Tuesday, June 30, 2009



I once worked with a woman who emphatically warned me not to marry a man who I thought was funny. She was the sweetest little woman with the sweetest little husband. They had the sweetest little family, two sweet tow head girls. And they owned an ice cream shop. Could their lives have been any sweeter?

I worked in that ice cream shop for the longest time. It really was the best gig in town. I had gone the fast food route. I don't recommend it. My skin suffered from all the grease. My hair constantly had a smell of overcooked meat-like substance that wouldn't wash out no matter how many times I scrubbed it. It was as if the odor had infused with the grease in the air and bonded to create some kind of super-coating on my person, an outer shell of ick that never washed off. Mmmmmm, outer shell of ick.

But the ice cream shop was different. There was no grease to be seen. Instead I came home smelling of vanilla waffle cones. Mmmmmmmmm, waffle cones. I ate my weight in ice cream each week, but being young and lucky I actually lost weight on my all ice cream diet. How I loved that job.

One day I was in the back when the husband came through and made what was, by all standards, a lame joke. He laughed and laughed at his perceived cleverness. The wife smiled at him fondly, rolled her eyes at me, and imparted her wisdom.

"Mamma, never marry a man because he makes you laugh. After a few years you'll realize he only knows so many jokes, and they're not that funny."

I thought of her words often. I shook my head at how wrong she was. I loved to laugh. It is joy transformed into sound. It is all the good emotions a body can feel pouring forth in a happy noise. True laughter is infectious and grows. It is what makes life so beautiful and bearable. And I'll admit it, I laugh at everything. I'm prone to laughter at the most inappropriate times. Why wouldn't I want to marry someone who made me laugh?

As the years slipped past I became painfully aware of how much I no longer laughed. My life held little joy. And one day I finally pinned down the cause. I was with a man who didn't laugh. I can't explain why but he just didn't laugh. And he didn't make me laugh. Our life together held no joy. That is no way to live.

The day I left him is the day I met my husband.

And how he made me laugh.

I stayed up all night with him laughing that very first night. I couldn't sleep. I just needed more, more of his voice, more of his smile, more of his jokes, more of this long forgotten feeling. And we laughed our way through the next day. And the next. We were married four months later.

And I've come to realize something: that sweet ice-cream shop owner? She was a little bit right. He does only know so many jokes. And I know them all by heart.

But he still makes me laugh.

Edited to add: I stand corrected. I typed this up Sunday night. On Monday The Greatest told me a shocking off-color joke that I won't repeat. As he smirked over my horrified giggles (yes, I laughed at the distasteful joke, I told you I laugh at inappropriate things) he declared "You've never heard that joke have you?" And no, I had not. He's still got a few surprises left in him. How I love that man.

Monday, June 29, 2009


When we threw out Pork Chop's Birthday Flowers it occurred to me that it really was time to update the old blog. How it has sat, forlorn and un-updated, for a full fortnight. The last time my blog was this boring I was pregnant and entirely too sick to sit upright at the keyboard. Let me assure that is not the problem this time around.

It isn't that I don't have finished knitting projects to show off.

I do. Believe me I do. I'm disgusted by how pathetically small my list of finished objects is. FOUR?!! Only four so far this year? Really? I've finished so many more. I've got a stack of sweaters in my closet that are just one good hair day away from debuting in the blog. Note to self: go wash hair.

It isn't that I don't have stories to tell.

I do. The children are an endless supply of blog fodder and random mischief.

And it isn't that I don't love all my readers.

That isn't it AT.ALL. Believe me, I LIVE for your comments. I really do. (So keep 'em coming, they make me so happy /shameless begging)

No my problem has something to do with this tiny princess.

Are there laws against pictures like this?

She is absolutely convinced she is a fish and must spend every possible waking moment in the pool. In just six weeks she has graduated from the floatie with the straps in the bottom

How a baby ought to swim

to the ring floatie

Not loving this so much

to water wings.

Really not loving this

Oh, I give up!

I'm telling you. It takes more effort to make sure this one survives the day than all the other three combined.

