Drive By Posting

Quick update:

I still hurt. I'm feeling better than I was, so I do thing, and then I over-do it, because I'm me. I've been off the narcotics for two days now, but I think I'm gonna take some as soon as I hit publish. I have company coming, so I've been cleaning, and I might have done a bit too much (see above about overdoing it.)

My Ravellenic Sweater is progressing nicely.

Just a few more rows and we'll split for the armscye. I can't decide if this sweater is going to work. It might be too drapey. I am undecided as of yet.

I haven't tried on the blue sweater. Mostly I just sit around admiring it.  I'm scared to try it on. It is too pretty to not fit me. Maybe I'll get all high from the painkillers and then I'll be brave and try my sweater on later today.

The children are still alive.

I think the covers everything.

Team BunnySlaves

In honor of the Olympics I have entered the Ravellenic Game 2012.

Go Team Bunny Slaves!

We are hard at work on a pink sweater.

As you can see I have lots of help.  Memphis is very good at getting white hair in the knitting.  And chewing the tips of my needles.  And sitting around looking so darn adorable and cuddly yet very disapproving at the same time.

(doesn't the bunny foot just kill you, it is so cute!)

I'm not sure what I get if I complete my event (the Sweater Triathalon).  I think it is bragging rights.  But if I get my sweater done I might enter the Hand Dye High Dive.  I'll keep you posted.

Happy Birthday Pork Chop!

When Pork Chop was three years old she used to tell people "My name is Pork Chop, I am three years old, and my favorite color is green."  And then people would know all the important things a person needed to know about Pork Chop.

Pork Chop is now twelve years old.  Now the script is "My name is Pork Chop, I am twelve years old, my favorite color is green, and I love zombie."

Yup, my beautiful princess wants to be Queen of the Zombies.  If there is ever a zombie apacolpyse is will be because Pork Chop genetically engineered a zombie virus.  I would like to apologise to the world in advance. 

Dear World,

I am sorry that my offspring brought about the destruction of modern civilization as we know.  I am sorry she brought an end to modern plumbing, air conditioning and fully stocked grocery stores.  I am sorry she introduced an element of constant danger that our lives were blissfully free of before her existence.  On the plus side she is super cute.

My sincerest regret,

Me.

Of course the world will never see my apology because the internet will not exist.  I am really going to miss the internet.  Google would be really hand if civilization broke down and I needed to learn to live off the land.  But I digress.  Back to Pork Chop.

What is a zombie loving girl to have but a zombie themed birthday party!  (yes I know her birthday was in June, but June was very busy for us.  This was the weekend that worked for us.  She is a very understanding girl).

We quarantined the house.

And boarded the windows.

Then we partied like zombies (cause zombies don't sleep!)

Five giggling, squealing, singing Adele at the top of their lungs 12 year old girls.  It was big fun.  Even the dog had a good time.

Happy Birthday my beautiful girl!

Pain = Productivity?

So last week my ovary decided to explode.

I wish I was joking.

So it wasn't exactly my ovary.  It was a cyst on my ovary.  And it was awful.

What followed was a week of me sitting on the couch knitting. It would have been awesome if not for the excruciating pain.

I wish I was exaggerating.

It hurt worse than childbirth. I could not move without wanting to cry. Sitting still was the only thing that didn't hurt to do. Sitting very still.

 Narcotics helped.

And made me itch.

On the bright side knitting kept me from scratching all my skin off, so there is that.

I took this picture the day after my ovary exploded.

That's me, chillin with Dexter and my knitting while I sat very still.

 I took this one exactly a week later.

I know it is a crappy picture, but I get a pass on my camera work this week. I'm still in pain.

So a sweater in eight days. While on narcotics.  I'm lucky it only has two sleeves.  We'll have to wait until it dries to see if it actually fits.  It might be Pork Chops new sweater...

I have been pondering this in my mind.  I want to blog.  I love my blog.  I miss blogging.  I still think in blog posts.  I take random pictures of stuff to post on my blog.

See.  Totally random picture of a half knit sock that is now part of a fully knit pair of socks.  I take pictures for my blog.

