Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Fine. I'll talk. But I Won't Like It. Well, Maybe a Little.

Why, hello there chickadee! Fancy seeing you here. Come around here often? You do?? That’s funny because I apparently don’t.

Thank you to those of you who have been inquiring about me. I really do appreciate it! However, it’s when my close friends and family start asking, “Hey, you still alive? Haven’t heard from you in a while….” that I know I need to stick my head out of my cave and blearily blink my eyes at the sun and wearily croak, “Yes I’m here! Now get off my lawn you dang whipper snappers!” and then slowly turn myself around and drag myself back into the abyss, grunting with the effort I expended by being social.

So. Hi. I’m still here. Doing….aiight. Actually, I had started a few blog posts since my last one letting y’all know that things have been going much better since entering the second trimester….but then things were not going so much better so I abandoned those posts. And then, thanks to an email from Libby drawing my attention to this hilarious story, I started a post on poop and it made me laugh and then I couldn’t find a way to finish it so I left it in the crapper. (Though it’s still relevant and I will post it eventually. You have been forewarned.)

There are good days and bad days and for a while the good were outnumbering the bad but then the bad came out a-swingin’. But I do think the good are starting their rally once again. I can tell because I started reading again. Well, actually I should say that I’ve finished what I started reading- in the last few months I started 3 different books and didn’t finish any of them but have now in the last week finished 3 books. None of which were the ones I started earlier. Huh. Go fig.

Reading is a good sign. I stopped doing things that made me “me” including reading and *gasp*shock*horrors* even crocheting. (!!) I haven’t picked up my hooks since the end of July and even my Mister is trying to get me back by waving wool under my nose hoping the smell will waft its way into my control center and turn things around.

I think he was most concerned when I told him I was seriously thinking of selling all my yarn. (!!!) I KNOW!! What the heck has happened to me?? At first I was so frantic and freaked when we first moved here that I sought solace in my yarn. I was all, “I NEED TO BUY ALL THE YARN!” and just about did that. Now the tide has swung and I’m all, “GAH! There is too much yarn! Where am I going to put the baby??” and then I think how much more comfortable she’ll be if she had a proper crib and not just shoved in the closet on top of her mom’s mountain of yarn. I mean, it was cute when I did it with Little Mister, but now I’m going to have a second baby and that makes me a Real Mom now, right? And instead of finding comfort in my stash, I'm feeling overwhelmed because it's much too large for our house and I'll never be able to use it all in my lifetime and it's going to attract moths and my kids are going to be embarrassed about their yarn hoarding mother and all of the homemade things she makes and the way she keeps muttering under her breath, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? THEN GIVE IT TO ME!"

*HUGE INHALE*

Oh yeah. Did ya catch those pronouns I threw your way? We’re having a little girl! EEEEEEEP!!! Of course, there’s always a possibility the ultrasound tech was wrong, but from the looks of it, there was no stem on that apple. I had a feeling it’d be a girl. Years ago, way before I’d even started thinking about having kids, I would have dreams of having a boy, then a girl, then twins- a boy and girl. When we had Little Mister, I knew he’d be a boy. Now that we’re having a girl, I’m totally freaking out because WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO WITH TWINS??? Because, logically, of course, that’s what’s going to happen since I’m obviously able to tell the future with my dreams. I told My Mister that I’m scared to get pregnant again and he said, “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. You become a different person when you’re pregnant.”

After I burst into tears, farted and then yelled, "TWINS WILL GIVE ME HEMORRHOIDS FOR SURE!!" I had to concede his point.

Yeah. Like I said last time, pregnancy and I don’t really get along all that well. Those dang hormones really mess with me hardcore. Yes, with both pregnancies I’ve had extenuating circumstances that have weighed on me (an international move and my dad’s death, respectively), but I know that it’s more than just that.*

Anywho…thanks again to those of you who have been asking about me. You have no idea how much it means to me. I’m sorry I’m not better about keeping in touch. I think I’m going to declare bankruptcy on emails for now. I haven’t been checking FB, either, so, for friends and family, I’m sorry if you’ve been trying to get in touch with me that way. I’ve not been a complete hermit and have been forcing myself to be at least a little social. I even attended a book club meeting a couple weeks ago and actually had fun! But for the most part I'm torn between wanting to go out amongst the living and actually have fun, or staying home wrapped in bubble wrap waiting for March to hurry up and get here before I really do say the things I'm thinking to all the stupid people of the world. (No, seriously- my tolerance for dumb folks really plummets when I'm pregnant. For my previous co-workers who are reading this: Can you imagine how much I had to bite my tongue with some of our clients last time?? And for my previous clients who are reading this: No. I'm not talking about you.)

Good night, good morning, and good afternoon everyone!


*I’m putting this here for women who may be googling things like I was and finding so very little info on the topic: pre-partum or prenatal depression is real and does not only affect women who were on medications prior to pregnancy and who then abruptly stopped them when they found out they were pregnant. This is a good series of first person accounts, but unfortunately they are all women who fall into the “previously medicated” category. It hit me very hard during the first trimester, has definitely eased up in the second trimester, though still rears its ugly head from time to time, and if it’s going to be like last time, the third trimester is going to be hell. Granted, I was super stressed about the move last time and was in constant excruciating pain, as well. This time there’s no move looming ahead of me and I’m not in constant pain, though it’s still relatively early yet and the physical issues I faced previously have returned (pelvic girdle and pubic symphysis dysfunction…..more on those loverlies later.)

I know I’m not alone with this issue, but goodness, there’s a ton of info and first person accounts on POSTpartum depression, but while you’re pregnant, the possibility of being depressed seems to be verboten. Not every woman is a happy, shining goddess, becoming one with the life that is forming within her, who is just glowing from all the happiness she is filled with. Some of us are miserable, bloated whales who can’t wait for the torture to end so that we can expel all the gas and negativity that we are filled with. At least this time around I know what’s happening….last time I wondered what was wrong with me since I wasn’t like all those other women who just *loved* being pregnant, rubbing their bellies with awe and joy. 


I readily admit I do NOT enjoy being pregnant. Every pregnancy is different and I had high hopes for this one, but unfortunately, those negative feelings returned. It's more than just feeling uncomfortable- like my Mister says, I become a different person when I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby kick is very cool, I must admit, but it's so much better when they are on the outside kicking everyone rather than on the inside kicking your bladder, you know? Anywho...if you stumbled upon this post from googling prepartum depression or prenatal depression, I want you to know you are not alone and you are not crazy. Well, you kinda are, but it's a temporary crazy and does get better once the baby is born. Go talk to your doctor about it. If they just brush you off and tell you your fears, anger, and anxiety are normal, find another doctor who will take you seriously. Sure, a little anxiety about becoming a new parent is normal, but when it is all encompassing and prevents you from living a normal life and makes you think it might be better if you never had this child because you already dislike it, then it is NOT normal. Especially if your pregnancy was planned and the baby was definitely wanted prior to you actually becoming pregnant. Having the baby will definitely change your life and, if you have prepartum depression, it will definitely change your life for the better.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Oops, I Did it Again.

So, anyways. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

(Ok- in order to truly “get it” the way I do, you really need to hear it with the right accent. Nachoooooo!)





One of my friends that I met here (the illustrious Regina who was the mastermind behind the Friday Fibre Friends) moved back to the States last month. She truly has been a bright light for me out here- always upbeat, funny, a fantastic fiber artist and an all-around wonderful person. I will definitely miss her, but I know that she and I will remain friends and I know I’ll see her again when we’re back Stateside.

She emailed me not too long ago and mentioned that hopefully we can do the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival together one of these years (and then she said maybe I can be pregnant again for it…..yeah Regina….because that was the best part of it the last time.)

Once I pulled my eyes out from my skull after the biggest eye roll ever in the history of man, my reaction was, ummm….YES PLEASE! My sister, Lyteyz, and I had so much fun last year and adding Regina in the mix will just make for one heck of a ca-raaa-zy party. There will be laughter and fun and wool and alpaca and lots of fingering……yarns. (TEEHEE!)

