For my next trick...

Impressive disappearing trick I did, no? Andrew and I both took some time off of work, and took the oh-so trendy "staycation", where you take time off work and stay home. This economy is AWESOME!

Andrew started this off by building me a new closet.

Before:

Before you get all judge-y, remember that I'm only 5'1", and have an unparalleled love of shoes.

After:

Fancy, right?

Now, After and full!:

Huge difference. I can reach all of my "everyday" stuff. There is room for all of my shoes. Andrew also redid his closet, and I've been offered some real estate over there as well.

I have a drawer for my shawls, and my "special" shawls (my Alison shawl and my Orenburg) have their own sweater box and shelf, and I am in OCD hog heaven. Andrew is also thrilled, since he usually got stuck putting a stack of sweaters away, since I couldn't reach them. Now there's even a little room for my stepladder. (Look to the space at the far right. It's there.)

My next step is to build the closets for seasonal clothing storage, and move my spring dresses in where my suits are hanging. (Suits. As in four of them. How did I end up with four suits?) This way, my heavy winter coats won't monopolize our hall coat closet, and our guests won't have to pile their things behind the couch. Very civilized.

There has been knitting. There has been spinning. There has also been some crazy awesome organization. Stay tuned.

Seagull eyes

Every time we go to the pediatrician, the paperwork says (over and over again) "limit screen time" l and "no screen time for children under the age of two". But every time we're there, there is something playing in every waiting room. 

There's something there that I find very funny. But that's not the point of this story. 

The last time we were at the pediatrician for Genevieve, we ended up in the pharmacy, like you usually do after an appointment. The Little Mermaid was on the screen in there at what is - in my opinion, the best part of the whole movie - just before "Poor Unfortunate Souls". 

There's so much to love about this scene- but mostly a villainess who speaks some hard core feminist truths. (Look up the lyrics. They'll give you chills.) 

Whether it was intentionally written to be subversive and feminist or to show what a "bad woman" looks like, a la Roxana, who's to say? (I prefer it the former, in case you were wondering.)

So naturally, because Disney knows how to make children happy in an eerily precise way, Genevieve wanted to (a) listen to the soundtrack [which I had on the iPod (the Broadway version)**] and (b) know everything about The Little Mermaid that there is to know. 

[In case you were wondering, the message of the film, according to Genevieve, is NEVER EVER sign a contract without reading it and understanding it. Especially without an adult and/or lawyer checking it first. Also that giving up your tail, friends, and family for someone you've never had a conversation with is a bad idea. Thank you, Frozen!*** Parenting is the best.]

Since Genevieve was so eager to see the whole movie, and I'm not made of stone, we borrowed it from the library and watched it. We learned that people who do things for us aren't always nice people, we learned that parents always love their kids and will do anything to keep them safe and/or save them, and we learned about seagulls. 

Lest you think that we keep her chained up in a closet [CPS: we certainly do NOT keep her chained up in a closet], she had seen them before, but they hadn't really registered for her. Now, courtesy of Scuttle, seagulls are very interesting. 

So, we were out having lunch as a family, and I asked SuperAndrew (of the enhanced LASIK eyes) if he could see an airplane in the distance, and at which point he lost sight of it. 

"If your eagle eyes can't see it, I certainly can't," I said. 

"I can see it with my SEAGULL eyes," Genevieve said, because obviously that made much more sense. 

Since then, I have asked her to use her seagull eyes whenever we're looking for something. I really hope "eagle eyes" aren't part of an S.A.T. question in her future.

Coy seagull

** The Broadway version is fantastic, especially if you have a kid who loves the movie. There are more songs, and there is definitely more exposition. You can never have too much exposition, in my opinion. 

*** There is so much to love about Frozen. A future post, I think. 

Just call me Braggatha

This morning when I left the house, Our Favorite Electrician came over. While the dogs were at their Auntie Colleen's house for a marathon playdate with their favorite Akita cousin, Hana, and I was at work, magic was happening at my house.

After work, I picked up two VERY tired dogs, and came home. The change in our home is amazing. Our Favorite Electrician installed canned lighting in our living room and dining room, and Andrew mounted the speakers to the walls. I can comfortably knit with JUST the lights on, no extra lamps are necessary. A-MA-ZING. (Also, the surround sound is AWESOME.)

I haven't tried knitting with black yarn, which will be the real test of how fabulous the lights are, but I'll do that.

