bekka

hey nineteen or, the quickening

Couldn't resist another Steely Dan reference on this blog. Sorry. Suddenly I'm 19 weeks along in my gestation. And Wednesday afternoon, after coming home an hour early from work because I felt poorly all day long, as I lay resting on our bed, I'm 90% sure I felt the baby move. Sort of felt like gas, but there was no expulsion. It felt sort of schroomy or flutey or some such. Whooshy, maybe.  Sweet Chaletgirl told me to be patient, that she didn't feel anything until week 20.

Came at a good time, actually, because between feeling poorly, wanting to sideswipe the asshole in the mustang who didn't understand the concept or practical aspects of the Yield sign directed at him, and experiencing chronic frustration with rescheduling my level 2 ultrasound, I needed comforting on some level. And just the day prior I confided to Ian that I thought something was wrong because I had not felt the baby move.  Who said that pregnancy was fun? I'm not having a fabulous time. But it's not the worst thing in the world, either. I'm just pregnant. That's all. Taking it one new symptom at a time.

Was reading an article about labor induction at mothering.com mostly because I fear it and want to take the necessary steps to avoid it at all costs, when I came across the word quickening. Seems I'd known it at one point, but had forgotten it's real meaning, and that it could some day apply to me.

I haven't read any of the pregnancy, labor & delivery books that I bought. I mostly use them as reference guides for when/if I have a question about something specific. Frankly, I feel like I've absorbed a lot of information about the process  over the years and don't need to steep myself in it. Plus, Ian finds it healthier for my mental state if I avoid most writings about my condition because then I grow obsessed and frantic, and that's not healthy for any of us. Otherwise, I probably would have been all up on quickening and encouraging myself with "Quick, quick, quick" every other step.

Complained to LLA yesterday about how my bump doesn't look like a Hollywood bump. I STILL have a waistline. Eventually things should come together in the middle. But I'm still not wearing any tight shirts that showcase what I'm carrying. Still just appear frumpy and lumpy, not cute and obviously pregnant. I took the photo above last week thinking that I'd submit something for Self Portrait Challenge, it being nude/naked month. But then that urge passed. JC told me there were two other preggy pictures, so at least there was someone there to represent, if it wasn't me. About the photo: I had to puff out my tummy to make it look like that. Seems like I could do that naturally in a non-pregnant state anyway; I'm just that talented. But holding it to take a photo was something else. Whew. Anyway, there are tons more interesting nude pregnancy photos online than mine.

When folks ask me how I feel, I usually tell them: Tired, suffering from heartburn, backache, a little sciatic pain down my left leg. I've always been pretty literal when answering those kinds of questions.

Sort of depressing last night to go through my clothing. Stupidly imagined I'd be able to squeeze into most of my normally generously-cut dresses and tops. But no. Am winnowing them out. Would love to completely empty my closet and drawers of all things that won't fit, but that seem like a large chore that I'm not up to. And the thought of buying more maternity clothing just bothers me. It's too expensive, and mostly ugly, or geared toward pregnant teenagers whose personal style flirts too much with hoochieness. Most of my thoughts turn to sewing a few dresses, skirts, and tops that might see me through the next four months.

Luckily found enough things that will fit to take to Florida in Two days, possibly One. Ian should get home from work this evening, but I have to work at least half a day tomorrow, and then we can leave, drive halfway, and then arrive at Daytona on Saturday afternoon rather than late that evening.

Already thinking how much I'll miss my dogs. Feel out of sorts without them. But honestly, I'm looking forward to having a break.  Roxy is still such a mess. She's so wild and energetic and gets cranked up at the oddest times. I've called her down repeatedly the past few days to no avail. She's the strangest dog I've ever known. Half the time she'll stay close to me, but then she takes spells where she retreats to the den to snuggle on the couch alone while the other two are very near my side.

Ironically, she's so possessive, especially when she and I are on the den couch, or when I'm eating. I wonder whether I'll ever understand her. She's not cuddly like either of my spaniels. But when she wants attention or needs fresh water or to go outside, you can't push her away. She climbs up my chest, sticks her nose in my face, and commences to licking and being all sorts of annoying.

plackety-plack

In thrilling knitting news, I'm zipping along on Mick's Placket Neck Sweater that I began in January and decided to finish up/off before heading on vacation Saturday (counting down the days, now!). Intended to work on it while vacationing, but I've touched it too many times and knitted randomly on it enough that hey, it's 60-80% done. Plus, working on this pattern is such a no-brainer, I couldn't resist. With the EZ February cardi, I have to pay too close attention to my yos and ktogs and ssks. Perhaps that would be more suitable for poolside knitting.

