Stilettos? I’ll pass, thanks!

I found this link through an article on the intranet at work. It appears to be a website devoted to the nurturing and edification of young widows. Apparently, old widows and grass widows* [divorcees like me] wear clogs, and jeans from Wal-Mart? Levity aside, I can see that a young widow might have additional issues from those I have dealt with. The web site sells related books and CD’s. I cannot vouch for their usefulness or appropriateness. Caveat emptor, and all that.

Thought for awhile that I was going to be a youngish widow, and no, I am not disappointed to have dodged that bullet. My kids need their dad. [Mine has been gone for almost 20 years, and there are days when I just flat need my dad. And, more often, my mom.]

*Be sure to read the entire entry. That’s me: out to pasture!

I had a little falling-down at Knitspot’s shop yesterday. Bought the PDF’s for Lacewing and Fiddlehead. I spent almost the entire day at home, watching Eloy and his crew paint the trim on the duplex. This is the kitchen window, which will have black shutters in the very near future.



They have windows to scrape today, and one or two window frames to paint as well, but even with paint-splotched windows it’s looking pretty spiffy chez Ravelled. This is the back door. Apparently it will be grey like the rest of the house, and not red like the new front doors with their mantels.



I took these pictures around 5:00pm. There is a window hiding behind those crepe myrtles.



About 8:00pm, after much knitting and several long phone conversations with friends and family, I headed out for a little therapeutic shopping. [I prefer to go out after the really tempting places close, so as not to utterly destroy my budget.]

Came home with a work-appropriate pair of jeans, two ball point pen refills for the pen that was a gift and fits my hand so well, a generic liquid soap pump and a ginormous refill bottle for that. I am soaking the pump bottle that held lavender/chamomile liquid soap in the bathroom sink. I will refill it with milk/honey moisturizing soap, because chapped hands do not make for happy knitting, especially if the yarn in question is silk.

I also came home with the usual gallon of milk, and a “sock set” package from Susan Bates containing aluminum DP’s in sizes from 000 to 1. When I was rooting around for my spare KnitPicks Options cable and the cable key yesterday, I rediscovered that flamboyant skein which I brought home from the sock yarn exchange with the Sisters of the Wool last Christmas. [ Just in case I do not feel like casting on MS4 when I finish Adamas.] The sock yarn is for another MimKnits design, Eleanora, which is sitting in the frog pond because apparently size 00 needles are too large for my natural gauge.

While I spent a couple of hours yesterday afternoon researching yarn substitutions for the KnitSimple cardi [I love Excel for comparison shopping, particularly when it comes time to calculate what a given yarn would cost], I did not actually pick up the phone and place an order with KnitPicks. Or anybody else, except for those two Knitspot patterns to knit up what I had already queued in Ravelry.

And while I ate on the average of every two waking hours yesterday, I ate responsibly and did not empty the fridge or the pantry. I did get around to sampling the aguacate torta for dinner last night. I thought it was going to be something like a gordita and all greasy, but it is more like the Mexican equivalent of a vegetarian sub sandwich on a crisp roll. Refried beans on one side, alfalfa sprouts and whispers of sliced onion and ginormous amounts of sliced avocado on top of that, and then the top half of the roll. I sliced it into fourths and ate half and saved the rest for today.

Firstborn and 1BDH spent some time at the hospital last night and came back with no real news; the nurse couldn’t tell them anything. So they are going back this morning and hoping to catch the doctor on his/her rounds. LittleBit said that her dad apologized for scaring the daylights out of her.

I have one row left on the last repeat of chart 2 on Adamas. So I am heading back to my room to do that and to get started on chart 3, which I think has twelve rows instead of ten. At the moment I have 399 stitches on my circular needle. More increases lie ahead; I wonder how long this will take to bind off?

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the water

Middlest blogged yesterday that they appear to be in Hanna’s path. Maybe STBX’s non-rabbits will get whisked away by gale-force winds?

I got calls when I turned on the phone after the commute last night [about which more later], that the children’s father was on his way to the hospital after having had an apparent stroke. Firstborn was on her way to the hospital; LittleBit was also on her way, Secondborn would be heading there soon. They weren’t expecting me to show up but thought I should know.

[Girls: has anybody thought to inform your dad’s sister and brother? Either about the blood sugar episode from a couple of weeks ago, or about this?]

I called his home teachers and put them in the loop. They came out and gave him a blessing, with 2BDH’s assistance.

LittleBit called Middlest in VA and let her know.

Fourthborn was in her dad’s cubby at the emergency room when I got there [2BDH drove us there]. Fiancé was there and gave me a big hug. His folks showed up shortly thereafter.

LittleBit’s housemate showed up. I called Brother Sushi to ask him to pray for LittleBit; he loves her like one of his nieces.

LittleBit and Fourthborn remarked that we hadn’t had so much of the family in one place since Christmas, and that food would be a good idea. I shooed them out so I could talk to him.

I’m glad that I spent that evening a few weeks ago, writing out all the things that I forgive him for; I think that was more for me than for him, because all I told him was that whether he lives for another five weeks or another fifty years, I forgive him for the things he’s done and the things he didn’t do, and the disappointments, and I thanked him for all the good times that we had.

He said that he was sorry that he had left anything undone that he needed to be forgiven for. And I told him that I really, really miss the man he used to be, that the first five years of our marriage were everything I could ever have wished for, and that I’m glad that we had those years together, and I thanked him for the girls.

I was all soggy and red-faced when I walked out of the room, and Fourthborn and LittleBit both commented that I looked a whole lot happier than when I walked in there.

So: what I knew when writing the first part of this, at 11:08 on Friday night. He had a small stroke, maybe a 2 on the hospital’s how bad is this scale but not a 15 or a 20. It has affected his speech center, but that may all come back, or mostly come back. When they did the CAT scan, they found evidence of several [many?] previous TIA’s [transient ischemic attacks, or mini-strokes], chiefly in the part of the brain that affects balance. Which would explain a lot. He will be on some sort of anticoagulant for the rest of his life. He’s in the neurology wing, and this morning they will do an MRI. His blood sugar, at least for the moment, is normal.

He was in the car with LittleBit when it happened; she was driving. When they got home, he couldn’t get out of the car under his own power, and she couldn’t get him out, and he stopped breathing. One of the maintenance men did CPR and got him going again until the EMT’s came and took him to the ER.

I got a lot of knitting done on the train last night, and in the car on the way to the ER, and I knitted some more until I wound down enough to try and get some sleep. I inhaled a pint of BlueBell Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream in about 20 minutes while typing most of this up. And I slept from just before midnight to roughly 6:30 this morning.

I wonder if Firstborn and Secondborn got any sleep last night? When 2BDH brought me home, they were with their dad in the neuro ward, waiting to help fill out a raft of paperwork and get a more precise prognosis.

