Musings on Anger

I guess I am moving around in the grieving process. I've got a lot of rage.

What an odd emotion anger is. It is like fire. I know why it's always depicted visually as red.

It flares from nowhere. It consumes everything within arms span. It rages then smolders for hours before dying out. Such a destructive emotion.

I had the biggest fight with The Greatest yesterday. I was mildly annoyed at something someone we mutually know did. Someone who is more his friend than mine. It was no big deal, the kinda thing you shrug at, say how annoying, and go on loving the annoying offender.

But last night it was huge. And I don't know what happened. I was angry, then I was screaming, then I was using language I don't usually use when the kids are awake. Slamming doors. Poignant silence. A real doozy of a fight.

The Greatest left me alone for a while. Then he came in our bedroom and sat quietly on our bed.

In that witchy tone I can get I asked "Do you want something?"

He lovingly asked "Why are we fighting?"

Silence.

Then laughter.

I laughed until I cried, because I don't know why we were having such a terrible fight. I have no idea what happened.

I just know I've got a lot of rage issues all of a sudden.

I don't want this emotion to scar my soul.

Its so strange.

I'm so unfocused.

There are days that change your life forever. You eternally divide your life between what happened before and what happened after. I thought I was sad when we moved from Chicago and I left my best friend behind. But I kept in touch with her, and made new friends that I love dearly. I thought I was sad when we sold our house last year. But we've made a new home, I rarely miss the old one. But how can I get over this? My Mom can never be replaced.

Mostly I'm numb. I wander around trying to hold in my mind the things that need done. Everything must be written down or instantly forgotten. I have no concept of time. Minutes both fly by and drag on forever. It all seems so unreal.

But occasionally I am hit very hard by the reality of it all.

I was driving to my Father's house and worrying about my siblings. They are all grieving in different ways. And they are all taking it so hard. Who wouldn't be taking it hard? Their Mother died. Suddenly I realized MY Mother died too. She is gone. I can't ever get her back.

I was at the store today. Just running some errands. Getting milk for the kids, and vanilla wafers. It was so normal. And I didn't belong there. It was all too ordinary. I feel so empty, so grief-stricken, so eternally changed. I'm so different inside I'm sure it must show on the outside. I feel as if people should be able to look at me and just know things are all wrong. I feel as if nothing will be normal again, and I don't belong in a place as normal as a grocery store.

I love my Mom so much. I miss her so much. I know she wouldn't want me to be so sad. I can't help it right now.

I must thank everyone for their messages and thoughts. They mean more to me than you will ever know. Thank you for thinking of me during this time.

My Mom died this morning.

Musing on love

My Mom's disease is progressing fast. Faster than we could have imagined. I am sad. I am so sad. In the span of a week she has gone from communicative to near catatonic. From a bright vibrant soul to, well these just aren't words that I'm ready to say.

But in this week I have witnessed love. Pure love.

I have watched my Aunt lovingly bath my Mother. She was a nurse and her hands were strong and sure of their movements, remembering an act she had performed on countless patients in a former life. But they moved with such tenderness. And she spoke in such soothing tones, explaining what she was doing and expressing love. My Aunt is sick and weak herself. It took courage and strength for her to drive herself an hour to my Mother's home. But in a time where there really is very little any of us can do for our Mother my Aunt saw something she could do to make my Mom more comfortable, and she did it. She did it despite the personal toll it took on her strength. She did it because she loves her. Sisters share a special bond. I know first-hand because I've got a little sister. It was beautiful to see what that bond looks like after a lifetime of sharing. Never have I been more grateful that Bird is my beautiful baby girl instead of the much longed for boy. Pork Chop and Bird will be another link in the chain of sisterly love. I'm happy they will have that bond in their lives. It is a beautiful thing.

I have seen a child's pure love for her Grandmother. Bird was outside playing all day yesterday. In the afternoon when she was tired she finally came looking for me. I was laying on the bed beside my Mom. Bird wandered upstairs calling for "Mommy." But upon entering the room she spied her Grandma and I don't think she could have been happier if we had just announced that she could eat nothing but cookies and ice cream for the rest of her life. Her face just lit up and she screamed "Grammy." Nothing could keep her from the object of her affection. She climbed on the bed with me and crawled across to her Grammy. When Bird saw that my Mom was sleeping she changed to a whisper "Grammy" and rubbed her arm. She gave her a kiss and ran off to play. The love of a child is so sweet.