Finished up the first sleeve last night and have a bit more to go on the second. But I can see having this one done by the end of this week, possibly, if I feel too puny to do any actual work around the house each evening.  Simple pattern, love the moss, or is it seed--I can never tell the difference--stitch, and can totally see me making one or two more of these, at least.

Am having a difficult time deciding what to knit for our baby. Haven't started the first thing, though there are at least 6 or 8 baby patterns in my Ravelry queue. Dare I knit up 4 or 5 things while baby is in the N-5 months stage/size? Or should I work on 10-12 months patterns now for baby next fall/winter? Decisions, decisions! I understand that they grow quickly and I don't want to waste time/energy/yarn on thing that baby will wear briefly.

what i learned at the quilt shop

Linda is a wealth of knowledge. She's teaching Laura and me (and two other women called Diane and Lori) how to make this Seasonal Table Runner. Really, all the women who work there have so much knowledge to share. There's a lot that comes through in class, like when she reminded me the best way to use my rotary cutter. But most of the information I learned I got by asking specific questions.

Like, I asked Linda if she had any trouble with shoplifting at the store and she said not really. Then she went on to explain how one time she found an empty bolt and suspected that someone pulled the fabric off the bolt and tucked it into her (surely it wasn't a he?) pants or waistband of her skirt. Who'd steal 7 or 8 years of fabric. What kind of story would that be? Shocking, no doubt.

They only go to quilt market once a year. Of late, every other quilting blog shared fabulous photos of quilt market booths. I have such market envy. I want to go to quilt market and yarn market, and most of all, that national stationary show.

Another thing Linda shared with me was this: The best way to mark your pattern for quilting is with a green Flair Papermate felt-tipped pen. She said when you put it in the wash, that you may think that the green ink won't come out, but it will. Linda admitted that chalks come off too easy, especially if getting around to quilting those outer corners may take a bit of time. And other markings fade, like pencil. I planned to use a pencil to mark my quilting patterns on the baby quilt I'm making, but may try her suggestion instead. Linda used the green felt pen on a quilt that it took her ten years to complete. So you can see that some kind of permanence was imperative to her task.

Then yesterday, Memorial Day, Linda was not there, but several of the other women working in the shop popped upstairs intermittently to cut fabric at the extra table. Whooeee. Being surrounded by so much fabric and so many quilts and so many quilt kits was tough stuff. I want it all. And it's super easy to be inspired to do something else; to jump from project to project to project. And to buy yards and yards of fabric.

Laura and I quizzed them about their sewing machine preferences. Seems that most of the ladies at Tennessee Quilts prefer Pfaff. I've never used one. Laura is using one there and I think she likes it. When the needle slips down to sew the fabric you can barely hear it. I told her not to get too used to it. She's looking at buying an inexpensive machine in the $100-$300 range. I knew the Pfaff was pricey, but then the woman said the machine Laura uses cost about $1400, several years ago.

So for quilting, all those women like Pfaff. Another quilt store staff person admitted she owns five machines: A Kenmore, 2 singers, and 2 Pfaffs, because you need a different machine for different tasks. I told Laura I used a Bernina a few years ago at a purse making class I took in Asheville and was so impressed with it that I've lusted after one ever since. She asked what a Bernina was. All I told her was "It's Swiss-made." Then we likened Berninas and Pfaffs to the Mercedes of sewing machines and relegated my sweet little Singer some Ford Pinto status.

Hey now, I'm especially fond of Pintos. Both metal and mammal.

Surely my own "addiction" to gathering as many sewing machines into my bosom as possible is not so much an aberration after all, in light of this information from serious quilters. Sunday I added a Hilton to the fold. It's circa 1969, the first machine my mom owned; she was 16 and newly married. It's all metal; very heavy. I'm not to lift it. It's been in Mom's attic since the 1980s. She made dozens of baby through toddler through chubby pre-adolescent clothes for me with it. And sewed her own clothes, too, at least through the early 1970s. Don't know how she learned to sew, whether it was a home economics class, or from her mother. Seems like I remember my mom saying that if she went into something other than nursing that she thought being a home economics teacher would be right up her alley.

