And Now Back to Our Regular Happiness!

Whew that was grouchy! Everything will be fine. I might start a campaign to have Denise Tivet of the useless Phoenix CPS office FIRED, but anyway. Back to happy things, because truly, everything will be ok.

Socks. I love knitting socks! They’re relatively small projects, not too complicated (I love heels!), and who doesn’t love socks? This pair for my Dad, I’ve lost track of when I started. Second Sock Syndrome struck pretty hard. Here’s a weird thing, though. When I added the blue for the heel, I thought “Heck, I don’t want to purl all those rows! I think I’ll turn the sock inside out and knit everything.” So I did. But then I can’t remember if I turned it back right-side-out, and now, instead of the socks creeping towards the floor as I knit it’s creeping towards my chin. And it feels weird to knit this way. When I don’t have a Christmas deadline looking over my head, I’ll re-examine my sock knitting techniques. When you knit a sock, is the heel purled? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for me to just knit it as it was and THEN turned the sock inside out? Who knows.

That’s about all I’ve got knitting right now. That, and the second Fuzzy Foot for my mother, and the scarf for the KYB KAL. Knitting = happy. And heavens, that’s a crappy picture!

Ok, thank you again for the words of kindness after my spazz out there.

I’ll Let The Darkness Curse Itself

I think I’m constantly on the look-out for beautiful and meaningful things.  I like gentle calm, softness and tenderness, things of purpose that are approachable.  Sure, every once in a while things need to be cracked soundly in half with tornado fury.  Kali, there we  go!  Things get broken, and new things are made from the pieces.  Look at Rome, after all!  I don’t really have a point to make here.

Once Ed wondered why the internet was seemingly being taken over by knitters, and that knitting, such an ancient art, has found a home on the web, such a brand new technology.  (I don’t know if Ed used the word “web”, I just didn’t want to use the word “internet” twice in the same sentence.)  Much in the same vein, it’s struck me that a little family that I’ve only heard of through the internet is so firmly stuck in my heart now as to be a nearly tangible bump under my skin.  That sounds like a harmful growth, and that’s not how I meant it.  If anyone else has ever read The Alleluia Files, you’ll know what I mean when I say it reminds me of The Kiss.  I cry for this family, I giggle at old posts.  I can feel some non-physical part of me pulling so hard for this man’s lovely wife that sometimes my breath catches in a little “oh”.  Reading through comments other people have left, I came upon this site and I was overwhelmed with I don’t know what.  But it overtook me, and at 5:03am this morning I cried again and lit a candle.

 

Ok.  So my scarf for the Knit Your Bit KAL is coming along nicely.  I need only to finish Dad’s sock #2, Mom’s Fuzzy Feet #2, Bananne’s hat, a square for Firefly’s project, and the  KYB scarf before I can begin knitting for myself the gorgeous scarf that graces the cover of Vogue Knitting’s holiday issue.  I truly believe that this scarf is what my alpaca from my Secret Pal wants to be.  Why else would it have steadfastly refused to be knitted into something else?  I can picture myself strolling through New York with JungleJim, wearing this scarf and trying so valiantly not to complain about being nearly frozen to death.  And speaking of my demise:

 Kathy: At age 58 you will die fighting the Global War on Terrorism in Mexico.

 And that’s reasonable. I’ve always said I’d move to Mexico if that wretched woman HRC were to be elected President.  This also makes me think of the Aztec calendar and the date it predicts as the end of the world.  I leave you with this so that you, too, may prepare yourself.

Because You Just Never Know.

This is not my usual nosiness. This is my cry on my laptop nosiness, when I think about souls and matter and chemistry and reincarnation and physics and trees and ancestors and makes me wonder about the Self and what happens to it after the body dies. I don’t know. Not yet.

Please click HERE.

JungleJim, I love you like this. If I go first, I’ll wait for you on the South Rim. If you go first, wait for me there.

 

My Beloved Monster and Me

Thank you, Eels, for the song title.

That’s my breakfast and my knitting. The two go hand in hand, skipping merrily along. Yesterday JungleJim and I went to the farther away AJ’s to have sushi lunch at their sushi bar. Yum. There’s nothing like raw fishy goodness wrapped in seaweed after a morning of Tae Bo. I think one of our family Christmas gifts this year will be a sushi kit. Anyway. What you see next to my breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and 7^th cup of coffee is a scarf for the Knit Your Bit project. I like it. Very easy to knit, which is good considering my recent Utter Failure at anything other than plain knit and purl.