I just never actually manage to sit down and actually do the blogging part of having a blog.

Which kinda defeats the purpose.

I've considered officially ending my blog.  After all, if I called it quits for good then I could let go of the guilt I carry over all the unblogged things.  The guilt, it weighs me down.  Letting go of those things that do not bring us joy, and weigh us down is a beautiful thing.  Who doesn't feel the need to simplify their lives and let go of the needless baggage?  Letting go of that which is destructive to us can only be a good thing.  And unearned guilt is a destructive thing.  I think my guilt over my blog is unearned and unnecessary.  By  not blogging am I harming anyone?  Am I doing anything wrong?  Do I really have anything to feel guilty about?  I've decided the answer to those questions is no.  So my guilt is indeed unearned and destructive.  But my blog does bring me joy.  I don't want to throw out the entire enterprise because one cog doesn't work.

But the non-working cog is me.

It isn't a camera issue, or a computer issue, or a lack of access to the internet issue.

It is me.

What is wrong with me?

I've been turning this over and over in my mind.  What is wrong with me?  And I'm sure my siblings could write novels on the subject.  Oh the novels my siblings and some of my closer friends could write on all the things that are wrong with me.  But in this one tiny little instance I've decided the fault does not lie with me.  Instead the fault lies here.

Yup.  It is all their fault.

I no longer blog because of these sweet little demons children (seriously, how cute are they.  sometimes their  cuteness makes me hurt).  These devious creative minds and a little something I think of as the "Death of Naptime" are the reason I never blog.

Gone are the days where I had two, sometimes three, uninterrupted hours in the afternoon to amuse myself.  Hours where I needed to be quiet so I couldn't do productive things like vacuum.  Hours where I had to be at home, so I couldn't do productive things like run errands.  Quiet quiet blissful hours where I could just HEAR MY OWN THOUGHTS.  Many of which I wrote on this blog.

I never realized what a luxury it was to hear my own thoughts.

Now my four demons children  are all done with the napping phase of life.  I wish I had known that Sweet Pea's last nap was going to be "THE LAST NAP EVER."  I would have had mourning services for it, where we all could gather together and mourn "The Death of Naptime."  But Death never announces its intentions.  It never RSVP's or gives you a courtesy call to tell you it will be dropping by in ten minutes.  It sneaks up on you, and steals the things you hold most dear.

Oh Naptime.

Like all mourners, I didn't realize what you meant to me until it was too late.

With no naptime my days are filled with constant activity, and no structured down time for Mommy.  I can clean at any moment.  I can be your personal chauffeur with no restrictions of schedule.  They are always awake to play with, to read to, to make things with.  My feet hit the ground running, and I don't stop until I fall in bed at night.  And sometimes my day still doesn't end there.  The joys of Motherhood and all that.  I'm sure someday I will be writing a morose blog post about the "Death of the Midnight Visitor at my Bedside."  But not today.  Today I do not appreciate the Midnight Visitor at my Bedside.  I'm sure that is another thing that can only be loved in fuzzy cherished memories that are only vaguely reminiscent of the reality.  But I digress.

Where was I anyways?

I might have had a point when I started, but it now eludes me.

Short answer:  no naps = no blogging.

I'm going to have to find a new time to blog.  I can't get up any earlier if I wanted to.  Pork Chop has me getting up at 5:30 to go running with her.  Six months of colic was not enough torture, now the girl makes me run.  Sometimes she comes precariously close to being not awesome.

I could blog after the children go to bed, but honestly, after getting up at 5:30 in the morning to go running, I am simply out of brain cells by 9:00 at night.  I'm lucky I manage to sit on the couch without drooling on myself.  Night blogging isn't going to happen.

I wonder if there is a way to set aside some time from like 1 to 3 in the afternoon.  We could call it "Mommy Time."  And the kids could just do whatever the heck they wanted too as long as their screams didn't disturb Mommy.  Two hours every day to do what ever they wanted, as long as they leave me along and do whatever it is they want to do quietly.

Kinda like nap time used to be.