I've seen the power of a Grandmother's love for her granddaughter. My Mom is weak and unresponsive. But her eyes opened when she heard Bird's voice. And when Bird kissed her my Mom's lips moved as if to kiss her back. She has such little strength, and she used it to kiss my baby. It breaks my heart that Bird won't remember how cherished and adored she was by my Mom. I hope I can make her understand and feel it.

And I have been blessed enough to witness the love between a Husband and a Wife after more than thirty years of marriage. I once read a book that said love is like water. Sometimes it stays below the surface nurturing a relationship like water in the soil feeding the roots of a tree. And sometimes it is like rain that falls all around you. I thought that was the most beautiful and accurate description of love. But I see now that it is wrong. Love is a living organism. It can grow and flourish, or whither if left unattended. My parent's love has been tended to all these years and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Before my Mom stopped speaking I witnessed my Father attending to my Mother. She fought him over her medication. She was angry, I think mostly at her inability to make her body work the way it has all her life. He was as patient and as gentle as could be. Ignoring her anger, quietly explaining everything over and over. Calming her. Taking care of her. When the episode passed he tucked her in bed and they kissed. They shared a look that I feel fortunate to have witnessed. I can not explain the love that passed between them. But is was tangible. It was living. It blanketed them, and everything else in the room, including me. It was a love that has grown for over thirty years of kisses and fights, shared joys and worries, shared struggles and triumphs, shared lives devoted to one another. I am truly blessed to have been part of that love.

When my Parents were first married they read Watership Down outloud to one another. It was always one of my Mom's favorite books. Last night my Father sat up reading it outloud to my Mother. She may not be able to talk to us, but I'm sure she loved it. His voice is such a soothing, smooth, deep baritone. Resonate. Calming. I heard him on the baby monitor reading to her. Such a loving thing to do. So sacred to their relationship, part of their history, I felt like an interloper hearing it on the baby monitor. I turned it off the give them their privacy. I hope the Greatest and I can grow such a love together.

While I feel fortunate to have been a part of so much love, it is beautiful, gives comfort and strength, I am also sad. And angry. Part of me wants to scream at the disparity of such injustice in the midst of such beauty. I want to call God himself out of the heavens and demand a lengthy explanation. I want to collapse in a heap of raw emotions and sob until there is nothing left but quiet. I want a million things that I can't put into words.

But most of all I want my Mom.

I love her.

Random

I went to see my Mom today. Her disease is progressing, as we knew it would.

She is on liquid morphine for her pain. I'm glad she's not in pain. But she is sleepy now. She drifts in and out of sleep mid-sentence. She tells me she is drifting seamlessly from reality to dream, incorporating the last conversation into her dream, then back to reality in a matter of minutes.

I didn't need to talk to her today. I just wanted to be near her. I wanted to sit in the same room as her and just feel her physically near me. Soon I won't be able to do that. I laid in bed with her and told her every little thought that rolled through my mind. I talked about everything, but actually said nothing. Sometimes she followed the conversation, sometimes she told me things like "We really need to find the Elmer's glue and the paintbrushes to give the kids." I shudder to think what the children would do with Elmer's glue and paintbrushes.

As she drifted into sleep again I wished I had a camera. My Mom is so beautiful. I wanted to capture how calm she looked. How peaceful she much have felt. I wanted to hold that moment, that beauty, that love and suspend it in reality forever so she would never leave.

A few minutes later she woke up and was talking to me. I was sitting all curled up on her bed and she suddenly said she wished she had a camera so she could take a picture of me sitting on her bed. She then tried to tell me all the things you tell someone you think you might not get to talk to again, but it is hard to find the words. And she doesn't need words. I already know. I feel the same way.

There are no words.

I never wanted to leave her bed. I wanted to lay there forever with her and be her little girl, and love her, and bathe in her radiance and beauty. I found comfort in her sage green room. Soon she won't be there anymore.

I hate cancer.

Beautiful Weather

The sun is out, the birds are singing and my kids are playing in the dirt.



They played tag. They threw balls. They caught flying beetles. They cheered as Dreamy climbed a tree.

But my favorite thing was this exchange.



Meaty found a stick.



Bird found an ant hill.



It was a marriage made in heaven. What could be more fun than poking ants with a stick?

A good time was had by all.

Knitting in Motion: The Real Me

April at Coffee Crazy Knitter wrote a beautiful post about being herself. She talked about how she has grown to be comfortable in her skin. And she shared a photo of her knitting. Not staged, just her, sitting in her jammies, knitting.

She asked for other "Real" photos.

So last night I asked The Greatest to take a picture of me while I was knitting.

"Why?"

"For my blog."

"Why are you going to put a picture of you in that robe on your blog?"

"Because...It's this thing...All my friends are doing it."

