Sometimes........

Sometimes life is unbearably hard.

And sometimes life is unspeakably beautiful.

ALOHA!

Well, we spent the last week taking turns throwing up.

That was fun.

I'd like to never speak of it again.

Despite the fevers, and vomiting, and lack of sleep, I got the costumes done.

Although, in the interest of full disclosure, my shirt was neither sewn by me, nor sewn by kindly elves. Instead it came to me from a Fairy Godmother. Auntie must have seen the fear in my eyes as I looked at the mock-up of what the shirt was supposed to look like. It was sewn from a vest pattern, but the neck line was modified (which I think I could have done reasonably well) and sleeves were added.

It was the added sleeves that made my blood run cold.

Sleeves, my old nemesis.

Whether it be knitting, or sewing, I just can't seem to do sleeves properly without a pattern.

How I hate you sleeves!

Seeing the deer in headlights look on my face Auntie took pity on me and kindly donated the mock-up to me, instructing me to sew buttons on the front and invest in some socks (cause I'm a little on the flat chested side *curse you boob fairy* ).

By the time Saturday rolled around the younger three members of our family were well. The same could not be said for the older three. Especially The Greatest. But we rallied. We went to the Aloha Festival.

And we DANCED!

(Except for The Greatest. He doesn't dance)

My three dancers before the show

Poor Bird is nothing but skin and bones. She doesn't have a scrap of body fat. And she was so cold in her hula outfit with the bare shoulders. Our stage was right by the water and the breeze off the water had a definite chill to it. At one point I saw the teenage dancers crowded around something. I looked, and it was Bird. They had huddled around her tiny form like a flock of penguins, trying to keep her warm.

The Ipu dance.

The Boys

The Greatest took the pictures, and he only got one picture of the boys dance. And of course Meaty is turned the wrong way. He did this all through rehearsals as well. He is my child in all the wrong ways, poor thing. I was backstage, but I managed to catch the end of his performance, and he was turning the right way then. I'm very proud of him. And just a teensy bit surprised he like it so much, but he did. He really liked dancing.

Sophisticated Hula

Love those cellophane skirts in the breeze! Again, The Greatest took these pictures, and he didn't manage to really get Bird in the picture. She's tiny, so you'd think she would be in the first row. But the second row was the place for her. She needed the row of dancers in front of her to help her remember what she was doing. Another one of my children in all the wrong ways. She did great. Now Pork Chop is my shining star dancer! Front row, big smile knew all the moves, loved every second on stage. A born performer.

And Me!

I am Wife, Mom, Daughter, Friend, Chef, Chauffeur, Nurse, Life Guard, Tutor, Housekeeper, Personal Shopper, Keeper of the Keys, Knitter, Quilter, Costume Creator, Blogger. I wear many hats. And now I can add: HULA DANCER!

I wouldn't necessarily qualify hula dancer with the word good. See me in the second row? Yeah, the second row was the place for me too! Hula dancers are generally thought to be graceful. Anyone who knows me, really knows me, is going to fall off their chair giggling at the idea of me and graceful being said in the same sentence. But I went, I danced, I had a great time. We can't wait to do it all again next year.

Of course no post would be complete without a picture of my tiniest Island Princess.

She was too tiny to dance this year, but perhaps next year?

When it was all over we hurried home and tucked The Greatest back in bed. We had ice cream sundaes for dinner, and snuggled up on the couch to watch "Where the Wild Things Are."

It was a perfect day.

Except for the vomit.

Fingers Crossed

Often I find that the amount of time I spend procrastinating on a project is directly related to my confidence in actually doing a good job on said project. That is to say, if I'm not feeling too good about it, the project is going to languish, untouched, and unloved. Examples of this would include Evil, and My Father's Aran Sweater. (Sorry Dad)

So the remaining hula costumes?

Yeah, not really much closer to being finished.

Yesterday, instead of working on them, I found all kinds of other "Very Important" things to do. I went to twenty different stores in the area trying to find woven basket type bags. I didn't find any. I went to Jo-ann's but forgot my 40% off coupon, so I left. I took the kids to the library for new books, and then spend a good chunk of time reading to them. And most importantly I spend the evening curled up on the couch watching old episodes of "Cops" with The Greatest. You know I'm pulling out all my most desperate avoidance tactics when I'm watching "Cops."

Although while I've not been sewing on these projects, I've have been "working" on the projects. I've been thinking of alternative ways to get them done, ways that do not involve me sewing MY costume. My most viable solution involves waiting until the night before the performance. On the eve of the big day, with an exhausted heart full of desperation, I will lay out the fabric, the thread, the buttons, the scissors, the measuring tape, the patterns... basically every sewing supply in the house will be laid on my kitchen table before I go to sleep. Then during the night kindly elves will rescue me from my plight and I will awaken to perfectly sewn costumes, ready in the nick of time for our Hula Debut.

