Where have I been

to have missed this.

Start your day with pant wetting giggles.

Happy Friday!

So far away

At least that’s how it feels. I’ve been so far away.

This is Day 11/12 of work. I don’t tell you this to solicit your sympathy/empathy/wrath; I tell you this so you will cut me some slack for being absent for so many days.

I tried to post a short video clip the other night, entitled “Movie Night” (trust me, it was nothing to get excited about), but the link wouldn’t work and it was late and I was so tired and therefore liberal use of the ‘delete post’ button was used.

Sorry. I know it pinged bloglines and the rest before I deleted it.

I tried to take the edge off of things yesterday when I stopped at Knit ‘N Purl in Brighton yesterday at lunchtime. The owner likes me now, for some reason (most likely those involving the wallet), and is quite chatty when I visit, which I love. Also, her friend runs Great Balls of Yarn in West Palm near where I lived last year, and that was the first yarn store I visited when I moved to S. Florida. It made me feel like I wasn’t really on another planet. At least for the time I was in the yarn store.

ANYWAY. (I’m rambling.)

I loves me my Bryspun needles. They’re warm and flexible, and the points are phenomonal — not too sharp and not too dull.

There’s some Noro Tidori (discontinued because of the cashmere controversy?) that I think might make a cool experiment in the lines of EZ’s Baby Surprise Jacket.

And two skeins of Koigu KPPM just because.

Other than that, the Clap is nearly in the decrease row phase, and my brother’s scarf is also nearly done. I hope for some knitting time this weekend.

The little engine that could

Apparently they still publish this book.

“I think I can…I think I can…I think I can...” It’s a cute book, even if Wikipedia assumes a somewhat judgemental tone when it calls it a “moralistic children’s story”. I often think about this book for brief seconds when I’m involved in something really strenuous. So, despite what the good folks at Wikipedia say, it must have had one hell of an impact on me, to have stuck with me all these years.

“I think I can” goes through my head during these weeks of on call. I have to practice living in the moment, and work very hard at not ruminating too much about what might happen. Instead I focus on what truly is happening. On a week seemingly without limits or boundaries, this helps keep me sane.

I picked up the spring issue of Interweave Knits. I’m incredibly unimpressed. As in…I brought it to lunch with me today, savoring the thought of 30 minutes of peace and a new IK. 15 minutes later, I was not only finishing the last of my hummus and wheat pita, but was through looking at the magazine, too. What a yawn. I don’t think there’s anything I want to make. Maybe I could be talked into the Holly cardigan…? Everything seems to have been designed for 110 pound, 19 year old women. I would look beyond ridiculous in the frilly little peplums and floaty sleeves that end at the fattest part of my arm. And what’s with everything being the color of cooked salmon, I wonder?

I know the Knitting Daily people are doing a series on making the patterns adaptable for everyone — young, old, thin, voluptuous — but I don’t wanna adapt! (insert whine here) I wanted to see a project that bowled me over and got me excited to pick out the yarn — you know…something that would lift the doldrums of being under the 24/7 ball and chain of being the on call hospice evaluator. I wanted spring! I wanted the promise of new yarn and slick new needles! What I don’t want to read up on is how I can work double time to make your pretty patterns for gorgeous young things more suitable for my ugly old fat self.

Wow.

Even I didn’t know I felt so strongly about that.

I am tired. I need to get some sleep, and get ready for another day of talking about DNR and pain management and funeral homes, and then there’s the weekend, and then there’s next week…

Ruminating. Stop ruminating!

See you on the flip side.

and speaking of bugs

So I’m doing my usual blog cruising tonight, hitting up the odd and gross on my way to the sane and knitterly.

I find these pictures of “the clock spider”.

Urban legend or truth?

I don’t suppose anyone knows. Click on the this for more pictures, if you like. And enjoy the comments. Most especially this one, which has me howling in perverted laughter.

Apr 6th, 2007 (11:09 AM)

anyone living in the tropics knows the joy of big fat spiders. And how goddamn fast they are.when i lived in hawaii we had cane spiders. they sometimes wander into
the house, and just like the huge flying roaches there, it’s not that
your house is dirty, it’s just their world…well these big fuckers LOVE to come out when you’re at your most vulnerable.

like when you’re on the shitter.

you’ll be sitting there minding your own business when you see a slight
movement out of the corner of your eye. look over and one of these huge
hairy things has stepped out from behind the sink.

he stops cuz of you, your butthole slams shut cuz of him and it’s like
a mexican standoff. you’re scared any move towards your pants will
cause him to charge. he’s scared becuase you’re way bigger than he is.
so you spend 5 minutes in scary limbo before you say fuck it and run
like a penguin with your pants around your ankles.

I don’t remember wiping. And I don’t care.
And that is all. No knitting news. I finished the 10th straight repeat on the Clapotis tonight, so there’s progress, but nothing to write home about.

