Mini B turned 4 today.

Where does the time go? I am very ashamed to say this, but it seems like just yesterday, when I met my dad for dinner, on the day of your birth and said "Hello, Grandpa!"

And Papa Barry, as he is now known to you, stood up a little straighter, and well, preened. Just like the rest of us, Mini, he'd been waiting for you.

Mini B, you are an engaging, fun, busy girl. You like tractors, you like princesses, you like changing your clothes, you like playing the drums. You are a girl with a strong personality, and I hope you don't lose that (though I am sure your parents wish you would tone it down a little).

I just spent the better part of 24 hours in your home, and for the record, I'm going to quickly record some of our interactions. If I am lucky, I will share these at some future event:

"Hi Auntie Mister!"

"Mini B, that's Auntie Misstea."

"Hi Auntie Mister!"

I couldn't correct you. Your Uncle J called me "Mister" for a good two years.

At four, your favourite word still appears to be "no." This is amusing, because your parents, before you could even speak, decided that "stop" and "danger" would be the words they would use to rebuke you. Their logic was that those two words were too hard for you to say, and therefore you would not throw those words back at them.

Well, I think that was wishful thinking. You know "no", and employ it frequently. Good job, kid.

However, you are a shouter. When you want something, you holler. It's a sound that doesn't even have syllables. It's just nasty.

When you wanted to get over the baby gate last night, you made that nasty sound. I happened to be closest.

So, I took the bull by the horns, and said, "Well, I'm not your parent, but where I come from, Mini B, that's really rude, and we don't speak to people that way."

You looked at me for a moment, thought about it, and then bellowed "Open!"

And, I looked at you, and said, "That's better, but that's still not what I am looking for."

And in the background, your parents were coaching you, "say please, Mini B", "remember your manners!" I have a feeling that Granny was laughing her ass off around the corner.

You stood up even straighter. Squared your shoulders. And said, with a ever-suffering voice, "Please, open!"

So, I opened the gate. And you flounced through and went on your merry way.

It was hysterically funny. Don't ever lose that expectation that doors will open for you. If you use your manners (and trust me, it works).

You were surprised to see me the following morning, because I left before you went to bed. We (your parents and I) neglected to inform you that we were having a sleep-over. A sleep-over with a bonus guest You were a little bit stand-offish with my friend for a few momehts, but it didn't take you very long to get all bossy, telling her where to sit, before she even had a cup of coffee. You are very lucky that Mamayaga loves kids, and liked playing along with you.

All in all, it was a lovely morning. However, you need some boundaries, girl.

I went downstairs to have a bit of a wash and get out of my jammies. I grabbed my stuff, and headed into the downstairs bathroom. Since the basement is basically your playroom, I didn't think I needed to pay attention to you. Until you opened the bathroom door. Thankfully, I was brushing my teeth.

You just wanted to talk, and that was awesome, because that's the kind of relationship I hope to have with you, but still, not knocking. Not cool. So, given that information, you closed the door, and I continued on with my ablutions. You knocked about a nanosecond later. I said, "open!"

I was going for broke. I had no idea how your parents felt about nudity, but, you knocked. Right when I was about to change my shirt.

I whipped off my t-shirt that I wear at night, and you said, "you've got boobies!"

And yes, it deserves bold, because at that exact moment, your father, my little brother, was hollering "it is ok for me to come in?"

I said yes, well, to both questions. In retrospect. I've never put my clothes on so fast in my life. OK, that's an exaggeration, but Mini B, you are not going get the details about that other situation for a very long time. If ever.

But anyways, you simply didn't care that your Auntie's boobies were hanging out and your daddy was in the same space (it's a very large basement, with lots of walls, for those who are playing along).

You are a smart, strong, confident girl. The things that drive your care-givers crazy right now are things that will make you an amazing woman. Go forth and be yourself Mini B.

And I will laugh myself silly. Because you are exactly like your father was when he was your age. I love the both of you to bits.

Sometimes, a girl has to remember her roots

I'm on a Corb Lund kick tonight, and this song... well, it's about more than horses.



Hmm. Mustache Man loves horses, but I don't think he would get the nuances of this song. I think we could have an amazing discussion about this. And, anything would be a relief from the Barry White Greatest Hits I gave him for Giftmas. I am sooo sick of that album.