Oh yes- the MDSW festival was ah-ma-zing, but being pregnant and being there isn't on my list of "things-to-do-when-I-get-back-home." I’m pretty sure we’re setting our cap at 2 babies, so by the time I get to go back to MDSW, either we'll be past that milestone, or this is going on record as the longest pregnancy EVER.

Wait. What's that? Oh yes. I'm preggers.

AGAIN.

Oh dear Lord. The whale farts. They've returned.


After the initial shock wore off (and the gas cloud cleared) when we first found out (and no, it wasn’t unplanned- we’re at an age and stage in life where we felt like we should pop them out as quickly as possible- pew pew! But still….holy crap….I’m pregnant!?!), we’re finally settling into the idea that we’ll be parents of two soon. Two under two. Oh man. Please excuse me while I throw up scream pass out fart all of the above.

Needless to say, these last few months have been quite the emotional roller coaster for me.

We found out mid-July, the night before we went on holiday to Melbourne (which I still need to blog about). The next day at the airport, the roller coaster started to derail. I went to the restroom before boarding the plane and saw what every pregnant woman dreads seeing when they go the bathroom- especially a pregnant woman who has suffered a loss before. Who knew that such a small amount of blood could turn a world upside down?

Needless to say, our Melbourne trip wasn't the greatest vacation we've ever had. Instead of touring the city, I got pretty intimate with the Melbourne’s Women’s hospital. We got a scan while there, but instead of reassuring us, it actually made us panic more. When we got home, we scheduled another sonogram for one week after our initial scan. That one wasn't very reassuring, either. The very next day, my dad died.

Happy birthday to me.

So, I was battling jet lag, morning sickness, pregnancy fatigue, and a jet lagged baby while traveling all the way across the world, without my Mister there to be my rock, on top of dealing with the possibility that I may have another miscarriage (I was spotting again) and, that icing on the cake, my dad just died.

You guys- I was not in the best place- emotionally, physically, spiritually. Dark clouds, indeed.

I am so very thankful for my friend Ronda who was truly a Godsend for me during this time. Without her, I would have been oh so lonely and may have murdered a family member or two. (Everybody deals with grief in different ways, but sometimes people need to remember they aren’t the only ones grieving- just something to think about if and when any of you lose a loved one…)

I tend to internalize my grief. I become stoic and put on a mask of calmness when internally there is a hurricane brewing. While working on getting things in order for my dad, I was internally preparing myself for the worst- trying to steel my heart against the searing pain I knew was inevitable. I was angry that I was having morning sickness when I was going to lose this pregnancy soon, and why was I pregnant, anyway? I really didn’t want this baby so things just better hurry up and end so that I could stop feeling so nauseated and I could get on with my life.

I really couldn’t wait to get back home. I missed my Mister terribly and I knew he was going crazy not being there with us and especially not being able to take care of me during the incredibly long journey back home. Thankfully, there were many people along the way that helped me with my luggage and carry-on. They saw a frazzled mom with a baby strapped to her front struggling with just getting on the plane- they had no clue I was 2 months pregnant and had just buried my dad. Those people really were answers to prayers!

Still, there were more prayers to be answered. Namely, how was I going to be able to handle another loss so soon after losing my dad? It wasn’t until a couple weeks after I got back to Oz that we were able to get another ultrasound- the one I knew would give me closure one way or the other. Either we would see a heartbeat, or we wouldn’t.

Well, much to my surprise, not only was that little heart pumping away, but our little fighter was bouncing around and waving as if to say, “I’m still here mama! WHEEEEEEE! You need to try this sometime!”

Seeing that little baby in there untied the knot that had been choking my heart ever since I first saw that cruel, red monster that day at the airport. Breath started to slowly fill my lungs once again and I knew I could start focusing on accepting that I was indeed pregnant instead of trying to convince myself that it would be better if I wasn’t.

There’s still a lot of stuff I’m dealing with (and a lot of it has to do with being pregnant….let’s just say pregnancy hormones and I don’t really get along, but more on that later), but, as I said last time, this has let some light break through those dark clouds that have been hovering around me as of late.

Last time around, I blogged so intermittently because I was thiiiiis close to having a nervous breakdown about our upcoming move. This time around, we’re not moving with a newborn (RIGHT, MISTER?!? Because I WILL kill you this time!), so hopefully I’ll be much more present from here on out.

So. Wow. I didn’t realize how freeing it would feel to get all that out. I still have some knots on my heart that need to be untied and some clouds that need to be chased away. But, I must say that I am indeed looking forward to this coming March. It’ll be interesting to see if our new addition will arrive on his/her daddy’s birthday, but I think it’s a very good sign that it’s coming during the month its mother is the most happy. Now, all I have to do is survive these next 6 months…..

Oh dear Lord. Please excuse me. I think I need to fart again.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Thank you all for all of your kind words and thoughts during this tough time- I truly appreciate it. It has been a tough time for me lately and, unfortunately, my dad’s death wasn’t the beginning but just icing on the cake, as it were. It’s been a tough year, really. Well, a tough couple years, actually, but this past year has been especially trying, I must admit.

Today marks the one year anniversary of our move to Australia. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year that we’ve been Down Under. I can’t believe Little Mister is already a year old- where did the time go?

And that’s part of the problem. I’m truly not sure where the time has gone because I have felt like I’ve been living in a cloud for the past year and these past two months have been the cloudiest of the bunch. Sure, there have been times when the sun would break through the clouds and I’d have moments of light, laughter, and joy, but unfortunately those sunny days have been few and far between as of late and I’m starting to look like sun-deprived Gollum. Metaphorically- in my heart- I mean. I’m too darn really, really, ridiculously good looking to look like him in real life. I mean, I have at least five teeth, so come on.

Well, there has been more stuff going on in these last couple months than just dealing with my dad’s passing. Yes, it’s added to the clouds, but it’s also the reason some light is starting to break through once again. It’s quite life changing, quite honestly, so I’ll share it all with you in the upcoming week. That’s one thing I want to do to start letting the light shine again- blogging more. I’ve not been able to see the funny in life recently, but yet when I sit down and start letting the words flow on paper, somehow the funny, no matter how small or absurd, sneaks in there and I need to see and feel that again.

One bright spot this past year has always been Little Mister. Even in those very very VERY sleep deprived days, he’s always managed to make us smile and laugh. I’m happy to report that, as of our return from New Mexico last month, he’s FINALLY been sleeping through the night. You know, God promised that He’d not give us more than we can handle and I honestly believe that He knew I couldn’t handle more sleep deprivation on top of everything else lately so He miraculously let him start sleeping through the night as soon as we returned home. It could be the bourbon I’ve been sneaking in his sippy cup at night, but I choose to believe it was answered prayer.

So, once again, thank you all for your kindness. Here’s hoping this one year anniversary marks the beginning of some bright, sun-shining days. Whatever these days may bring, I think I’m ready to attack it Gangnam Style. Because, really, if I could dance as awesomely as that, I could conquer the world.




(Am I the only one who, when he says, "Heeeeeey sexay laday!" feels like he's speaking directly to me? It's like my own, personal Korean love song and it makes me feel beautiful, man. *sniff*)

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Whisper a Prayer

When I was 9, I was the female lead in my first play- it was THE play- the one that infected me with the acting bug. It was the Christmas play at our church and it was a pretty big deal. I was so excited, I memorized the entire play, not just my lines. I loved all the songs and tried my hardest to get the moves right for the dance numbers, but as my old VHS copy of the play proves, I am the only 9 year old who looks like she’s having a seizure while moving her arms in a circle along to a strange beat that no one else can hear.

Since I was the female lead, I had the high honor of having a musical solo towards the end of the play. The song was called, “Whisper a Prayer,” and it was about how close baby Jesus was to us- the three friends who were looking for the King- so close that we could have whispered a prayer and he’d have heard it.

Whisper a prayer, Jesus is there. He’s just a whisper away….

Now that I’m an adult, I have found a different truth to that song. Right now, I’m not in first century Bethlehem where I could be right around the corner from baby Jesus where he’d be so close to me that I could whisper a prayer and he could hear me. Right now, I’m an adult and am going through a rough patch in life and sometimes I’m not strong enough to verbalize my prayer. Sometimes all I can do is whisper my prayer through the tears and find comfort that He is still close enough to hear me.

