I continue to amaze myself

with my ability to procrastinate.

Mini B's sweater is not going so well. The back has been put aside, because I'm at the point where I need to decrease for the raglan sleeves. I was not going to attempt the math, working from a top-down pattern but working bottom-up when I was well into my third beer. I'm crazy, not stupid.

Just for fun (and because I have oodles of time (ha!)) I cast on the neck as instructed in Five Fruits (but adjusting for gauge, naturally). I am not loving my button holes, and since intarsia in the round is practically impossible, I realize this is not a productive use of my time.

Today, Sunday, normally a pretty big knitting day at Chez Peepee, I have not even looked at the sweater. I have, drum roll please, been CLEANING.

A little background...

Before I purchased Chez Peepee, I was the biggest organizational, neat freak, obsessive compulsive behavioral person you had ever encountered. And, I liked it that way.

Not so much, in the last year. Buying this house, small and cute as it is, was a bite far bigger than I could chew. And events of the summer and fall have kicked my ass.

I have seriously neglected all household duties. Really, the only reason I appeared at work in clean clothes is because I am having an intense love affair with my washer and dryer (you haul your laundry nine blocks down the street on your back... for three years. Most of it soaking wet because you pre-treat stains and whites. You'd be in love, too).

If I had children, and some child-protective agency had come to visit, I would have lost custody of my children, for sanitary reasons. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING! When my brother and Mini B came for a visit a few weeks ago, I wouldn't allow them to take off their shoes, because the carpet was that dirty. And, my brother told my mom that my house smelled of cat pee. I see no reason to disbelieve him. The fact that I didn't pull out all the stops and clean frantically for my brother's impending visit is a pretty good sign that all is not well, mental-health-wise. Normally, no matter how bad I'm feeling, I manage to put on a pretty good show.

In conclusion, Mini B's sweater might very well be late this year. That's OK. Christmas, on the very day, is not a priority for my family. I don't need to go home until I'm good and ready. And right now, I need to be at home, perhaps finally having a go at that disaster of a basement. Because the smell is not just in my head.

Grrr!

I mentioned in my last post that I am beginning a course on Monday.

I know the office received my application, because I had a phone call with a question. But as of last night, no confirmation.

Today I called. It turns out, they don't mail confirmations anymore. It's email only, and the person sending the email had a typo in the address. So, fine, she sent an orientation message that would give me the gist of things.

I go to the web-site, and I cannot sign in. My user id does not exist (the user id I've had for oh, about seven years now). I call the office again. The poor woman on the other end tells me that I need to email tech support. I am more than impolite when I tell her that's not acceptable, and I need a user id, and I need it NOW. So, she keys in my name, and tells me that I have a different user id now.

Thanks. When were you going to let me know? And, how?

I am furious.

One of the reasons I gave up taking courses is that it's all delivered on-line, and there were platform problems, database problems, proof-reading problems, other problems that I don't even remember anymore, and for an organization that prides itself on communication (and drilled that good communication skills were necessary into us, the students) any communication was absolutely abysmal. I know bad grammar and incomplete sentences when I see them, and I was not impressed. A sentence fragment is not a question, and I don't care that my response to your non-question is worth 30 marks. Let me, instead, write a dissertation on how much of a farce this is. Believe me, I did.

I am amazed that I am paying thousands of dollars for the privilege of being this angry.

Tuition has gone up 20% in the two years I've been gone. And, there's a new on-line delivery system now (I guess they read my hostile letter about how incredibly much the last one sucked).

I have struggled, for two years, to let this anger go. I re-evaluated my professional goals, thinking the letters behind my name weren't necessary to accomplish what I wanted to. I bought a house, and needed to concentrate on that for a while. But, now I have a job where I want to stretch and learn. The look on my boss's face when I told him was joyous to see. It is wonderful to be supported and encouraged. To be in a place where I am challenged. (Look! A sentence fragment!)

But, in the space of fifteen minutes this morning, I was right back in that place. Stomping angry. Cursing angry. Taking it out on people-who-have-nothing-to-do-with-it angry. I haven't grown at all.

Or, maybe I have. I didn't cry.

If there was any doubt

that I am certifiably insane, let it be removed right now.