Shaking his head "You have some weird friends. Where's the camera?"



This is me in one of the two places I knit. The Greatest and I are odd. We are almost always in the same room together. We just are. Rarely are we home at the same time and we're not in the same room. I can't explain it. I didn't even think of it consciously until I started writing this post. We just like to be in the same room. So if The Greatest is playing a computer game I sit on the bed and watch TV and knit.

That's me in my pink robe. I have two, one long and furry for winter, one short and terry for summer. I love them, they're comfy and pink. The Greatest hates both of them. Much to his displeasure I wear them anyways. To my left is my knitting bag with the stuff for my latest project. I'm knitting two socks on two circular needles, my favorite way to knit socks. One yarn ball in on my left side, the other on my right. Off frame on my right is my Vogue Stictionary. I'm working on a new sock pattern. But that's how I sit, bag on my left, instructions on my right, legs out in front of me. I look pretty good because I took a shower earlier that day.

The other place I knit is my couch. Different location, but the pose is still the same, ugly robe, bag on left, instructions on right, legs propped up on the coffee table.

I understand what April was saying about feeling comfortable in her skin. I never want to be a teenager in again. Sometimes I wanted to scream just to relieve this consuming feeling of want that was inside me. I couldn't define it or explain it, or make it go away. It was rage, and desire, and emptiness, a longing for something but for what I couldn't say, this big nothing that was tearing at my soul. It's so nice to not have that anymore. I'm just me. That's enough. I don't want more or less. I'm just me in my pink robe.

But my legs do look pretty good in that picture. You can tell The Greatest took the photo.

He's at it again

I can't believe I thought Boyd was reformed.

He's been so quiet lately.

I thought he's finally given up.

He's been so good I even used him as a holder needle for the Blue Blob when I needed the needles for another project. *shudder* I can't believe I put him in the perfect position to carry out his next plot.

It began with The Greatest's Black Socks. Remember how proud I was that I used the entire skein, that I didn't waste any yarn. I never suspected something deeper was at work.

Then I tried to knit this.



It's a silk corset for my sister. I knit this bad boy in a WEEK. It fits her like a dream, it is so good. But wait. What's wrong with the right sleeve. It looks...short?

Yup, I ran out of yarn for the second sleeve. An order from Knitpicks will fix that right up. I just thought I'd mis-judged the amount of yarn I'd need for the addition of sleeves, again. I always assume it's me.

But then I knit the River Rapid socks for my Sister-in-Law. I love her. She's always taken an interest in my knitting, even thought I can't convince her to learn to knit. She picked out the sock yarn from my stash, I measured her feet, and my needles were flying. I knit to the toes and guess what? I ran out of yarn. Luckily I had knit the girls some socks from this yarn last year so I had two tiny balls (remember those left-over balls I was complaining about last week) and was able to finish the socks with no further issues. (Picture next week after they have been gifted to the recipient)

So that brings me to the Blue Blob.



The cat may shun it, but it really is a thing of beauty. I'm using Eunny's border from her Print 'O the Waves Stole for my edging.



I'm not crazy about it, but it's better than anything I've come up with. I do like how it mimics the curves of the center piece. It kinda ties it all together.



My problem? I've got two and two thirds of the border done, I've used two balls of yarn. I've got one ball of yarn left. Mathematically I should be fine, I'm pushing it, but I should be fine. But I can feel it in my bones. The border is going to be two inches too short to go all the way around the shawl. I just know it.

I blame this all on Boyd. And to think I GAVE him access to the Blue Blob. How could I be so stupid? He started with the Black Socks, but didn't take enough yarn. He corrected that mistake with the Corset, and River Rapid Socks. I don't know where he's holed up now, but so help me if I have to rip the Blue Blob I will do something terrible to him. Something that makes baby circular needles cry. Boiling Water? Scissors? Acid?

I wonder if the neighbors still have that rotweiler.

Such an ingrate

While my computer was down I was fortunate enough to receive two packages in the mail on the same day. I must publicly thank the givers for their generosity.

First was a package from my Knitty Secret Pal



There's a beautiful pair of wood needles in their own satin case. They are obviously too special to be thrown into my needle roll. I need to find a project knit on size 8 needles so I can try them out.

There's a copy of "French Kiss." Very funny. I highly recommend it.

There is also some E-tomic Balm. Very nice to rub on sore hands at the end of a long knitting session. Good stuff.

And last but not least is the Vogue Knitting Stictionary. So beautiful. I love the smell of a new book. As a child books were borrowed from the library. Only really good books that were going to be read over and over again were purchased. So books to me are almost sacred. This one is so pretty with such lovely illustrations. You can just see the potential on every page. I am overwhelmed by your generosity with this perfect gift.

