Sunday, May 27, 2007
My neighbor (always my neighbor) has oodles of these around her home. The colors are simply stunning. I put some serious effort out there to capture just the right color. Nothing seemed to work so I ended up using a flash to get the purple "just right." I'm close, but the photo really doesn't do the flowers justice. These blooms had to be a large as my hand, if not bigger. No kidding.
I have some sock yarn mentioned here, that is very close to these colors, though slightly muted. I was coveting it for a pair of socks for myself. Well, JJ left me such a beautiful comment about my weird things, that I couldn't help but think this yarn should be made into something for her. It is my sincere hope that everyone has the opportunity to have someone as special as JJ in their life. She is truly a lifting spirit and gift from the heavens (note ~ she is the eloquent, sentimental, thoughtful one of the two sisters, I on the other hand am the potty mouthed, goofy, forgetful one). Plus she did mention, oh so subtly, that she would cherish a pair of socks out of said yarn.
Decision made. JJ, the yarn is yours. Love ya.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
There are no crushes or jealous rebellions between the computer, the camera and the mp3. The huge problem is with the connection between chair and key board. Trixie, push the darn memory stick completely into the port and all will proceed as planned. Enough said.
So here is a useless picture of my knitting (that I couldn't post) at the conference track meet last week. Enjoy!
These socks are still in the design-work-out-the-kinks mode. So I can't give you a full photo yet. Let's just say my notes were less than clear.
I have started a pair of Jaywalkers, but not really loving how they are coming along. It's not the designer's fault, I am knitting them too large. A yeti could wear them and still have toe-wiggle room. Can we all say gauge square?! Lesson learned.
Monday, May 21, 2007
1. I sleep with my feet hanging off the end of the bed. They point straight to the ground, as if I was standing up . . . only I am laying face down. . . in my bed. I can't sleep well otherwise. Not sure what else to say about it.
2. I love fluffer-nutters! OK, now it's not what you think. It's a toasted peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich with gobs of artery clogging real butter. If you love 'em like I do, you understand that the creaminess of the peanut butter and the melty-fun of the marshmallow are pure heaven. CJ (lurking, non-knitter, husband of sister), have JJ make you one, she knows how. Dee-lish!
3. I have a band-aide phobia. Can't. Stand. Them. Don't even keep 'em in the house. I have been known to run to the store to buy a box of band-aide's for a cut (on the kids, I refuse to put them on my body) and then throw the remainder of the box immediately in the trash. Something about band-aides gives me the heebie-jeebies. RM has to remove them from the kids because once used, I won't go near it. I guess any career in medicine is probably not up my alley. BTW - I have a little sister who loved them! She used to put them all over her body and would ask for boxes of them as presents. Weird.
4. Wet, used napkins on a dinner plate piss me off.
5. I hate to admit this one, but . . . I . . . was . . . wait for it . . . in a pageant. No not a beauty pageant, a SCHOLARSHIP pageant. Cough, cough, hack and hack. I still have the gown, hoop skirt and all. That tells you how long ago it was. But that's all I will say. You don't hear mumbling about no talent, corrupt judging and inefficient, self applied make-up. I am not bitter, really.
6. I wanted to be in a rock and roll band, lead singer to be exact. American Idol would have taken me in a minute, I just knew it (if Idol was around then). But when the Jr. High choir director tells you, "You're not really getting the correct note/pitch thing. Just move your lips for the last concert and I'll give you an A." Uh, call me crazy, but don't you think it's a subtle clue that singing might not be for me? Yet Boo-boo still asks for me to sing him "Hush Little Baby" every night. Oh, love is deaf.
7. I can swim for hours. Really, I can. Running hurts like hell. Exercise sucks. But some how swimming just comes easily to me. Pool swimming is like meditation. Lap after glorious lap always clears my head.
So if your still here, haven't been tagged by this already. Join the fun. Please feel free. Sarah, that could be you!
Friday, May 18, 2007
Not sure what this post is really about. I had some decent pictures of me knitting at a track meet (in Rockford). But my computer and my camera's memory stick are in a big tiff right now. Obviously one is not speaking to the other. Why? Not sure. Maybe my camera is jealous that I am using my mp3 just a little too much. Loading music into the mp3 is keeping me preoccupied lately. I guess the "green-eyed monster" can strike anywhere, anytime. But for now, I can't show you the pictures. Jealousy sucks.