Between the lights, and the new-and-improved closet, I am SO pleased with the work we're getting done on this house. I'm so pleased, I'll walk into a room, turn the lights off, and then turn them back on. It's like when I would stand and admire my new closet. (I'm still doing this, by the way. It's that good.)

Not to brag, but I might be married to the best man EVER. Now, what to get him for his upcoming 30th birthday...

Juno Regina, cast on.

I’ve gotten into this whole lace knitting thing in a bad way. After finishing the Colleen shawl, I cast on my Juno Regina. I love it already. Let me count the ways.

• One: It’s (more or less) rectangular.

I haven’t finished my Icarus yet, mostly because I’m not totally sold on triangular shawls, but partly because each successive row gets longer. I can’t determine how long each row will take, so it’s not great knitting for, say, when I have five or ten minutes here and there. The joy of rectangular shawls is that each row has the same number of stitches- so you can say, “Oh, I have fifteen minutes. I can knit three rows.” Or however long each row takes you.

• Two: Sea Silk is a pleasure to work with, and mine is ORANGE.

Orange is my favorite color. I looked through my lace yarn, and it’s all orange, pink, or olive green. Shockingly enough, I have Sea Silk in orange, Sangria (reds and oranges), and olive green. This fact simultaneously thrills me and makes me uncomfortable.

I’ve taken on this whole “living with less” behavior change. Do I really need six orange, six olive green, and six pink shawls? I knew I had the OTHER similarly colored lace yarn when I bought each successive project, but they were all different.

Granted, they vary in both fiber and color intensity, but really. If I’m buying something, it needs to be something really special- which means I shouldn’t buy ten of them. You can’t get to yarn that is buried under other yarn- and the fact that it’s buried diminishes the “specialness” of it.

I was ashamed that I had to hunt for some cashmere I bought earlier this year. One should always know where her cashmere is. I would like to get my stash down to a more manageable size. The definition of manageable is somewhere between no stash, and one bedroom closet. Maybe a walk-in closet. Definition pending.

• Three: Miriam Felton writes a wicked good pattern. I wasn’t uber-enthusiastic about beginning this shawl because I saw eight charts. EIGHT! For this simple little shawl. But.

I am forced to eat my words, again. The charts make sense, if you follow them in an unquestioning way. At this rate, understanding her brilliance may encourage me to finish Icarus and cast on Seraphim. Her shawls have a simple, classic elegance, while still looking complex.

• Four: It knits itself. I considered not going out for knitting in order to get it to the “mindless” place. When I got home and did all of my nighttime routine before bed, at 11 PM I considered working on it a little longer. Better judgment won me over, and I settled for working on it the next day instead of compounding the current sleep deficit side effects.

• Five: It’s so pretty! I keep pausing to admire the knitting. I’ll stretch it out and admire how smart it all looks. Vanity, thy name is Juno Regina. Hello! Look at that picture. She knows she’s beautiful. Check out that diva-licious pose.

I know I say this every time I cast on a new lace project, but I think this is a terrific beginning lace pattern.

Insomnia

I’ve been flirting with insomnia since the cruise. There was one night, when the fabulous Sharon gave me an acupuncture relaxation treatment and I slept for twelve blissful hours. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was when I woke up, refreshed.

I’ve been battling the lack of quality sleep for a while now, but this is the first time I’ve felt like a true insomniac. I can’t really fall asleep, and when I finally do, I wake up with incredible frequency. In lieu of being frustrated, I’ve decided to use the extra time to do things like read, write, knit, and catch up with my TiVo.

I’m also using the time to plan my wardrobe so I don’t kill myself in the morning trying to make it look like my clothes didn’t jump out of the closet and attack me. This is better for everyone- trust me.

I’ve got an appointment with Dr. B this week, and I’m debating taking the sleep meds that my regular doctor prescribed. (I stopped because they made me perpetually drowsy. I also didn’t want a pill to fix the problem.)

Maybe I’m not spending enough time at the spinning wheel. Maybe the issue is that I spent ten days away from the spinning wheel, and my brain has interpreted it as a major deficit.

While I don’t really like how I feel, the upside is that I am getting a lot accomplished. I’ve always felt like I don’t have enough time to do the things that I want.

Instead of being frustrated and tossing and turning, I’ve added a few things to the nightstand to pass the time- knitting, a notebook, and Tika’s copy of The Poisonwood Bible. I understand that this will pass with time, but I figure, why not use the extra time?