Also included in the package was candy for the children, twizzlers for The Greatest, and chocolate and biscotti for me. None of that lasted long enough for a photo session.

Once again, thank you so much SP.

The same day I received a package from the fabulous Katrina. If you don't read her blog you should. She is an amazing person, mother, friend, and knitter. She also runs movie line contest and send yummy yummy chocolate to the winners.



There was some chocolate that didn't live long enough to be photographed, some Bath and Body works hand lotion in vanilla Bean Noel (what could be better than smelling like a cookie) and the Stitch and Bitch Knitters Design Journal. Thank you so much Katrina. I love you too. But it was unfair of you not to include a return address.

It's almost like my SP and Katrina conspired together. Between the Stictionary and the design journal I have no excuse but to try and tackle that sweater design that's been rumbling around in the back of my mind (except there are about a million patterns already written by others that I want to knit).

Coming soon: actual knitting content. I have been knitting. I've got quite a few almost done things, but I think I've been cursed again.

My final FO

Rounding out our parade of FO's we have our long awaited follow-up to the Manly Socks.

They've got no name, so I'm taking suggestions.



Pattern: Mine

Yarn: Knit Picks Essential, 2 skiens

Needle: Two size 0 Addi Turbos

Review: As with the Manly Socks I let The Greatest pick out the pattern he wanted. He chose a chevron pattern. He likes those simple textured patterns.



I don't like this sock as much as the Manly Socks. There really isn't a difference between them in the construction, the heel or the toe, I just don't like this stitch as much. But hey, they're not for me are they. As long as they make The Greatest happy who am I to judge? I did go down to the wire as far as yarn goes. This is my left-over yarn.



Now, even though I knit them at the same time on two circular needles I only had six inches on yarn left from one sock and five times that much left from the other sock. Go figure. It is a bit of a rush knitting and wondering if you have enough yarn left. And when you're done you do feel quite proud for not wasting an inch of yarn upon completion. I can't throw anything away. I have so many tiny balls of yarn left over from projects that I don't know what to do with. It was nice to put all that yarn into the sock and not have any souvenier yarn.

I did have a finished Panta to show as well, but it's gone MIA. I wonder if it's run off with Boyd. Bad enough he's toying with my WIPs, but now he's gone too far touching my FOs.

Knitting interrupted

I've been sitting on this story since last week and it is just too funny not to share, and I want to share it before I forget. It was a proud shining moment in my parenting decisions.

Pork Chop found an old teddy bear in the stuffed animal box named Grandma Moses. It was my Mother's, then mine, now her's. She loved it for a week. She swaddled it like a baby, and took it almost everywhere. She made sure it was fed three meals a day and tucked in safely at night. She took very good care of it.

Last Friday as we were picking up toys I found Grandma Moses laying by the couch. I didn't want to put her away since she would be heading upstairs for bed soon, so I sat her in the rocking chair. Then I found the children's dress-up kitty ears. I put them on Grandma Moses so they could go upstairs at bedtime and be put back with the other dress-up clothes. She looked pretty cute.

Pork Chop came downstairs from her bath and just laughed at Grandma Moses. She wanted to know how the ears got on her. I told her I didn't know, Grandma Moses must have wanted to play dress-up too. Then Pork Chop wanted to know how Grandma Moses got in the rocking chair. Again I replied that I didn't know.

I was thinking this could be a fun game. I could put things on Grandma Moses or put her places and we could pretend she was real. Wouldn't that be fun? What a great childhood memory that would be. Isn't imagination great?

Well, to quote Thomas "sometimes good imaginations imagine bad things."

At bedtime Pork Chop informed me that she wanted to put Grandma Moses back in the stuffed animal box in her brother's room. And maybe we might want to think about keeping her in the basement. I was puzzled. After a week of having Grandma Moses as her constant companion I didn't understand why she wanted to put the bear as far away from her as possible. I asked her why and she told me "that bear is kinda freaking me out." I buried my face in The Greatest's shoulder so she wouldn't see me laugh. I couldn't help it. I took the bear and promised to put it away.

I tucked Meaty in and went to tuck Pork Chop in. She was in her bed just sobbing into her pillow. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she was concerned that the troll who made Grandma Moses real would come back and put horrible magic on her. I don't know why she thought a troll had cast magic on Grandma Moses, and I don't know what horrible magic she thought the troll would work on her. I just felt terrible for having upset her so. I instantly confessed that I had put the ears on Grandma Moses and put her in the rocking chair. She felt better but still didn't want the bear that night.