This just might work.

Until CPS comes to take my children because they've been quietly setting things on fire.

Think of all the blogging time I'll have after CPS takes my kids.

And the blog fodder I'll have telling tales of my supervised visitation.

Yup, this just might work.

Just A Typical Day Around Here

Yesterday turned out to be a surprisingly eventful day.

Let's not forget the fact that I started the day off by finishing three handknit items *smiles smugly to self, please try hard not to punch me*

The day took a turn for the worse when my poor Bird came down with her very first migraine. She appeared before me looking pale and announced "I finished my reading and now my eyes are full of colors." I questioned her some more about the colors. She said they were bright and they made shapes "that aren't real shapes." Poor baby. I gave her some tylenol (which she loves), half a can of Dr Thunder (which she hated) and then she laid down in my bed with some ice packs and my mp3 player to listen to an audiobook (she requested Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2, imagine her surprise when I explained there was only one Deathly Hallows book).

When she woke up later I asked her if the ice packs and the nap helped. She nodded yes and then declared "Harry Potter really helped too." I'm sure he did baby.

 In an effort to keep the house quiet for the sleeping Princess I gave Sweet Pea highlights.

Purple highlights!

And we painted our nails.

Later I got dressed to go to knitting group.  I realized I had combed my hair, and put on make up, and I looked kinda presentable.

Then I realized the newly wound ball of sock yarn I had prepared to take with me to knitting group was a perfect match for my shirt.

Then I realized my shirt was also a perfect match for my newly finished sweater.

I really do have a sickness.

 Of course it seemed like the perfect time to have a few pictures snapped of me modeling my awesome new sweater for my blog.

Then I remembered that I feel dumb having my picture take. That and my twelve year old is a terrible photographer (sorry baby. You've got lots of other talents, but photography simply isn't one of them.  Go back to writing your novel).

 So we ended up with shots like this

"The thinker"

"Surprise"

"Laughing so hard at what big dorks we are"

I did manage to get an almost presentable shot of the back out of her.

It is slightly blurry, but at least it is not a picture of my butt a la The Greatest. I'll give you all the relevant deets on my sweater tomorrow. I am already too picture heavy today.

All in all it wasn't a bad day.

I'm So Impressive (and apparently vain)

This morning I finished three of my UFOs (unfinished objects for you uninitiated types).

Aren't they pretty all folded and stacked like that? I think I'll leave them on my kitchen counter all day so as I walk around doing my housewife thing I can randomly stop and admire the squishy colors and textures.

 Then again I have to cook in my kitchen later (those children will insist on being fed three times a day). And cooking can get messy. I'd hate to have bits of splattered food on all my pretty squishy knits. I'd better go find a safer place to store my precious.

 I finished these three hand knits this morning. If you're really lucky I'll put some make up on at some point in the next few days and I'll show them off. But finishing three hand knits in one morning is not the impressive part of my post. Not the point I'm eventually going to make. The knitting was all done on these things. In one case, had been done for weeks. I was just weaving the ends in. Boring work, but I had Grey's Anatomy to keep me company, so it wasn't so bad. Even if it was the one with the shooter. No the impressive part, and my eventual point is this.

That is my left over yarn from the three FOs (for you muggles, that's finished objects). It was a photo finish with each one. No wasted yarn in my house.

S I'm getting pretty good at this knitting thing dontcha think?

A Little Snippet of Happiness

It doesn't matter how old they are, a fresh batch of playdough is magic.

They are all playing quietly and happily and there is a distinct lack of bickering.

Like I said MAGIC.

P.S.  Todays playdough recipe came from here.  I used liquid food color instead of gel.   And I wore gloves.  I'm really glad I wore gloves.

P.S.S.  I hate the new blogger dashboard/post editing page.  I have no idea when they changed it (obviously I need to blog more), but I hate it. That is all.