I was going to tell y’all about my trip to Melbourne and the Australian Sheep and Wool Festival, but that’s a story for another time. This story starts on the morning of my birthday, which in Australia is always a day ahead of my US birthday.

I was startled awake with urgent texts and skype calls from my sister. At first I thought she was just really excited to remember my birthday was “today” rather than “tomorrow” her time. However, a happy birthday was not on the docket for me this year.

My dad was rushed to the hospital and was currently unconscious after telling my brother he “wasn’t feeling well” just a few hours earlier. I thought, “Oh dad. You’ll be ok. You’ve pulled through lots of things before and this will be no different.”

The news from my brother kept coming back, more and more negative. If he did wake up, he’d most likely lose the ability to move. He might be a vegetable. He wasn’t responding to treatments. He wasn’t going to make it past the next 24 hours.

Then, the news that no one is ever truly prepared for: He’s gone.

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly. My big strong daddy- the man who taught me to play basketball and how to drywall a house ,the man who promised to protect me if anyone ever tried to do anything to me, the man who couldn’t wait to get a tattoo of his first grandson’s name on the empty space on his arm- was gone.

It was 5 hours from the time I woke up to the time I was at the airport boarding the plane to New Mexico with Little Mister. It was another 2 days before I made it home. Travel from Australia is difficult, to say the least.

It’s been a whirlwind ever since. I volunteered to write his eulogy which was one of the most emotionally difficult things I’ve ever had to write. My dad loved to laugh so I had to include his humor in there, but the fact remains that I had to write about my dad in the past tense. How can this be?

It’s now been a week since his funeral and Little Mister and I are still Stateside so that I can hopefully get the ball rolling to ensure my grandmother is taken care of. She’s 92 and has survived all five of her sons. My daddy was the baby of the family. She’s not doing well and I’m sad to know she most likely won’t be around much longer, especially since I don’t think I’ll be able to make the trip back here when the time comes.

So, I’ve been whispering prayers. Whispering for strength through the travels alone with my now one year old son. Whispering for the words to pay homage to my dad when wrapping up a whole life in five minutes is next to impossible. Whispering for the wisdom to choose the right caretakers for my grandmother. Whispering for guidance in my now fatherless future.

Guys, I could really use some extra prayers to bolster my whispers. Especially in light of the long journey back home to Australia at the end of this week. I so wish my Mister could have come with us and I can’t wait to get back to him. I so wish that many things could be different right now.

I so wish my daddy was still here. I really miss him.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

What's Up?

Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?

Hey, y'all. Just wanted to pop in here to put those old rusty typing skills to the test and to say, HIIIIII! (as well as, What's going on, Linda Perry?)

How is it that I have tons to say and then leave for a month (or so) without so much as a, "I'm super busy but will be back soon!!" I mean, it's really bad when you forget your password to your blog. (Well, almost forget. I'm happy to report that my old grey cells are indeed working.)

So. Hi.

Ummm....I have soooo much to tell you. Like how potty training is going and how that darn poop manged to get me with a sneak attack. Or how Geanie and Meanie have a thing or two to say about how I ran (RAN!!) a 10K two Sundays ago. Or how I haven't yet unraveled Little Mister's blanket all the way just quite yet because I had an intense need to make something RIGHT NOW and have a finished object with which to soothe my despondent spirit. The result of which is a collection of THREE shawls (What??!? I know, right!?), a pair of infant mittens, 4 Batman hats (WHAT?!?!?!?! I KNOW, RIGHT???), a bookmark, a pillow, and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, maybe not that last one, but I did finish something that's been haunting me for a long time now. I'm talking about the mother of all UFOs. Something that I needed to finish prior to attending the Alice Springs Beanie Festival. (Yet another blog post!)

WHEW. I's been busy, y'all.

So, now that I have gotten a lot off my chest crochet-wise and have overcome that despondent spirit (not all of which is due to Little Mister's blanket...at least I don't think that's why I was *thiiiis* close to a panic attack on my way to Target...), I think I can finally let y'all know what's been going on.

HOWEVER. Not tonight. (neener neener.)

Until next time...




Monday, May 21, 2012

Stupid Mickey

I am despondent, people. DESPONDENT I SAY! Life has lost all meaning and the unicorns are farting in grayscale. It’s so bad that I made a fart joke and barely even cracked a smile. DESPONDENT.

At first this funk started with the conclusion of the book I was reading- The Fault in Our Stars. What started out in a witty, irreverent fashion couldn’t keep up the lighthearted feel forever- like I said- a teen with stage IV cancer.

I finished reading it the day after I started and so began this whole, “Woe is me,” outlook. It’s a curse of reading for me. I get so wrapped up into the characters that I forget about real life for a bit. I don’t call it “escapism” for nothing, folks.

Anyway, my escapism into a depressing book isn’t enough to bring me down for long. It is fiction, after all. And, it resulted in a very good discussion yesterday at our Book Club meeting, so all was not lost. (So totally nailed the oral book exam!)

So what could have brought along this dark cloud of despair that has been hovering over me? Well, I finally finished Little Mister’s Blanket-o-Love. TA DAAA! That’s a big reason why I’ve been silent on here- I’ve been much too focused on crocheting my life away to spend on the computer. Or exercising. Gah. How the heck am I going to run in the 10K next month if I keep on making excuses to not exercise? (Yes, I decided to “run” a 10K with Miss A next month. May the Lord have mercy on my soul. And my butt. Can’t forget that.)

So you’re thinking, “You finished it?? YAYAY! Now show us some pics, monkey!”

I’m going to gloss over the fact that you called me a monkey (takes one to know one) and instead of posting pics, I’m going to cry just a bit more.

You see…..oh man…this is hard.

You see….Ihavetoripitoutagain.

That’s right. I HAVE TO RIP IT OUT AGAIN. AGAIN!!!!

Lest you think that I am on some sort of crochet masochistic binge and am using this Blanket-o-Love as some sick way to get my jollies, let me tell you that this decision has not come easily and it truly has ripped my heart out. I made a mistake. Not a, “I’m the only one who can see this mistake but I’m going to rip it out because I have OCD,” mistake. A, “HOLY MOLY HOW DID I MISS THAT???” mistake. A mistake that would cause you all to point and laugh at me a huge, Nelson-esque, “HA-HA!” A big, terrible, mistake.

My Mister said I should leave it in as a sort of “Hidden Mickey,” which, since I've already crocheted the same blanket twice, I thought might not be a bad idea. As I was mulling it over, he said, “So, are you going to leave your Hidden Stupid in it or not?”

Oh that honey-tongued love of mine. Always knows just what to say to cheer me up.

So, no. I’m not leaving in my “Hidden Stupid,” and instead have to rip out 58 rows PLUS the border. I actually finished it last week but have yet to rip it out because I needed a break from it to wallow in my grief.

Instead, I’ve been working on some of my shawl ideas because I wanted something that I could finish quickly. I really needed something with instant gratification. Except I realized that I’d never use this shawl the way it is (I miscalculated the increases and so it’s a little wonky. That, and it’s a shawl.) so I’m going to rip that thing out, too. Stupid shawl. Stupid yarn! Stupid hooks! STUPID STUPID STUPID.

GAH!!

So. Ugggggghhhhh. I decided to take the plunge and rip it out tomorrow so that I can hopefully have it done by this weekend. After that, I don’t care how many Hidden Stupids are in it- Little Mister will have his blanket and he will love it, I have spoken AMEN.

Since I have been (mostly) gone from the internets in the last week, I nearly missed out on a little something that actually has the potential of cheering me up. Libby is starting a yarn and tea swap and that sounds fabulous. You have until the 22nd to sign up, so get your butts in gear! And if you get me for a partner, the yarn you send better be simply AH-MAZ-ING because, you know. Despondent and all.

Ok. I'm off to melodramatically shower my pillow with my melodramatic tears yet again. Fare thee well, kind gentle folks. May your day be blessed, may your night be peaceful, and may your crochet not be filled with Hidden Stupids.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

'Allo, Guvnah!