She has since reclaimed the bear as her own. I'm glad. I guess when you open the door to the idea that magic can be real, that there really are fairies, unicorns and teddy bears that turn real you also open the door to the idea that trolls, wicked wizards, and horrible magic can also be real.

Poor Baby. I was really looking forward to pretending Grandma Moses was real. Hope I didn't scar her too much. But I have to giggle everytime I think about her telling me the bear was "freaking" her out.

Stripey Goodness

I'd like to thank everyone for their kind comments on the pink sweater. I don't think I'll go around calling myself a designer until I'm more comfortable with what I'm doing, especially with sleeves. But I'm on my way. And I don't mind if you guys call me a designer. *wink-wink* *giggle-giggle*

Now onto the parade. Next are the Sweet Tart stipey socks, and their friend "Mini-me" (FO's #3 & 4). Forgive the photos. It's hard to take pictures of your own feet!



Pattern: None, just me playing with some yarn

Yarn: Knit Picks Simply Stripes in Sweet Tarts, 3 skeins for all four socks

Needles: 2 size 0 Addi Turbos

Review: What could be better than having a matching pair of socks with Pork Chop? I made the socks for myself first, and for a pair of stockingnette socks they were a real learning experience. I tried making a 2 st border of garter stitch on the heel. Elizabeth Zimmerman promised it was much prettier this way.



Elizabeth Zimmerman lied. My sock is on the left, Pork Chop on the right. I prefer the traditional sl1, k1 all the way across heel. I also take issue with her theory on the infinite superiority of knitting all things in the round, but that is a different dissertation. Next time I'll just chuck it all and try an after-thought heel, so the stripe pattern isn't disrupted.

I also tried decreasing for the toe every other round instead of every round. That didn't really work out either. My feet are Fred Flintstone feet. They are very square. I can never comfortably wear a pointed toe shoe. Rounded shoes are pushing it. Decreasing every other row makes a too pointy sock.



Again, I'm on the left, Pork Chop on the right. I much prefer the look and feel of the round toe you get from decreasing every row. Hey, live and learn.

I also learned a very important lesson on gauge. I've learned a lot about gauge swatches. I've learned the importance of making them, and the importance of washing them. Last week I learned an important lesson on stress and it's effect on gauge. I knit my gauge swatch while Big Booty Knits was at my house. I have the most fun with her. We knit, and fondle one another's yarn, and say outrageous things. I'm very relaxed with her when we are together laughing. My gauge swatch created with her was 7 st per inch. I cast on accordingly. Evidentially there is a lot of stress in my life that I can ignore with her, but not in my normal life. My gauge for the actual socks turned out to be 9 stitches per inch. That's a huge difference. What can I do but laugh at myself and enjoy my very snug socks, lesson learned. If I weren't so lazy I suppose I could rip them out and re-knit them. But that's too much work. I will wear my slightly tight socks as a constant reminder of these important lessons.

So Pork Chops socks were knit with the nine inch gauge, with a traditional heel and rounded toes. I knit them slightly larger for her feet. I'd like her to wear them longer than a week. She loves them. She's worn them around the house for a week straight. She even sleeps in them. It's nice to have my hand knits so deeply loved. Not like that ungrateful Bird. I'm going to order one more ball to make her a matching pair of socks, and she's going to wear them, and she's going to like it!

Pretty In Pink

or Finished Object #2.

I actually knit this a month or two ago, but I couldn't display it until I gave it to the recipient. Who by the way had her baby on Monday. She's 6 lbs, 15 oz and stunning.



Pattern: well, it started out as this,

Yarn: Knit Picks Shine Sport, in Blush, 4 skeins

Needles: Size 6 Addi Turbos

Modifications: Where do I begin with the modifications. I subbed the yarn. And I changed the gauge. I added butterfly eyelet lace along the bottom and next to the button band. I took off the hood and added a collar. The collar is a bit more mandarin than I had intended but I think it turned out just fine.



Review: I'm just loving the knitpicks Shine. And now they have Shine in Worsted weight. What's a poor girl to do? I'm pretty pleased with myself over the pattern changes. I think I'm dangerously close to creating my own sweater patterns (more on that later). As you know buttons are the bane of my existence. I can never find the right ones when the sweater is for me, my still unbuttoned, and unworn Cardigan in Alpaca with Glitter can attest to that. But cute baby sweaters? Perfect buttons jump off the shelf for cute baby sweaters.



I love the butterfly lace design. The pictures all looked fine on my computer, but for some reason they aren't showing the eyelets to their advantage now. And since the sweater now lives with the intended I can't get a new picture. So you'll have to take my word for it that it's really cute.