Do you think it will work?

Cause short of sewing the things myself this is the best plan I've got.

Saved Again By The Power Of Her Cute!

I've been sewing tons lately. I think I might be developing a hunch back from being bent over my sewing machine day after day after day. Three little white hula shirts down! A bunch more stuff to go!

As I sit and sew Sweet Pea sits at my side. She babbles at me. Often using words I can understand! She likes to touch the thing on the side of the machine that goes round and round as I sew. I'm sure that round thingy has a proper name. I'm sure I'll never know what it is.

She also likes to sit and play with my pins.

It seems like a harmless activity. Its all well and good until one rolls off the table and onto the floor where it will lie in wait for The Greatest to step on it and blame me for carelessly leaving my pins lying around.

*grrrrrr*

But worse than planting pins on the floor to frame me for feetal injuries? (is feetal a word? get it feet-al? I'm so funny. I crack myself up. and I clearly need more sleep)

When I'm sewing the final outer border strip on my Valentine Quilt...

She likes to keep herself busy by taking the seam ripper and poking a hole in the inner border.

AWESOME!

I haven't decided if I want to take off three outer border strips so I can get to the inner border. Once there I will remove the inner border and replace it with a new hole-less piece of fabric. Then I will re-sew the three outer borders back onto the quilt. Or I might just skip taking all the borders off and sew a patch over the hole. The Greatest thinks I should put some fray check on it and call it good. *insert eye roll here* He tries hard. But sometimes he doesn't get it.

Some days her cuteness is all that stands between her and certain death.

Somedays You Just Can't Win

I'll admit it. My to-do list is a scary long. We have been sick with coughing nastiness for weeks now and the house is in sad sad shape. We've been too sick to go shopping, so the pantry is in sad sad shape. And as I mentioned yesterday I've got several crafty deadlines looming, not to mention a bunch of stuff I want to do simply because I want to do it. I need more hours in the day. Maybe I should give up sleep again.

When my to-do list gets too big, and my house gets too lived in (a polite way of saying my floors are sticky and I'd rather pee outside than set foot in one of my bathrooms) I can get overwhelmed. I don't even know where to start and I can get paralyzed. Being unable to find a starting point I end up getting nothing done at all.

I'm there.

Paralysis of the mind.

I finally decided the best thing to do was just do something. Anything.

With as tense as I was feeling I decided knitting was NOT the thing to do. No sense in knitting, knowing that what I knit will be too tight and need ripped out.

I also decided cleaning was not the thing to do. I live in a house with small children. I could clean, but it was just going to get sticky again five seconds later. Still coughing I simply didn't have the energy to fight a losing battle.

So sewing it was.

First I cut the fabric for the Girl's Hula Shirts.

Now technically only two of my girls are dancing, but the third needs a costume, well, just cause she does.

And that is as far as I got. Though I searched high and low, the elastic for the shirts was no where to be found.

So I moved on to the next item on my list: Meaty's Hula Shirt. I traced the pattern onto tissue paper and cut out his pieces.

And that's as far as I got. Though I searched high and low, my brown thread was no where to be found.

So I gave up on Hula costumes. The next one to be made was mine, and sewing for myself is daunting enough without circumstances like these.

So I moved on to my Valentine's Quilt.

Yes, I know Valentine's Day has come and gone. I am unconcerned about this. Valentine's Day will be back next year, and quilts don't spoil. I might have gotten it done for Valentine's this year, but I ran out of fabric to sew the border and only just got new fabric last weekend. Since this wasn't deadline sewing, just hobby sewing, I thought maybe it would be relaxing and lift this cloud of doom I seemed to be operating under. I cut the fabric for the first border, stitched one side, started to stitch the second side...

And this is as far as I got. I ran out of thread. And though I searched high and low, my white thread was no where to be found. Seriously? I ran out of white thread? I know I have more white thread somewhere. *grrr* It is probably with the elastic and the brown thread. Laughing at me.

Somedays a girl just can't win.

That's when I gave up and went to bed. Bed seemed like a solid plan.

Maybe I should have cleaned instead of crafted.

A Girl's Gotta Dream

Once upon a time I tore this picture out of a Pottery Barn Kids catalog.