Stolen from The Skaren

[Name] Jasmin
[Age] 23 in 12 days
[Nickname] Snazzmin, Snuggle Nugget
[Birthday] see "[Age}"
[Born] Feet first, one hand over my head.
[Sexual Prefrence] Men. Preferably sans mustaches.
[Status] Intrinsic. Educated. Married.
[Lives] If you call what I do living, yes.
[Nationality] American. Oh, you mean CULTURAL IDENTITY. Persian.
[Height] 5'1" ish
[Weight] 121 as of Friday
[Eye Color] Brown
[Hair Color] Brownish with reddish highlights
[Virgin] No, I prefer my beverages to have some experience.
[Siblings] Sam.
[Nieces/Nephews] 8. 6 girls, 2 boys.
[Parents still together] Like "The Twits" by Roald Dahl
[Best Friend] Andrew.
[Enemy] BabyMomma (ask me later)
[First Bestfriend] Elena- her mom was blind.
[First Boyfriend/Girlfriend] David from the Hopf.
[Last Boyfriend/Girlfriend] Zak, if you don't count Andrew b/c I married him.
[Ever been in love?] Yes.
[Longest Relationship] Current, hitting 4 1/2 years in February.
[Shortest Relationship?] 2 months, David.

[Favorite Car] Batmobile.
[Favorite Place] Monterey. Or in bed.
[Favorite Number] 63 or 7. Also like 13.
[Favorite Letter] Anthing that has a check in it
[Favorite Holiday] Arbor Day.
[Favorite Sport] Drum Corps.
[Favorite age so far] 18 and 19 were pretty good.
[Favorite Drink] Single, Decaf venti 5 pumps of almond, 1 pump of raspberry, breve latte. No Foam.
[Favorite Day of the week] Saturday.
[Favorite type of music] Broadway.
[Favorite Singer] Douglas Sills, Hugh Jackman.
[Favorite Rapper] The little old lady from The Wedding Singer
[Favorite Band] Tenacious D.
[Favorite Song] "The Internet is For Porn"
[Favorite CD] Currently- Little Women
[Number of CD's owned] Lots.
[Favorite Movie] Lots. Hopefully RENT.
[Favorite TV Show] Currently, CSI.

[[Do You]]
[Smoke] Nope, SMOLDER.
[Drink] Lattes, hot chocolate, water, milk. And booze of all varieties.
[Gamble] Everytime I get in my car.
[Cheat] At cards.
[Like Guns] I like the idea of shooting at targets.
[Like Video Games] Nope.
[Own a car] Yep. Morocco Mole.
[Own a cellphone] Yes.
[Own a gun] No.
[Have a creditcard] Yes, that's how our Vegas trip was basically comped, excluding food and theater tickets.
[Do Drugs] Um, no.
[Go To School] Not any more, but I teach, so does that count?
[Wear Watches] If I got up 5 minutes earlier, or preplanned my wardrobe, yes.
[Wear Bracelets] Nope. Childhood trauma.
[Wear necklaces] When I have time to coordinate
[Wear Belts] Yes, to hold my pants up.
[Have a purse/wallet] Two wallets, many purses.
[Use flourescent lightbulbs] Um, possibly.
[Have a TV in your room] Yes, to Andrew's great chagrin.
[Have a computer in your room] I could. It's a laptop.
[Have an entertainment system in your room] TV, DVD player, tiny boombox.
[Have a DVD player in your room] See above.
[Have an origional painting in your room] You are funny. I WISH.
[Have a Picasso in your room] read above.
[Have a walk-in closet] Yeah, but I have to share it.
[Share a room] Yeah. With that wierd guy who follows me around.