I'm thinking of making a sweater for Bird with the butterfly eyelet. But with an empire waist. And possibly little bell sleeves. Don't all children need bell sleeves to drape and drag through the sandpit, and their ketchup, and the dog's water bowl. How could life get any better than that?

Let the Parade of FO Begin!

I've got finished objects. I had to occupy my time somehow when I was offline.

I made these hats for my girls in Dec. 2004.



Notice the look of extreme displeasure on Bird's face. Also notice that I made them in 2004 and they still fit in 2006. Gotta love stretchy rib! Don't they look cute? And for the record Bird will usually wear this hat without protest. This morning she was just angry that the photo session interrupted Dora. Actually they all love these hats. Even Meaty has been spotted wearing this hat around the house, atleast he's partial to the blue ones. I just love the way they look in these hats. So cute, and feminine.

So when it came time to make a hat for me I decided to try one for myself. I wanted to look cute and feminine too.

So allow me to proudly present FO #1.




Pattern: Fun Flapper Hat, size large

Yarn: Noro Silk Garden, color 8, one skein

Needles: 16 inch size 6 bamboo circulars

Modifications: I knit this circular instead of flat, so I only cast on 80 st. I ran out of yarn, so I couldn't do the second row of sc around the tops of the flower, but I don't think that was a big deal. When I was finished I had only four inches of yarn left. I was very proud of myself for not wasting an inch of yarn.

Review: Still looks cuter on the kids.



But I'm loving the Silk Garden. It really was hypnotic to watch the yarn shift colors as you knit. I could see a real addiction in my future.

Random Zen

My search for software has revealed no usable disks. The Greatest left this morning to go out of town for three days. I wonder if he hid them to keep me from inadvertently breaking his newly-fixed machine. I'll show him. During nap time I'll just download what I need from the internet.

In the meantime I hate to let my quiet blogging time go unused when I've got so much to blog about. Being pictureless I will tell a tale of biscotti.

My Secret Pal sent me a message asking if I would mind if she baked something to go in my next package. Obviously she has never shared a meal with me. Obviously she has seen pictures of me and thinks I actually watch what I eat. Obviously she has mistaken me for someone else. I love food. I love food. I love food. There are very few things I won't eat. And I eat in quantities that can be considered obscene sometimes. I love the smells, and textures, and colors of food. I love the temperatures and tastes of different foods. I love cold creamy ice cream, and warm crumbly brownies. I love steamed broccoli that is still slightly crunchy. I love deep fried pickles, and tea with honey. I have yet to meet a baked good I didn't love. So would I mind my SP baking for me. Hell no, bring it on.

My SP warned me that what she was making was a little "adult" and the children might not like it. I immediately think dirty when something is classified as "adult", I can't help it. I giggle at farts too. Now I was pretty sure she wasn't sending an erotic cake so I was intrigued. When I think baked goods, I think cookies, and cakes, and brownies, all very kid friendly, and things I consider to be staples of childhood. Aside from an erotic cake, I have no idea what an adult baked good would be.

Then my SP sent me a message that my package would take a few more days while she soaked the cranberries in brandy. Whoo-hoo. Brandy! I am a basic baker, like I said, cookies, cakes, brownies. Nothing in my repetoire includes brandy soaked cranberries. I could not wait to see what it was.

Long story short this mystery adult baked good was Cranberry Cashew Biscotti. But it should be called Ecstacy. I offered to share some for breakfast with The Greatest who informed me that he did not eat cranberries. I took my first bite and was immediately pleased that I would not have to share with him. I needed it all for myself. It was so good.

Enter the children, stage left.

Being my children, wonderful though they may be, they completely lack the ability to see me eat something and not demand a piece for themselves. Evidently this love-of-all-baked-goods gene that I carry in my dna has passed to them. It is a grand love dating back to a time before time, but at that moment I wish it had ended with me. They each got a tiny piece and turned feral in their desire to get more. They turned on each other and on me, the hand that feeds.

To avoid future carnage, and having to share, the biscotti was immediately stored in the highest cabinet in the house, where it would take two chairs, three phone books, and a see-n-say to reach. I hoped that by the time they got to the second phone book I would realize why they were being so quiet and could intervene to save the biscotti.

So having established that the biscotti must be eaten in secret or shared I resorted to eating it at night, in the dark, after the children had been put to bed. It was so good. I can not impress upon you how good this was. Not better than sex, but as close as anything I've even known.