So, in the last few days, I've been working feverishly on Little Mister's Blanket-o-Love. So feverishly, in fact, that I've gotten quite sick. No, not of the *cough*cough*I'm gonna die!* variety, but of the *holy moly*I want to crochet something else now* variety.

I'm almost done. This is good because good golly, Miss Molly, I can't wait to be done with it. I know that I'm getting itchy to do something else because I'm spending a huge chunk of time on Ravelry looking at shawl patterns and randomly taking out my lace and sock yarns and petting them in a way that makes My Mister a little jealous.

Why shawls? I don't wear them, so why make them? Because in my head I'm a raging fashionista with a long cigarette holder and huge bug-like sunglasses and say things like, "Oh, dahling," and, "Chip chip cheerio," and other random British stereotypical phrases while effortlessly tossing a shawl end over my shoulder and laughing a coquettish trilling, "Oh haha, dahling!" way instead of a, "BAHAHAHAHAHA! *snort*" way.

Could this highly improbable vision of myself be due to watching Downton Abbey last week and episodes of Agatha Christie's Poirot and Miss Marple this weekend while I slave away on my blanket? NO!! And get out of my head, Freud!

*stupid yet awesome British shows* *sulking*

I am really almost done and instead of getting a few more rows completed this evening, I've succumbed to the allure of my stash and have started a new project that had been swirling in my mind for a while. I'm both excited and ashamed of myself. As My Mister said, "You need to finish this project sometime!" Except my overly sensitive and slightly neurotic ears heard, "YOU BETTER GET THAT YARN MOUNTAIN OUT OF OUR LIVING ROOM NOW, WOMAN!"

Granted, he said that after I started hyperventilating because I thought there was a mistake 10 rows down and was about to rip them out again. His well timed verbal slap in my face brought me back to my senses and I realized that I was fretting over nothing. My work is perfect and all is right with the world.

SO.

Hopefully I'll FINALLY have some pics to share by this weekend. Crossing fingers they'll be of Little Mister's blanket and not of some really awesome addition to my shawl UFO pile.

Where's my hot toddy, O'brien?! And some petrol for my lorry? The raaain in Spaaain fauls gently on the plaaain. G'night, guvnah!

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

The Fault in Our Downton Abbey

I'm in the middle of The Fault in Our Stars, but I did not end up reading it last night. For all that talk of cheating on my crochet, I ended up crocheting after all, but in my defense I had too because I cannot watch television without having my hands or something in constant motion. Call it a curse of ADD or something, but I need to be in motion, even when at "rest" so it was either crocheting or doing leg lifts but since we all know I already have buns of steel, well, my decision was an easy one.

So, instead of reading my book last night (which is an AH-MAZING book so far. I started reading it during Little Mister's naps today and I've laughed, I've cried...it's moved me, Bob.) I was totally and completely drawn into the last couple episodes of Downton Abbey. Now, I'm sorry for this post because I'm going to go on and on about how amazing this show is because I don't have anyone with whom I can talk about it in real life and real time. My Mister has been watching it with me but, to assuage his guilt for his "non-manly" TV watching, he refuses to discuss the importance and nuances each head nod and sly smile Mary and Matthew share with each other and instead constantly tells me, "Don't cry! You're always crying!" But I swear he's wiping his own tears when he's pretending to be absorbed in his web browsing. (You can't fool me, Mister! He always makes me pause it when he gets up and has put on the subtitles by himself so he can follow along more easily and not miss that sharp and witty dialogue of the the Dowager. We all love the Dowager- Maggie Smith, will you marry me?)

So last night we watched the last episode of season two and started the Christmas Special episode. We couldn't finish it because it was late and we had to go to bed so I've been ever so patiently waiting for dinner tonight so I could finish it. Thus, I've been occupying my time by getting wholly and completely entangled in The Fault in Our Stars. UNTIL DOWNTON TIME!

OH.MY.LANTA. I was a bawling mess last night watching *SPOILER ALERTS!! DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU HAVE NOT YET WATCHED SEASON TWO*

*I MEAN IT!!*

As I was saying....I was bawling when Bates and Anna FINALLY were able to get married and consummate their marriage. I LOVE them! Anna is just a pure angel and nobody deserves her because she is so pure and perfect and sweet and I LOVE HER! And then, Lavinia. Oh my...I wanted to hate her because she is coming between Ross and Rachel Matthew and Mary but OH MAN! She is another sweetheart and I just cannot hate her. I can't hate Matthew for the whole ordeal because he was quite noble in his intentions and...umm...have you seen Matthew? EXACTLY.

SO, my Mister had to tell me AGAIN, "Don't cry!" when Lavinia died. It's like telling me, "Don't breathe," or, "Don't eat Nutella," or, "Don't fart." I CAN'T HELP IT! An angel on earth has left us and somebody better ring a bell so she can get her wings because if there's anybody who deserves to flap around joyously naked on clouds, it's Lavinia.

BUT! Oh.my.lanta! How excited I was at the end of the Christmas episode when Matthew and Mary FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY!! got engaged. Oh man. If anyone will make beautiful babies, it's those two. GAH! Cannot wait for season three! CAN.NOT!

Ok. I can go on for about 5 more pages since I haven't discussed Lord Grantham and that slutty hussy of a whore Jane, or how Sybil and Branson made me squee and, yes Honey, cry yet again. Or OR! how stupid Thomas weaseled his way to not only work again at Downton but also finally become Lord Grantham's valet. GAH!!!!  And, most importantly, what the heck is going to happen to my poor loverlies Bates and Anna??? I'm so glad he's not going to die but STILL!! Poor, poor perfect little Anna!

Ok. So now that I've gotten that out of my system, I can finally wipe up my tears and finish up The Fault in Our Stars. Oh, who am I kidding. From what I've heard from my fellow Book Clubbers, the tears are just beginning to flow because oh.my.lanta y'all. It's about a 16 year old girl with stage IV cancer.

I KNOW, RIGHT??

So, for now, I'm going to bask in the feel-goodness of the Downton Abbey Christmas episode. It just finished and, as my Mister said, "Don't cry! You are always crying now! You are such a wussy!"

Cold, heartless man. ANGEL WINGS, MISTER! Angel wings!

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

A Little Sumpin' Sumpin' on the Side

I've been working pretty feverishly on Little Mister's Blanket-o-Love these last few days because I really really want to finish it once and for all. Seeing the large, rewound balls of yarn slowly getting smaller and smaller gives me both a reassurance that I'll get there soon, as well as a pit of impatience because HOLY CRAP I ALREADY CROCHETED THIS STUPID YARN!

Right now I'm at the place I was over a year ago on his blanket. A lot of rows of one color TSS which has really slowed my crocheting mojo. On the one hand, I'm able to zip along pretty quickly since it's just one color; on the other hand, I want to gouge out my eyes with my hook because I'm getting bored. I'm getting tempted to put it aside to finish the stained glass window blanket since I'm just about done with that one, too. Buuuut....I really really want to get this done. Like yesterday.

So, instead of playing the field with my other crochet works, I'm putting my foot down and staying faithful to this one.

Except....well, cheating on it with a book doesn't really count, does it? I mean, I have to read this particular book anyway, so....a little dalliance on the side is fine, right?

I finally started reading The Fault In Our Stars and I can say that this dude got me from the very first paragraph.
Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.
I mean, come on! How could I not love a book that started that way?? Actually, reading the first couple of pages made me love this author if only because he writes the way I think and the way I tend to write, as well. I like his humor. I am picking up what he is laying down, yo.

At dinner tonight, I told my Mister how excited I am to be in this book club and that I'm going to read this book tonight. I then told him that I also ordered the second book club book, A Tale of Two Cities- a book I'd eventually order for myself anyway since I love classics. He suggested that it might not be a bad idea to look into an e-reader.

Now, I've thought about the whole Kindle thing in the past, but as soon as the subject peeks it's little head over the clutter in my brain, I quickly squash it down, spray it with Raid, and say a couple Hail Marys just to be safe.

As I told my Mister, I love books. I love the feel of books in my hand. I love seeing the thickness of pages migrate from my right hand to my left hand. I love the sound of the pages turning. I love the smell of books. Reading to me is more than just absorbing lines of words on a page. It's an experience. 