Touching briefly on the train ride home: Trainman and I talked food and weekend projects all the way home, while I knit. I had my cell phone on vibrate and in my purse, so I didn’t pick up the frantic calls from the girls. It wasn’t until I called Secondborn to give her Trainman’s license plate number and tell her I was following him to a taqueria because it looked like we were going to have dinner together although it didn’t sound or feel like a date, that I found out about their dad.

I bought my dinner. Trainman bought his. I fielded calls with a dying phone battery, took my dinner home and put it in the fridge. 2BDH came over and brought in the bookcase and moved the TV, and then he drove me over to the hospital. I think I will be having my aguacate torta for lunch. I was reasonably sure that if I tried to eat it before bedtime, it would come right back up again.

I think I am somewhere near the end of am about to finish the thirteenth repeat of chart 2 of Adamas. I was knitting on autopilot there at the hospital, and I had no idea when I went to bed if the last two or three rows bore any semblance to the pattern as graphed. I just checked them; miraculously, they look perfectly fine. Probably better than I do.

Looks like I missed out on my $5 turkey breast, a Friday-only special, from a local grocery store. I will go console myself with more knitting.

I don’t think this is going to be one of those weekends when I can leave my cell phone off. I wonder if I will finish Adamas today, or tomorrow?

Conejos and Their Anagram

There are two words in Spanish that I have to think very carefully before using, because I tend to confuse them, just as I used to confuse the signs for “with” and “shoes” in ASL. The first word means “rabbits”; the second word refers to boy bits, as one of my girls would say. It is a very good thing that Middlest’s SoonToBeEx is several states away, because if he were within range of my phenomenal mental powers, his not-rabbits would be in danger of whisking themselves off his body and vanishing into thin air.

His bimba is pregnant.

I think I might know how the mothers of King David’s authorized wives felt when they learned that Bathsheba was expecting. I think I might know how I would have felt, had any of my girls become pregnant out of wedlock and given up their babies for adoption. I think I might know something of what FirstHubby feels when he thinks about my girls. [We talked about it once, and he always sort of felt that they should have been his. Ours. He prays for their welfare on a regular basis. Good man; but I digress.]

I feel sad. And mad. And jealous that Middlest’s harridan of a mother-in-law gets to be a grandmother because of this pregnancy, and I do not. [Although, it’s not over until it’s over, and Heaven may have a Job’s-miracle in store for our family: a loving, righteous husband somewhere down the road for Middlest, and a healing of her reproductive issues; the age of miracles is far from past.]

In a perfect world, Middlest’s STBX would have been faithful. In a perfect world, that child would be my daughter’s, and I would be thinking of knitting tiny socks, and that baby would grow up with at least a toehold on the gospel. As sad as I feel for my daughter, I feel devastated for that poor, innocent infant, who didn’t ask to be born to a philandering father and a selfish, conniving mother. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up in a family where it is the norm to cheat on one’s spouse or to betray one’s best friend. What a charming example they set.

I was not doing very well at trying to be like Jesus yesterday; I am doing marginally better today. I have been making an extra effort to be nice to the people around me, those I speak to on the phone and those I see face to face, because it is not their fault that one of my sons-in-law is behaving badly. But what I want to do is shriek and howl and throw things. Sharp things would be particularly satisfying. This post will have to suffice.

The therapist whom I saw from late 2006 through early 2007 would be very proud of me for not only being aware that I am having feelings but being able to articulate them instead of stuffing them or intellectualizing them. They’re not pretty feelings, and they will pass, and peace will come again.

OK, on to happier topics:



Twelve repeats completed on Adamas. Yesterday was not a good day for knitting, because we know the dangers of angry knitting, chez Ravelled. It was an excellent day for eating pot roast at IHOP, [from the senior menu no less, woohoo!] and for snivelling when finally, blessedly, in private.

After taking the two boxes of photographs and 2BDH’s fiberglass tape over to Secondborn’s, and picking up the new-to-me bookcase that I don’t have quite enough oomph to get out of the car and up the steps, I came home and spent an hour or so online, working out yarn equivalencies for the Nut Border Cardigan, which has moved up to approximately fourth place in my queue. The specified yarn is discontinued [and would have cost me $176 and change]. If I make it in Gloss Sock, I could do it for just under $76; if I make it in Essential Tweed, it would be even less.

More happiness: the front gable, painted and awaiting its decorative gable vent.



The front porch.



A quirkier-than-thou shot of the front door, with mailbox. The paint looks blue because I snapped all of these about 7:30 last night. It’s actually a pale dove grey.



A before shot of the switchplate on the accent wall in my room.



Its replacement.



And the last bit of good news for this morning? The first clue for MS4 will be in my mailbox when I get home tonight, and 2BDH will come over after they feed the missionaries and he goes out teaching with them, to bring the bookcase in and to move my TV.

Because tonight, if I am not immediately in the mood to paint the base coat on my bedroom walls, I want to curl up on the couch with my knitting and my Emma Thompson Sense and Sensibility. An evening with Alan Rickman ought to restore my equanimity.

Alert the Media!

I asked for help at work yesterday. My scanning inbox, like my bucket of blessings, was runnething-over, all over my desk. It was not pretty.

What is pretty? Adamas, four rows into the 12th repeat of chart 2. Which leaves 2.6 repeats before chart 3, a/k/a the grand finale.

Had a good first working visit with my new Relief Society president last night. I have lots of stuff to read [tonight; I am moving it from the pile where I put it, onto my bed so I will pay attention to it] and much pondering to do. I told her about the suit and other business/professional clothing I have in my closet, and that I would rather it go to a sister in our ward who might need it for interviewing, than to some anonymous sister at the thrift store.

And on the way home, had another good visit with Trainman, catching up on each other’s weekends and respective home improvement progress.

I was so excited to see the review of Sunday Knits yarns in my weekly Knitters Review newsletter this morning. That tweed yarn made me go all pitty-pat. One of the sweaters in my queue is a tweed cardi with an intarsia border. A Sasha Kagan design.

I sat with one of my train buddies yesterday morning, a knitter. She told me she had signed up on Ravelry but hadn’t had time to do anything with it yet. I know that I am not utilizing it to the max, but I am so thankful for the functions that I do use.

Well, I have about [this] long to get ready if I want to catch my train, and I do. Have a great Thursday, everybody, and happy knitting!

Just a quick note, then I’m out the door

Not much knitting yesterday. The book that I picked up to read during dinner on Monday night was the first volume in Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. My two oldest girls love the book. BestFriend’s oldest daughter is more reserved in her opinion. My opinion? You’ll just have to wait until I have time to sit and write at my usual novella length.

I am about halfway through the 11th repeat of chart 2 on Adamas. It now takes me about 25 minutes to knit a row. Not including the counting. Which calls to mind Carl Sagan’s much-parodied phrase, “billions and billions”. I think we are on the cusp of the “slogging” part. If working my way through so much beautiful yarn could be considered slogging.