I had such a fantastic weekend! The kids won their baseball game on Saturday, first time this season! I made some nice stitch markers for myself with extras to send along to random people. Our sushi lunch yesterday was great, and afterwards we drove up to Cave Creek, which is a gorgeous little town straight north of our place. There was some crazy Wild West Day thing going on, which we skipped. What did I spy with my little eye? A yarn shop that was quite closed. Curses. I’ll go back up later on this week, maybe.

And now, this. I was looking at KnitPicks’ KIP bags and thought about Knit In Public Day. I’m wondering if anyone has any qualms about knitting in public. Why wouldn’t a knitter knit in public? I knit every darned where I can. A few weeks ago I was on a flight up to Detroit, knitting my fears away. The people across the aisle were a bit alarmed by my Clover bamboo size 7 straights (who wouldn’t be?) and made plans to wrestle them away from me should I unexpectedly become unruly. For real. When I finished that scarf I pulled out my DPNs and the hat I was making for #1 Niece. The girl beside me squirmed with unease. So did I, we were experiencing turbulence. As we bumped and tumbled along she asked me in a nervous tone, “Is there a chance you could poke me with one of those?” I should have said “Well certainly! Where would you like me to poke?” But as my stomach was cramming itself under my liver, trying to hide form the turbulence, all I bothered to mumble was “No, not at all.” I knit all the time. It never occurred to me that knitting in public would be a weird thing. I knit at my kids’ baseball games and practice, karate practice, I knit everywhere. And I never feel deviant or daring about it. I’d be nervous and twitchy without it! How about you?

Speaking of karate, my kids’ sensei died this weekend. He was maybe in his 50s, really gnarly, unhealthy-lookin’ fella. That always cracked me up. How can you be rather piggish and extol the virtues of exercise and physical discipline? Apparently you cannot. Or at least he could not. I did not like this man, it’s true. During one class he bitched at the kids for asking too many questions, saying “If I wanted to be nagged I’d have gotten married!” and later hit them with “YOU people are the reason the vasectomy was invented!” followed by “You’ve stepped all over my last nerve!” RIP Sensei David. I knew something was up when Nolan’s voice was coming across in his Sad Tone. )This was their weekend at their father’s house, and they call every night.) For a moment I thought he was going to tell me about the loss of another cat. Their father is the crazy old man with a million cats. Quite a few of the strays around his house have met their demise in strange ways, most recently Zuzu, who was crushed by the garage door. But no, it wasn’t a cat, it was Sensei David. I’d make some joke here about how I used to call him Sensei Big Butt to the kids but that would be rude, seeing as how he’s deceased and all.

That’s al the dirt I’ve got.

Knitting: 340958 OLPP: 0

I wish I knew how to quit you, Knitting.

So much frogging going on, it’s like that science class scene from E.T.

The Dirt! Ha!

I like it! Snazzy new layout, and it makes me giggle. So to prove that I do, from time to time, still knit, here are all of my WIPs.

This is the Mystical Creation Yarn that I bought during my very first fit of yarn lust. I had no idea what made yarn so wonderful and delicious, so when I saw this on eBay in one of those weird, more than one item at a time auctions I made a crazy bid and found myself a skrabillion dollars into this purchase. Bought four skeins, traded two. Anyway, isn’t it gorgeous? I love to look at it. It’s another Dream Swatch Wrap.

This brown misshapen lump is going to be a Hobo Chic bag by the creator of the beloved Sophie bag. I like to read her blog! This has been on the needles ever since we got back from our family vacation in San Diego and I finished off the Sophie. Can’t wait ‘til I have the time to finish it, because felted bags rock my socks. (I never wear socks.) (Ooh but wait! I got some very cool sock yarn in a RAK from ZKnitter, so when I knit that up I shall wear socks!)

This collection is entitled Christmas Presents. The black (yarn in the RAK from ZKnitter) will be a hat for Nolan. You know, Nolan! The gorgeous blue eyed blondie down there! The brown will be the second sock in a pair for my Dad. Blue heel and toe, very cool, very Dad-like. The red is the second Fuzzy Foot for my mother (whose feet I daresay are already fuzzy….)

This is a Random Lace update for Jas, who made that gorgeous laceweight yarn. I’m not that far into it, as you see.

This is The Princess Wrap That Refuses To Be, made with Secret Pal Alpaca. I’m telling you, if this yarn were anything less and any less delicious than it is, I’d have thrown it al out the window into the arroyo behind our place. For some reason I CANNOT knit this pattern! And it’s SO easy! But somehow mistakes plague me and I’m now on my forty-twelfth attempt. Seriously. The yarn is just so much fun to hold that I don’t mind. It’s so soft and squooshy. Secret Pal, there aren’t words to describe how much I adore this yarn. So much of what I knit ends up as gifts for other people, but this yarn was for ME the instant I opened the package. I also dig the bamboo, non-fancy needles!