I succumbed to the lure of the carbohydrate tonight, because Weight Watchers, while effective in teaching me the proper way to eat, leaves me starved most of the time. And I can only eat so many raw veggies before my stomach starts to hurt, you know? So tomorrow is another day, because I refuse to beat myself senseless over this.

Compassion and kindness in all things. Even towards myself.

Not sure what I’d do if I was confronted with the legendary clock spider, though…

The case of the flying weekend

As in, “where the hell did my weekend go?”

I am grumpy and melancholy because I am starting a 12 day stretch at work tomorrow that includes being on call 24/7 — but with the potential for going out only until 8 PM or so. The latest I’ve ever been out is just before 10 PM. But that was because of the endearingly clueless nature of the first year resident I was dealing with (and it was only October, after all). Most nights are not like that, really.

But. That’s a hell of a long stretch when dealing with grief and loss and pain. It’s too many days in a row of watching tears fall. (Yes, that sounds melodramatic and adolescent, but it’s the truth. Some days I feel that’s all I do. Watch people cry.)

So anyway, long story short. If you don’t hear much from me, you know it’s because my nose is pressed to the grindstone. I will be up for air sometime next week.

I am always on the search for the most best-est knitting bag ever. I thought I might have scored the perfect one. This bag from Tom Bihn called the Swift was designed based on recommendations from Knitty readers.

My verdict?

Eh.

I got it in cocoa and plum, which is good. Nice fabric; looks like it will outlive me, possibly.

I find the accompanying Yarn Stuff Sack essentially useless.

I don’t have much of a need for a separate bag in which to feed my yarn out from. It’s not like I’m knitting in dust storms or in swamps, so I don’t really get the need for special protective clothing for a ball of yarn.

Then there’s the issue of floppiness.

And I sound like a cat with bells on my collar when I carry this thing, due to the metal zipper pulls on the interior.

But, it holds a crap-load of yarn, my 50% complete Clapotis plus a scarf project that’s nearly completed, and there’s room for ton’s more. Even though the bag really isn’t all that big. I am going to have to experiment, and see how much I can actually cram in there. I suspect the true value of the bag may lie in that. And, it doesn’t look like my grandmother’s knitting bag. It’s sort of cool, in an urban kind of way, which is why it appealed to me in the first place. I imagine it will grow on me.

For comparison purposes, I used a standard 15 oz. box of cereal.

What’s that, you say? That bright colored half a tablecloth of knitting? What is that????

It’s my Clap, of course. Growing, and just at the 50% mark.

I have four more straight row repeats. It’s taking me forever to get through them, because A) I already have a full-time job, and B) I’m trying to finish my brother’s scarf, too.

In cat news, H.P. Cat hacked up a pile of worms the other night. When I was done screeching, I picked them up with a paper towel and whipped the little bastards out into the snow. Where they remain. Dead.

Warning. This is so NOT for the faint of heart. Do NOT proceed if you are squeamish. Out of consideration for others, I did take the liberty of significantly reducing the picture size, so as to reduce the shock value. If you’d like the full bore experience, by all means, click on the little picture and enjoy the big one.

And by the way. I’m all for protecting sentient creatures. I am. But please. These things are biology gone horribly wrong.

(Yes. Harrison has a vet appointment. Wednesday night, for a nice little pill that will kill the cousins of these bad dudes post haste.)

And now, without further ado…

Aliens in the Snow –

My hair itches.

Does yours?

Happy Heart Day

Posting this quickly before work…

I wanted to find a heart graphic, but everything is copyrighted (as it should be) and so I can’t find something A) quick, and B) not utterly cheesy, to put here as a Valentine greeting to you.

Oh, well.

Thoughts for the day.

1) That Sunday morning show on channel 8 had a sweet segment last week on treasuring your loved ones on Valentine’s Day. Because it might be the last one. Not morbid. No. Reality. I saw a lovely couple yesterday, married for nearly 6 decades, and if she lived through the night, today will absolutely be their last Valentine’s day together. Did they know this last year? No. They did not. I hope they held each other for a second or two longer than usual on this day in 2007. Lesson learned: Treasure what you have.

2) Hummus tastes good. And on mini whole wheat pitas from Wegmans, is only 2 points.

3) Points used yesterday. 29. Target hit. Zing!

4) Sure, strawberry Twizzlers at 5 points sounds like a good deal (I get to eat crap on Weight Watchers???!!!?? Cool!), but they do nothing to sustain me until the next meal. Whole wheat pitas and that hummus, however, are amazing. No hunger. Same with salad.

5) I woke up before the alarm this morning and did not drag my sorry ass across the floor. Coincidence?

6) Even though I was up early, I have dicked around sufficiently so that I now have to race like a rat on a wheel to get to work on time, just like always.

Remember. Hug who you love.

Points Tracker 911

I joined Weight Watchers Online today. On the menu: Three months of obsessively recording everything I eat.

Then converting that to a point system. Target points/day? 29.

Today’s grand total?

58.5

I’m seriously thinking this is not what the good folks at WW had in mind.

Perhaps that fistful of chewy strawberry Twizzlers had something to do with it. Or was it the chocolate covered pretzels?