Sad

On May 26th we suffered a devastating loss in our home. On April 3rd our old dog had surgery to remove tumors from her abdomen. Again. It was a really hard recovery. For a while there we weren't sure if she was going to make it. But she did. She made a full recovery and was actually better than she was before thanks to the series of cortisone shots the vet gave her for the arthritis in her hips. She was fourteen years old, which is quite old for a dalmatian, so her death should not have been such a shock, but it was. She died on May 26th, 2012. There was no sign that she was going to die that day. She just did.

 The day before she died The Greatest and I were sitting in the backyard, enjoying the sunshine before the heat of the day made the patio unbearable. Our old dog was following Sweet Pea all around the backyard. She was holding a small rock in her hand (for reasons unknown to me). Old dog was hopeful that she was holding food, and she trailed after Sweet Pea, everywhere her wanderings took her, just hoping the food would fall, or that Sweet Pea would voluntarily feed her (as Sweet Pea is known to do) but she never tried to take the imagined food from Sweet Pea's hand. I remarked to The Greatest on what a good dog she was, and how very glad I was that she hadn't died from her surgery.

 And the next day we came home from shopping to find her on the kitchen floor. She was panting so hard, and couldn't stand. We moved her to the carpet where she would be more comfortable. She was unresponsive. The Greatest used a syringe to put some water in her mouth, and she came around for a minute. She looked at us, she responded to her name. I was trying to look up the number for an emergency vet. And then she died. It happened very quickly.  I think she was waiting for us to come back home.

 I miss her so much. I still turn to let her out to potty, or chase her out of the kitchen when I am cooking. I step over her when I am making me bed, but she isn't there. I just miss her so much.

 The Greatest and I married young, and I moved hundreds of miles away from my family to live with him on a military base. We were so poor we couldn't even afford a phone, but we had each other and that was the important thing right? It was all new and exciting and romantic. And a little lonely, miles away from my friends and family, without even a phone to talk to them (and because we are so very old, there was no internet/e-mail). So he bought me a puppy. I wanted a dalmatian, so he drove an hour into the back woods of the Carolinas to find me the cutest dalmatian puppy I had ever seen. She was the runt, which made me love her more, she was a fighter. And she was brown and white, not black and white. She was different and adorable. This was his gift to me, his young bride. She made us a family. I have never known married life without her. My children have never known life without our good dog.

 She was often infuriating. She was hard to potty train and the occasional accidents were something we dealt with her entire life. Sometimes she would decide she just had to run, and she would knock you out of the way to run out the front door to sweet freedom. She would run and run and run, and come home when she was tired. One day she ran so much she sprained her tail. Eventually we learned that if we chased her she would just run further, as long as we were within eyesight she would keep going. But if we stayed put, she would only go as far as she could see the house.  She drove us crazy sometimes.

But she was also a very good dog.  She was gentle and protective of the children.  She got along well with the other animals in the house.  She was my dog and I love her so.

Rest in peace old dog.  Our family is not the same without you.

Gnomed!

I woke up this morning and discovered

I was GNOMED!

After something like that, how can the rest of my day be anything less than extraordinary.

*Sigh* My Kids

We told them it was only April.

They didn't care.

We told them the water was cold.

They didn't care.

We told them the water was dirty and needed cleaned.

They didn't care.

Nothing would stop them from achieving their goal.

Nothing would stop them from SWIMMING!

How are they immune to the cold?

Oh to be young again.

Fall Break Part 1

I want to blog. But I've got bloggers block. I think I know what I want to write. But I need more time to mull it over in my brain. As I sat around pretending to write I happened upon this gem of a story that I wrote up last fall but never posted. It was titled "Fall Break Part I" Enjoy.

So the past week at my house has been epic.

I am the embodiment of Murphy's Law.

Stand in awe of me.

Fall Break started last Friday and it began with a, not really a bang, but it was a loud noise. It wasn't so much a loud noise like a shot gun bang, it was more the fact that all the fire alarms decided to go off in my house at the same time. It was more that kind of loud noise.

And boy was it loud. I used to wonder if we would actually wake up from the fire alarms if they went off during the night. I am now confident that we will in fact wake right up, with our ears bleeding.

I searched the house, but found no signs of fire. There was no blaze, no smoke, no hot smell like wires melting inside the walls. Nothing was wrong.