I thought I expressed my passion for books well and expected a nod of agreement or a, "Yeah, me too," or something along those lines from my Mister. Instead, he, adopting a rather effeminate, lisping voice, said, "I love the way the cover slides through my fingers..."

DUDE. I didn't know whether to smack him upside the head for mocking me or smother him in hugs and kisses for really, truly understanding my book lust.

So, if you'll excuse me while I slip into something a little more comfortable, I've got a date tonight that I'm rather excited about. Sorry Blanket-o-Love. She really doesn't mean anything- you're the one I love. It's just for tonight...ok maybe tomorrow night, too, but I'll be back in your (unending) embrace soon. Promise.

Monday, May 7, 2012

In Remembrance

I received a tweet from my BFF Lyteyz showcasing her loot from the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. I am not ashamed to admit the large green-eyed monster of jealousy reared its ugly head- all that alpaca could have been mine!! Where are my nunchuks?!? After I finished foaming at the mouth, I was filled with nostalgia- Lyteyz, my sister and I had a great time last year and, even though I would love to attend the Festival again this year, I would much rather spend time with them, no matter where we may be.

It’s really amazing how quickly a year goes by. One moment you’re hauling your 7 month pregnant body up and down a fair grounds, adjusting your belly support band and ignoring your cankles as you waddle by the vendors again and again in a hormone and wool-fume induced shopping frenzy; the next moment you are filling your days playing with the babe once in your womb and trying and trying and trying to teach him to say, “AL-PAC-A” as you untangle him from the wooly goodness strewn across the floor.

As I look back, I also remember some not so great memories from the previous two Mays. It’s actually taken me this long to be able to face these memories and I was shocked to realize that they all occurred in the same week, though a year apart.

Last year, a week after the fun and laughter of the MDSW, I lost two important people in my life. One was my uncle- my mother’s brother- who died very suddenly and unexpectedly. He was the baby of the family (last of 13) and his death rocked our family. Two days later, I received news that one of my coworkers- and the person I’d consider my mentor as a nutrition professional- had lost her decade long battle with breast cancer. She had gone on leave in November when she found out her cancer had returned and six months later, she was gone. (Cathy was also a knitter and had spent that summer making her daughter’s wedding shrug for her October wedding- something I’m sure her daughter will treasure forever.)

As I mark one year of their passing, I’m also facing the two year mark of the passing of another uncle- my dad’s brother, the first of two he lost that year. Remember when I said 2010 was a terrible year? Losing them was part of that terribleness.

Although the last two Mays have not been the happiest in my life, I’m hopeful that this May will bring laughter and love and good memories with it. It’s the first May I get to spend with Little Mister, the first May where I’ll get to celebrate Mother’s Day as a mother, and, as always, it marks another year that My Mister and I got married all those moons ago.

As I mourn my loved ones next week, I hold tight to the ones I still have with me. If anything, that’s the main thing the month of May has taught me: Hold tight and love your loved ones as much as you can because life is unpredictable and sometimes much, much too short. When looking back on my life and reminiscing about my loved ones, I hope I'll be able to say, “Oh, remember when!” rather than, “Oh, if only I had.”

In remembrance of Uncles Charlie, Mingo and Joseph and dear friend Cathy.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The One With the Arms and the Legs and the Movie Star

You know how I said I was a superfit mega babe a few days ago? Yeah. So not. Miss A and I were joined by our friend, EC, this morning for our morning exercise jaunt. We decided to once again tackle that six mile, hilly trail that nearly killed me a while back. Except today, since both Miss A and EC are runners, I, bowing to peer pressure and not wanting to be deemed a mere “walker,” somehow agreed to try RUNNING those hilly 6 miles.

OH.MY.LANTA. My lungs! My legs! My poor bruised butt! Oh the humanity!

Just so you all know, I am not a runner. I have never been a runner. I’ve been active and athletic my whole life, but I’ve never been a runner. I don’t run well, don’t run fast, and definitely don’t run attractively. I thought I could transform myself into a runner and even bought a treadmill to start “running” because it’s supposedly a wonderful way to get in shape and lose weight and get that “runner’s high” that so many people talk about.

Balderdash! Balderdash, I say! The only thing that is “high” when I run are my shorts as they are racing up my buttocks as if they are embarrassed to be seen on a girl who so obviously should not be seen doing that thing with the arms and the legs. (And the panting and the wheezing and the dying.)

I not only do not run well, but when I do run, I do it with distinction. I found out this unique trait of mine a few years ago when I was an extra in War of the Worlds. Yes, I got to meet Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg. Funny that they never called to congratulate me on winning a Best Actress Award. See, Steven?? That could have been you all proud about directing me, an award winning actress, but no. You chose to ignore my obvious talent all those years ago. Well, your loss buddy. I guess you just learned that you should never judge an actress by the way she tries to run. *I sure showed him*

I got to film a scene (along with a hundred other extras) with Tom Cruise where we run up a hill towards the end of the movie. Tommy (that’s what I call him) was exceptionally nice and shook everybody’s hands and was really down to earth. Now, this was Tom Cruise before he got all crazy “couch jumping” with Katie, but very shortly after breaking up with Penelope Cruz.

A sneakily taken picture of them adding a squib? Or adjusting his platform shoes? OOOOO! Burn!

I remember this for two reasons. One: We were all trying to get a picture of the girl-who-was-NOT-Penelope with whom he was seen in between takes; however we weren’t allowed to take pictures or else our cameras would be confiscated. (Stupid Tom Cruise.) And, Two: at least four of my fellow extras asked me if I was Penelope Cruz.

*teehee!*

Of course I said, “Why yes, yes I am. Would you like my autograph?” Except I said it like this, “Why jes, jes I jam. Would jew like my ow-toe-grrraf?

Because Penelope Cruz wore braces and liked posing with random blown up men.

ANYways….once the movie came out, my Mister and I watched it together, hoping that my big screen debut didn't end up on the cutting room floor. When the scene I was in finally started, we carefully searched the hoards of running extras to see if I could somehow be seen and, what do you know?!? You can totally see me! I STARRED IN A MOVIE WITH TOM CRUISE!!!

My Mister was so excited and exclaimed, “There you are! I can tell by the way you run!”

Ermmm….what? Maybe he meant, “There you are! I thought it was Penelope Cruz at first but realized that you are so much hotter!”

I chose to ignore his obviously misspoken declaration of love, but I couldn’t ignore it when my dad called me and said, “I saw you in the movie! I could tell it was you by the way you run!”

DUDE. How the heck do I run??




So this morning, needless to say, I'm already self conscious about my running ability, though having a huge stroller in front of me kind of offsets the awkwardness and lets me play it off, if only a little bit. "No, no. I'm not having a seizure- it's just crazy hard running while pushing this heavy stroller which I do because I am an amazing super fit mega babe. If it wasn't for this stroller, I'd be a freakin' gazelle."

Throw in being seen with actual runners who know how to run well and have run marathons and stuff...let's just say I wasn't exactly the epitome of self confidence this morning. After bringing up the rear the whole way, and being the one to request the walking breaks to recover from the torture running, we had two miles left when Little Mister decided to melt down because he refused to fall asleep. Since I was still reeling from coughing up my left lung at mile number four, you can imagine that this was *not* my shining moment as a running mega babe.

Maybe I should give my good friend Tommy a call to help coach me. He's an amazing runner. And not *at all* crazy anymore. If only he'd return my calls every once in a while... Stupid Tom Cruise.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Book 'em, Danno

In an effort to further my escapism from reality literary knowledge, and to get out of my comfort zone (a.k.a. my living room) and meet new people, I’m joining a book club for the first time in my life. I'm both excited and nervous about this since it's going to be the first time I leave Little Mister for longer than an hour alone with Big Mister. It's not that I don't trust Big Mister- he's a phenomenal dad; it's the fact that I suffer from a very acute yet crippling bout of separation anxiety just thinking that I won't be near him for that amount of time. I swear- Big Mister and I are never going to go on a date ever again and Little Mister is never going to school and he's going to remain my Little Baby Boy forever and ever and if he even thinks about getting married, I may have to pull out my crochet nunchucks once again. HI-YA!