Part of my collecting of machines has to do with my acquisitive nature, but there is another reason. Jim asked Traci and me to teach a regular sewing/quilting class at the farm this summer. Traci and I still have the details to work out as far as projects, but we'll need all the extra machines we can get so that our girls don't have to wait around forever and ever to touch a machine. I may ask around work to see if anyone has any older sewing machines that I could borrow.

Silly, I know, but I feel like I'm down one from the get-go. Ian's mom loaned his first wife her sewing machine and when Ian and she divorced, she kept Barbara's machine. It should have passed on to me. I'd like to call and ask ex-wife to please return the machine, but that would be almost as tacky as she is. Little barb here and there at the ex-wife's expense is therapeutic, no?

issues of girth

How can you go from size 12 jeans to size 16 jeans in three months by only gaining four pounds? Must be the strange manner in which my body expands for this baby. So yeah, I've always had body image issues, and thought I'd mostly gotten over them. But now, every time I pass a mirror or try to pull together an outfit for work, I cringe and moan and am just unsatisfied with my appearance. It's terribly frumpy and lumpy.

And, of course I'm always noticing other pregnant women wherever I go. Which reminds me, a year or so ago we took a day trip to Gatlinburg, Tn. and I swear, 1 out of 8 women tourists there were preggers, too. Really something weird about how pregnant women flock there. Must be the funnel cakes , taffy, donuts, and foot long Fannie Farkel corn dogs. Fudge, too.

Anyway, so I'm noticing all these obviously pregnant women wherever I go--the doctor's office is a given--and a few days ago I pointed out a woman to Ian and said "Does she look pregnant to you?" Neither of us could tell. She might have just been an apple. It made me feel bad, like other people may point to me and ask, "Is she just fat, or is she pregnant?"

I still have a bit of a waist. I don't want anything on it though. So I'm either wearing my skirts and pants below by breasts or low on the hips, and not all my clothes can accommodate such vast ranges. Once that disappears, the waist, that is, I think I'll be okay. That way, I'll definitely appear pregnant and not like, like Jenny said last night on the phone, "Like you've eaten too many cookies." I challenged her and said, "Nope, like I'd eaten too many pints of Ben & Jerry." Everyone knows I don't like cookies.

So a little bit at a time I'm cleaning out our computer/sewing room to make way for baby. I'm finding all these darling patterns, sewing patterns, that I never made, as well as all the corresponding fabric I bought, and it's making me sick. Really sick. All those cute dresses and skirts and I can't make them now.

not specifically maternity patterns, but could be adapted

To counteract those negative feelings, I stopped by two fabric stores yesterday and perused maternity patterns. Don't do it. I beg you. The selection is miserable. Really. Rarely did I find anything bordering on cute. Surprisingly, Simplicity boasted the greatest number of maternity pattern, almost 6 pages, I think. I ended up buying several patterns that I thought I could modify to suit my expanding girth, somehow. Luckily for me, the style in patterns, and at stores this summer, is the empire waist, which totally goes with being in my state. Totally lucked out on that one. Let's hope it sticks, at least through the fall when I might score some long-sleeved things to take me through Thanksgiving, which, last night my BIL said would totally be ruined by my giving birth on or around that holiday. Yeah, he's a real doll, that one.

So I found a Burda maternity pattern I bought and will try. Except that the dress is way shorter than what I'm comfortable wearing; no above the knee business for me. Won't be too difficult to lengthen it a good six inches. And saw all those adorable Oliver S patterns (featured in the latest Home Companion) and so wanted to buy them all, especially the dresses, but since I don't know what I'm having, and don't want to know (have I mentioned that bit yet?), it seems pointless to buy them.

Then, I'm also wondering exactly how smart it is to make anything for this pregnant body. After reading Morgan's experience with her Amy Butler lounge pants that don't fit because she's 40 weeks pregnant, I suspect that toiling on my sewing machine on clothing for myself may be for naught.

Here's hoping that a lot of my regular clothes can take me through a few more months. The slim, fitted look was a momentary lapse cause I lost 20 pounds or so. I still have my comfy sack-like loose dresses and pants and skirts, so maybe they'll do.