Back when I was pregnant with Pork Chop and working as a lowly receptionist, one of the few joys of my job was the Pottery Barn Kids Catalog (the other true joy was the Frango mints at Christmas). The Secretaries and I would eagerly sort the mail awaiting the glossy pages of sublime kid stuff to arrive. Now, did you see the part where I was a lowly receptionist? Yeah. I couldn't actually afford anything in the Pottery Barn Kids catalog. But we enjoyed looking at the pretty pages of things and pretending we could afford to decorate our homes. It was a constant source of inspiration for things I wanted to do to my kids rooms. One day I was innocently flipping through its pages and there it was. Something so cute I simply had to have it. It was this quilt, this pretty little quilt. I simply fell in love with this quilt. I loved the gingham, the solids, the neat points of the stars, the bright white background, the diamond border. All of it. I loved it. And since I had taken a beginning quilting class the previous year I decided that forget buying it I could totally make that quilt.

Then I actually had my baby.

Reality is a harsh cruel place to live. I quickly learned babies take up a lot of time. In fact small colicky Pork Chop took up every waking moment, and lots of moments when I should have been sleeping as well. She was rocked and walked and sung to and carried and taken for rides in the car, and still, she cried and cried and cried and cried and cried. I didn't have time to eat, or shower, let alone be crafty. I gave up quilting, too many pieces and part and dropped pins on the floor, and it required a lot of brain cells that I just didn't have at the time. When she was around nine months old I took up knitting. She was sleeping more and finally crying less, so I felt I had a few brain cells I could devote to crafty endeavours. And I figures two knitting needles would be way easier to keep track of than the fifty thousand pins I needed for quilting. That last part is shamefully not true, two knitting needles are not as easy to hold on to as one might think, but doesn't it sound like it ought to be true?

Yet I still dreamed of those perfect points.

I've carried that torn picture around for a decade. Through all our moves I kept this picture. Through the periodic housecleaning purges where I threw out everything that wasn't essential this ragged page was considered important enough to keep. It has always remained on my list of someday.......

Over the weekend we moved Sweet Pea into a big girl bed. The true owners of our crib are expecting their third child, so they will be needing the crib back. Now seemed like as good a time as any to give Sweet Pea her eviction notice from the crib. She is very enthusiastic about her bed during the day, but not so much at bedtime. She cries no until she is exhausted, then I lie down with her while she sleepily repeats "no big girl bed, no big girl bed" until she falls asleep mid-sentence. And forget naps, there's no taking them in the big girl bed. But still, the ordeal is not without a few perks. She shares a bedroom with Bird, and it looks so sweet with their pretty white bed frames.

I've decided that someday has finally arrived and I am just crazy enough to be planning on making two matching quilts.

Pretty gingham star quilts on a pretty white background. Each with a different color gingham binding. Of course I have several other things I need to be doing right this very second, deadlines looming for projects that need done now. A big project for Knitpicks is in the final stages and if I don't get too sidetracked I should finish ahead of schedule. And the seven costumes for hula need to be finished by Saturday. And since they currently look like this

I really need to get sewing.

Still, I could not resist putting one block together

you know, since I already had the sewing machine and ironing board out for the hula costumes anyways.

One block closer to the dream. 159 to go.

Knitting News

So when last we spoke of knitting I had some concerns about my grey sweater.

Let's face it. It was looking a little, well, torqued? Is that a word? It was skewing to the side. Not really taking the back of a sweater shaped I'd hope the back of the sweater would take.

But I pressed on. I hoped that with a little seaming, a little steam, we could make this look like something. The seed stitch fabric was just soooo smooshy and wonderful. I still had high hopes. I knit the right front and was knitting my way up the left front...

Then I got cold.

I was quietly sitting. Quietly knitting on the couch. And I was cold.

I got up to reach for my current favorite I'm-cold-so-I'm-gonna-throw-this-on-on-top-of-whatever-I'm-wearing-because-it-goes-with-everything sweater(tm).

As I slipped my arms into the sleeves and pulled the sweater close around me I had an epiphany.

Now the sad but true reality is I never have good epiphanies. Never strokes of pure genius. Never an idea so revolutionary it improves my life and the lives of others and earns me a million dollars in the process. No. I'm just not that smart. My epiphanies tend to restrain themselves, preferring to live in the land where they manifest as mere realizations of horrible horrible truths about my life.

This one was no different.

The sweater I was knitting was a carbon copy in shape and color to the sweater I was wearing.

Sure, sure, there are a few differences, mostly the seed stitch, but the silhouette, and color, and collar, and sleeve length. Identical.

And my back-up I'm-cold-so-I'm-gonna-throw-this-on-on-top-of-whatever-I'm-wearing-because-it-goes-with-everything sweater(tm)?