The Valley of Dry Bones

Another poem, begun in Sunday School in late fall 2006, when we were discussing the prophet Ezekiel’s vision of the resurrection of the dead and the healing of the Dead Sea:

The Valley of Dry Bones: Ezekiel 37
I am the valley of dry bones.
I am the fallow field, waiting, waiting
for the touch of the farmer’s hand,
for the sharp kiss of the plowshare.

And his breath is cool water
flowing out of the eastern gate,
pure and clear, carving a new wadi,
trees springing up like mushrooms
as the water soaks downward, downward.

And in the weeping of his earth
a sea is healed.
(c) 2006 [me]; all rights reserved. And as MimKnits says at the bottom of her patterns, be nice.

Nearly two years later, I am still not sure if this is a love poem or a God poem. I was about midway through my spiritual boot camp experience when I wrote it. Brother Abacus had made his brief, dazzling appearance [and unknown as yet to me, his disappearance].

I saw him at church when I went to help out Secondborn last week. He did not look well. I couldn’t tell if he was getting over something, or coming down with something, but he looked careworn. And any lingering traces of anger or sadness I might have harbored, just melted away.

I do not know why, when I have given my heart [even chastely, as in the last disaster] to a man and wisdom whispers to take it back, I do not get it all back. I do not know if this is a blessing, or a curse. I know that it feels good to no longer be angry or sad, to have the pain and frustration replaced with a tender if wary compassion. Or in the case of the children’s father, a weary compassion.

Something I shared with one of my girls yesterday: I heard something really neat in church [on Sunday]. It was about hanging in there during the hard times. And that when we are down in the valley, and we think that maybe God has forgotten about us, or is busy helping somebody else, but we just continue to do the things that are right, even if we’re not sure that they will lead to the desired result, or if our prayers will ever get answered in this life, the just-going-ahead-with-it-ness [Fourthborn would be so proud of me; must be the German blood manifesting itself] makes Him so happy and so proud of us. And it puts Him in a position to bless us. I found that very comforting.

I still struggle to manage my finances. I still struggle to obey. I still struggle to keep a house that is tidy enough for the Spirit to feel welcome. I still struggle to feed myself what my body needs for optimal health, instead of what is cheapest or easiest.

If the Savior were to knock on my door this afternoon, I’d invite Him in and clear off a chair and bake us some cookies. And then I would go show Him my closet, and the drawers in my room, and the one wall that’s finished. And then I’d let Him help me finish up the dishes while the cookies baked, and if He wanted to help me paint, I’d let Him. And I’d ask Him to help me do a better job keeping the commandments, and then I’d ask Him if He wouldn’t mind staying until the dance next Friday night and maybe lighting a fire under some of those brethren who have been going to the dances as long as I have, so that some of those good sisters could get married or remarried. [There’s nobody there, that I know of, that *I* would want.]

And I would thank Him for all the things that are going sweetly and peacefully in my life. I do that a lot anyway, but it would be nice to be able to look in His eye and tell Him.

And I would ask Him if He wouldn’t mind instructing the waterbugs to stay out of the duplex and to go pick on ministers who show “The Godmakers”, instead.

I wanted to see if I could move my bed without asking the kids for help. It is huge, and tall, and heavy. A bed to found dynasties on, a bed large enough for Ms. Ravelled and a 5’ x 8’ hooked rug in progress. [I know this because in 2000 - 2001 I spent nine months hooking that rug. I just rolled it up and kept it on the ahem, fallow side of the bed when I slept at night.] That bed probably weighs more than the refrigerator.

And by the grace of Heaven and the feisty determination of one middle-aged woman and the blessing of laminate flooring, I can! I celebrated by declaring that my Family Home Evening activity would be to hop in the car and take the clothes and the hangers down to the thrift store. Moving the bed really gave me an appetite, so I stopped at the bookstore for a paperback to read, and I went to one of my former haunts, a pancake house that’s open 24/7 and has the most amazing German pancakes, swimming in butter and hot lemon juice.

Adamas? I just finished the first row on repeat 11 of chart 2 and wound up a second cake of yarn. There will be spit-splicing sometime today if I do not miss my guess. And Knit Night, tonight; what a great way to start off the workweek!

One More Sent over to Ravelry!

I was knitting away before the combined Relief Society / Priesthood meeting yesterday when I heard, “Hi, I just came over to see what you were knitting.” And it wasn’t one of the RS sisters; it was one of the new hubbies that moved into our ward with his young family. He pulled his crocheting out of his pocket and grinned at me.

I asked him if he also knit, and he said that he knows how, but that he doesn’t like dropping stitches. I told him I knew what would fix that. He came back when the meeting was over, and I showed him my KnitPicks Harmony needles, with their handy little keyhole for tightening the joint between cable and needle, which is also good for stringing a lifeline through your work. [Not that I do that, of course; we know I would much rather count. And recount. And count yet again.]

He also tats. And told me about two brothers who make custom tatting shuttles and have some sort of act that they take on the road. I will have to check into that. I gave him the link to Ravelry and told him to get on the waiting list. He wrote it down.

Finding a place for the TV has not been easy. For one thing, it is rather large, and its stand is larger. Yesterday before church I slid the stand the length of the living room, through the hall, and into my room. Then I slid the TV as close to the stand as I could get it without actually picking it up and incurring the wrath of my youngest child. When she came to dinner, she hoisted the TV on top of the stand [which I had put where the dresser and ladder-back chair have stood for two months, because there are only two outlets in my room] and connected the new speakers to my computer.

She also connected the TV, VCR, and DVD player; all that I needed to do was to find my power cord so I could plug it in. Ten minutes or so after she hugged me and left, I found the cord. One small problem. It’s a three-prong plug, and the only available outlet is for a two-prong plug.

Out here in the living room, the shredder is connected to a three-prong outlet. I can move the small bookcase to the left of my computer desk somewhere and scoot this desk over a couple of feet and set up the TV where the desk now stands. That will give me relatively clear access to the doorway into the hall. And it would allow me to sit on the couch and watch TV. But it leaves me with two new questions: where does the bookcase go? and where do I plug in the shredder?

I guess it could go into the power strip. It would still be convenient to the desk. It would still be a few steps away from where I collect the recycling before I take it out to the bins.

Mutter, mutter, mumble, snort.

I managed to put another repeat of chart 2 on Adamas yesterday, in spite of nodding off repeatedly in church and at home. And established a few more pockets of order here and there. LittleBit thought that the collapsible drawers in the shoe organizers were pretty nifty.

This morning I have gone through my closet and pulled out a dozen or so items that still look nice, but I’m tired of them or I was never entirely crazy about the way they fit. They are folded neatly and stacked atop the large hatbox, which will go over to Secondborn’s house today, along with 2BDH’s fiberglass tape. I’ll drop the clothing off at the thrift store with about two dozen hangers.

I’ve decided that my pajamas will go into the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers. I have half a dozen really nice items that I would like to give to somebody in the ward, if there’s a need [my interview suit that got me my job, for one] And two items that are still lovely and fit well, but there are small stains, so I’m going to think up an embellishment that won’t look tacky and see if I can eke out a few more years of use from them. I threw several T-shirts into the rag pile; they may not get cut up for awhile, but they’re officially out of my closet.