[[Describe the Perfect girl/boy]]
[Eye Color] I've been drawn to blue-eyed men in the past. Andrew has brown eyes that turn green with his mood. Bring on the men, that's what I say.
[Hair Color] Used to be attracted to blonds, but I'm finding more and more that I like dark-haired men.
[Height] Andrew is too tall. I would say 5'9"-5'11"
[Weight] Fit, but not stickly.
[Nationality] Not Persian, or any other nationality that encourages misogyny.
[Wears glasses] That's hot.
[Favorite type of music] Something a little different than me, but with some overlap, preferably Broadway being the overlap.
[Favorite Sport] Drum Corps, or hockey.
[Bubbly or laid back] laid back. I can't deal with bubbly.
[Lazy or active] Active enough to push a vaccuum around the house, not so active that he's never ever around.
[Funny or serious] Sarcastic.
[Quiet or loud] Subdued enough to be my subtle, funny, other half. Or my straightman.
[Has a job] This is a must. Being unemployed and not a student is an unacceptable combination that has doomed many women into Sugar Mama relationships, which are BAD.
[Has a car] This would help. I don't like to drive, and I don't let others drive my car.
[Virgin] Doesn't bother me, I'll break him in. :)
[Likes to drive] See "[Has a car]"
[Likes to party] Preferably "likes to be social" but isn't the idiot with the lampshade on his head.
[Likes to swim] Sure.
[Likes children] This is a must for long-term.
[Likes to travel] Yes, childhood trauma from not traveling enough. [Smokes] This is a definite NO. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
[Drinks] Occaisionally is fine with me, but not if it's a requirement to have fun .
[Artistic] [Bilingual]

Direction and management

Lest you think (from my Math post) that we live in squalor, surrounded by disorderly piles of yarn and fiber, let me assure you, we do not. It's all organized and shelved, there is just a *lot* of it. (I once had a guest who remarked, "LOOK! It's all labeled so you know what you're stealing!")

I can still pull stuff out of the closet (and off of the shelves), but lifting has become a bit of an issue, so a lot of things get pulled out until I can get help putting them back away. Lucky for me, I married up. By "up" I mean "tall and does my heavy lifting".

We spent a lot of this last weekend with me directing Andrew on where to move things that I had intended to take care of, but really couldn't manage on my own. While I prize my "Lady Hulk" title, I am learning to ask for help when I need it. And ask I did.

I'm used to making lists, and systematically accomplishing things on the list. It's incredibly satisfying. However. If you make a list for someone else, someone who (perhaps) works full time and is your Lovable Beast of Burden, it can make you feel like a bit of a jerk. Especially when by the time your Lovable Beast of Burden comes home, you are SO TIRED and can not be on your feet for ONE MORE SECOND.

... Especially if you *might* be giving directions from the couch, where you might be knitting and watching TV, or laying down with the TV on. There has been a lot of TV involved, along with obsessively reading about how to not be a terrible parent. Or vampires. You know, to mix it up a little. (I know, I know. For true literary balance, I should be reading about the zombie apocalypse, too. My shortcomings are many. Thank goodness I'm cute.)

Instead of feeling guilty (because that's not my forte), I'm using my project management skills to work out what needs to get done in order of priority with Andrew. I don't actually make the lists, and I'm learning to be okay with it when things don't get done RIGHT AWAY. I see it as practice for when the SharkBean joins us.

I'm not letting everything slip- I've been working with the dogs on some training that has needed to get done, since that's all about being consistent and not about muscle. On top of that, I'm trying to teach Elphie how to fold laundry, since she is Very Interested in clean laundry. Unfortunately, she lacks some dexterity, so this hasn't worked all that well. Proof that not all ideas are good ones.

She sticks to doing what I fondly refer to as "furmanent press"- which is rolling all over warm, clean, flattened laundry. Considering what I've heard about what *other* dogs like rolling in, I'm 100% okay with her rolling on clean laundry. What's a little dog fur between friends?


SIDE NOTE: I was reading one of the parenting books y'all suggested (I've checked them ALL out, and I'm currently powering through them), and the one I'm reading now seems to have followed my mother around and modeled their "ideal" solutions around how she raised us. When I asked her, she claims to have neither read nor written the book. Further proof of my mother's innate awesomeness.

Get them while they're young

Last night, we celebrated MiddleJ's 17th birthday. I'm totally stunned at the fact the kids are growing up at light speed and turning into charming young adults. The milestones (birthdays, graduations, etc) feel like suckerpunches - we see all the kids with relative frequency, but it's the milestones that remind us all that they're growing up.

In any case, I decided to pull a few articles out of my winter closet for the occasion. It's been Very Very Cold (<60 F), which gives me a chance to wear my beautiful knits. I chose charcoal slacks, one of my Jackie O turtlenecks, a black silk cardigan, and my Juno Regina stole. I knit the stole a million years ago, and it doesn't get nearly enough wear. See?

Juno Regina, knit out of Handmaiden Sea Silk in "Pumpkin". 'tis the season, yo.