Also a grey sweatshirt. Only this one has a hood.

I had to ask myself a few hard questions.

"Self" I queried "do you really want a third grey cardigan?"

"Do you really want to only be seen picking up the kids from school in different shades of grey day after day after day?"

"Is this really the only idea of fashion you know?"

"Self, do you really want to be that girl?"

I decided I did not.

(Can you spot the ball I wound all by myself vs the balls Bird "helped" me wind?)

I've been looking at pullover patterns instead.

Hi

So, ummmm, yeah.

It's been a while.

But you're like my closest bestest friends. No matter how long it has been since the last time we talked, it feels like no time has passed.

Can you believe how much time has passed? I've been getting phone calls from everyone wanting to make sure I'm alright. Thanks for all the love. I'm sorry for the silence. Let me assure you, everyone is fine. Not all of this silence was my fault.

First my computer got all virused up.

Bad.

Wouldn't-boot-up-at-all kind of bad.

Got past my anti-virus software kind of bad.

Why do smart people waste their time creating such destructive things? They don't know me. Why would they want to damage my computer? I don't understand that mentality or their motives. They're obviously brilliant with computers in a way I'll never be, so why don't they apply themselves and create something instead of destroying things?

And I had over a years worth of pictures saved on the computer just waiting to be transferred to disks.

I know.

I'm bad like that.

But we know a girl who is married to a guy who is is all kinds of genius.

He saved everything.

I offered to pay him with my first born child. Now that she's getting older she's pretty darn handy to have around. She can dust and run a vacuum, and load the dishwasher mostly the right way. Plus she is super fun just to sit and talk to. It would have been a major sacrifice on my part, but it would have been worth it. That's just how much I loves my computer.

Instead he took payment in brownies.

All that put me without a computer for a few weeks.

Then we decided it was time to fiddle with my migraine meds. I needed a new preventative and a better med to take when I got a migraine.

Well, the good news it my preventative is so good I haven't had to try my new pain meds.

The bad news it is made me near comatose for a few weeks. I'm still tired. If you recall the last med they put me on made me feel like I was on speed. This was the polar opposite. I could not keep my eyes open. My eyelids gained twenty pounds each. Crawling back into bed still seems like the most appealing option life has to offer. But I'm migraine free and mostly headache free. So there is that.

And just as I was crawling out of my medicine induced coma and back into real life, the kids brought home a bug. Pink eye, runny noses, coughs, sore throats. Yeah. Fun. I'm the only one still sick and I feel in constant danger of choking on my own mucus. I know. The average person can only dream of living a life as glamorous as mine.

In the midst of all this I've been cooking and cleaning and knitting and quilting and hula-ing and decorating and becoming an aunt again. I've been busy. Although in the interest of full disclosure I really didn't have anything to do with becoming an Aunt again. That was all my Brother and his Wife. They did a beautiful job too.

But I know none of you who are still hanging around this blog are here for me.

So enough about me. Here's the good stuff.

Oh, wait, you're not here for the bunnies? But they're cute and fluffy and they love to sit in front of their mirror and bathe, those vain little bunnies. You sure you're not here for the bunnies?

Alright, here's the really good stuff.

Don't you just wanna chew on those toes?

Turning my day around.

I've been feeling rather melancholy these past few days. Maybe it's the typical post-holiday January blahs. Maybe it's the missing/presumed deceased cat. Maybe it's the letter I got from a lawyer talking about my "late mother", reducing her life to a list of assets. Maybe it's the weather.

This morning is unusually grey.

Maybe it's my knitting

It is also unusually grey. And unusually wonky. See how it is pulling into a parallelogram on one side. Or it could be a trapeziod. That one side is considerably longer than the other. What the heck Knitting? What the heck? It is the softest of soft acrylic (seriously, this acrylic is ridiculously soft and luscious). And because it is the softest of soft acrylic, I doubt this will block out. It is a pile of soft grey parallelogram shaped frustration.

I wonder if this is some kind of karmic punishment for adding to the list of unfinished things instead of finishing a project off the list of unfinished things. After all, I'm practically finished with Meaty's winter hat.

Now that winter in the desert is almost over of course. All that is left is the sewing needle work. Weaving in seams, sewing in the lining, duplicate stitching the pattern on the front. I could finish this hat in about three hours if I tried. One evening of work and I could be done. And I might even be able to convince him to wear it to school in the mornings where there is still a hint of chill in the air. Yes, one evening and it could be done. I could be done. I'd have something real to show for my work. Something tangible that I created. Isn't that part of why I knit?