I thought they liked me

The cats have not left my side today. Even Edgar is yowling from downstairs, and comes up of his own volition occasionally.

I thought that it was because they were happy I'm at home, and available for snuggling on the sofa (knitting and watching Julie & Julia this morning with my coffee. Good times).

Nope. I'm totally wrong. See, last week I bought some high-end cat food instead of the usual value-priced stuff (the high-end stuff was on sale for a ridiculously good price).

The buggers want to eat. All. the. damned. time. I'm just the person who pours the food into the dishes.

This is a very special weekend

in that I am at home. Alone. No co-ed sleepovers, no phone calls every couple of hours, just because (Mustache Man is out of town, and though I miss him greatly, I'm thrilled to be just chilling out on my own).

It's heavenly.

Yesterday, I cleaned my bathroom from top to bottom, including washing the ceiling and walls (long overdue, by the way).

I was so pleased with myself that every time I peed today, I opened the vanity drawers, just to look inside.

Yes, I am a dork.

Tonight's project was to go through the chests of drawers in my bedroom. I have two. One is an old-school washstand, and functions as my bedside table, and the other is well, a chest of drawers. It holds my underwear, t-shirts, shorts, jeans, well, anything that doesn't need to be on a hangar, and the bedside table holds my jewellery, the hot-water bottle, a spare blanket, and certain other bedroom accessories (if you know what I mean, and I think you do!).

It was a tough job, throwing out all those stained and too-tight t-shirts saved for painting that I will never do; the nude panty-hose I will never wear because it's better to go bare-legged now; the thongs that I will never wear because I refuse to floss my butt, the PJ's I will never wear because well, I've worn them so much that the fabric has disintegrated.

Onward. Upward. Tomorrow: kitchen. But only the upper part. Cleaning the kitchen is a very big job, especially when there's excessive grease residue from cooking bacon.

But before I start that project, I'm totally cooking bacon and eggs tomorrow. For one. And, it will be great.

Skinny sticks and skinnier string

It is common knowledge, among my knitting peeps, that the skinnier the sticks and string, the happier I am.

There is a reason I knit mostly socks - skinny sticks and string are required.

But. I do have a favourite "big" needle size. It is 4 mm. That's right, a big needle, to me, is 4 mm in circumference.

I also have a favourite super-skinny string. It is Malabrigo Lace (#242, Intenso. Scroll down). A dreamy, heavenly, super-soft single that knits up into a lacy, airy wave that you'd think you were knitting a cloud (if clouds were hot pink and orange, that is).

So, when my peeps on LSG suggested a knit-a-long for the Geodesic Cardigan in the most recent Knitscene, well, I'm in.

How cute is this? It's adorable!

I've got the yarn and the needles. I need a cardigan.

(P.S. I started swatching tonight).

The downside of co-ed sleepovers

As I've stated repeatedly in the last four months, I've done got me a man. And while I am annoyed at myself for taking as much joy in this as I have, I'm not really sad about it, and am wholly unprepared to change the situation as it now stands. I'm even getting used to talking about him incessantly, because it's been so long since there's been a man in my life worth talking about. Someone that I like, respect, and who only annoys me a little. To be honest, I even kind of miss him when he's not around.

There is a downside. I'm home even less than usual. Chez Peepee is missing me, and I miss it. Today, I arrived home, after scooting out for a booty call at 9 pm last night, to find my newly finished lace scarf, one 16 months in the making, on the floor, and covered in cat barf. I haven't even taken the FO pics, and here I am, blocking it again. Stupid cats. At least it wasn't poop.

So, I got some shit the other day

My dearest friend N, told me in no uncertain terms the other day to get back at blogging.

So, I am.

Since I stopped documenting my projects, I've made six pairs of socks, two-and-a-half sweaters, a hat and finished a shawl. I've uploaded the pics to Flickr, and I might get those up on Ravelry. Maybe.

The most important thing, however (and it makes me sort-of sad to say that this is important - what has happened to me?) is that Mustache Man referred to himself as "your partner" the other day.

The bugger is listening to me! He's heard and understood that I despise the word "boyfriend."

I've found a man that listens! Holy shit, he's been proposing since our second week of acquaintance, and I've been blowing him off, because it is way, way too early for that. But still, listening is an attractive quality in a man.