I ate the last of the bread cheese pudding and the cherry pie filling for breakfast. [One of the perks of living alone: I can have dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, and nobody squawks.] That was awhile ago; I’m ready for a little snack. Hmm, do I want some champagne grapes, or those dolmas that I couldn’t resist at Central Market on Saturday?

I’ve decided to put the small bookcase over in the corner in the living room where the TV table was, at least for now. I’ve also put the CD’s away in their rack on the inside of my closet door. And there is still room for four of those lucite boxes to hold my accessories, if I decide to buy them after all.

I’m midway through the tenth repeat of chart 2 on Adamas. And I’m off to refuel, divest, and recycle. Happy Labor Day, everybody. I’m bagging the singles’ picnic tonight; I’m having too much fun here at home.

I am Spackle Woman, Hear Me Roar!

There is nothing like having the right tools for the job. Skinny sticky fiberglass tape borrowed from Secondborn and her hubby, as a foundation for the quick setting, light duty spackling compound [which is paintworthy in 15 minutes, not 24 hours, huzzah!]. My old putty knife, about 2” wide, to lay down the compound. And a bright shiny new 6” putty knife to smooth it.

You’ve seen the accent wall, painted in a flat finish. This is what it looks like now with a wash of glaze in the same color. I like the eggshell finish much better than the flat. Who knew? [Please excuse the general blurriness; this is my nod to the Impressionists. Yeah. That’s it.]



Next comes the base coat for the fancy walls. It was so hard to make myself go out and play with others last night. I just wanted to stay home and paint until the cows came home. But I had a great time! The person who was supposed to teach us salsa was unavailable, so I ended up teaching them to line dance. I also demonstrated my lack of putting ability during the “games” portion of our fun and games.

We had plenty of good simple food: sandwiches, potato salad, olives, and at one point our choice of a Popsicle or a miniature “drumstick” ice cream cone. And pumpkin pie for anybody who still had room at the inn. I did not.

I met some new people, including a good brother who plays the piano, whistles gracefully and on key, and can tell jokes in multiple languages. One of the sisters in my ward is Japanese-born; he had her laughing and wiping her eyes. Another sister at our table spoke Spanish; he made sure that she was included. And he spoke a little French to me and related it to both the Japanese and the Spanish equivalents. All of this without being pedantic, overbearing, or obnoxious in general. [Naturally, he is too old to be a romantic prospect, but another JustFriend is always welcome.]

I am ready to tape newspapers over the windows and mask two of the three walls. I wonder if I will be able to move my bed all by myself, or if I will need to wait until LittleBit and her friend come over tonight? Emptying the bookcases and moving them across the room would definitely come under the heading of “labor”, so I will save them and their wall for tomorrow. Will be quite happy to help keep the labor in Labor Day.

Fourthborn’s Fiancé’s socks are wrapped, with a really great card that I found last night after the singles’ activity, and are ready to go. I am hoping that LittleBit will deliver them tonight.

I have put my large hatbox by the front door; I didn’t make it to Secondborn’s yesterday to return the wallboard tape, so will kill two or three birds with one stone tomorrow. The hatbox is full of photos from her father’s childhood. I’m not sure why I still have them, but they are safe, and I will be happy to turn them over to her and bring back an empty hatbox.

In knitting news, I have finished another repeat of chart 2 on Adamas. That’s eight, eight lovely repeats [cue The Count: bwa ha ha ha ha]. I’m heading back for more knitting, but first I will replace the switchplate by the bedroom door. I almost bought one that could be painted or decoupaged, but I was a little leery about the set-up for the plugs. I will definitely get one for by the front door, however, particularly if I go with Venetian plaster for the long wall and a compatible treatment on the other three walls. That switch seems a couple of degrees off plumb, and it will be less visible to me if I go with the upscale switchplate.

It is not 10° off plumb like the one in our bathroom in the old house in Irving; that one made me twitch every time I walked into the room. One of our friends who was a framing carpenter said that our house must have been framed by drunks, because one of my bedroom windows was 3” off square. That was easily obscured by my window treatment.

Puttering and Blissing Out

Today is Fourthborn’s Fiancé’s birthday. Happy birthday, J! We are so glad that you are part of the family! Pictures of the birthday socks to follow in the next day or so.

In far less eternally significant news, I finally sewed a button on this jacket. [Three buttons, actually; I think there must have been some roughness on the button shafts of the buttons it came with that chewed through thread like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. So I went through my stash and came up with these.] Bad, cannibalistic old buttons.



Good buttons. At least I’m hoping they are; time will tell.



The purists among you will note that the middle button is bit darker than its neighbors; it also has a slightly different pattern. I will be very surprised if anyone else notices. One more item of clothing out of the mending box and back into service!

And in the spirit of out with the old, in with the new, I will be replacing this ...



... with these.



Two of them are slightly smaller in diameter; they will go onto the top two drawers. If this were not a seven-drawer chest, I would have not been able to find enough compatible drawer knobs. I will take more pictures when I’ve repainted the dresser.

I indulged in a red linenesque holder for all my knitting magazines.



And here is where we stand on Adamas on a bright Saturday morning.



I am off to bribe myself with more knitting. One procrastinated task, two rows. All the laundry put away, another two rows. You know the drill.

Feeling Thankful, Getting Creative

It’s a beautiful Friday morning in my world. Ordinarily I would be watering the garden about now, so that I could leap in the car and head for the park and ride. But today I’m on vacation [again with the nanny nanny boo boo], and while I will head outside in a few minutes to water the tomatoes and basil, I will then come inside and knit until it’s time to leave for the laundromat.

I just opened the electric bill. Not good, but much better than the worst one I got at the apartment this time last year. So overall, I’m thankful. I will bump up the setting on the window units in my room and the studio. The thermostat fairies keep resetting them to 72°F [22°C]. I have the living room unit set to 78°F [26°C] and am perfectly comfortable with the ceiling fan going.

I really like the small dish drainer I bought a couple of weeks ago. It works so well with the built-in drainboard. I think that I might eventually want to get one of those gel kitchen mats to stand on while washing the dishes, but I’d like to stand on one first and see if it would be comfy or crazy-making for my feet.

The respiratory therapist will be by later this morning to check out my CPAP. I can’t believe I’ve been using it for a year now. She will make sure that it is working as well as I think it is. And then she will probably twist my arm to order a few replacement parts.

Today I will go pick up the rest of the paint and supplies for my bedroom walls. I think I might end up with enough leftover paint that I could repaint that brown seven-drawer chest. It’s just a cheapie that I was given by a friend who used to manage a storage unit. Someone had vacated and left it behind, possibly because the particleboard on the back is bashed in. It might be fun to paint the case with the same color I will use for the base coat on the three remaining walls, and then paint each drawer one of the coordinating colors. And maybe update the drawer pulls. I’ll measure the spacing between screw holes and see what I can find.