I am, in the next nineteen (19! Bloody hell!) days going to knit a toddler sweater out of fingering-weight yarn. I cast on yesterday.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have spent those few days dicking around with Koohaas and getting back to my beloved sock-knitting. Oops.

Naturally, I'm not really following a pattern. I have a picture in my head, and I found a pattern that has the basic shape and finished measurements that I want, so I've calculated the new stitch count, cast on and am very much hoping for the best.

Here's what I've got so far:

Craptastic photo.

I searched for a heavier yarn in the appropriate colours, but nothing seemed to be available in the local shops I patronize, when I remembered to look (and I've known about this for, oh, about eight months now) and it's too damn late to order anything.


I procrastinated, because there was tons of time. Five skeins is about five socks, and I can whip that off in a couple of weeks, no problem (since I can do half a sock in an evening, just sitting at the pub). My gross miscalculation comes from forgetting that what I want to make is just a picture in my head. I foresee lots of ripping. And what gets ripped must be re-knit.

Let's not forget about the intarsia beast. I haven't knit intarsia since, oh, I think about 1998, when my ex-husband's nephew was born. Holy crap, that kid is about nine now. And if that is any measure of how time flies, I'd better get to it...


Oh, and I start a course next Monday. I guess I will really be putting my knitting-and-reading skills to the test. I wonder how my employer feels about knitting and "working."

Oh my!

There was a package waiting for me tonight. One I have been very much looking forward to receiving.

The delightful package was from the ever-yummy Black Bunny Fibers (remember Icarus?).

This is an estimated 1,000 yards of lace-weight, 90% alpaca, 10% Shetland (and it weighs in at 247 grams. I'm thinking there's more than 1,000 yards. Wow!). I am completely, helplessly in love with this yarn. It sings to my soul, with the blue and light pink peeking out in such a playful, teasing manner. It's called Naughty Knotty. How clever is that? I have two projects in mind: Muir or Juno Regina.

I have promised to knit Juno with a knitting buddy who wants to tackle a lace project, and we were considering starting in the new year. I am committed to doing this with her, because I believe in stretching boundaries (mine and everyone else's), and well, the tinier the sticks and the string, the happier I am, when it comes to knitting. Purlerbear, what do you think?

This sock yarn is 50% merino, 50% tencel. This is a new blend for me. I have a pair of socks to make for another knitting buddy, and I have cast on several times (there's some knitting that doesn't appear on this blog). Each time, I have been unhappy. These socks must be special. Now, J, you prefer your socks to match your trousers. You don't happen to have any "Real Deal Teal" trousers, do you? I'm thinking Pomatomus would be suitable for you. Oh yes, I want to knit those socks for you.

And, speaking of tiny sticks and tiny string, I happened upon this.

Now, I prefer to be a giver than a receiver. Frankly, I have expensive taste, so I should work hard and buy the things I want for myself (and I do). But, I just paid a honking big tuition bill, and there's been lots of shopping going on lately. I try to be mature, responsible and not whine about non-necessary things I don't have and can't really afford, but I waaant it. I want this yarn subscription in a jumping-up-and-down-please-please-please-mum kind of way. Doesn't a year of lace sound exciting? (Don't answer that, N.) Not that I would have time, because that honking big tuition bill? It means sacrificing much of my knitting time to studying.

But, I still wish that I had been a good girl, and that Santa would come down my chimney this year. Sadly, I am Misstea, and therefore I'm automatically on Santa's naughty list (but I've had a hellova lot of fun, and I'm not sorry. I'll be OK).

Breaking up is hard to do. Part II

I realize that the title of that earlier post was a teaser.

Most of my friends and confidants know that over the past three weeks, I have been trying to, in a mature and non-confrontational way, end an intimate relationship that is no longer enriching my life.

After three weeks of being stood up, phone tag and other general annoyances, I ended the relationship tonight.

Not surprisingly, this is a relief. And rather anti-climatic, given how much I try to avoid "the talk."

Why this relationship is no longer a pleasant diversion for me, and why the ending of it has taken so long is not a matter that can be summed up with a quick list, or a clever, funny post.


Rather, the reasons are myriad, and somewhat superficial, and tend to point out to me (when I would rather not think about it) that my taste is somewhat suspect, and my decision-making skills, when it comes to matters of the heart, are appallingly bad.