Yesterday was a very turbulent day for me. By mid-afternoon I needed a break. Being a stay-at-home mom means breaks are a dreamy memory from a past life. You never really get them. But I had a plan. I turned the tv to noggin. Usually it is glued to NBC soap operas at that time of day (what can I say, I've invested over half my life in these people, I can't abandon them now), and having forbidden noggin got their attention. I made a cup of hot chocolate, so far so good. I grabbed the final piece of biscotti, the children haven't so much as blinked yet, for fear of missing these contraband cartoons. I snuck upstairs to the bathroom with the lock that works. SCORE. With a sigh of contentment and complete peace I sank to the floor to enjoy my snack. Two bites later I hear

"you in there Mommy?"
"where Mommy go?"
"Pork Chop, we can't find Mommy"

They continued in a similar vein for the duration of my snack. Yet their search did not diminish my pleasure because a) the door was locked, and b) atleast I knew exactly where they were and what they were doing and c) what they were doing didn't involve two kitchen chairs, three phone books and a see-n-say. Complete Zen.

This must be how Bird felt the morning we lost her. Meaty came to me because he couldn't find her and he wanted to play. Being the good Mom I am I jumped right off the couch to search, and by jumped right off the couch I mean, I sent Pork Chop to look. Pork Chop returned to report that she couldn't find her either. The Greatest and I exchanged looks and began to search the closets. We called her name and searched the house. No Bird. We called louder and looked again. No Bird. At this point I'm feeling quite panicked. All the doors were still locked from the inside, so she couldn't have gotten out of the house. We search again. I decide to look under my bed. There isn't a lot of room under my bed, and if she's in there, she's probably stuck. I got down and look and to my surprise I see her, not under the bed, but under the computer desk, hidden by the chair.

I rush over and there she lays, sucking her two fingers on her left hand, her right in her belly button, her zen position.

"What are you doing?"

Out pop the fingers. "I hiding." Back the fingers go.

She was the picture of happiness. Hiding.

That was me yesterday. Me and my biscotti. We're hiding.

Happy Happy, Joy Joy, Happy Happy, Joy Joy

Does anyone remember that, or am I showing my real age?

MY COMPUTER IS FIXED, MY COMPUTER IS FIXED, MY COMPUTER IS FIXED!!!!!!

It only took nine hours of cell phone minutes, seven different Dell "technicians", and three visits from a local computer repair company. Through out this ordeal the local company was magnificent. They could only do the work that Dell authorized them to do, and they felt very bad each time they left without fixing the problem. They even donated a part to us to try to repair our old Compaq computer so we would have something to use. I firmly believe the only reason my computer is working is because they got on the phone and argued with Dell to get the parts we really needed (only a new motherboard and processor, nothing major). They were wonderful and I might name our next child after their company. I would give a shout out to them and their names, but you know, I have kids, and I like to keep a minimum level of anonymity here.

I have so many things to blog about. I've got a whole boring rant about Dell. A package from my SP to brag about (with the best biscotti in the entire world). Not to mention a very special package from Katrina (I love you too). And Five, count 'em, FIVE finished objects to show. Sure they're small things, but hey, still, I've got five of them. With my computer down I had tons of time to knit. It was heaven.

One of the things we did in the course of trying to get the computer fixed was re-image our hard drive. That means all of our files and software are completely gone. As soon as I find the disk for our camera so I can upload pictures I'll be showing off all my fun stuff.

In the meantime I just wanted to say "HI". I'm so happy to be back.

Miss you guys

Hello (echo)(echo)(echo)

Hello (echo)(echo)(echo)

Is anyone still here?

Sorry for the silence. My computer is broken, it works for about ten minutes a day.

Dell sucks and their warranty means nothing. I'll tell you all about it if they ever fix it.

Miss you all and love you all.

My son

My daughters are little nudists. They are the kind of children that protest the imposition of clothing with every cell in their body. At the age of three Pork Chop used to strip off all her clothes, throw her arms out wide and declare herself "soooo naked." There is nothing cuter than a chubby toddler body running around the house giggle from the sheer joy of having so much flesh exposed to the breeze. At the age of four Pork Chop's limbs lengthened until she no longer had that cubby toddler body. She had a little girl body and so much exposed flesh was suddenly inappropriate. Bird still has an innate love of being naked. When changing her clothes you must be quick. Otherwise the moment you get all her clothes off she will pop up and run before you have a chance to replace them. Oh, the joys of childhood.

