I love this kid!
It is mustache day at school and she is wearing her mustache with gusto!
I drew one on my 12 year old. She looked at it in the mirror and decided that she can NOT be seen in public looking so undignified. Thank goodness I drew it on with eye liner and not a sharpie. Her mustache was unceremoniously scrubbed off.
But not my Bird.
She is eight years old, and she OWNS the world. She does everything she wants to in her own time, and in her own way. Nobody tells her what to do. Nobody is going to tell her she can't wear a mustache.
How do I keep her just as she is always? How do I keep the world from taking that away from her?
In crafty blogging news, I got a metric ton of souper seekrit hooking done yesterday.
But I can't show them off before the Mother-to-Be sees them. And if the history of my blog is any indicator, this may be the only picture of these items that you ever see. You'll have to take my word for it. They are super cute, and tiny. I love them.
In other craft related news, because of the souper seekrit hooking yesterday I needed buttons.
My buttons are kept in The Abyss. I used to know exactly where in The Abyss my bag of buttons was. Then The Greatest decided to "help" me out by rearranging my items in The Abyss so they would fit better. I haven't been able to find anything since, including my buttons.
Sometimes he sucks.
My innate laziness kept me from restoring proper order to The Abyss. If I couldn't find it then I could live without it.
Except I really needed buttons.
I'm not gonna lie. I contemplated buying new buttons.
I submitted my new button requisition form to my bank account.
My request was denied.
I could procrastinate no longer. Bravely I ventured into The Abyss.
I found my buttons.
But I couldn't stop there.
I found every single knitting needle I own. Even my size 4 Addi Turbo that has been missing for years.
I found all my missing stitch holders. They've been missing for over a year. Two thirds of them were on random half knit projects.
I threw away yarn.
I'll give you a minute to recover from the horror.
I threw away teeny tiny quarter size balls of yarn left over from projects I knit a decade ago. What did I ever think I was going to do with them?
I got rid of my first, second, third and fourth attempt at Evil. That yarn was truly awful.
I threw away half done baby sweaters that weren't working and have been long outgrown anyways. They were not worth salvaging.
I got rid of ugly scratchy left over yarn balls.
It actually felt pretty good.
I still have a lot of yarn.
Not as much as I would like to own.
But a lot.
I frogged and salvaged the yarn from three more projects.
I found four almost finished objects.
And I finished them.
I was on a roll!
I was unstoppable.
I am KNITTER! Hear me ROAR!
Pride cometh before a fall.
And how I fell.
This morning I began to photograph a pair of sock I made for The Greatest.
When I discovered this
That thing? That thing just to the right of the middle that doesn't look right? That thing is a dropped stitch. A dropped stitch in the sole of my completely finished sock.
What was it I was just saying about being a talented knitter who doesn't make newbie mistakes?
*hangs head in shame*
I don't know how this could have happened. But I do know that I am absolutely, positively not going to frog half a sock to pick up that dropped stitch.
Instead I laddered it up as far as I could and pulled it to the wrong side.
I began to duplicate knit the stitches in the row above the dropped stitch about an inch away from the dropped stitch.
When I got to the dropped stitch I ran the needle up through the dropped stitch, then in pattern with the duplicate knit.
Then I ran it down through the duplicate knit stitches and back down the dropped stitch.
I continued to duplicate knit for another inch or so.
No more dropped stitch.
These are Honey Badger Socks I knit for The Greatest from discontinued Knit Picks yarn (I think it was Sock Garden in "Fly Fishing" colorway, but I could be wrong. It's happened before).
And yes, that is my dirty Honey Badger t-shirt.
Cause Honey Badger don't care.
And I'm Classy like that.