One other thing: I feel strangely liberated from all the clothing catalogs I get in the mail. I almost don't want to look through them. Invariably I do, because I' m afraid I might miss something that could work for me. Mostly I'm tempted to throw them out completely without browsing their pages. Makes going through the mail less time consuming. Might at well cancel my subscriptions to Vogue and Marie Clare, too. What's the use?

Oh, wait. I read them for the articles.

homegrown cowboy

Slowly but surely I'm turning Ian into a cowboy. He picked out and bought this snap-front shirt on his own. A few days later he bought a brand new pair of boots. Ariats. They're almost dress cowboy boots with the fancy tongue part extending out over the foot. He was sure to tell me of their acid-resistant sole and heel.

That's what you need when working around horse and cow urine. Otherwise the acid eats away at your boot bottoms. But he's just wearing his to work on the railroad all the live long day where, sometimes there's quite a lot of bullshit of another sort to wade through, as you can imagine.

Anyway, I just love my sweet husband. He's so good to me. I'm so glad he's mine. I want to pet him all the time.

wayback in time legwarmer

What could be more natural than knitting legwarmers while watching Magnum P.I. episodes? Yesterday Season 8, the very last Magnum season, arrived at home and Ian was there and I was there and so was our television and dvd player. First though, we watched another Tom Selleck movie, Stone Cold, which part way through I realized I'd seen before. Actually, I cast on during that movie and knitted on my legwarmers for a while. We're big Tom Selleck fans in my house.

The pair of legwarmers in Last Minute Knitted Gifts (2004) appealed to me for a great while, but I did nothing about it. It seems as though finding some of the yarns called for in those patterns is tough. Sure, I could substitute, but then I get lazy.

Instead, I used instructions from Weekend Knitting (2003), probably one of the first or second knitting books I ever bought. And I think this is the first thing I ever made from that book, too. Size US 6 needle, cast on 36 stitches, knit for 17 inches, cast off. Simple. Of late I've decided that I really need a pair of legwarmers because too often I leave the house in mid-calf length socks and they don't keep cold air from wafting onto my bare legs under my skirt.

Yeah, I feel kind of retro. Kind of silly, sheepish, even. Like I'd ever wear legwarmers again? Looking back at photos taken of me when I was a teen is painful. I was an eighties fashion victim. Sure it was kooky, but at least I didn't look like a streetwalker, like all today's teens aspire toward in their fashion choices. I can remember at least three pair that I had and now I wonder whether they might still be at my mom's house tucked way back into a drawer somewhere.

One of the extra features in American Gangster talked about costuming the actors and extras from the seventies and the woman interviewed said that shopping for the seventies was super easy because all those clothes are at the secondhand stores, the salvation army, the goodwill. Is that the case with clothes from the eighties? Will I walk into any secondhand store and find legwarmers galore?

Actually, I thought I was too late to the legwarmer party this season because two days ago our temperatures reached 70. They were 50 yesterday. Today tiny snowflakes fly, so it's in the 30s. These extremes of weather are somewhat typical for my region, but as I age, I adapt less easily to these sudden changes. In another day or two I'll have my legwarmers finished and can wear them, hooray! Mostly they'll stay hidden under my long skirts so nobody can tell I'm wearing them.

But if one of y'all see me out in public you can whisper, "Does she? Is she wearing legwarmers?!" But I'll never say.

big toe dipped in & doggy tales

Tiny step this morning/afternoon: I logged in to Ravelry and found MORE things to put in my queue. I won't bore you with details, but I think y'all know how much I love berets, and this one? Sigh. Does it matter that I lusted over Ysolda's for months now and haven't found exactly the right yarn to make a far, far facsimile?

boing-oing-oing-oing

I swear, I blame my Roxy dog for the sudden decline in my knitting. Her energy is so high. I'm constantly monitoring her. For me to enjoy knitting, I have to sit and knit uninterrupted for at least thirty or forty minutes, otherwise, it's not fulfilling.

Border collies are not like other dogs. Sedate? Oh, I love her when she's sleepy, but that's rare. My evenings are spent throwing balls, squishy-squeaky octopi, and other doggish toys through the halls of my home for her and my elderly cocker spaniel, who thinks he's still a pup. Quite without planning it, my aim has improved and often the object lands inside an open case of diet coke that we have sitting in the hallway between the den and kitchen (don't let me get started on the fact that we have a new gathering table in our kitchen that could easily store those drinks...).