*sigh*I just can't get excited about finishing the knitting.

See.

Melancholy.

Despite my feelings of apathy twards it all, I had almost resolved to finally finish something.

Then I went to Bezzie's blog.

First of all if you aren't reading her, start right now.

Secondly, I've got to go find some cream colored yarn in my stash. ELF just might be the greatest Christmas movie ever made! I NEED a Jovie hat.

My day just might be looking up!

Birthday Wishes

On Sunday we had dinner with friends. Someone asked Meaty how old he was. He replied "I'm six, but tomorrow I'll be seven."

And that is exactly how it happened.

Sunday night I went to sleep the mother of a six year old boy. Monday morning I woke up to discover I was the mother of a seven year old boy. Funny how that happens.

Age hasn't changed him much. He's still the same sweet/stubborn boy he's always been.

So determined to grow up as fast as he can.

He's got all kinds of plans. He's going to take the army netting in his room with him when he goes to college. And the dog.

(Who sleeps tucked under a blanket because he tucked her in.)

And when he's a grown up he will drink diet coke and call me by my first name. And he will buy the house next door because he doesn't want to live with me forever, but he always wants to live close to me.

Despite my best efforts to keep him small forever he does insist on growing. And I'm sure all those things he dreams of are going to happen for him one day (except the calling me by my first name thing. I just can't get on board for that one. He will have to learn some disappointment in his life). I want his life to be full of good things, but I also want him to have the skills to deal with disappointment and adversity and challenges and sorrow. Because I know life is full of that stuff too. I want so many things for my sweet little man.

Happy Birthday Meaty.

The downside of being multicraftual

Yesterday we took down our Christmas things. The house looks barren without the lights and garland and all the sparkly fun stuff.

I think I need more home decor. I dream of lamps and vases and beautiful conversation pieces, and throw pillows, and pictures on the walls. But then I might have to dust more. Or constantly pick the throw pillows off the floor. Or worry about the children breaking things (which is after all what children do best). I think it might be best to keep it barren for now. There is always someday for the other stuff.

To get to where we keep our Christmas things I must move all my crafting things. I was sure that after I moved it to get out all the Christmas stuff I had it all put away beautifully and it was group together according to craft and project supplies were all neatly bagged together. I was sure it was the epitome of organised.

Yeah...not so much.

I'm beginning to see why The Greatest refers to it as my "crap" closet.

I've never been one for project monogamy. I like to knit what I wanna knit, when I wanna knit it. I like to spend an evening or two beading if something sparks my imagination that way, or making hair bows, or sewing, or my renewed obsession: quilting. I'm a bit like Pretty Woman that way. I say who, I say when, I say how much. If only I had the fabulous hair to go with the attitude. I find this attitude helps keep my hobbies relaxing.

I can do the monogamy thing. And I'm really good at it. I've got only the one God. I've only got one major credit card. I buy the same cookie every week for my mid-morning snack. I only get naked with the one guy. I'm good at monogamy.

I just choose not to be with my crafting.

But I've been staring at my mess and I'm beginning to see the wisdom behind the virtue.

I counted 30 projects in various crafting categories all in random stages of completion. That isn't when I hit the bottom of the pile of unfinished things. That's just when I decided to stop counting. The list was making me feel panicked and overwhelmed.

I know I've tried to get on top of things in the past. Remember when I tried Mission Possible. Yeah. That didn't work for me. I didn't finish my 12 projects. I finished 5, sort of. And I didn't abandon the others either. Instead I gave them all amnesty. The unfinished ones are still patiently waiting in my pile.

That's what I like about my projects. They sit and quietly wait.

The Greatest is not so quiet. I need to knit his sweater so he'll shut up.

And judging by the near panic attack I get looking at my stack of stuff, I need to get this under control before it stages an uprising and takes over. After all, if my projects were to stage an uprising they'd be well armed with all the various needles, and hooks, and pins, and scissors I own. Not to mention my two glue guns. I'm sure if they were to mobilize they would quickly over take us all. Except maybe the bunnies. I might be saved by the bunnies. They've got a lot of attitude. They just might be our salvation. But as usual, I digress thinking of the crafty rebellion and the bunny counter-strike operation.

So maybe I need to look into this idea of project monogamy. I daydream of just picking a project, any project from my closet, and working it to completion. Then I would reach in the closet and grab-bag my next unfinished object and continuing on until everything in my closet is beautiful and finished and blogged and admired and oh how productive I would be.

I think I'll look into this project monogamy.

Right after I cast-on for my new sweater.

It isn't a secret

This is the only reason I have four kids.