Daisy Cottage has painted a number of pieces of furniture, and I really like the effect. Her color choices remind me of the colors in my Mary Engelbreit “Snap Out of It!”poster.

I may also pick up paint chips for the living room. I am thinking maybe a warm caramel brown, more reddish than yellow.

And of course there will be knitting, every spare moment. I have completed the sixth repeat [out of fourteen] on chart 2 of Adamas. Still feeling the love. One more repeat and I will be roughly 25% done. So this will probably be a four-week project, and then on to the Sunrise Circle Jacket or the crop cardi from KnitSimple.

Home Depot and the laundromat both open in one hour. Decisions, decisions!

“Kinnear him”, says Tola. The problem is that I am only intermittently successful at photographing things I am aiming at, head-on. [That profile of the truck, several months ago, was purely and simply a fluke.] Plus, I think the flash might tip him off.

I say we wait until Middlest is home from VA. We put her on the train to BigD, she meets me at work just before quitting time, we walk to the station together, she sits across the aisle, and she gets both a decent photograph of him, and a “have you seen this man?” sketch. The child is multiartual.

She stays on the train when Trainman and I walk off and go our separate ways. She rides back to the ITC, I drive over and pick her up. We publish. The girls say, “You think he’s cute?” and all my same generation girlfriends offer to arm-wrestle me for a spot on the train.

For those of you who have no idea what kinnearing is.

My vacation day was approved. Today is my Friday, nanny-nanny-boo-boo. I went out last night and bought a pint of ice cream, a small container of red pepper hummus, and a box of generic Ziploc bags to transport these.



I am driving in, because these smell even better than they look, and I have no wish to be divested of these piggies before the farewell breakfast at 9:00.

I put almost thirty rows on Adamas yesterday. Lots and lots of knitting time. We had a support staff meeting that ran long. I knitted before it began, and I knitted some more after the paralegals were excused. It was a good meeting, and the only thing that kept me awake for the latter part was my knitting. And then, of course, I knitted at lunch and on the train.

That book I loaned one of my attorneys? He brought it back yesterday. I sent it home with Trainman. Another good conversation, this time with knitting because I’ve worked enough repeats that I can look at it and tell what to do next.



He asked what “the pink things” are. I explained the purpose of stitch markers. He thought that was pretty cool. I asked if he knew where there was a Little Caesar’s. He did not. But as I turned onto the highway from the park and ride, the first thing I saw was a billboard telling me to turn right at the next exit if I wanted pizza. So I did.

And as I flew over the train station with a car full of happy pizza smells, I hollered in the general vicinity of the train, “Hey, Trainman! I got pizza!”

Nice, nice man. Somebody help me figure out how to roll his odometer forward about ten years? [P.S. Middlest, Honey? I saw him first. Age before beauty, and all that.]

“I think you should take a picture of Trainman. We are curious.”

[I inadvertently deleted Firstborn’s comment re: Trainman. Or maybe it was Freudian. Anyway, I copied it from the email that Blogger sent me and posted it.]

And I would explain the necessity, how? “Hi, sit still so I can take a picture of you for my blog because my oldest kid wants to know what you look like. And so do thirty or forty other people who read my blog.”

I think I’m so comfortable with him because I consider him too young to date [not that he has asked]. I get to be myself, and he can sit with me or not.

As for what he looks like, I don’t think any of my girls would notice him if he walked by on the street: typical 40-something businessman. Smart. Bespectacled. Tidy. Oh, and short. I didn’t realize that he was short [because I get on the train almost half an hour earlier than he does, so I’m always sitting by the window when he shows up] until we both stood up to leave on Monday night. He’s not much taller than I am, maybe 5’7”? Dark hair going salt-and-pepper. Clean-shaven. I don’t think he would even be a blip on their Hottie Meter.

But you know? It’s refreshing to look up and see a face beaming down at me with the same expression of “hey, I remember you, and I *like* you!” that BittyBubba gives me, only coming from someone closer to my own age. It’s not the look I see on the faces of my male friends. And it’s definitely not the greeting I get from the brethren at the singles’ activities.

So, it’s nice.

Changing the subject. Lots of other neat things have happened this week, possibly of a less ephemeral nature. I won two auctions for vintage scarves; they should arrive next week. When I got to Knit Night, Micki had this for me.



[Allspunup is the Etsy dyer.] Can you believe it? She was stash busting and thought it needed to come home with me. It’s even softer than it looks. I let Brother Sushi pet the wool when I went over to pick up speakers for my computer. [I will be listening to the soothing voice of David Reidy all weekend, woohoo!] His comment? “I bet that is going to be soft when you spin it up.” I bet he’s right!

I have provisionally asked for Friday off. I am in the mood to put on my painting clothes and make glorious messes. And four days is better for that, than three.

The turquoise swatch, unswum. And a little bleary-eyed. Size 5: 17.5 sts/in; size 6: 16.5 sts/in; size 7: 16.5 sts/in.



The turquoise swatch, swum. Size 5: 16.5 sts/in; size 6: 15.5 sts/in; size 7: 15 sts/in. Bled quite a bit in the sink, but not as egregiously as that turquoise silk mess from the indy dyer that Grace had to deal with. [Thank you for suggesting so sweetly and strongly that I do this, Jeri.] Looks like the Sunrise Circle Jacket is a go, once I have larger needle tips.



And in the meantime, I am halfway through the third repeat of Chart 2 on Adamas.

Grey Is the New Whatever

I suddenly remembered while driving to work yesterday that I have a grey skirt, because I whipped one up for Secondborn’s wedding in 2000. It came to light in that last batch of boxes in the hall, which I unpacked while looking for something else.

Last night’s family home evening activity was to tidy up the vent at the back of the skirt and secure it with a neat diagonal line of backstitching. The skirt is a classic cut, so I don’t need to worry about its looking “dated”. And it still fits!

I cannot seem to take a decent picture of it, however, so you will just have to wait. Once I have my sample cards from KnitPicks, I can make a sweater to go with it, and then I will have a suit. [Or something suit-ish.] I spent a little time on their website yesterday, jotting down the stock numbers of yarns that might be a good match. Some of the sample cards won’t be available for order until the end of next week, however. Good thing I have this to work on:



This is how far I got on Adamas yesterday. Much better. I think that most, if not all, of my future lace projects will be knit with Gloss Lace, unless it’s a project specifically designed for hand-painted laceweight yarn.

I would have gotten farther, but Trainman plopped down in the seat next to me, and we nattered happily until we reached Fort Worth. I am partway into the second repeat of Chart 2.

Time for me to pull my swatch for the turquoise cardi out of its bath and pin it out to dry. Shhh, don’t tell Jeri that I swam my swatch!

I wonder if the snails told them there was [near] beer?