More blog posts to come as soon as I can stop dripping all over the keyboard.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

A Special Day

Yesterday was a very special day.


It was the nine year anniversary of the day I officially became "Mommy."


It was an extra special day nine years ago, and an extra special day yesterday.




Such a big girl.


No longer does she ask for dolls and ponies.


Her birthday list was full of books and clothing requests.


She is more amazing every day.




Half-way to adulthood.


If who she is now is any indication, I love who she is going to be.


Smart, hilarious, generous, polite, caring, beautiful. She is better than I dreamed she would be when I was carrying her in my swollen body.


We bought our little bookworm the Harry Potter collection for her birthday. She loved it, but we were out shined when Grandpa's present arrived. My Father sent her flowers for her birthday. 100 Blossoms. Can't top that. I did find her reading Harry Potter out loud in her bedroom. She told me "I hear it's good to talk to flowers, so I'm reading to mine." Could she be any more love-able?


Monday, June 15, 2009

Seduced and Betrayed

I wrote this post a week ago, but I've been so bereft by the entire affair I haven't had the heart to edit and publish it. I also haven't had the heart to knit since.

So the Evil knitting continued to grow

I hate this knit but I love my husband

I'm almost ready to start decreasing for the arms.

The decoy knitting was buzzing right along as well

Decoy knitting rocks

I'm almost ready to knit the heel (turn the heel? create a heel? what is the proper knitterly way to say that?)

Then I was seduced by something new.

I'll admit it. Some young pretty knit turned my head with all its fancy white lace. It was new and different. It promised me romance and I was instantly smitten.

Evil Seductress

Admit it. You're intrigued by this sweater too.

I couldn't help myself.

The obsession took hold and I HAD to knit this sweater.

Never mind the fact that I'm supposed to be showing my undying love for my husband by secretly knitting him a sweater with the World's Worst Yarn(tm). Never mind the fact that I am stash knitting and I don't have a sweater quantity of yarn left. I had some left-over white acrylic baby yarn. Almost a full skein as a matter of fact. I know from experience that I could "kill" this particular yarn and achieve the lovely drapey qualities of the alpaca the original design was knit with. This yarn could work for this sweater. Never mind that fact that I have four children and I would be INSANE to wear a white sweater, or anything white for that matter. Never mind the fact that I live in the desert and it is a billion degrees outside.

Like I said, I couldn't help myself.

I just knit a little gauge swatch. Just a bitty square of knitting to see if the yarn would even be a good match to the pattern. Only a tiny square.

It isn't really cheating on my husband's sweater if its just a gauge swatch right?

But I got gauge. I got perfect gauge, row and stitch count exactly. This never happens. Something is always off a little bit. But not with this gauge swatch. It was perfect.

I couldn't stop myself.

Before I realized what I was doing I had cast on for the sweater. I knit, and I knit, and I put the sleeve stitches on waste yarn and I knit and I ran to Wal-Mart of another skein of yarn, and I knit and I knit and I picked up stitches for the collar, and I knit and I knit and I frogged ten rows, and I knit and I knit and I knit. And then I bound off.

Of course that three day marathon of Burn Notice on USA Network didn't help matter. I loves me some Micheal Weston. It was the perfect excuse to sit on the couch and knit.

Before I knew it I had knit the entire body and collar of the sweater. All that was left were two tiny short sleeves. I was inches away from perfection. All that promised romance would be mine in mere hours.

I tried on my unblocked sweater to revel in the white glory of lace I had created.


Ummm, yeah.


I should have chosen a size larger, possibly two.

Into the frog pond I go.

Cheaters never do prosper do they?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Friday Loving

I'm loving....

Big Puffy Clouds

I wanna nap in the clouds

Pool Parties

Did you see the baby?

with the accompanying laundry.

How I love my washing machine

I love my new flat iron. It means curls,

One down


Two down

And more Curls!


And I'm loving her new "cheese" face for the camera.




And finally....

I love angering the cat.


Real blog posts coming soon!