Yet the alarm went on.

My dogs began to howl. The neighbors dogs began to howl. It was fantastic. And I could not make it stop.

I called The Greatest.

He didn't take my call (sometimes he's not that great).

I called my friend whose husband is a Firefighter.

She didn't take my call (I was rethinking our friendship, but she offered to let me watch the premier of The Walking Dead at her house on Sunday, so all is forgiven).

I called another friend (at this point I was just calling random numbers in my call log in desperation). Her Husband suggest I call the non-emergent line for the fire department.

But there was no fire.

I called anyways.

They told me to call 911.

But there was no fire.

They told me to call anyways.

I told 911 there was no fire. 911 sent firefighters to my house. They came in full gear.

But there was no fire.

*shrug* Far be it from me to deny them the pleasure of wearing 75 pounds of gear in the 100 degree heat. Whatever bring them joy.

The arrival of the fire department is when things went south for me.

It was not the constant noise of the alarms. It was not all the neighborhood dogs howling. No the low point for me was when I realized the fire fighters would have to go upstairs.

I keep my house pretty clean. And I was fortunate enough to have vacuumed earlier that day, so it's all good right. I'd made my bed that morning like a good girl, and put The Greatest's dirty socks in the laundry hamper, so it couldn't be that bad right?

All the parts of the house that I am responsible for were safe for inspection.

But there are parts of the house that I am not responsible for. I have relinquished control of what I call "the children's wing" (not that my house is so grand it has wings, but when you get to the top of our steps my bedroom is to one side of the stairs and all the children's rooms and their bathroom are on the otherside, hence the children's wing of the home). The kids do a pretty good job of keeping their rooms and bathroom nice if I do a good job of reminding them.

But school has been a particularly hard adjustment for us. One child in particular is struggling and we spend two to three hours a night doing homework. It is exhausting. So the chores have fallen to the wayside as we establish a new routine.

So the children's rooms have become "No Man's Land." Only the bravest of souls would enter them. Who knew what was hiding under the kid debris on the floor.

Cleaning them has been on my list for quite some time. I decided to wait until next week during fall break to go through the rooms and try to get things back on track.

With the arrival of the firemen I was really wishing I had done it last weekend.

They graciously stepped over the piles of dirty clothes, and toys, and assured me that since there were no dead animals I was in the clear as far as CPS goes.

But I wanted to sink into the floor and hide underneath one of the many piles of dirty towels. Nothing like a good public humiliation in the privacy of your own home.

The fire fighters discovered the source of the problem (dust had been blown into one of the alarms by the ceiling fan. Stupid desert with all the stupid dust). They blew it out with a fire extinguisher.

And then they were gone.

Leaving me alone in my shame.

I'd like to say that was the most exciting thing to happen to us during fall break. After all it isn't every day you get a real life fire truck parked in front of your house, but no.

There's more.

So much more...

Now wasn't that story just too much fun not to share? For the life of me I can not remember Fall Break, or what happened that was even worse than my humiliation at the hands of a bunch of over dressed fire fighters. I searched my timeline on facebook, and it held no explanation. Obviously what ever happened next was so terrible I blocked it from my memory forever and ever, never to speak of it again.

What a shame. I bet it was a heck of a story.

My Knitting is a Pit of Sorrow

I used to think there was nothing sadder than knitting a project and deciding at the end that you don't love it. All that work, the blood sweat and tears, wasted. Ok, so maybe knitting doesn't make me bleed (Evil being the obvious exception) But all those hours spent creating an ugly baby. It is tragic.

Case in point:

Yes, I know this is lace that needs blocked. And my theory that blocking is actually a rare form of magic is well documented on this blog. But in this case I just wasn't feeling it. And no amount of magic was going to convince me that this project/pattern was worthy of the yarn. For what its worth, the pattern was Traveling Woman, which is a fine pattern, and one I intend to knit in the future, with different yarn that is currently only theoretical yarn, since I do not currently own different yarn to knit this pattern. But I digress dreaming of yarn purchasing. My point is the pattern is not the problem, it was just not a good pattern/yarn match.