I spent late Saturday night chasing waterbugs, the really big roaches that live outside and like to come in when it’s wet. Not the small black roaches or the bigger German browns that are so pesky when you live in apartments, and which [thankfully] appear not to have made the move with me. That last place was safe, but buggy.

The little roaches usually mean that you are a rotten housekeeper, or that your neighbors are. The big ones are not such an embarrassing declaration, merely a confounded nuisance. But a great source of aerobic exercise! I have a clear plastic container that I plop down over them [so I can keep an eye on them], and a large, thin sheet of cardboard that I slide under the container, the better to transport them to their watery grave in the loo. Having lived in Texas for nearly 30 years, I am a gold medalist in the five-meter waterbug death sprint!

This is the downside to having all these trees and bushes on the property :(

I am hoping that when we get the new doors and the woodwork is replaced on the bathroom window, that I will have seen the last of these guys. I flushed *three* of them Saturday night.

But my resting heart rate is stellar, thank you very much!

On to more pleasant topics. I think I know what I want to do with my unpainted bedroom walls. I spent too much time watching HGTV how-to videos on my computer on Saturday night [in between sprints] and studying several faux finish techniques. I think I want to do a parchment effect, using the second color on my paint chip [Behr Rose Chintz, #140D-5] as foundation and the other two colors [Shangri La, #140D-6 and Classic Cherry, #140D-7] as accents.

I love love love the Classic Cherry, and it tones wonderfully with my quilt, but I’m thinking it might be a bit much for three whole walls. If I have a mélange of the three darker tones on the paint chip, everything will play nicely together. But that also means that I will probably want to glaze the first wall with the last of its paint, thinned with acrylic glaze and water, so I won’t have three eggshell walls and one matte wall. That would also take care of the two or three bits that I missed when I painted it two weeks ago.

And it would keep me out of the pool halls just that much longer while I wait for the KnitPicks order I hope to be placing on Friday. [Tinks, Sisters of the Wool, is there anything you need to order from them?] I’m planning to get color cards for all the WOTA varieties and Harmony needle tips in US 5 through 8 and maybe some of the shorter cables. And maybe Harmony DP’s in sizes that I lack; whatever it takes to hit that magic $50 mark that equals free shipping. I might even bite the bullet and get my own set of blocking wires. It’s almost time for Mystery Stole #4.

Fourthborn’s Fiancé’s socks are done. I finished the first one, all but grafting the toe, at church yesterday. And by the time that Relief Society was over, I was nearly ready for the toe decreases on the second sock. Pictures are up on Ravelry. I’ll post them here sometime after his birthday.

This is what I am doing while I wait for the right needles to make the Sunrise Circle Jacket. And/or the cropped cardi. I have had Adamas in my queue for the better part of a year. And I am hoping it will prove sufficiently simple for train knitting. It may go into timeout for MS4, or I may finish it and knit MS4 long after everybody else has finished. [No, I am not the world’s most compliant knitalongeuse.] This is the yarn I will be using.



I suspect that I will be making several cardigans this fall; the thermostat for our meetinghouse is controlled remotely. As in, Tennessee. I could wear my black leather jacket at church, in Texas, in August. It is so cold in our building that it is a relief to walk outside after church and sit in the car for a minute or so before turning on the A/C. [How cold? Well, I don’t foresee a passel of baby brass monkeys anytime soon.]

When I came home from church with 1.9 completed socks and my scripture tote and my big red bag and [Almost]Cozy, the painter was locking up the other side of the duplex. He will be getting started today. [It was he who removed the “Eloy please call” sign; he thought it was delightful.]



I caught this post about 15 seconds before I had scheduled it to be published. I love Adamas. And I do not like the yarn, at least for this pattern; I think it will probably be perfect for Muir, which is also in my queue. So I wound up a ball of the KnitPicks Gloss Lace in Aegean, and I think I will like that much better.



Yes, this is the yarn that I bought to make myself a floaty tunic of a sweater. Yes, I might be putting that project in jeopardy. Yes, I will deal with that in the best Scarlett O’Hara tradition: tomorrow. And yes, I am also packing my much-neglected copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide, just in case I’m not any happier with Adamas 2.0.

And I found out what is wrong with my tomatoes: borers of some sort. Sigh...

Silk Purse in Progress, and Fun in Siberia [?!]

I do believe that something which the neighbors might once have said was distinctly ear-shaped is beginning to rustle like silk! My friend says that the new doors are in at the home center and that the other items are in transit.

The guy who carted off the old stove and miscellaneous scrap metal, got in touch with her and will be painting the exterior. [We had a sign out front that said “Eloy please call me or leave your new number in the mailbox.” I can only imagine what the neighbors must have thought! I would give you a visual, but after my friend called to say that I could take down the sign, I took a nap instead; when I woke up the sign was gone. Otherwise, this post would have been entitled “Eloy’s Coming, Hide Your Heart, Girl”. It’s OK. Now I don’t have to apologize to Three Dog Night.]

I am starting to daydream about a couple of containers for along the front walk. But I don’t want to do that until the big noisy boys have finished tromping all over the yard and playing dodge-ball with ladders and toolboxes.

I have lost track of what happens when, but I do know that my friend has a honey-do list for both halves of the duplex that is as long as my arm. Possibly longer. Every time I think that living here cannot possibly get any more comfortable, she thinks up some new refinement.

By the time I had the sky pictures uploaded to Blogger last night, the storm had moved south. I sat on the porch for five or ten minutes until the mosquitoes found me. What can I say? I am just so sweet that they cannot stay away. Who knew that the average mosquito is wiser than [if not smarter than] the average middle-aged man?

I need want to get speakers for this computer. Recommendations, anyone? I don't want to rock the neighborhood, but I do want to listen to my podcasts. The window unit here in the living room keeps me oh so comfy and is only slightly noisier than the A/C at the previous apartment, but the difference is sufficient that I cannot easily listen to podcasts or the HGTV shows which I only discovered last night are available online, for free, but which cannot be tweaked for volume, unlike HGTV’s how-to videos].

When I went to bed this morning, both heels were complete on the Maybe Not So Boring Black Boot Socks. It was a good stopping point.

Now this? This is cool! A young single adult conference in Siberia, of all places. It puts my trek to our not-young singles dances in Lewisville [35 miles] and Richardson [50 miles] squarely in perspective. At least I do not have to take the Trans-Siberian Railway to get there. They looked as if they were having way more fun than we do at some of our activities. We are having one here in Fort Worth next weekend. I am looking forward to it. I have never not had a good time at one of the FW activities; I see no reason why things should be any different this time around.

Another Lovely Quiet Saturday in the Works

Written at Dark-Thirty
I went to bed early last night and woke up a few minutes before 3:00 this morning. The Maybe Not So Boring Black Boot Socks have heel shaping and are ready for their gussets. I just washed some dishes and am about ready for more knitting.