The other thing that I love about Roxy is... there are quite a few things, but what immediately comes to mind is her energy. She's so frenetic. But not as crazy as I expected. Her vet said she has a fabulous disposition, and I'm really happy about that because now I hear that her mother and father are problem dogs, as is her sister from another litter. And the trouble is: Aggression! Oh no. Tosha and Rebekah, who work at the farm, were glad to hear that Rox and I are in obedience class together.

I'm ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille

But still, that other thing is that Roxy makes me get out of the house. I forgot how much I love being outdoors. Silly, really. I spent the summer practically outside all the time with horses, but once the sun set by five o'clock and it grew cold, I stayed inside. Roxy's drive propels me back out into nature. We've gone to Sycamore Shoals a few times. It's an historic park that has a lovely winding gravel path following the Doe River. It's well-traveled and safe.

A few weekends ago we went to Buffalo Mountain, too. It's close to 800 acres in the middle of, well really on the city's edge. But we followed a trail that wasn't maintained anymore and had to turn around. That was okay though because I was worn out. I mean, uphill all the way? That's no fun. Dogs are supposed to be on-leash. She dragged her leash around behind her and when we came upon folks, I gathered her in. But she loved it. Being with your dog on a trail is lovely. Isn't it where you and she are supposed to be, outdoors, breathing fresh air, hopping from rock to log to trail? The best part was how Roxy prodded me forward, but not from behind. She stayed about 20 or 30 yards ahead and when I wasn't ascending quickly enough, she ran back, jumped up, and tapped my thigh with her front legs. My response was "I'm coming!" Watching her frolic is great fun.

She and sheep aren't so much fun, yet. She's afraid of them. And I would be, too. Jim's sheep are not people shy. They're used to be around humans, some are used to being fed. So they grow aggressive and nudge their thick snouts around your rump and belongings and don't move out of the way so humans can get through gates.

unplanned hiatus

Somehow, it got more and more difficult to get back into blogging after my recent break. Thanks for your inquires wondering if I was bucked off the back of the earth or something. I'm okay, just overextended and somewhat perpetually snotty.

Haven't felt like I had much to blog about of late. Knitted one thing, a scarf for Debbie, a colleague, who lost her husband before Christmas. I planned to give her it for Christmas, but she was out quite a bit and I decided to wait and present it to her on Valentine's Day. That worked. She was touched by my gesture.  She crochets but wants to learn to knit, so I told her that we'd have a knitting lunch together sometime soon. It was similar to all the other scarves I made this fall, but much wider; and was also made of Noro.

But part of the making of the scarf for her was honoring her husband's memory. One of Barry's brothers gave a grand eulogy. He said that Barry figured out the meaning of life: Find something you love to do and then give it away. I love knitting. So I made this scarf and gave it to Debbie. Barry was a fine carpenter. He spent hours making objects and then gave them to those whom he loved.

Otherwise, I'm just not knitting so much. Roxy, my four month old border collie, eats up a lot of my time. We're going to obedience training Thursday nights, so my accordion lessons are pushed into the afternoon and I do that instead of lunch. Roxy has earned quite a reputation at obedience class and is referred to as "The Border Collie."

Mondays I have a public history class which is interesting to me, certainly. For my project I'm researching the 1918 influenza pandemic and its effect on my city. Also have an online class, I'm taking courses towards earning an archives certificate. So lots of reading and working on busy work; not so much time left to blog.

On Tuesday night I'm volunteering at the farm where I ride.  There's a local organization called Coalition for Kids, and they provide after-school and evening activities for low-income, at-risk children. Julie, Dually's owner, who is on its board of directors, asked me to help out with things in September or October. I had to fill out an application and go through a background check. Then, I started showing up in January and let me tell you, the cold was bitter several nights while we worked in the semi-sheltered arena.

The kids are great fun, plus I get constant reminders on tack parts, so I'm building my own equine vocabulary. I work with Rebekah. She schools the kids on everything and I'm mostly the person who walks alongside to make sure the child doesn't slip off the saddle. Darek, one of the nine year old boys, is a constant questioner. From "What is that pipe in the ceiling?" to "What is that red on your teeth?" Lipstick, I told him. Those questions keep me on my toes. They exhaust me, really. That and telling them to keep their shoulders back and heels down. It's all about posture and seat, you know!