So Sad.

Only today I discovered a greater tragedy.

Running out of yarn when you are rows from the finish line. And I didn't feel skipping those rows and binding off early was a valid choice. Again, all those hours wasted only to have it all fall apart at the end. Make my soul ache at the injustice of my yarn.

It is a good thing this yarn makes such a lovely little yarn cake.

Have you ever seen prettier yarn? I love how the colors twist around one another. And in an extra bonus it is a dream to work with. I could (and might) knit it a million times before I finally give it a permanent form.

Busy Busy

If Only

Hear that sound?

Neither do I.

The children returned to school this morning.

Man I miss those little buggers already. Thank goodness I still have this one around.

She keeps things interesting.

We had a very successful Christmas. And some day I might get around to blogging it. But I wouldn't hold your breath. I'm a real time blogger. If I don't blog about it when it happens I rarely go back at catch up. I suck like that.

Sorry Grandparents.

During the pre-Christmas insanity my closet become a repository for all the Christmas gifts. This isn't really a secret. The kids found their stuff a few years ago. I'm pretty sure they now consider it their duty to look. Wouldn't you? I foiled their plans this year. I wrapped stuff as we got it. But all this toy stashing means my closet gets thrashed. As Christmas draws near you can barely open/shut the door. Forget about trying to find a specific shirt or pair of shoes. Honestly, you're lucky to get out of there with your life, let alone wearing matching clothes.

It is our post-Christmas ritual to clean our closet. It is more important than taking down our tree.

When all was said and done I felt pretty smug looking at my sweater shelf.

Isn't that magnificent! I have, well, let's count together

21 hand knit sweaters. Actually 22, since I was wearing my blue whisper cardigan when I took that photo. Imagine how many I would have if I lived somewhere that actually got snow!

Not to alarm anyone, but I haven't knitted anything since Christmas Eve. I've got nothing on the needles. I've got a boat load of UFOs. But nothing I feel inspired to knit on. My yarn stash is depleted. I'm down to sock yarn. I need to find an inspiring sock pattern to cast on today so I will have something to knit during knitting group tomorrow.

I've also got to find something to wear. I've never been to this group before and I want to make a good impression before they get to know the real me. I'm thinking a sweater might be nice.

Stuff I knit 2011

As always, this is just a list of the things that were lucky enough to be blogged.

Leg Warmers
Aunt Maggie's Slippers

Sockhead, Jovie, Bertrand Louise
Puerperium Cardigan
Serenity
Summer Flies
Tooth Fairy Bag
Emelie
Miette
Sabine
Contented Cardi

Can we postpone Christmas?

Christmas is approaching like a freight train. Loud. Fast. And unstoppable.

I am so not ready.

The children are getting several homemade gifts this year. One of which is unbelievably awesome. So unbelievably awesome we will never again have a gift this awesome to give. The Greatest is in charge of that project, but I've got an important role too. I'd say it is a 95/15 split for the workload. One project is because I want to be a Weasley (that's all me). The last of which is because I am full of self-loathing and have decided as punishment for being me and not a Weasley I must give up sleep and work on this project every spare moment the children are in school or sleeping from now until Christmas (this project is also all me).

And the Children wonder why I'm so stressed and yelling all the time.

'Tis the Season.

In other fun news we've had fantastic weather. Cloudy. Gloomy. Brooding.

And there's been rain! I adored it.

Until last night, when the dogs realized they are distant cousins of the Wicked Witch of the West and as such they must not allow water to come into direct contact with their fur. As a result of this revelation the old dog went outside and peed on the covered patio a foot from the grass rather than pee in the rain. Small dog peed on my family room rug. And boy dog peed on our Christmas Tree.

Awesome.

I'm starting to re-evaluate my life and pondering why we have so many dogs.

In unrelated news here's today's sweater.