In any case, I showcased it by stylishly wrapping it around my neck with the pointed ends in front. The whole ensemble made me feel six feet tall, and like I was walking a runway regardless of what I was actually doing. (And let's face it, I have a FIERCE runway walk.)

Then, out of NOWHERE, came an amazing moment. Another niece, who I'll call Galette (because she is sweet, not fussy, and does her own thing), paid my Juno a compliment.

"Aunt Jasmin, your scarf is really pretty," says Galette.
"This? I knit this," I said, a little shocked.
"You MADE this?" Galette and LittleJ took time to investigate the pointed ends.
"I did."
"Could you make me one for Christmas?" Galette asked, hopeful.
I snorted, "Christmas is a month away. That is so not happening."
"Next Christmas?" Galette was still trying, and I found her optimism adorable.
"No. But, I can teach you how to knit, and by next Christmas, you could make one of these for yourself," I offered sincerely.

At this point, LittleJ mentioned that she had gone back to her knitting. I taught all Three Js to knit when Andrew was living in the cottage attached to their house, seven or eight years ago. The kids were interested, and as any self-respecting knitter knows, you strike while the iron is hot and plant that seed early.

It WORKED.

Long, long ago, LittleJ wanted to make a Gryffindor scarf. So, as any good aunt would, I enabled. I bought them Kids Knitting by Melanie Falick, hoping that the initial lessons would spark a lifelong knitting flame. LittleJ worked on it for a while, but her interest waned. It happens.

Fast forward to Thursday night, when LittleJ and her friends were all going to the midnight premiere of the new Harry Potter movie. LittleJ remembered her neglected scarf, and since they were dressing up for the event, she grabbed it in hopes that she could wear it that night. She noticed that it still was finished, so she grabbed her trusty knitting book, and flipped through it until she found the section for binding off. (For the record, she refers to binding off as just "binding". I dig it.)

In true knitterly fashion, her friends were in the car waiting for her, while LittleJ is saying things like, "I need to finish binding my scarf!!!" She did, she wore it, and I think she might just have gotten that little hit of knitting that has the potential to become a lifelong obsession. (Or perhaps it is I who is the optimist now.)

In any case, as the night progressed, it seems that all the girls there (MiddleJ, LittleJ, Galette, and the Equestrienne) want to start (or in some cases, revisit) knitting. When they started talking about this, the hills were alive with the sound of knitting, and I was Maria Von Trapp.

Since then, in my imagination, I'm leading the kids in a rousing rendition of "Do Re Mi" (but with a knitting twist "YO, a stitch, a hol-ey stitch. K, a simple knitted stitch. V, the shape a knit stitch makes..."). My imagination *might* have completely run away with me. Maybe.

Me? I'm just glad that I was able to leverage knowledge that evil industries have collected for good. Get them while they're young, and they'll be knitters for a lifetime.

Or at least, an aunt can hope.

Purging. Just Purging.

This last week, the weight of my possessions has been smothering me. Not to sound like a drama queen, but it became physically uncomfortable for me. I would look around and just panic.

The only solution was to get rid of the stuff that was smothering me.

The cotton yarn that I bought to make summer tops? Gone. Knitting with cotton hurts my hands, and life is too short. Plus, I hate knitting with cotton. I got rid of a duffel-sized bag of cotton. That's about 75 lbs off of my chest.

I looked around the house, and there was my old wheel, the Traveler, sitting in the corner, covered in dust. Last week, I found the Saxony wheel of my dreams (altogether about $1500 with all the bells and whistles), and decided that if I was going to buy that one, I had to get rid of the Traveler.

Don't get me wrong- the Traveler has been a faithful, hardworking wheel. But when I bought the Schacht, it was because I had outgrown the limits of the Traveler. I talked to Ursula, who has an interest in spinning (but needed more practice) and what started as loaning her the wheel became, "Here, have a wheel!"

I spent all day cleaning the wheel and treating the wood (with Wood Beams) until it shone. Two hours, a disk of "The Office", and two shiny wheels later, I was ready to part with the Traveler. Mom remarked that this is the best the Traveler has ever looked, and I agree.

Parting with the Traveler means parting with a wheel, ten bobbins, and a Lazy [Clever] Kate. More weight off of my chest, and I have made certain that Ursula has caught the spinning bug. Resistance is futile.

Then, I attacked the closet. The suit that hasn't fit me in six years? Gone. The blouse I haven't worn since 8^th grade? See ya! It was a scene fit for Tim Gunn's Guide to Style. Two giant DSW bags later, and I'm not done yet.

