die. I was worried about it, but in my heart of hearts I didn't believe anything that bad could happen to her. We would go through chemo again, and she would be sick for a while, then she would be fine again. She would be my Mom again.

She died a little less than two years from her initial diagnosis. She died less than a year from her second diagnosis. She didn't make it to her birthday.

I don't understand how this happened. I feel as if she just vanished ~Poof~ gone. And I don't know why she left, or where she went. Sure I can tell my children she is in Heaven with God, but I don't know what that means. I just feel like a confused child who doesn't understand what's happened to them.



I love you Mom. I miss you so much.

Happy Birthday.

WTF?

My children never cease to amaze me with their thought processes. I'm amazed by what they think, and why they think it. How they can rationalize coloring on the walls, or painting the cat with nail polish. I'm sure the fun factor must be high for some of these things and sometimes I almost wish I could join them in their deviant behavior.

But I will never understand what led to this yesterday.

Meaty was laying beside me on the couch. He was naked because as he put it "I wanted to be naked." Ok, not a big deal. He can run around the house naked, he's still little, and he's housebroken. He's still got that cute, chunky toddler butt.

So we're laying there, I'm on the phone, he's watching tv. Then he suddenly jumps up, grabs his pee-nee, and declares "I'm going to pee on the dog."

He proceeds to chase the dog with his pee-nee.

For the record he didn't pee on the dog, but I have to wonder why he wanted to. What thought process in his little mind led him to the conclusion that this would be a good time to pee on the dog.

I love my kids.