As an aside, can you tell that Masterpiece Theatre is playing in the background as I write this? I sound terribly pompous.


I often sound pompous, background sound notwithstanding, so I'm not going to edit the previous text.


Rather, I am going to only say a few things:

• Don't date anybody just because you want someone to cuddle with while you watch a movie. Even if that person is good kisser.


• Do rely on yourself and your pals. They are the only ones who are truly dependable.


• Be picky. The things you overlook in the beginning will drive you crazy at the end.

And finally, if you aren't excited when you see that name on call display, it's time to end it. I should have done this two months ago, when he said that he didn't want to come to my show. THAT was a sign, if there ever was one, that I didn't have enough in common with him to sustain a healthy, productive relationship.


And when I was relieved that he wasn't coming to the show, because I would have more fun without him, was another really good sign.

Breaking up is hard to do

I tried doing something today. Something which I have only done once before.

I tried to return yarn.

The yarn and I spent a few moments together, before I placed it in my backpack.

I lovingly said goodbye after carefully and logically explaining that I had bought it on impulse, and I really didn't have a use for it. I said that it wasn't because I didn't love it. I said that it needed to go back to the store, where it could be purchased by someone who loved it even more than me, someone who would use it immediately. I told it that it was worth more than to just go into the china cabinet and sit for an unknown period of time. I even offered to let it talk to the other yarn, so that it would know that I wasn't making this up.

After a bit, I got a little impatient, telling it that someone had to be mature and responsible, and that someone was me. I explained that I had seriously overspent my fun budget recently, and that I had just made a large tuition payment, and therefore this wasn't personal.

I caught the bus, and then missed my connecting bus, so I walked for half an hour in the snow, thinking about how sad this was, how I wished I had planned more carefully. How much I regretted having to sever this promising relationship so quickly.

I got to the store, and found the yarn that I should have purchased instead (I didn't tell the yarn in my backpack that it wasn't my first choice). Serendipitously, the new yarn matched the same dye lot that I already had. I should have been more careful, a week ago.

I gather my basket, and head to the desk. I find my receipt, giddy with joy (but trying to hold it in, and be sensitive to the yarn in my backpack) that things will work out and Mini B will get what her mother really wants for Christmas, and my wallet will not take another hit as a result.

It turns out, the yarn in my backpack was just going on a field trip. It was purchased on sale, and can't be returned.

Sigh. There's room in the house for all the yarn.

P.S. I was allowed to exchange four balls, so that I have enough of one dye-lot to do something for me. As if I need another unfinished pink sweater...

P.P.S. Please don't tell the yarn that I am secretly relieved it came home with me. And we certainly won't tell it that I'm also having an affair with the new Kaffe Fassett sock yarn.

I couldn't resist

Mini J's Christmas sweater is complete, except for the blocking and the seaming. Since I should wash the sheets on my bed before I block, I've put it aside. I'll get at that tomorrow.

And, since I've made some decisions about Mini B's sweater that require a trip to Ram Wools tomorrow, I cast on for Brooklyn Tweed's Koolhaas Hat (scroll down), which appears in Interweave Knit's Holiday Knits 2007 issue. I'm using some Blue Sky Alpaca (my colour is Fuchsia) that's been marinating in my stash for about a year. I wound up one skein quite a while ago, but I've been waiting for the right pattern. I hope I've found it.

The yarn is a gorgeous purply-pink (more purple than pink, in my opinion), and I adore the colour so much that I am determined to paint the front door with it. This photo, as usual, does not justice to the colour at all:

The yarn is so yummy in my hands. Alpaca really is the way to go, and I am tempted to dare N (who finds all wool itchy) to not like it.

There's a couple of notes to make:

• After using nothing but my Harmony Options for the past six weeks or so, it feels incredibly strange to use my stumpy 16 inch 4mm bamboo circ. The points aren't pointy enough, anymore. I guess I am officially spoiled.
• The pattern calls for a one stitch being moved to a cable needle. I've talked before about how much I adore cables, but I have not jumped on the cabling-without-a-cable-needle bandwagon. I think it's time. I'm going to learn something tonight, if it kills me. I'm going to use this tutorial, courtesy of the incomparable Grumperina.