Yeah. Maybe getting out of the house for a couple hours and having grown-up talk might not be such a bad thing after all...

The first book we’ll be reading is The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I have no idea what it’s about, even though I have already ordered it and currently have it sitting right beside me as I type. Read the dust jacket, you say? Stop pressuring me and get off my back monkeys! I’ll read it when I’m good and ready to!!

Ahem. I am sorry for calling you monkeys.*

The truth is I’m unsure how this venture is going to go. On the one hand, I’m excited to find new books to read and it’ll be nice to once again get on a reading binge. Lord knows I need to stop it with the yarn-buying binge already. On the other hand, I can’t shake the feeling that this is going to be an awful lot like homework. Reading a book for pleasure is one of my very favorite things to do instead of cleaning my house. However, reading a book because I need to discuss it with a bunch of people (many of whom I’ve yet to meet…I missed the first meeting. Oops.) kinda puts the pressure on to write a good report so I’ll get an “A” on my analysis.

Should I take notes? Use a highlighter? Will they think me uncouth for dog-earing my pages? Do I have to look for a deeper meaning in a book that may just simply be a novel? What does, “It was a dark and stormy night,” really mean? OOOO! It means they’re constipated, doesn’t it!

Truth be told, I’ve never been good at finding the “deeper meaning” of various books. Let me rephrase that: I was never good at finding the deeper meaning when reading for and by myself. Mainly because I’m devouring the book for the wonderful story that is unfolding before my eyes. Why ruin it with trying to find all the symbolism that may or may not be there? It’s not like finding an Easter Egg on a DVD where you feel proud of yourself and are treated with some cool, funny, or sometimes stupid behind the scenes stuff. It’s usually very frustrating and headache inducing “seeing” things where the author may or may not have intended something to be seen. I remember reading The Great Gatsby in high school and being all, “What the heck are they talking about?? What symbolism? That eyes and glasses billboard was just a detail seen on the road by an obviously non-ADD person, not some creepy symbolism for being watched by Big Brother,” or whatever the heck they said it was supposed to mean. (Note to self: re-read The Great Gatsby.)

However, once I knew what they expected me to see in between the lines, I was able to “see” symbolism everywhere. I nailed all the symbolism in every novel thrown my way and did indeed ace my book reports. Didn’t mean I agreed with it or even really got the full meaning, but I was able to find it none-the-less. (Sorry Mrs. Pittard!)

One such book was A Tale of Two Cities. I remember I really liked it but I don’t remember too much about it since it’s been at least five years since I read it in high school. (Ahem). I remember Madame Defarge knit people’s names in her longest-scarf-in-the-whole-world (or whatever the heck it was) and now that I know about double knitting, I do wonder if that was the method she employed. Or was it simply purling on a knit row? If that’s the case, she wasn’t very devious. I could even do that.

The exciting thing is that A Tale of Two Cities will be the second book we’ll be reading, so I get to revisit any symbolism I may have already identified and have subsequently forgotten in the mrfmrfmrf years since high school. And, I’ll get to really pay attention to the knitting part which, of course, would be even more awesome if it was crochet. However, a fiber lover is a fiber lover, no matter how insane and duplicitous she may be. I love you, Madame Defarge, you crazy old bitty, you.

I was informed that a book discussed as a possibility for inclusion in our reading syllabus is Fifty Shades of Grey. I must confess I had never heard of it because I am not a pervert. I don’t know if we will end up reading it, but egads. The symbolism that must be in that book, right? I mean, sometimes a sexual deviant really is a symbol for constipation, no two ways about it. Heck, I know I turn at least 30 shades of grey when things aren’t moving along as they should in that department. He could save 20 shades of grey by simply taking some Metamucil.

Heehee. This is going to be fun.





*No I’m not. That’s a lie.

(Btw: I'm going to be tweaking things on the blog for the next few days....sorry about any seizures this may cause you.)

Monday, April 30, 2012

Wait...There Are SEVEN Days In A Week??

So, I had every intention of fully participating in the Knitting & Crochet blog week, but then the weekend hit and I was all, "They expect me to write for SEVEN days?? Like, on the weekend, too? Don't they know the week has ENDED? And that Big Mister is home? And that it's time to PAR-TAY?? Or at least nap more since Big Mister can watch Little Mister for me? DON'T THEY??"

Yeah. I only got up to Day Five on Blog week, but goodness gracious I had fun doing it. :) Methinks I'm going to have to do some more drawrings in the future. (And, in my head it is pronounced "draw-rings" like Mike Meyers' Simon from SNL. Or at least the way I think he says it. It's the way my sister and I say it, so it's an in-joke between us that many people probably didn't get and so they instead think I can't spell "drawings." Well, see- I can. And now you are in on our in-joke.) (I guess you had to be there.)

Instead of blogging, I ended up going back to the sadistic massage therapist and, in all honest to God seriousness, my butt is bruised. Like someone-grabbed-a-hold-of-my-cheeks-in-a-ninja-death-grip-and-swung-me-around-the-room bruised. I hopped in the shower yesterday and thought, "HOLY COW! Did that lady read my blog and say, 'I'll give you something to cry about, wussy girl!'?"

The sad thing is that I thought it was going well and was even surprised at the reduction in both pain and in full body convulsions I had while she was trying to find Waldo near my gall bladder and was congratulating myself on how much I had toughened up from the last appointment. And then, after I got home, I finally remembered that I had taken 4 Advil prior to my appointment because I am smart and OH DEAR GOD THE PAIN!

And now I wish I hadn't taken the Advil because I would have been able to feel the full force of her work and could have begged her to let up a little bit and my poor derriere wouldn't look like someone danced the Electric Slide all over it.  Seriously- that lady is an amazing massage therapist. Strong as all get-out and tenacious when she finds an area that needs to be worked on. It really isn't her fault that I bruise easily.*

Anywho...I hope y'all had fun during the Knitting and Crochet blog week and hopefully even found some new knitting and crochet blogs you didn't know about before. All that blogging about crochet and getting into my stash really got my crochet mojo going and so I spent yesterday ripping out the remaining rows on Little Mister's Blanket-o-love and then basically regraphed the whole thing. I had completed 168 rows prior to running out of yarn. I was going to unravel about 80 rows to get to the place where I was going to use the new green instead of the old green. And then I decided that the whole thing was poo, so I unraveled 80 more rows. I ended up with 8 rows of my original work left. I'm still debating whether or not I should be committed.

Ah well. It will be worth it in the end. (I keep telling myself.) I started working on it today and I must admit it feels good. Except for the hunching over while working on Tunisian crochet color work, which really puts strain on my shoulders.

Dagnabbit. That means I'm going to need a massage again. Don't worry, butt cheeks. The shoulders will get the brunt of it next time...

Night, y'all.

* For reals- I do bruise easily. I don't think I've ever gone a day in my life without a bruise somewhere on my body. Usually on the sides of my thighs/hips and arms because those are my preferred body parts to use when locating tables and walls.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Going Yarn Shopping with Gege- An Illustrated Tale

Today is Day Five in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week and today's topic is "Something A Bit Different." We are encouraged to boldly blog in ways no man has blogged before. Or at least in a way we haven't blogged before. So, I thought I'd demonstrate my amazing drawring abilities while giving you a peek at a day in my (shopping) life.


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When I go yarn shopping, I always have something in mind- a goal, a purpose- so that I am focused on buying what I need and ONLY what I need. No frivolous yarn purchases for me.



I am so lucky to have a husband who understands and supports my yarning and crochet endeavors


Our marriage has survived- nay- FLOURISHED for so long because we always support each other and compromise, compromise, compromise.



Yarn is the universal friend maker- the bridge between all ages.



It's amazing how peaceful and serene shopping for yarn can be.


The end result is always the same- a happy wife, a peaceful husband, and a restraining order baby safely secured...somewhere under all that yarn.

 The End.


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I hope you enjoyed this snippet of my life.  If so, please let eskimimimakes know- there are prizes to be won for this particular day. YAY! I'll give you candy if you nominate or vote for me. Promise.

(No I won't...that's a lie.)