Silly Socks

It doesn't get too cold here. But it does get cold. In fact the longer we live here, the colder it seems to get in the winter. Not to mention the entire first floor of our house is a concrete slab covered by ceramic tiles. Those puppies stay cold. That's what makes them so great in the summer when the outside temperature is 115 degrees and climbing. They keep their chill in the air conditioned atmosphere, bringing down our cooling costs. Yeah. They're great in the summer. But not so much the winter.

In the winter the tiles never really warm up. We huddle under blankets despite having the heat on because that edge of chill never leaves the air. Thank goodness the winter only lasts a few short months (it was already over 70 the other day).

In a fit of knitting insanity I decided that Sweet Pea needed socks to cover her feet and protect her tiny bones from the chill. Never mind the sheer lunacy of putting a toddler (who lives in a house with slippery tiles as the main flooring) in socks. Never mind the fact that every single one of my children have inherited my ability to trip over my own shadow. (Thank goodness The Greatest finds it endearing). Never mind the fact that my child is actually a nudist, consenting to wear only the bare minimum of clothing. She would rather die than put on a sweater or socks.

I've got an amazing ability to ignore the obvious and go with the impractical.

So knit socks I did.

Pattern: Socks for Mary Janes pattern offered as a free Ravelry Download

Yarn: Socks that Rock, and a discontinued Knitpicks line

Needles: Size 2 circs for magic loop

Modifications: Only the obvious one

Review: Alright, lets get this out of the way first: HOW CUTE ARE HER CHUBBY LITTLE KNEES? *whew* It's good to get that out of my system. I just wanna squeeze those chubby knees. TICKLE THEM AND SQUEEZE THEM. *sigh* Sorry, NOW, I think it's all out of my system. We can move on to the socks.

Just a simple sock pattern with some pretty lace detail. I was using a left over ball of pink sock yarn I found in my stash. I decided her feet were still on the smallish size (at age 2 the kid wears a size 7 shoe, smallish is a relative term). They should only need a smallish amount of yarn to make some socks right?

Not so much.

As I approached the toe of the second sock I realized this was going to end badly. I had a few options

1) order more yarn.

Ummm...no. I wasn't going to order a $20 skein of yarn to knit an inch of sock for a child who will out grow said sock in roughly 4 days.

2) Bind it off and call them pedicure socks.

I considered this. The child in question is after all the girliest of girly girls who insists on having her toes painted on a daily basis. But then I would have to rip the toe out of the already completed first sock so they would match, and that seemed like a lot of work.

3) Knit the toe with something else.

This seemed like a solid plan. Just finish knitting the sock with something else, anything else. I grabbed another smallish ball of yarn and knit a contrasting toe.

And fell in love!

How cute are these socks!

But my girl can't wear just one pair of socks all winter long! She changes her clothes a minimum of three times a day. What makes me think she would be content wearing the same socks for longer than ten minutes? So another pair of socks it is.

Pattern: No pattern, just basic ankle socks based on her foot measurements

Yarn: No idea, it was left over from these

Needles: Size 2

Modifications: None, it's my personal sock recipe

Review: Oh my goodness! Those knees are so chubby I wanna chew on them! NOM NOM NOM NOM NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

I apologise. I swear. I'm really done now.

So I guess that after I make a pair of socks I have enough yarn left over for 1.75 toddles socks. That's alright. I'm kinda loving the silly toe. I'm contemplating purposefully knitting a mismatched toe in all my future socks. Some of my friends, who have beheld the cuteness that is the silly toe, have suggested I start a Silly Toes Ravelry group and start a sock revolution! Knitters everywhere will create pairs of socks with one mismatched toe. Matching socks will be so passe. Yarn manufacturers will start including a small skein of contrasting yarn with each skein of sock yarn. Sock knitting will never be the same again!

I'm not sure if I'm ready to lead a revolution, but I am knitting a pair of toddler monkeys.

I wonder what color I'll knit the toe...

Daily Distractions

My grown-up responsibilities often get in the way of my life. I have to keep the house reasonably clean. I have to feed the children three or four times a day. I have to go grocery shopping, and run errands, and balance the checkbook, and worry about money, and the kids health, and the dog's arthritis, and do we have any clean socks. I want to volunteer at the school, and knit, and sew, and create, and play with my kids, and laugh with my friends, and occasionally see my Husband. There's always something I want to do distracting me from what I have to do, and something I have to do distracting me from what I want to do.

Sounds like normal grown up life doesn't it?

Now I'm gonna tell you an unrelated small story.