(blurry, off-center, dirty bathroom mirror photos. I need more sleep)

Pattern: Sabine (rav link)

Yarn: Sock That Rock, Light weight, 2 skeins

Needles: Size 8 Addi Turbos

Modifications: I made quite a few. I cast on for one size, but ended up doing increases on the yoke until the stitch count was equal to a much larger size. I knit the sleeves next instead of the body, and I might have added some length to the sleeves (I don't remember, and my rav notes say "I might have, but I don't remember"). I never worked the decreases for the front of the body. I just kept increasing. First every other row, then every three rows, then every four rows, then every five rows, then I ran out of yarn.

Review: I knit this ages and ages ago. Probably sometime last year. I've never actually worn it until today. I don't love this sweater as much as I want to love this sweater. It has fantastic detail. There is waist shaping. I love the eyelet row on the back...

And sleeves...

Although I'm not sure why I keep knitting sweaters with fantastic back detail. My back looks like this.

No one ever sees them.

But back to the knitting. The bind-off technique is a revelation.

So pretty.

I love the yarn, and the way the colors remind me of a painting by Monet. I should love this sweater. The individual elements are full of win. But when you put it all together, it just doesn't do it for me. It has a similar shape to the Whisper Cardigan, which I liked so much I've knit two. I almost wonder if I shouldn't have just knit a third Whisper. The drape on this isn't as nice. And I wonder if it just isn't a tad too short. I used every inch of yarn I had, so if it is too short that is because of yarn supply, not a deficiency in the design.

It is wearable. And I got a compliment on it today from another knitter (although I haven't ruled out the possibility that she was just being nice). So I guess I'll keep it for now, but I can not promise that I won't frog it at some future date and make it into something new.

I'm Cold

So we survived Thanksgiving. We had turkey, and stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and real cranberry sauce. And we had desserts.

So many desserts. I failed to get a picture of our perfect turkey, but by golly I got the desserts. There are only six of us in the house. We ate pie for breakfast for a week (and sometimes for lunch too).

Then I got sick. Really sick (which I am positive had nothing to do with my all dessert diet). The kind where you lie around and pray for death sick.

Forget running around town looking cute in my hand knit sweaters. I wore the same pair of pajama pants and grey t-shirt for a week straight. I think they might need to be burned now.

But I am feeling better. While I was lying in bed pretending I was dead I think winter officially descended on the desert. It started with rain, which made everything cold. And then it just stayed cold, it never warmed back up. It was 65 degrees today and I was freezing. Yes, point, laugh, mock me. I deserve it. My blood is ridiculously thin now. But when you're sweating in the 80 degree heat and I'm still wearing a sweater, well, we'll see who's laughing then.

I found myself wearing another of my new favorite sweaters today. (Is there a limit to how many favorites of something a person can have? I hope really really hope not, cause I'm working on 15 different favorite sweaters). As luck would have it The Greatest was home with me, so I handed him my camera and asked him to take a picture of my sweater for me.

I got this.

Awesome. I should have stuck with the self timer.

I did manage to get three more out of him.

Front.

Back.

And a requested close up of the cable (whose color in no way resembles the color in real life).

He takes a very utilitarian approach to picture taking. Get in, get out, get done.

I had to take my own picture of my cute shoes (which is so much harder than it sounds.)

He shops with the same mantra. Get in, get out, get done. And if I want to look at shoes I can do it on my own time.

I don't like shopping with him.

But I digress.

Back to the sweater.

Pattern: Contented Cardi (rav link)

Yarn: Cascade 220, in some number that means Granny Smith Apple Green, 5 skeins (I got this on clearance. Why would they put such pretty Granny Smith Apple Green on clearance? Their loss = my gain!)

Needles: Size 7 Addi Turbos

Modifications: None that I remember, and I've got none in my Rav notes. So we're good. Must have followed the pattern as written. Must have been a really well-written pattern. Honestly can't remember now. I just remember it being a joy to knit from start to finish. Even with the miles and miles and miles of St stitch.

Review: I loves this sweater. The Cascade 220 seemed a bit thick for this pattern at first, but I got gauge, and in the end I'm happy with the way the front drapes. So happy faces all around. It is comfy and warm and everything I need in a throw-over-everything sweater.

In unrelated news, guess what Bird wants for Christmas.