My challenge is this: I have a handful of nice, handknit sweaters (mostly knit by me) that I'm tired of wearing, but don't want to donate to charity. They will fit a 32-38" bust. Anyone interested? Let me know.

Project Workspace: Step 1

... or, as I like to think of it, "A garage of one's own".

(It doesn't sound as glamorous as "A Room of One's Own", but let's face it, I'm no Virginia Woolf.)

Andrew and I have been talking about some upgrades we want to do on our house, which includes the usual stuff like tearing out the ugly wallboard and painting. Talking is the easy part- it's agreeing on what needs to be done when and how that appear to be the issue. Ah, marriage...

(For the record, I hate the wallboard, I've hated it since the instant we walked through the house. Now? The wallboard mocks me with it's ugliness. Once the weather decides which direction it's going, the wallboard is coming down. Mark my words.)

However, the one thing we can agree on in the garage. It needs some love, and it's the kind of work we can do on the house ourselves- for less than a bazillion dollars. Andrew has convinced me to help with Project Workspace (which I've termed it) because I could easily set up a table for the sewing machine and the recording equipment- once it's fixed up. The man has a knack for knowing what motivates me.

Really, it's space to work. Especially when it comes to things like sewing- where you need space to cut, pin, and to leave your machine set up. I know how I am; if it's not set up, it always seems like a huge hassle to get it set up, and the machine I have right now is seriously heavy. I don't want to set it up in the kitchen, because I've already declared a jihad against the existing hot spots around the house.

Step One of Project Workspace is to get rid of the Loom of Doom- the epic floor loom I bought a couple of years ago in hopes that I would become an amazing weaver. Margit (the FiberFiend) has graciously offered to help us with Step One.

I'm going to take pictures of the whole process, but I won't post them until the whole story is done. It can be so discouraging (not to mention, super embarrassing) to post pictures of something like a garage-in-progress. I mean, the closet was bad enough, but those "after" pictures totally made it worth the time.

For now, Step One is done.

Nakee

[This is the post I had intended for Mother's Day. Enjoy!]

If you have spent any time with toddlers, you will know that they have a charming fixation with all things "nakee", and it's really high up on the list of things toddlers find hilarious.

Genevieve, being of the toddler persuasion, has embraced the humor of her people. She's also very aware of her clothes when she wears them- so buttons need to ALL be buttoned up. If they're not, she says things like, "Button my dress, peeease! My nakee all fall out!"

... And then I unwittingly told the Nude Flash story to Andrew in Genevieve's earshot. That kid hears *everything*.

The Nude Flash 

When KidBrother Sam was little, and I was in sixth grade, there was a flasher around the local high school. As a kid, I thought the whole thing was HILARIOUSLY funny; as a jaded adult who has watched too many episodes of Law & Order: SVU, it's horrifying.

I told Mom about the warning, and how funny I thought it was, and KidBrother Sam asked what "flashing" was. The word "nude" came in, and he mostly got it.

At one point, shortly after, he had forgotten his towel, and thus, needed to streak across the hall from the shower to get one from the linen closet.

"NUDE FLASH!" he hollered as he ran. (Later, it was explained that the "nude flash!" was to let us know to LOOK AWAY. Not to look at the source of the hollering. Also, no amount of explanation could convince him that "nude flash" is redundant.)

From then on, any time there was a streaker in need of a towel, we would holler "nude flash!" 

Well.

Since overhearing the story, whenever Genevieve manages to escape the shower, getting dressed, or getting from the toilet to the changing table, she hollers "NUDE FAAAAAASH!" and streaks around the house until we can catch her. Let the record reflect that she is fast and wily.

She hasn't quite figured out the "shuck your clothes and run" maneuver, but I have no doubt we'll get there. It's the strangest kind of triathalon I'm training for: running, catching, wrangling a nude flash.

Singing Andrew's Praises

If you were jealous that I married a tall, dark, and handsome man, it gets even better.

Yesterday, he fixed something around the house. That's right, ladies. He fixed the broken light switch in the closet. By the way, the switch being broken caused a relatively tragic fashion disaster, where my slacks, blouse, and sweater (all visible) did not even come remotely close to matching each other.

He also went to the bead shop where CrackedOutLesbian works, because I was scared of a repeat of the last trip.