Way, way, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the day I had a house bunny named Georgia Anne. She was the most awesome of awesome bunnies. She was litter trained and would hop happily around the house. She was a bunny, so the corners of my papers were all chewed off. She had a red ball she would push around with her nose. She would run circles around our feet oinking as she hopped. Her greatest joy was to grab the handle of a plastic grocery store bag and run through the house at top bunny speed reveling in the noise it created. She was, to quote The Greatest, "money." I was heartbroken when she died of old age right before I became pregnant with Pork Chop. I've been too grief stricken this past decade to even contemplate getting a new bunny (it's been a decade?!!! where does the time go?). But over the past year the subject has come up from time to time in lazy conversations as The Greatest and I contemplated the things we wanted for our family. We'd decided we wanted a Flemish Giant but there are no breeders near where we live. So the idea dropped for the time being to be picked up again in a future dreaming session.

Until Gabe came home and asked me if I wanted him to surprise me, or if I wanted to pick. I love surprises, but hate the anticipation. I asked him a few questions trying to get clues out of him and he just smiled his most happy of smiles and quietly made rabbit ears with his two fingers and hopped his hand across his arm.

PICK! PICK! PICK! I WANNA PICK! I WANNA PICK! I WANNA PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!!!!!!!!

So Saturday night he took me to what can only be described as BUNNY HEAVEN!

In the backyard of a lovely little house, tucked away in a lovely little neighborhood, under a giant mulberry tree, a warren of rabbits hopped and dug and played. The bucks had free run, and the does resided peacefully in large wooden hutches. As I looked at the toys and the bunnies and the cuteness of it all The Greatest could see the wheels turning in my head. He caught my eye and firmly told me "No!" So no warren of happy bunnies playing in the backyard for me.

The children fed the bunnies fresh carrot that they ate out of their hands. I held as many as I could get my hands on and wanted to take every single one home with me. They weren't pure Flemish Giants, they were Angora/Flemish Giant mix, so they were huge and soft. They were perfect!

After an agonizing decision we chose a pretty set of 8 month old sisters

So I've foolishly added one more distraction to my list of things to do.

Actually two more distractions.

Aren't they cute?

I know the timing is suspect. The cat is missing and thought to be dead (the HOA Landscapers called, they'd found a cat they think is ours, it had been hit by a car *sob*) So we bring in a new pet to replace her.

But that is not the case. Nothing can replace our sweet cat. NOTHING. I'm still hoping the landscapers were mistaken and our cat will wander back any day now, just strolling in as if no time has passed. She would love the bunnies.

This just happened to be the moment that the stars aligned and free bunnies were placed in our laps.

Since they are older bunnies and not used to being handled as much as my children want to handle them, we are slowing adjusting them to family life.

Sunday the children were permitted to sit in the room with the bunnies but not touch them. They decided to spend the time taking turns reading to the bunnies.

Doesn't that just melt your heart?

So we have two.

Neither have names.

For the moment we call them Alpha and Bravo.

Alpha is the friendlier of the two. She already endures the petting without running, and even seems to enjoy it. She actually licked The Greatest on the nose the other night. She is very sweet. She is a pound heavier than the other with white around her ears.

Bravo is smaller with black trimmed ears and a dark nose. She will only let you pet her when she is in her hiding spot. But she is also the more curious of the two. She is scared of us, yet can not resist coming over to see what we are doing, only to turn and run when we notice her. The exception to this rule is Sweet Pea. She is completely unafraid of Sweet Pea, and even played a game of chase with her this morning. (Sweet Pea chased her, she chased Sweet Pea, and back and forth they went for a bit)

The kids want to name the Cookie and Brownie. Or Sarah and Lashia. Or Dewie and Flopper.

I've vetoed all those idea.

The Greatest vetoed Alice and Bella.

So I sit quietly in the bunny room and knit while they hop around me, sniffing my needles, and think of names.

So yeah, I've been a little distracted lately.

This Child

This evil child!

The one who took a bath at two and managed to be filthy with stuff in her hair by six.

Who posed for one picture then hid her face from the camera.

She just might be the death of me.

I was quietly knitting away on my Knitpicks project of which I am forbidden to speak when I noticed it. I'll admit, I'm fussy about my knitting. I've learned to rip what I hate with minimal whining and take the time to re-knit. Trust me, the whining factor while ripping is significantly smaller then when I try to ignore the mistake and live with it. And that's just for the stuff I'm fiddling around with for me. Imagine how much higher the fuss factor is when I'm knitting for someone else?!!!! I won't lie to you. It's pretty bad.