On to snottiness: I've been plagued with sinus infections. So I'm not feeling well at all. Instead of blogging about it, I've curled in front of the tv watching way too many Jane Austen adaptations or Austen-inspired movies. Also checked out several Austen books to read since I have the basic plots and characters down due to motion pictures.

And, I may soon gain the moniker "Chicken Lady." Jim, the owner of the farm where I ride and volunteer with kids, said that the next item on his agenda is finishing up his chicken shed. This summer we talked chickens and he offered to let me be in charge of his chickens. Now I've got a bit of work to do as well.

Farm-fresh eggs, yum.

Then, too, he wants to start a non-profit organization that pairs all kinds of kids together and teaches them about farm life. He's quite upset that many children don't understand that beef comes from cows, not from McDonald's and wants to rectify that, by providing an environment in which children can learn and play and discover the workings of nature. He's asked me to be a part of that in whatever regard I can manage.

But, that is a great commitment, and I'm still thinking about what role I might play and how much time I might spare. During Saturday's ride I asked Laura, my riding companion who is doing some of the administrative work on the project, whether she'd applied for 401c3 status. And that tipped her and them off that I might be more valuable than what they thought.

I'm also not carrying my camera along with me everyday and have not been taking photos like usual, like crazy. Sorry, no good photos to share, either. The scarfy one above was taken with my cell phone.

second sock syndrome sanctions by the seashore

my library in top right corner

Smack my hand and tell me no, because I looked at the Kaffe Fassett Regia yarns (one of the landscapes: earth, caught my eye and almost my credit card) with lust in my eyes. Like I need more sock yarn. My stash is strange because I have so many singular or possibly doublet balls; not enough for a real stash-busting project, yet I have enough sock yarn to see me through another dozen or so pairs of socks. There's sort of a sanction on sock-making in my house. I have one sock done and the other on the needles and I've promised myself that I cannot start another pair of socks until I finish that other sock. Ugh. It's crappy, too, because I SO don't want to work on that second sock. I hear there is a syndrome.

Total aside: There's something about me and S's. In sixth grade I won a contest among my elementary school's two sixth grade classes. My suggestion for what to call our school-wide cookbook was selected among, oh, at least 40-60 submissions: South Side's Savory Specialties. And we all got ice cream cause of me; an individual tub of vanilla eaten with a wooden spoon.

Of late I'm grumpy. The holidays make me feel put upon. I'm slammed at work because I'm on a search committee for two new librarian positions and there are three all day interviews this week and three all day interviews next week. The process is odious. And somehow it was decided that we'd have our library holiday party on December 6, which leaves me little to no time to decide on what dishes to bring in what, Two Days!?

I'm thinking dates, bleu cheese straws, and chocolate cake; but not all together. I can't do anything simple like just buy some crap at the grocery store and share it with others; I have a conscience. I yearn for authenticity in all that I do, otherwise I'd feel like that semi-homemade woman on the Food Network, and after watching her show this weekend I noticed how sloppy she puts things together. I like that completely homemade touch with attention to detail.

Evenings are crazy. I'm working on Cobblestone. No photos, but the pattern is a dream. As usual, it's a dream if I pay attention. I got the wrong number in my head for number of increases on the sleeves, so had to unattach and reattach one sleeve from body of sweater, rip out three or four inches, and then re-knit those inches with the increases. I didn't think it'd make a great deal of difference, but I didn't want the wearer of the sweater to be able to feel that perhaps one sleeve was tighter than the other.

And speaking of the wearer of the sweater: He came home unexpectedly this morning around 8 a.m. before I was out of bed and probably saw the parts of Cobblestone laying out on the sofa where I left them around 12:30 this morning when I put away the knitting, turned off Law & Order: Criminal Intent, and ambled to the bedroom. I've been good about secreting it away whilst he's home and only working on it when he's away at work.

Another aside:

My results from Character Investigation Trivia

15/21=71.4%=
Lieutenant - Respected by your peers. It's obvious that you've found the backgrounds of the detectives just as important as the triple homicide of a pop-singer and her twin brothers. Alex Eames would be very pleased to read your file.