To view other creative blog postings, google search: LikeI'mGoingToSendYouToMyCompetitors. I'm sure you'll find lots of creative blog postings that way. *innocent smile*

(Ok, ok- search for 3KCBWDAY5. But don't nominate anyone else. I have candy. And nunchuks.)

Thursday, April 26, 2012

To Everything There is a Season Turn! Turn! Crochet!

Alright. Today is Day Numero Four for the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week and the topic is "A Knitter or Crocheter For All Seasons?" We are encouraged to discuss the seasonality of our craft with y'all. Like, "I like to crochet warm stuff in winter because it's cold," or something along those lines. I must admit this topic didn't really get my blogging mojo running so, instead of utilizing the excellent nap Little Mister took this morning to do something productive, like blogging, I ended up thinking, "Ugghhh...why did I decide to commit to writing everyday for this blog week thingy? Seasons of my crochet? I don't make sweaters. I need a sweater because it's cold here. It's almost winter. Winter, spring, summer and fall...all you have to do is call...and I'll be there.......ugggghhh....now I have that song in my head. I'm hungry. I wonder how long Little Mister is going to nap. Seasons....seasons.....Uggggghhhhhh."

And then I went on the hunt for food. I didn't even spend his nap time cleaning my house but that's because I did that yesterday (!!!!) and yes, that truly was a Porcine Pilot you saw today. You are welcome.

I just couldn't think of how the heck I could say that I make things seasonally and then BAM! It hit me. Instead of crocheting different projects dependent on the seasons of the year, I actually crochet different projects dependent on the seasons OF MY LIFE.

Take a moment to let the profoundness of that statement sink in. I know I had to. I had to eat a sandwich and take a nap it was so profound.

I find that I will go through crocheting bursts dependent on how my life is going. For instance, I taught myself how to crochet in the summer of 2007 when I took a leave of absence from my job as well as a sabbatical from my schooling. I was so stressed out and filled with worry and anxiety and found solace in trying to get a hang of this whole yarn thing.

And then I became addicted and couldn't stop. When I find something I like- a pattern, a stitch, a color- I tend to go through an "Obsession Season."  My first Obsession Season was my "Round Ripple Season," which was most of 2007 and 2008. (There is actually one more that I made but I didn't take a picture of it before giving it away.)

Top L: My sister's boob blanket, top R: Greens for my mom, Mid L: G-ma's 90th b-day blanket, Mid R: Spidey-ghan for Lyteyz's Little Man, Last row: MY PURPLES!!!
 At the end of 2008, I went through my "Scarf Season."


Wait...I'm NOT a scarf? You mean I was adopted???


 I'm currently going through a "Stained Glass Window" season. It started with a pillow and has continued to two purses, a blanket, and a cowl.

One "manly pillow" coming up

The fastest foot-crocheter in the west.

As you can see, I'm also going through an, "UFO Season," as well.

I find that I crochet the most, and the most intensely, during the "STRESS!!!" seasons of my life, whether they are out of my control or self induced, i.e. I put an insane deadline for myself to finish something. Such as an upcoming birthday where I had to crochet furiously for two months to finish this.

Ah yes...the Mario season of 2009. Unusual weather we are having. (Name that movie!)

When my life season is a little overwhelming, I always have my escape plans in place. Usually sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich is my number one go-to plan. My sands of choice are either books, video games (Hellllloooooo BigFishGames!), and, of course, crochet. I became extremely productive at the end of 2009 and early 2010 due to that particular overwhelming season.

This particular season of my life- new motherhood and relocating to the other side of the world- has been pretty overwhelming, as well. I cycled through all of my escapisms and have actually been pretty darn productive crochet wise, but unfortunately either haven't finished or haven't taken pictures of what I was working on yet, so unfortunately I can't showcase much stuff right this moment. Hopefully very soon, though. It's been a while since I've shared a finished object and I'd like to get some of the many (many!) UFOs out of my "allllllmost finished" pile. (I think the last one was my Christmas tree skirt....HEY! Not only another round ripple, but a Christmas SEASON crocheted item! Totally on track with the theme of today's blog topic!)

So, there you have it. Winter, spring, summer and fall, Gege crochets it all. Is there a season of life when you are most creative, as well?


To see other blogs participating in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Day 4, do a search for 3KCBWDAY4.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Did You Ever Know You Were My Hero?

It’s Day Three of the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week. Yes, I just posted my Day Two, but for me in the Land Down Under, it’s really Day Three so I’m playing catch up from posting the first day late and am making up for it by doing a double posting from the future. Or something like that.

Ahem.

Anywho…the topic for today is “Your Knitting or Crochet Hero.” Of course I’m totally picturing a crocheter dressed in a superhero costume, a big “C” emblazoned on the front, flying around Crotchopolis (hmmm…sounded better in my head) to right all the wrongs of this world *coughknittingcough*. But since I haven’t finished my suit yet there isn’t a crochet superhero out there yet, I’m going to have to say the first person to pop into my head was my mom.

Now, she is not an obvious choice for this because she is actually not a knitter or crocheter, although she was quite the macramé queen back in the day. However, she is extremely artistic and amazingly inventive. Extremely. She’s the type of person who can look at a piece of junk and see a gorgeous piece of furniture waiting to be revealed. She can go through a kitchen cabinet and chose a random assortment of ingredients and BAM! The best dinner you’ve had all week. She can see something amazing on TV- a skirt, a curtain, a painting- cock her head to the side and say, “I wonder if they did it this way?” And then WHOOSH! She not only replicates it, she improves it. I can only wish I had a quarter of the artistic talent and abilities that my mom has.

So, after laying the groundwork for how amazing my mom is, and to reiterate that she is NOT a knitter or crocheter, I want to show you exhibit A for why she’s my knitting hero.

My mom is more awesome than your mom.


What you are looking at is the very first knitted item my mom ever made. Ever ATTEMPTED to make. She was in her twenties and decided to take a crafting lesson at the local Senior Center because old people are cool and this is what she came home with. She said she never finished it because she got too busy and started having kids so, in essence, I am the reason why my mom is not the knitting or crocheting superhero she was obviously destined to be.

Once you pick up your jaws off the floor, I want to remind you what my first (and only) knitted item was.

It's a washcloth! Yeah...shut up.


Now look back at my mom’s intricate cabling.



And back to my pathetic excuse for a washcloth.



And now you know why she’s my knitting/crafting/cooking/super hero. (Heeey...maybe I can get her to make me my Super Crochet costume.....)

To see other blogs participating in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Day 3, do a search for 3KCBWDAY3.

My Perfect Crafting Day

For Day Two of the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week, the topic is a Photography Challenge Day. We are encouraged to take creative pictures of the yarny kind and there is a competition and everything. Well. I wanted to make it a fair competition for others, so I decided to remove myself from the festivities and instead use this as the “Wild Card” day. Ok, ok. I admit I am not a good photographer. And believe me, I hear you saying, “*Gaaaasp!* No, Gege! You are amazing at everything you do!” But, as true as that is and as perfect as I am (hee!), when it comes to photography I really do not have the eye for it and get impatient trying to set things up for the “perfect shot.”

So. The Wild Card topic is "Craft Your Perfect Day" where we are supposed to discuss what our perfect crafting day looks like. So without further ado, here's what my perfect crafting day looks like.

My Perfect Crafting Day is one where I don’t have to choose:

Do I wash the dishes or my new felted bag?

Do I need clean underwear or do I need to finish just one more row?

Does My Mister need a good wife or a new hat?

Do I need to change the baby’s diaper, or the channel to my favorite show?

Do I vacuum the floor or pet my stash?

Do I get dressed for the day or roll around naked in my yarn?

Do I lay the bed or lie IN the bed?

Do I stop Little Mister from eating that paper or do I finish just one more row?

Do I stop Little Mister from eating that power cord or do I finish just one more row?

Do I change the litter box to get rid of the smell or do I crochet myself a gas mask?

Do I work out to reduce the size of my butt or do I work in to reduce the size of my stash?

Do I need to call my mom or do I need a lobotomy?

Do I make dinner or do I make a shawl?

Do I go to sleep or do I finish just one more row?