Those two scarves on eBay came and went before I could unscrew the inscrutable and bid on them. I got a polite and essentially useless response from tech support at eBay, saying that it was a PayPal issue, and a polite and possibly more useful response from PayPal. In the meantime, I have bid on a couple of vintage silk scarves, and we shall see how that goes.

I am just about in the mood to go play in my closet. [Well, I was at 6:30 this morning; the mood has passed.] I want to rearrange storage units in there, lay clothes out on the bed and try new color combinations, and divide up my accessories by color family. Shopping my closet is always more fun for me than shopping in stores or online, because I already know what suits me, and what fits. It’s then just a matter of “what do I want to wear today?” or “could I combine things differently?”

I also need to do laundry before it becomes critical, and check the tomatoes and basil, and I think take a nap sooner rather than later.

Have been reading the delightful book of essays that BestFriend sent me. Nice little noshes for the mind. And I am resisting the temptation to begin the Twilight series, though the girls have offered, because I know once I begin, nothing else will get done around here until I am finished.

Go take a look at Lene’s new scarf and felted hat. That scarf is from her handspun. And the pattern for it [Fiddlehead] is going into now in my queue on Ravelry.

Written Somewhat Later
I got that nap, after finishing the heel on the first sock and beginning the gusset decreases on the second one. Woke up just in time for dinner but went out to check on the garden first.



Something’s up with the tomato plants. I don’t know if it was all the rain last week, or if they really dislike being upside down.



Maybe it’s something in the garden soil mixture that I bought, dripping out on the leaves when I water and burning them? I have so much to learn before I can turn this backyard into a Garden of Eatin’.



The basil looks a wee bit happier with me. Does anybody know what those black spots are on the leaves? After snapping this picture, I got rid of the crepe myrtle blossoms that had blown into the bucket. I love crepe myrtles. I just don’t want any of them sprouting up in my basil.

I realized this morning that I didn’t need to make a trip to Town Talk. [Or anywhere else, really, except the laundromat, and it’s now late enough that I don’t want to go.] I have enough cheese and crackers to last for several weeks, for nights when it’s too hot to cook, or I’m not in the mood. I will only need to pick up fresh fruit every few days. And I’m out of ramen noodles and frozen spinach which, sorry, I much prefer to fresh.

Oh [non-sarcastic] goodie! I think I just heard a roll of thunder. I tried to get a picture of the trees dancing in the breeze that is sweeping ahead of the storm.



This is one of the porch pillars that will be rebuilt/replaced very soon.



And now if you all will excuse me, I'm going to take my knitting out on the porch and watch the show.

Window Shopping, Virtual and Literal

The fall issue of “Real Simple” says that grey is the big color for fall. I am actually a bit ahead of the game, since I’ve blocked [Almost]Cozy and have worn it to church once already. I knitted it up from my charcoal grey Berroco Denim Silk. And I have that lovely black and white tweed skirt with the lace hem, which reads as grey from a distance. I'm thinking that I want an actual sweater in some sort of grey yarn. So I am pondering the KnitPicks WOTA kettle-dyed in Soot, or maybe one of their heathered yarns, or maybe their Andean Silk. This will be decided *after* I have figured out what I am doing with my turquoise Chelsea Silk.

I did some browsing on the Coldwater Creek website yesterday, and after work I went into the local store and tried on the one item that had come in; they’re not getting one of them in-store, and the other should arrive shortly. I tried on a light teal jacquard jacket with ruffled trim, something that I would have said wouldn’t look good on me, and it was just fine, particularly in the shoulders.

The color is wrong to go with what I have in my closet, and I’m not crazy about the other colors that it comes in, so I won’t be buying it when it goes on sale at 70% off in a few months, but it was a useful exercise. I will check back in a couple of weeks to see if the teal swing jacket has come in. It’s suede and also comes in terracotta, and again I am not interested in purchasing it, but I want to see how it fits. If it were black or charcoal grey or a classic red, then I might buy it once it went on sale in the online outlet, but even at 70% off I’m not willing to buy something that is trendy in color and cut. One or the other, yes; both, no.

I also went to Avenue and tried on a couple of jackets. The colors are great, but the fabric isn’t as nice as the Coldwater Creek offerings, and the buttons are icky [great concept, poor execution] and would have to be replaced. So if I can pick one up in a few weeks for $15, I might do that, because they go with what I already have. None that I liked are grey, however; there was one charcoal grey jacket that was so-so, and another that didn’t appeal because it was metallic.

I am looking at scarves on eBay, something that would tie what I have with the new colors for fall, and I’ve found two that I like, but for some reason I can’t purchase from that dealer. My PayPal is linked to my eBay account; I’ve confirmed it twice.

I think the darker teal Gloss Lace will become a long floaty jacket or maybe a kimono. Trendy color, classic cut. I just want to work a project or two in fat yarn before I go back to that skinny stuff.

Good progress yesterday and this morning on both socks for Fiancé. Can’t wait to come home tonight and curl up on the bed with my knitting! But between now and then, there is train knitting and knitting on my breaks and knitting at lunch. Oh, and more knitting.

If you can drown a snail in a saucer of beer

Will putting out a saucer of near-beer only give it a near-death experience? I went out to the car last night to get the last chocolate chip cookie. [Still in its Ziploc bag; I’m a lot more relaxed about desserts these days, now that I’m not sharing them with a houseful of urchins offspring blessings. That mincemeat pie lasted over a week and a half, because I felt no compulsion to get “my share” of it. And this cookie has been in the car a couple of days.]

I saw a big fat sassy snail on the porch, and another climbing up the steps. I remembered the O’Doul’s on the shelf in my kitchen. So I grabbed a saucer and my house keys [to open the can; I paid good money for these nails]. And I poured a quarter of the can all over my hand and a bit more into the saucer, and got a whole lot of it on the porch. Whatever will the neighbors think?



This is what I saw this morning. Somewhere in the shrubbery there is a snail with a headache, singing the Whiffenpoof Song. So, after a good night’s sleep, I brought in the big guns. The saucer for one of my pots, and a full can of O’Doul’s.



On to happier topics. Behold: a flower.



I saw this little guy when I rolled the trash bin out to the curb Tuesday morning. So I took a picture. I couldn’t figure out how to take a good one; this will have to do. [Ansel Adams’ ghost is rolling his eyes.] I’ve never seen anything like this before. It sprang up almost literally overnight.

When I backed up the car, I spied several just like him between the tree and the driveway. And as I pulled forward on the street, I saw even more of them in front of the other half of the duplex. Enchanting! If there are any of them left on Saturday, I will pick one and take it to the nursery and ask “what is this?”



I would like to protect them from the lawnmower and move them someplace safe, once they have stopped blooming. And I want to learn about them. They are probably some sort of noxious weed that is plotting to take over the yard and come in through the dryer vent and strangle me in my sleep. But until I know that for sure, I think they’re purdy. And I hope they stick around.

When I rolled the bins back to the side of the house after Knit Night, I noticed that the flowers were opening up. I think they might be some kind of lily. Whether they are Momicidal, remains to be seen.