And now, Dirt. As you may or may not know, in my life is a wonderful man I like to call JungleJim. This is so no one confuses him with StingRayJim and/or DinnerDateJim. Of course, StingRayJim is off saving the world and consequently there aren’t any more stories about him. DinnerDateJim… well, the less said about that the better. But yes, JungleJim. The first half of this week saw JungleJim in New York for a very large convention, internet advertising and such. We missed him something fierce. All day Sunday the kids and I moped around the empty spaces where JungleJim would have been. Finally, yesterday evening he returned home to us. Out of his suitcase JungleJim fished out a totally cool, totally cheesy “I (heart) New York” snow globe for Chlo and an “I (heart) New York” piggy bank for Nolan. Aw! Sweet! And then he told me about the t-shirt he bought himself. I waited for my corny New York present. And waited. Waited some more. I’d still be waiting, except it occurred to me that he didn’t bring me anything. This occurred to me after he said “I didn’t bring you anything!” I admit, I pouted. And get this! I even CRIED! Over cheesy little New York airport souvenirs. I lied and said it was an eyelash, and then I lied again later and said it was Buffalo wing sauce that was making me cry. Well really! It’s the thought that counts, and he thought about himself, and the kids, but me? Once my hurt became subtly apparent he dashed into his suitcase and rifled through the myriad pens he’d gotten at the trade show. Golly! A trade show pen. Well, it lights up, so that’s cool, I guess. But it was a non-present!

Ah well. I griped, and my sweet personal astrologist Blanket (no blog or I’d link you) helped me see the light. I got over my bad self. I think JungleJim knew I felt left out, so what did he do? He jumped online and booked a trip to New York for the two of us in January. Ok, loverman? It would have been SOOOOooooo much easier and cheaper for you to buy me a t-shirt, too, but sure, I’d love to go to New York! Now I can’t wait for him to not bring me a present from the trade show in Venice (Italy, not California)!

Tobias Funke is a Knitter!!

I know this will make Kristen happy! I truly do not understand how Arrested Development was canceled! That show was absolute comedic genius. All of the actors were wonderful at subtlety and timing. I can only imagine the numbers of calories I’d have burned laughing if I’d been a crew member for that show. The MexiChlo (that’s another story, and it’s a testament to how much of a moron my ex-husband is) and I were watching season three of Arrested Development. We were knitting, and suddenly there was Tobias knitting! Kismet I tell you. I need to pop in a Northern Exposure disc and get a shot of Marilyn knitting.

I’ve been trying to knit the Princess Wrap from Classic Elite and I swear I’m cursed. For some reason when I got to row 7 I was missing two stitches. That happened to me THREE TIMES so this morning, before my minions awoke, I cast on and only knitted up row 5, did a purl row, and then row 7 and somehow I managed to knit it correctly. Ah well. I’ll start it again this evening and all will be well. I’m using the wonderfully soft, dark chocolate-colored Alpaca my Blogging Secret Pal sent to me. I love it, and had I been using any other yarn I’m sure I’d have given up. But I love this yarn and so desperately want to make something wonderful for myself with it!

This is perhaps the most boring knitting picture ever. But I felt the need to prove that I do indeed knit. More accurately, that I try to knit.

And, a bit late, here’s the pumpkin I carved at my sister’s house during my visit to Detroit. It’s Jack Skelington! I carve that same design every year.

 

Finally, I’d like to wish my darling love JungleJim a very happy birthday! (I’m sure he never reads this, but still.) I love you, Jim! The kids love you! We’re so happy to have you in our little family. You make it whole again, in a way that we never were before.

I Am Enrappled With You

This is one of my favorite stories. It used to be about something else, but today it’s about loss.

Eleven years ago I stumbled off a bus in Monterey, California, totally bewildered and still airsick. No, no from the bus. I was supposed to be met by a Navy person who would take me back to the Navy barracks at military language school and get me checked in. However, the plane I originally flew in on MISSED THE RUNWAY and flew all the way back to San Francisco where I was given the option to take a later flight (Please! After you almost killed me???) or a bus. I bussed it. (And by the way, it is solely because of that nasty flight that I am no longer able to eat cappuccino ice cream. Alas.) Ok, where was I? Oh yes. Monterey.