So I was quietly knitting away when I realized I did not like the way I joined the new ball of yarn. I used one technique and thought maybe a different one would be a better idea. Unfortunately I was four inches away from the join before I noticed the join was having problems (I was distracted, I'll tell you about that tomorrow). With a sigh I settled myself on my bed to rip it. Sweet Pea settled herself beside me.

She babbled and giggled and basically we had a good time talking together. I ripped back to the offending join and rolled the newly freed crinkly yarn back into a ball. I set about putting the stitches back on the needles so I could commence knitting once again, this time with a superior join. It took some time to carefully place all my stitches back on the needle. Sweet Pea continued to babble, and giggle and be cute. I continued to be distracted by the project and by my mysterious distraction.

When I finally returned all the stitches to the needle and was ready to re-execute the join I realized what Sweet Pea had been so happily doing while I was so distracted. She was unwinding my newly wound yarn. *sigh*

She grinned at me over the pile of yarn barf she had created.

I died a little inside as I reached to take the ball and rewind it back into a usable form.

For the most part it wasn't too bad, until I got to the end.

At the end was a yarn snarl like no yarn snarl ever seen before.

Sure, it doesn't look so big and bad in the picture (why are some things so photogenic?), but believe me, it was a PITA.

I contemplated cutting it off, throwing it away, and never speaking of it again. Surely what that move would save me in frustration would actually add years to my life. I mentally tried to calculate the amount of yarn I had and the amount of yarn needed to finish the project. Would the yarn contained in the snarl be the difference between a pristine finished object and me writing apologetic e-mails to Knitpicks pleading for more yarn?

Better safe than groveling.

I unpicked the entire snarl of yarn barf. I won't even tell you how long it took.

Somedays she's lucky she's so cute.

It's the only thing that keeps her alive.

Breaking the Code of Silence

Yesterday held a little more housework, and a little less napping than expected. But I'm not complaining, because it also held dinner with friends. How can you complain when you're eating grilled steak with friends? So later bedtimes again, but that's alright too. I'll be sad when Christmas break is over and order is once again imposed in our lives by the strict school schedule.

Despite the cleaning and the socializing I did manage to sneak in a bit of crafting yesterday. But I can't tell you about it.

I know I bill this blog as a knitting blog. So one might expect me to actually blog about the knitting. And I'll admit I have been holding out on you. So much knitting I did last year. And so little of it actually touching the blog. Mostly it didn't get blogged because I was lazy, uncommitted to my blog. Too busy actually knitting to take pictures and write a witty paragraph about the knitting. That's my bad. But some of it wasn't blogged because blogging about it was FORBIDDEN.

By day I am a mild mannered housewife. Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Crafter. I dabble in everything, cooking, decorating, bow making, sewing, quilting, photography, and yes, I'd even say I dabble in knitting.

But by night, when the kids are in bed and all is quiet, I've become a Professional Knitter.

I can never join the Knitting Olympics because I have given up my amateur status. I am a paid professional knitter for Knitpicks.

Honestly, I love this arrangement.

They send me a pattern and ask me if I'd like to knit it. They then send me supplies to knit it. I knit it. I send it back. They send me a check.

It isn't a big check, but it is enough to pay the water bill or buy some bread and milk when we really need it. These days every little bit helps. I'm sure if I sat down and divided the check by the hours I spent knitting I would discover I am make about 6.39 cents an hour. And then I might be less happy. So it's probably a good thing I've never sat down to do the math.

My items are then used in the Knitpicks catalog and on the Knitpicks website. I like that part too. But until the item is published in the catalog I am forbidden to speak of it. But once it is published blogging about it is fair game.

So far I've only done little things.

Socks.

Serpentine Socks

A hat.

Swedish Sail Hat

A pillow front.

Therese's Pillow

(do I have mad color work skills or what?!!!!)

I'm really waiting for them to finish vetting me and my skills so I can get in on the complicated lace shawl action. I loves me some lace weight yarn.

But until then I've got another small project I am knitting for them. And I can't tell you about it. I can post a tiny teaser photo.

But it's not very interesting blogging is it.

To entain you, before you leave, I'll tell you a story.

I've got a friend who posts daily on face book the funniest quote of the day. Usually it is something her children have said, but occassionally it is something her Husband has said. They are always hilarious.

Yesterday in my house I over heard this from Pork Chop and it made me laugh. She said it with all the righteous indignation a nine year old girl can muster.

"Why aren't you wearing undewear?! You have to wear underwear if you're going to be in my room. That's a rule from now on: everyone must have on underwear if they're going to be in my room. So if you want to be in here, you'd better go put on some underwear!"

I have no idea who she said it to, or who wasn't wearing underwear. But it sounds like a good rule.