Here’s hoping for a decision free crafting day someday soon!




You can find other participants in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Wild Card Day by doing a search for: 3KCBWWC

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Lover of Color. And Colours, Too

Today’s topic for the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week 2012 (or, rather yesterday’s topic in Australia time…I had the most difficult time finding the topics for these blog posts. Oh well! It’s still the 23rd in Hawaii.) is Color Lovers. Actually, it’s ColOUr Lovers. I’m assuming Eskimimi is British. Or Canadian. Or Australian? I actually don’t know if Australians spell things funny like that. Considering they spell fiber “fibre,” then I’m thinking they probably do.

AHEM.

ANYwho… I LOVE this topic. I love this topic because I love color. Or colour. Either way. If it’s bright and colorful and especially if it’s purple then I love it. I tend to think and feel in color. When I’m sad or in a funk, my world seems monotone or even colorless. Conversely, when I’m happy and engaged with life, the world is bursting with color- usually from all the unicorn farts. Heck, I even smell in color. My Mister thought it was really odd the first time I told him, “Yummm…this smells so pretty. It smells purple.”

When it comes to yarn, I don’t discriminate. I’m all, “YAAAAARN!” and then buy out the whole store. Usually after snorting as many skeins as I can while rubbing the really soft ones on my face while purring, “Baaaay-beeeee.” You think I’m kidding- just ask Lyteyz. Unfortunately (for my dignity) she’s been witness to my wool induced craziness.

I was looking through my stash and found that I do have lots (and lots and lots) of just about every color in the rainbow. I do seem to have more pinks/reds and blues. Yes, even more than purple, which is odd, really. (*Note to self: Buy more yarn. I mean, buy more purple yarn.)

I love bright, “LOOK AT ME!” colors.


From top left: Stitch Nation bamboo ewe "Snapdragon," Lion Brand Wool "Pumpkin," Universal Yarn Deluxe Worsted 100% Wool "Marigold," RHSS (unknown color), Patons Classic Wool "Too Teal," Classic Elite Yarns Silky Alpaca Lace "2495," Stitch Nation bamboo ewe "Geranium"

And more subtle, “Meh. Whatever. I’m too hipster to notice,” colors.

From top left: Jojoland Rhythm "M13," Caron Simply Soft "Country Blue," Naturally Caron Country "Loden Frost," Patons Classic Wool Merino "Old Gold," Patons Classic Wool "Paprika," Patons Classic Wool "Cognac Heather"

I love pastel colors.



From Top left: Lion Cashere Blend "Light Blue," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Purple," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Pink," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Peach," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Yellow"

I love variegated colors. Maybe a little too much…

From top left: Senations Arctic "Berry," Patons Classic Wool Merino "Regency," Patons Classic Wool "Rosewood," Lion Brand Wool "Autumn Sunset," Patons SWS "Natural Crimson," Reynolds Top Seed Cotton Print "5132," Patons Classic Wool (unknown), Patons Classic Wool "Retro," Lion Brand Wool "Ocean Blues," Elegant Yarns, Inc Kaleidoscope "21"


I love putting different colors together and seeing the outcome.





As part of this blog topic, one of the suggested questions was, “How much attention do you pay to the original colour that a garment is knit in when you see a pattern?” I thought about it for a second and realized that I really don’t crochet things from other people’s patterns. I love looking through the patterns and have a great collection of crochet pattern books, but I find I have too many ideas in my head to crochet other patterns. This makes me a little sad, really. I have so many things I’d love to make that so many gifted designers have made. Like this jacket from Shibaguyz.

Bangkok Jacket, AKA: MINE, ALL MINE!!!

How amazing is that??? I must admit, the gorgeous bright green is one of the reasons this jacket has suction cupped itself to my face while chanting, “LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I am soooo pretty!! Make me NOW!” I find that that color with that design is just perfection. I love it!

Then I realized that many times when I see patterns, I do often think, “Ooooo…it’d look great in this color!” One exception is this blanket by Lisa Naskrent.


Moorish Mosaic Afghan AKA: *jaw on the floor*


I can’t even begin to express how much I am in love with this blanket and it’s precisely due to the perfect combination of colors she chose. I have seen different versions of this blanket on Ravelry and none come close to the absolute jaw dropping awe I felt when I first laid eyes on this blanket. I remember the first time I saw it. My Mister and I were eating lunch at Mama Lucci’s and I was flipping through the Interweave Crochet magazine when I was dumbstruck with the gorgeousness and literally gasped, slobbered and tried stringing together words, “Daaaaa…….Must….lick…..purdy……….AAAAAACKKKKK!”

That, my friends, is the power of color over me.

I’ve showed that having the right color can make a project pop with my Super Mario Blanket.


Heck, I’ve spent the last couple weeks taking apart a million rows of Tunisian crochet just because of the differences in these colors.

NEED MORE COLORS!

Yeah. I know. It’s a sickness, I tell you. Nothing a little crochet therapy can’t handle, though. Fondling all that yarn made me a leeeetle bit loopy. Til tomorrow, y’all.

From Eskimimi: To read all about other peoples' love of colour from those taking part in Knitting and crochet blog week, simply perform a Google search for the tag 3KCBWDAY1

Monday, April 23, 2012

Good Mom/Bad Mom

You guys, we had a rough night. Little Mister didn't sleep at all, thus Big Mister and I didn't sleep at all. It’s been another 6 days since Little Mister pooped. AGAIN. He did have a little bit of a shart yesterday, but certainly not a 6 day poop shart. I also think he’s teething again since he’s sticking everything in his mouth- including my giant plastic crochet hooks. I so wish I had my camera while he was holding it while under his Fibonacci blanket yesterday. Of all the times to forget my phone at home…argh.

He's not napping today, either. I finally put him on the floor in my bedroom so I could have a minute to myself to…take care of business…and the next thing I know, the cat is running into the bathroom, her arthritic hips flailing, while meowing maniacally and pointing accusingly at Little Mister who was stealthily army crawling our way with a laugh on his lips, a twinkle in his eye, and a look of determination on his face. At least I hope it was “determination.” I’m afraid it was, “homicidal mania” and his “happy laughter” was, “Ima gonna get you, cat,” with “This ain’t no “twinkle” I be crazy, yo!”

I'm tired and a little bit on edge today and the only things that keep popping into my head were the following Good Mom/Bad Mom examples. And they gave me ideas made me giggle. I could really use a laugh today, so if you can add any to these, please do.


Ten Differences Between A Good Mom and A Bad Mom


Good Mom: Teaching your child the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you’d have them do to you.
Bad Mom: Teaching your child the Golden Rule: You poop on me, I poop on you.

Good Mom: Offering your baby your breast for some nutritious breast milk.
Bad Mom: Offering your baby your toe for some moldy toe jam.

Good Mom: Teaching your baby to say, “I love you, grandma!”
Bad Mom: Teaching your baby to say, “I’ll cut you, dirty whore!”

Good Mom: Securely fastening your baby to their car seat.
Bad Mom: Not fastening the car seat to the car.

Good Mom: Giving your baby a teething ring to help with the pain of teething.
Bad Mom: Taping your baby’s mouth shut so they’ll quit crying about their stupid teeth.

Good Mom: Offering your baby a variety of fruits and vegetables.
Bad Mom: Offering your baby a variety of road kill.

Good Mom: Teaching your child to pick up their toys and put them away.
Bad Mom: Teaching your child to pick up some hos and put them in ICU.

Good Mom: Letting your child play with a rubber ducky in the bathtub.
Bad Mom: Letting your child play with a plugged in toaster oven in the bathtub.

Good Mom: Clapping and laughing when your baby rolls over.
Bad Mom: Clapping and laughing when your baby rolls down an embankment.   

Good Mom: Gently rocking your baby and cooing, “Go to sleep, sweetie.”
Bad Mom: Not so gently hitting your baby with a rock while yelling, “GO TO SLEEP, BUTTMUNCH!”




Here's hoping tonight will be better than last night!


PS: I'm going to be participating in the 3rd Annual Knitting and Crochet Blog week this week. Should be fun! (Thanks to Libby for blogging about it, otherwise I'd never have known!)