My son is the complete opposite. Something about being naked disturbs him. As an infant he screamed his way through every diaper change, only to immediately stop once his pants were back on. At the age of one he covered his nipples with both hands whenever they were exposed. Taking him to the pool was always a treat. He is now obsessed with not showing his privates. Peeing in the potty is suddenly torture because his bottom is exposed. The meanest thing you can do to him after he has wet his pants is to refuse to give him new underwear. I tell him that if he is going to pee them, he can't have them. He hides in the bathroom until I give in. The moment his pants are removed to change his clothes one hand covers the front and the other hand covers the back. His discomfort with his body is a little disconcerting. I hope he grows out of it and becomes more comfortable with his skin. The boy hates being naked.

So imagine my surprise when Meaty bared his bottom and rubbed it on his cousin's head chanting "Nakie butt, Nakie butt."

The Grandmothers Grow Restless

So here we go. Let's start off with some sisterly love.



Check out my future GQ model



My pretty Baby.



Cheaper than bunk beds.

My Manly Socks

Let me distract you from the raw gaping wound that is my soul with some fine-ass knitting.



Pattern: Manly Socks, by Mamma (that's me, tee-hee)

Yarn: Knitpicks Essential, two skiens, in Fawn

Needles: Two size 0 Addi Turbos

Review: The heaven's opened and the Angels sang. I have finished a project for The Greatest. Before anyone freaks out and sends me a razor let me assure you they were modeled by The Greatest for these photos. This sock yarn isn't as soft as I had hoped, but it got better after washing. And they say it wears like iron, and we all know how reliable they are. Wearing like iron is a good thing, because goodness knows that man is hard on his socks.

This was my first attempt at sock design with a top down formula. I love socks! Once you understand the basic construction it is so easy to add in a stitch pattern, or modify them to fit the intended owner's feet. It makes one feel very smart and clever. I just took some foot measurements (which did entail actually *ewwwww* touching his feet, but thank goodness that part didn't last long). Then I handed The Greatest a stitch dictionary and told him to pick something. He chose a Giant Diamond stitch.



Very manly don't you think? No sissy yarn overs or complicated increases/decreases for him. Straight knit and purl baby!



My favorite part is the heel. Ignore that tiny hole. I love the k1, sl 1 stitch for the heel. And I like turning the heel, it's magic. I'm so happy with the way these turned out. And better yet so is The Greatest. Hooray for successful knitting.

Just in case anyone else has a picky man in their life, here's the pattern. It's a bit rough and it assumes that you know how to knit two socks on two circular needles at once, sorry.

Co 76 st
Work 2x2 st for 1 inch
Decrease one st on second needle during last row of ribbing
k one row
Begin giant diamond pattern as follows
row 1: *k1, p13, k1, *rep to end of round
row 2: *k2, p11, k2,*rep to end of round
row 3: *k3, p9, k3,*rep to end of round
row 4: *k4, p7, k4,*rep to end of round
row 5: *k5, p5, k5,*rep to end of round
row 6: *p1, k5, p3, k5, p1,*rep to end of round
row 7: *p2, k5, p1, k5, p2,*rep to end of round
row 8: *p3, k9, p3,*rep to end of round
row 9: *p2, k5, p1, k5, p2,*rep to end of round
row 10: *p1, k5, p3, k5, p1,*rep to end of round
row 11: *k5, p5, k5,*rep to end of round
row 12: *k4, p7, k4,*rep to end of round
row 13: *k3, p9, k3,*rep to end of round
row 14: *k2, p11, k2,*rep to end of round

Work in pat until piece meas 7.5 inches or desired leg length
On first needle only, beg heel gusset
row 1: *sl1, k1, * rep to end of row
row 2: sl1, p to end of row
continue row 1 & 2 until gusset measures 2 in

row 1: sl1, k24, ssk, turn
row 2: sl1, p12, p2tog, turn
row 3: sl1, k12, ssk, turn
repeat rows 2 and 3 until all rows are knit ending with a knit row

Pick up 18 st along left edge of heel flap
work second needle in giant diamond pattern as set
on first needle pick up 18 st along right side of heel flap
knit across first needle in st stitch
work across second needle in giant diamond pattern as set

needle 1: k1, ssk, knit to last three st, k2tog, k1
needle 2: work in pat as set
Continue in this manner until first needle has 38 st per sock
then continue knitting first needle in st stitch, and second needle in giant diamond pattern until foot meas 9.5 inches or desired foot length

beg toe decreases as follows
knit both needles in st stitch
k1, ssk, knit to last three st, k2tog, k1
work this pattern over each needle, every round until there are 10 st left per needle.
BO using kitchner st
Weave in ends
Have a very strong drink for surviving my ill-written pattern.
Give socks to hubby and expect expensive shopping spree in return.