So I was pissed off at myself. Really, more at him for ruining the surprise. But I said nothing. I didn't sprint to the den to hide things. I did it on my way to the kitchen to eat breakfast; just gently tucked it away. I can hope that the den's darkness maybe camouflaged Cobblestone so he didn't get an eyeful.  I hope to finish it this weekend, box it, and wrap the sucker so it's far far out of sight. Oh, I'll try it on, too, as a way of determining how well it will fit him. I'm totally prepared to knit another if this doesn't fit how he likes it. Totally.

Still, I can't help but be pissed. Off!

Mick

What else? I'm contemplating madness in knitting a sweater for my nephew by December 25. He's a small lad so that won't be a problem, but I'm waiting for his mother to get his measurements to me. Twiddling thumbs, sighing. I'm sighing here. But I only asked her for the measurements last night, so why am I being so impatient? I've got at least two toboggans and a muffler-thing on my mind to be done by that date, too. And maybe a pair of legwarmers, to boot. Almost forgot about all the oven mitts I bought fabric for Saturday. They should sew up quickly though.

Sorry, no photos of yarn or projects this time. That's always a drag. And Self Portrait Challenge is over until 7 January 2008. Ho Hum.

I'm playing "We Three Kings" at a recital on 20 December, so somehow, I've got to find time to practice so I don't make a complete fool of myself. It's likely I'll be the oldest student at the recital. And those holiday ornaments? Yeah, I've got to work on those this weekend. Maybe after I attend Mick's birthday party. He's two.

Oh, I went to a Progressive Dinner over the weekend and have a draft of that blog entry for potlikker, but haven't finished it cause I'm just so damn uninspired [pardon my french, but I find myself cursing a lot during December]. There are photos in the works for that post.

And finally, cause this is too rambling and runon, I returned to my LYS. Haven't visited in ages cause I'm trying to work my way through my stash like a good gal. Got two skeins of dreamy Noro something or other for the muffler-thing mentioned a few paragraphs above and a skein of cotton/acrylic for a special project.  I caught up with LYSO and got good dog loving from the LYSD (local yarn store dogs) Bedford and Benton. Benton nestled in my lap and I was reluctant to leave. But I had to return to work.

big sky cobblestone

My order from Beaverslide Dry Goods arrived a week or two ago. I kept it tucked away because I didn't want any questions about it. Last time I received a Beaverslide box in the post Ian jogged his eyebrows up and down and let Beaverslide drip off his tongue for days. You can imagine. That's only one of the reasons I'm keeping it on the QT.

The other is that I'm making Cobblestone out of it for a man in my family. Rarely does anyone I know in real life, much less a member of my family, read my blog. Ninety-eight percent of the time, I'm safe in sharing each and every project.  I want to be cautious about this one, though.

So far, it's knitting up brilliantly. Not!  Did you expect otherwise? The yarn is delicious. The pattern is a no-brainer. It's completely user error! The first time, I wasn't careful enough and had to rip three or so inches out because I had a twist when I was knitting in the round. Now that I'm over that hump, I think things are going smoothly.

And there was that problem where I knitted or purled the wrong stitch a few rows and went back and removed them. Drugs. I blame it all on drugs. People shouldn't knit while under the influence of sinus meds and Ambien. Actually, it's the Ambien. Woo hoo. Lucky all I did was knit a few wrong rows before bedtime. First thing the next time I picked up my knitting I saw right off I'd made the opposite and improper stitch.

I'm a good eight inches into it and am looking forward to meeting that 16 inch hump where directions change. I love the little bits of garter that break up those swaths of stocking stitch. Wait, I know I don't have my terminology correct. It looks like garter, but it completely all purl. Cobblestone could quite easily be my standard project that I keep on the backburner and pull out when I want routine knitting. I"m not adventurous anyway. That cute little Clementine I started a few weeks ago? Frankly, my dear, that chart scares my knickers off! I haven't returned to it since.

The yarn I chose knits up a half inch or so over gauge. But I hope I'm managing that issue by making the smaller size. We'll see. I'm prepared to rip every stitch of it out if it fails to satisfy its owner. Or, I'll pass this Cobblestone on to someone whom it fits and make another for its intended one. This is Big Sky Blue in the Fisherman weight. It's a nice blueberry-ish color. Not too dark that I can't see its stitches and not light enough to seem too effeminate.