Second sock is cast on. First sock was done, down to the three needle bind-off at the toe, and then I tried it on the non-athletic foot, over a sock. Just enough longer than my own foot to be a good fit for Fiancé. Unfortunately, I had botched the cast-on and it was way too tight, even for his much slimmer ankles. So it is frogged, and I have begun to reknit it. I will probably not use a three needle bind-off when I finish these socks for real; I think that the fatness of the yarn will make it too bulky for comfort.

And comfort is what handknitted socks are all about. Thankfully, it was only four days’ work, and I love this yarn, so it just means more happy knitting time. And his birthday isn’t until the end of the month.

A Day of Much Knitting

I ended up driving in. Tried to cram in too much between waking at 5:00 and when I should have left at 6:30. Thankfully, one of my co-workers is on vacation, so I was able to park in her spot for free, woohoo!

Had a nice, productive morning at my desk. When I got back from lunch, our server was down. No intranet. No Outlook. No editing-of-documents. So I grabbed the sock and knitted away for two hours, between phone calls and incoming faxes, until the managing attorney and the office manager said, “Everybody go home.” [Outlook would come up for 15 seconds and be down for ten minutes, up for a minute and down for half an hour. Crazy-making, if one is not a knitter.]

What to do with all that serendipitous free time? I took the paperwork to Fourthborn at her job. It was so cool to walk in the door and see her at her desk, doing one of the many things she does so well. And to see Fiancé sitting way in the back at his own desk. We couldn’t persuade him to take off a shoe so I could get his shoe size or foot length. And somebody[ies] forgot to email me last night with that information. I also left the deposit slip with her, because LittleBit was picking them up after work.

Then I drove up to Barnes and Noble and got a four-cheese panini and a big glass of water. I flipped through the fall Interweave Knits, Knitters Magazine, and Vogue Knitting. Saw two or three things in each that I wouldn’t mind making, but nothing that said, “Whip out your debit card right now and take me home!”

Went to Knit Night and gave Jeri back all of that yummy WOTA. Julia had brought Harmony needles in the sizes I needed to try. She swatched on one, I swatched on the other. Then I scootched her stitches onto the end of my needle, and my stitches onto her now-empty needle, and we swatched again. And Joy handed me a different needle [Bryspun? Denise?] in a size 7, and I swatched with that.

I like the fabric best on the 5’s, but in stockinette it doesn’t quite give me the gauge I’m aiming for. And my gauge on the 6’s was a bit tighter; weird, but Jeri says that has happened to her in the past, where the gauge on the larger needle was more snug than the gauge on the smaller needle. She gave me the knitterly equivalent of The Wife Look and suggested [tactfully but firmly] that I swim the swatch before knitting the project.

I told her, “No, no, no.” because it makes her crazy, and is the proper response to The Wife Look if one is feeling contrary. Don’t tell her, but I will probably swim the swatch tonight.

I need to grab another ball of the black yarn. I have turned the heel on the first sock and will knit it to where I think the toe ought to begin and put it in time-out until I hear either, “Yes, I would love a pair of handknit socks. This is how long to make them.” or “No, thanks, I would rather have a boring, unimaginative gift card to the bookstore.” And then I will start the second sock. No idea, at this point, if they have fixed the technical difficulties at work. It would not do to be sitting at my desk, reading every word in the incoming faxes because I am bored to tears.

Much better to be sitting at my desk, smiling, because I know how to knit and am productively using my time. Maybe I ought to grab two balls of yarn, just in case.

A Quiet Evening at Home

And amazingly enough, a good night’s sleep, for which I am thankful this morning. When I went to bed last night, I had approximately half a sock done for Fiancé’s birthday present. [Fourthborn confirmed that yes, he would almost certainly like a pair. He will have to wash them himself, by hand, because she is allergic to wool, and these are not made of superwash yarn.] But no pictures until they are done and in his hands, sorry! And as soon as I turn the heel on this sock, I will have to put it in time-out and cast on for the other, until she can get me either a foot measurement or a sock size.

I just needed an instant-gratification project that wouldn’t argue with me. While I am officially enrolled in the Summer of Socks, I have not knit pair one before this, as I have been fighting athletes foot since shortly before the move, and I didn’t want to befoul a skein of hand-painted sock yarn.

I am thinking that the Chelsea Silk might do very well for the Sunrise Circle Jacket, which needs to be about 15% larger than the largest charted size in order to fit me well, and that if I can find needles which give me a gauge of precisely 16 stitches per four inches, rather than the 18.5 stitches per four inches the pattern specifies, that would do it. I like this yarn at four stitches per inch; it’s not as loosey-goosey as that first sweater, and it’s not cramped and stiff like the two back panels on my first attempt at the crop cardi from KnitSimple.

Maybe, instead of ordering fat yarn for Fur Sure next payday like I had hoped, I will buy enough of the kettle-dyed from KnitPicks to knit up the crop cardi; they certainly have some lovely colors!

Bathtub is full, stomach is empty, and recycling needs to go out. I grabbed the packet of worksheets from that “how to decide what is best for your elderly loved one” class I took; I will give them to Fourthborn tonight. [And maybe she will have those numbers I need, in exchange?] I also need to give LittleBit a deposit slip so she can give me her share of the car insurance premium.

I finally printed up a sheet of return-address labels with the new address. And the directions for the Sunrise Circle Jacket. Dinner was the last salad from Sunday night’s dinner [I had made an extra, in case their son could come with them], and some of the oven-fried sweet potatoes that I don’t remember where I got them, and a whole package of frozen spinach with a nice blob of the wasabi ranch dressing.

My thoughts are skittering around like drops of water on a hot griddle, so I will post this and look up the heel flap from the International Sock of Doom [Sock Wars 2006]. I’m driving in partway today, because tonight is Knit Night. And I need some chick time.

Kristen, thank you for your comment yesterday on grief = lungs; in my case my lungs are especially vulnerable because my parents smoked for 40+ years. When I was so cranky and frustrated with the Near Date Experience because I could not get a word in edgewise [hard to believe, but nevertheless true], I got so angry that I gave myself bronchitis. Our last phone conversation, he was talking and talking, and I was coughing and coughing. Finally I gasped, “Hang on a minute” and put the receiver against my leg until I stopped coughing. Then I told him I would call him back in a couple of days, and that when we spoke again, I hoped that I could do at least half of the talking.

It is not natural for a man to talk as much as a woman. It’s just not right.

[Oh man, I am still angry about that four years later, because typing this set off a coughing jag!] He left me a voicemail the next day, saying that after our previous conversation he saw too many similarities with his ex-wife, and he didn’t think it was a good idea if we dated. I agree. He is a good man, with a good heart, and he needs and deserves to be listened to, which I was [mostly] happy to do. But so do I.

I am going to make myself a nice healthy smoothie, and then I am going to hop in the tub and unclench my chest before the water goes cold, or I perish like Mimi in La Bohème.