PS ~ Maybe my computer is totally in love with it's new mistress, the mp3, and wants nothing to do with the old stand-by camera any more. Just a thought.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
This is my new love, and it makes me want to shake my groove thing. It also answers the eternal question, "At almost 40, are your grooves really just ruts in the road?" For me *pause* uh, yes they are ruts.
RM and the kids gave it to me for Mother's Day. It's already loaded with high tempo songs for running, cleaning and generally ignoring who is calling me. I am in awe of how light it is to carry. Once clipped to my pocket, I forgot it was even there . . . well, except for the music in my ears. Listening to adult-type music for pleasure is a luxury I had abandoned for the last five years because of all the early childhood music playing in our house.
So last night, after RM and Boo-boo went to bed, I stuck the earphones in, turned up the music and danced in my living room like no body's business. The neighbors probably thought I was nuts. As I tried to channel the Solid Gold Dancer in me, I did dishes, folded laundry and generally had a blast. It was a secret dream of mine, way back in the day, to be a Solid Gold Dancer. The hair, the costumes, the moves . . . all the rage almost *gulp* twenty years ago. Now, um, not so hot. Back then, I would have had at least one out of three - the hair.
Friday, May 11, 2007
One Day You'll be a Man
Darling baby, our pride and joy, I hold you close, my little boy. One day you will be a man, so let me cuddle you while I can. Your little hand grips mine tight, while you fight sleep with all your might. But I don't mind these wakeful hours, this time together that's all ours. When you're a man I'll hold your child, and remember this with a gentle smile. Because time goes by so terribly fast, let's take this time and make it last.
~ Author Unknown
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Pattern: Generic Toe-up Recipe with short row heel
Yarn: Cider Moon's Glacier in Bikini Bottom
Needles: US 2 Addi Turbo's Circular
Started: April 30, 2007
Finished: May 9, 2007
Notes: I need to give more attention to my short rows. Instead of nice tight wraps, I end up with something more like eyelets. Any tips? I'll take 'em.
Sorry, blogger/my computer was being funny about posting pictures, so only half the post was originally published. Here is the rest . . .
Last night there was a beautiful storm. Thunder booming, lighting crashing and loss of power! Why do I sleep so well during the storms, but if Boo-boo rolls over (in his bed, in his room) I jump awake? But I am getting off the subject. Now the air smells so clean and good that I took a short walk. Here is a photo of some peonies I saw along the way. These are my neighbors and are almost ready to bloom. Ants just love the buds right now. Isn't it funny that ants and peonies need one another, yet I don't need ants in my kitchen?
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Well, I am getting that same pesky irritated feeling about knitting these socks. Some plain toe-up socks, which I mentioned here and here are currently on my needles. I really, really like the yarn. It is probably one of the softest and lightest yarns I have ever worked with. Don't really, really like the color I purchased (love it in the hank and photos). To me, bikini bottom should bring to mind summer, sun and a funny yellow sponge with tube socks on. Separately, the colors are bright and cheery. I like them. When knitted, this color way brings to my mind algae. I'm not loving the way the toe is cute and striped (with defined color changes), but the foot and leg colors become indistinct? Each color seems to blend into the next, blurring and morphing into something that is making me slightly uncomfortable. Sort of like when there is sand my swim suit I can't shower away. But I continue to knit . . . just like I keep going to the beach.
Cider Moon produces a wonderful product and I will snap their yarn up again. Did I mention how soft it is? Or how light it is for a sport weight yarn? Or how, after a few reviews of the photo, it can kinda grow on you? Please understand that this is really a rant about my poor color choice/taste, not the yarn.
Note to self: Leave the bikini bottom (and top . . . big girls and bikini's don't mix) in the drawer. I'm going to hit the shower.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
I planted this Trillium two summers ago. Each year I anxiously look forward to it flowering and multiplying. Each year, RM mistakes it for a weed and almost mows it down. I out-smarted the mowing monster this time and used string and stakes to ring the Trillium.
Viola! We have flowers.
New sock yarn in just these colors is on it's way to me . . .
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
My dream: To wear a bikini on my world-class, rock hard body (even after two babies) and prance down the beach, hair blowing in the breeze, and turning heads.
My reality: Slug all the gear for two kids in my confining maillot with conservative cover-up through burning sand while hopping from foot to foot. All the while, yelling for kids to slow down, put on sun screen, don't go in the water yet, etc. Instead of hair blowing gloriously in breeze, my flabby arms would be jiggling from the hopping. Sure heads would turn . . . to hide their amusement and laughter.
Oh well, a girl can dream . . .