I had a roommate for a short time and her name was Gretchen B. She was later to become Gretchen A, and don’t even get me started on women whose last names start with an early letter, and then they marry UP in the alphabet. Ok. I was dating a young man of the tortured soul variety and Gretchen B was dating an All-Around Good Guy. The four of us decided to go camping and happily packed up Tortured Soul’s tiny little red pick-up truck with coolers, blankets, Doritos, and the two tents we’d borrowed from the Equipment Borrowing Place, formally known as MWR. After a very long drive with the four of us squished into this tiny red truck, we arrived and set up camp only to discover that one of the two-person tents didn’t have any poles. So, much like the two-person truck, we’d now be squishing four people into the 2-person tent. Joy! Cozy!

After we’d roasted hot dogs and had the Doritos stolen by a bold and menacing raccoon, Gretchen B, Good Guy, Tortured Soul and I crawled into the tent. At first it was funny, and then it became really funny. And then we fell asleep, me facing Tortured Soul, Gretchen B facing Good Guy. At some point I was awoken by a constant nudge nudge nudge on my head. I opened my eyes to see Tortured Soul staring back at me, wide-eyed and bemused. I opened my mouth to ask “What..” and was silently shushed by Tortured Soul. I feigned sleep and turned my head to the other side towards Gretchen B and Good Guy. Guess what I saw. That’s right, Gretchen B writhing atop Good Guy. It may or may not be worth mentioning that Gretchen B was somewhat chubby and Good Guy was a slim fit man. I share this only to flesh out the characters, chubby was becoming on Gretchen B.

All right. So there I am next to people In The Act, and I was puritanically mortified. Ew! Gross! In my fake-sleep I turned my head back towards Tortured Soul and again looked deep into his bugged-out eyes. His face was red with suppressed laughter (ok, it was dark, I’m not sure if his face was red, but he was suppressing laughter. Allow me some creativity here!) and again he silently shushed me. My head once again received the subtle nudging from Gretchen B’s passion and I, too, wanted to laugh. And so I did. Softly, at first, but then Tortured Soul’s buy eyes, coupled with the increasing speed of the nudge nudge nudge finally did me in and I snorted. Good Guy, who sounded rather out of breath, mumbled “Let’s try me on top, see what that does,” and I could no longer restrain myself. My laughter howled out into the night like so many hysterical coyotes. The nudging ceased; Gretchen B whined out at me “Kathy! You’ve ruined EVERYTHING!” and that was it. Tortured Soul and I gave in and laughed ourselves sick. Almost literally, because Goldschlager and campfire hot dogs will do that to a person.

Weeks passed, Gretchen B and Good Guy continued to date and eventually (after two months) became engaged. This was what’s commonly referred to as a DLI Marriage: you know someone for three months and then get married. Ok. Good Guy completed his training at DLI and left for the next part of linguist training down in a lovely little west Texas town. He was as devoted as possible for a distant fiancé to be and wrote letters to Gretchen B on a near-daily schedule. Gretchen B then taped these love letters to the side of her wall locker for all the world to see. Not that all the world came into our room, but you know what I mean. Good Guy spoke awkwardly of his devotion and confessed that his heart ache. Just like the red face from suppressed laughter, I might be making this part up, the whole heart ache thing. There’s only one part which I distinctly remember, and here it is: Good Guy proclaimed that he was enrappled with Gretchen B. Yes. Enrappled. I can only imagine that this word describes a state of being blindly and passionately infatuated with someone. Enrappled.

Sadly, Tortured Soul soon ended our relationship. I was heart-broken. I found solace in my friend WonderKeith and his dramatic interpretations of Good Guy’s love letters to Gretchen B. Each letter included this new word enrappled and we’d clutch our aching sides and sway sideways, weary from our cackling laughter. I loved WonderKeith, and I still do to this day, even though I don’t know where he is and finding him would be rather uncomfortable. But that’s another story for a Never day. At some point Gretchen B flew down to Texas to marry Good Guy. She returned to our room and moved out, but not before I swiped a pair of her sandals that I’d always coveted. I’d like to say I meant to return them and never got around to it, but that’s not true. Alas. It later turned out that those were the sandals she’d worn during her wedding. And the tree under which they’d been married was felled by a tornado.

So, what was the loss? I’m not sure. My blossoming love for Tortured Soul? The carefree, undented happiness of my own soul? Gretchen B’s marriage? My friendship with WonderKeith? I don’t know. Usually when I tell this story it’s to share how icky it was to be next to Gretchen B and Good Guy while they were doing the Humpty Dance. I miss WonderKeith. Tortured Soul just became a daddy. I have no idea what became of Gretchen B after she left Good Guy and Korea after finding Good Guy entwined around (and undoubtedly enrappled with) someone else.

Ok. Here are some Halloween pictures of my kidlets. If you look at the first picture closely, you can make out Nolan’s handsome face in his zombie hood. And the delightful Chloe! I love my kids so much. Those crazy people!