Time Lapse Montage Scene

It's a Friday night. We're going to BJ's with the Hopf crowd. I need to exchange 22 gauge headpins for 24 gauge headpins, because they are superior and less expensive. This should take maybe 10 minutes, tops.

I walk in, and nobody is there. Now, I could:

(A) Take what I need, and leave, undetected.
(B) Take everything, because I am a klepto.
(C) Do my "Helloooooo?" to the back, hoping that the store was not inadvertantly left empty and there is actually an employee back there.

Thinking that choosing (C) was the wise idea, I did so, and out comes COL. I didn't know that she was crazy by looking at her, but oh, was I in for a treat. And by treat, I mean 45 minutes of having my ears bent by this escaped mental patient.

I said a quick prayer to any God or Goddess who would help me, I prayed for a phone call from Andrew, asking me why I'm so late. My prayers were answered, the phone rang, and I said, very obviously, "Oh, dinner is ready. And getting cold. I will be RIGHT THERE."

I move towards the door, but her tongue is too quick, and I am caught with a dilemma: Do I just leave and let her keep talking, and be totally rude, or do I hope that a natural end comes?

Because there are only a few worthwhile bead places in the area, I chose the latter so that I wouldn't be blacklisted from the bead shop nearest my home. Fortunately, Andrew's spider senses signaled him that I had been trapped by COL, so he called me again, to ask if I was near home yet.

This was my escape, she stopped speaking when my phone range, and I answered it, said, "I'm leaving RIGHT NOW," and waved as I walked out the door, still on the phone. My ears were ringing for a good part of the night. I haven't been able to go in since, but they have the best price on the headpins I like, it's a slight problem.

So, I left the package with how many packages I needed, and asked Andrew to face the bead shop. He emerged victorious and unscathed. It's not like I don't like lesbians, I went to a women's college for pete's sake! This one needed to be heavily medicated, is all.

The next story is going to be about TheCarGuy, who acosted us in the parking lot after my Saturday night class.

Soaring to the Sun

I've had the lace bug since August, but haven't done anything about it. Until now. I blame Stephanie and Franklin for making it look so easy and beautiful and …achievable.

I was at the Purlescence Super Bowl sale, picking up roving to spin for Mom [pictures to come], and there was Icarus.

"Stephanie knitted that one," I thought. "It doesn't look too complex. The patterning is mostly at the edge. I can do this, I'm a smart person and a decent knitter."

For myself, I bought the pattern for Icarus, the Seraphim Shawl (a slightly more complex shawl by the same designer), and the new Vogue Knitting. No yarn, and my personal purchases came to under $20.

I came home, laid down to rest (which I desperately needed), and afterwards got up to find my needles and yarn. I have a huge stash.

[I know all knitters say that they have a huge stash, but seriously, mine is huge. I'm not going to disclose how big exactly, but it's not in some little hall closet. There is nothing little about this stash.]

A couple of years ago (okay, maybe it was closer to three years ago), I went to an estate sale with Constance and Mom, and this woman had a Stash. She had died of cancer and asked her friends (before, of course) to sell her things and donate the money. There were also five day-old kittens that I got to bottle feed.

At the estate sale, I got some mohair, some boucle, some silk & wool, and some Zephyr. $15 for a 1 lb. cone. I got all three cones. I filled the trunk of Andrew's car for about $160. A week later, I found Zephyr by the ball for $10/2 oz. I bought some, intending to double or triple the yarn and make a sweater out of it, in colors to match the estate sale colors.

Yesterday, I tore through my (home) office, in my neatly organized Space Bags looking for the Zephyr. Then I went into the garage, where I found the yarn in mere minutes. It doesn't hurt to know what you're looking for.

I pulled out my choices, and the gold color seemed appropriate for the myth that is the shawl's namesake.

(Picture courtesy of Fiddlesticks Knitting)

I cast it on. Ripped it out. Seven times, I think, before I could get my brain to figure out what I was supposed to be doing, conceptually. Despite how long I've been knitting, I had a bad lace experience in high school and never really had an interest in knitting lace until I started reading Stephanie's blog, and more recently, Franklin's blog.

My fingers had been itching to knit lace, and now I had the right project. I have been ADDICTED to Icarus. I can't carry it in my purse because the rows are getting too long for the brief waiting I do here and there. It has (currently) eclipsed spinning for my at-home project. It's incredibly intuitive and very rewarding. Pictures to come!