Tomorrow will be better. I have it all planned out.

This time tomorrow I will be licking the walls hoping for a taste of something sweet…

On a totally unrelated note, “Hallelujah” on K. D. Lang’s new Watershed disc

is out of this world.

Quick.

Go and download it.

You won’t be sorry.

No knitting content as there’s little here that looks any different than it did last week. I did knit a couple rows of the Clap tonight. Tomorrow night is my study group for the CHPN (hospice and palliative care) certification exam, so don’t expect to be hearing from this corner of the world….

Don’t worry. Harrison will keep a lid on things.

Um?

Maybe there’s a Weight Watchers for cats?

I always knew I looked weird

but…come ON.

Who is Aki Hakala, anyway?

And I do sort of see a resemblance to Elvis Costello.

At least I know who he is.

Edited to add — Aki Hakala is a drummer in a Finnish rock band.

And Miyavi is a Japanese rock musician. Who is a man, despite the decidedly feminine appearance above.

So basically what they’re saying is that I resemble a man. Not that this isn’t all good. But, still…

Nothing I didn’t already know. My boyfriend used to call me Rod Stewart, back when my hair was short and spiky.

On the feminine side of things, I resemble Stevie Nicks. (NOT. But thanks for trying.)

The magical sewing chest

My grandmother had this sewing chest for as long as I knew her. She said it was made for her when she was young. She always kept her stray needlework stuff in it. Thread (most on old wooden spools), sewing needles that she got for free from Grand Union, that weird lacy stuff that came in a long strip that ladies used to sew to the bottom of their skirts, and then use it to catch the hem stitches, an occasional crochet hook, and sometimes even a knitting needle or two.

Last night after I snapped my knitting needle, I decided to see what the chest might have to offer. It’s still full of Grandma’s things.

I found a thick, waxy thread in the perfect shade of brown to tie the buttons onto Wisp. Like this.

I wore it to work today, which looked sort of like this.

In another drawer, I found, neatly arranged on top of the clutter, an old pair of #7 metal knitting needles, just the size I needed to replace the broken needle from last night.

Even after all this time, I think Grandma still looks after me.

Haircut!

SHE FIXED IT!

I got a referral to a new hairstylist from Julie, and she did not steer me wrong. Dani is this cute little 25 year old who loves to cut hair, and it shows. So now she has a new follower…me. Thanks for the tip, Julie!

Life is so much nicer when you have a good haircut.

The Where In The World Is JDN scarf is so named because –

1. It’s for my brother, whose initials are JDN.
2. I never know quite where in the world he is, because he’s an events planner and he ends up all over. Some days he’s flying, some days he’s tromping around in the Caribbean or Europe or Hong Kong, and some days he’s doing his 24/7 planning thing from home. That’s part of his mystique. I never know where in the world is JDN.

Anyway, here’s his scarf, thus far.

Actually, credit being due where credit it due — you know this is the Brooklyn Tweed Noro scarf pattern, right?

Holy crap, but I’m getting a little antsy. The wind is howling outside, there is ice on the road and in the trees, and the lights keep blinking ominously. Anybody near Rochester remembers this in 1991.

I nearly got into a cat fight today at work with another coordinator who abhors Hillary Clinton for reasons I cannot understand — like — she’s to blame for not kicking her husband’s ass when he had his little tryst in the Oval Office or the broom closet or wherever. God, that’s such old, old news, and why does it have anything to do with now? This woman’s a Democrat, too, and chooses to overlook all the good old Hil’ could bring to the White House. I like Obama, too. I’d be proud to have either one elected (actually, I’d probably support a golden retriever at this point, after the debacle that is George), and I guess that’s how everyone else feels, too, since there’s no clear front runner from Super Tuesday.

Sometimes I sit in stunned silence and wonder how we got to the point where the election of one of the most powerful people on earth got watered down to a popularity contest based on sound bytes and photo ops and (very often) little else. It just sucks that as a culture we’ve fallen this low. Or was it always this way, and I didn’t realize it.

Since the last 7.25 years have resulted in my feeling less than stellar about being called an “American” (it got spit out like a swear word in some conversations in Europe a couple of years ago), I spend a lot of time wondering how we got to where we are. How we let it happen.

And as the mother of a military man injured in the Middle East, and the witness of two funerals for young men who gave up too much for too little, I hope to God we can all find peace in ourselves when this is over.

I hear sirens outside. It was an icy mess when I got home about an hour ago. I hope everyone’s all right out there.

Stay warm.

LATER….

Okay, this I cannot resist. I was diddling around with the camera, trying to pose for a picture to send my brother of me knitting his scarf. I had the timer set to go off three times consecutively, thinking I’d have a better chance of catching myself looking human.

Picture One. Score. I look human. (Pardon the pajamas and no makeup look, and when did my neck get so old?)

Scooching myself around, trying to adjust for the camera…

And…hmmmm…what’s that snapping noise?

WHOOPS.

Oh, what the HELL.