Seriously??????

My friends are horrified. They are convinced that dude either weighs 300 lbs, lives in his mother's basement, is married, or is existing just to jerk people like me around. Maybe all of the above. Is it fun, I wonder? It takes a special kind of person to do that. Maybe petty, vindictive, dishonest… sound familiar?

Why, they ask, are you willing to give this asshole any more of your time?

I don’t know.

I'm changing my profile to read this:

Tag line: Sucker

I'm a sucker. That's all you need to know. Talk to me nice, use some $50 words, maybe get me laughing and I'll stick with you through thick or thin. Nope, don't bother showing up when we agree to me. Nope, you don't have to confirm because I'll do all the work for you. You don’t ever even have to leave you couch because I'll let you string me along… and along… and along…. until you've had all the fun you can with me. Then you can ditch me and I'll go unresistingly back to the pond. I'll initiate contact, and email you regularly so you never feel the rejection of an empty inbox. I'll wait around while you're online talking to someone else, no problem. That what us suckers are for. They don't put us near the bottom of the food chain for nothing you know. Give us garbage and we eat it right up.

(Also closely related to another flourishing specimen, the Doormat. Maybe you've had some fun with her, too.)

Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me three times? I'm a sucker.

Damned innerwebz

Is everyone like this or just me? I had to force myself not to email him all weekend with completely stupid things to say. OK, I lie, I sent one, but then I composed a gazillion more and managed not to send them. Even the one saying my time is important to me and if you're gonna bail do it now.

Internet dating is designed to make you neurotic, paranoid and insecure. It shows whether you are online or not, whether you've read the emails you received, whether you deleted them - all things which are completely unnecessary. So dude is online, has read your email and doesn't respond. Is he talking to someone else? Does he have nothing interesting to say? Does he not want to deal with you? Is every other hot woman on the site sending him Better messages? Is he checking sporadically while watching the TV or making dinner? Who knows? And when they disappear off line as soon as you come on is that because they're trying to avoid you? I don't know! All I know is it fuels my raging paranoia and I have to try my very hardest not to send messages like - Dude? What's up? You didn't respond to my email about the weather 22 minutes ago. Are you fucking someone else?

Yeah.

So anyway, I have been very good. . I know there's a delay in the site showing who's on and who's not. I take that as a good thing. It means I do what I want. I log in for 2 hours, doing laundry or something completely unrelated and trying not to pay attention. I log in for 30 seconds, check my mail and log right back out. It's good to be unpredictable.

But tonight - I'm layin' down the law. Dude will confirm TONIGHT that we are still on. When/if he does so, I will give him my phone # and tell him to CALL should something come up. I should NOT have to rely on checking that stupid site to see if I'm going to be jilted. Of course it would be nice and polite of him to reciprocate, but if he doesn't that's too bad. God forbid something comes up with me, that's his problem.

I have a very baaaaaaaaad feeling about this.

Let's try some optimism, kids! He's got no reason to plan something if he doesn't want to go. It's the internet - he just bails and has no repercussions, so if he really didn't want to go, he would have bailed. End of story. Snap out of it, creeping jesus.

I see a red door and I want to paint it black.

That is my mood, or at least is has been for the last few days. Is this how depression comes on? I feel like I'm wearing a black hood over my head. Bleah.

On the other hand, the sun is shining today and I feel much better. Or maybe I bottomed out and there's nowhere to go but up. I gotta stop whining, whatever it is. OK, so I made my child's birthday the worst. one. ever. but hey, I'm sure they'll be more of those. I sent him to bed without brushing his teeth, but hey, by the time that comes back to haunt him he'll have his own dental plan. And if he or his brother kill the other one, that'll be one less university education to pay for. Cup half full kids, not shattered and leaking red wine on my beige carpet.

Dude made startling revelations under the influence of alcohol on Friday night. Har. It's the modern equivalent of drunk dialing, only more permanent, unless you were foolish enough to babble on someone's answering machine. I'm going to take it as a good sign that he wanted to. Or maybe (based on the revelations) he's just a bit... I was going to say odd, but no - it's pretty normal, just dark and surprising that he'd fess to it. And MAN the guy can write. Even hammered he can use the word "behest". I think I'm in love.

If I should get stood up AGAIN, I hope nothing comes up at work because there may be a sick day on Wednesday. Not that I'm too heavily invested or anything...

Ah the good old days

...when advertisers could pretty much do as they pleased.


Who knew smoking was so beneficial? Guess I must have been smoking the wrong brand.

This has been quite the week.

1. I made plans with my PoF dude to go out on Monday night. Not an ideal date night, but hey, it was just a meet and bum-sniff event.

He cancelled, citing unexpected work commitments. Spent fun evening with Miko and rescheduled for Thursday.

2. Lost my keys. I don’t know where the fuck they are but really, I have to do something about my house. I blame space, I blame the attic, I blame the kids, but really, there is JUNK piled everywhere and it doesn't need to be there and most of it is mine.

3. Fought with Calvin. Over and over and pretty much lost my mind. Homework is the antichrist.

4. Bought small appliances - a hairdryer, clock radio, iPod dock, answering machine.

5. Had raging PMS. While attempting to get into the tiny space to plug in the new clock, I got frustrated and threw my plastic shelves across the room. Real mature. And you wonder where Calvin gets his temper from?

6. Thursday. Anticipation. All dressed, mascara on, hair brushed, I check my email. You know, just in the tiny chance that dude bailed on me again. I'm sure there will be no messages… but, sure enough, there was. He cancelled. Again.

OK, I got serious brownie points for graciously accepting his lack of excuse (I just can't fucking make it) - must be an afternoon of reading elegantwoman.org. But I clearly remember thinking, in my LL days, that I should disappoint everyone before I go out with them because you can tell so much about someone by how they react. Real gentleman do not yell at you or call you names, or make rude implications. Guess it works both ways.

Anyway, I thought there was a ring of truth (and desperation) to his messages and though it might make me a doormat, I am giving him one more chance. Really, just one more. The one bright side? When I said maybe it was my mojo, or the overused venue (Allan's) he said "It's not you, it's me" (and keep in mind he was well aware of the blinding cliché) and I fired back "Oh, that old chestnut." I was pleased to actually use that phrase!

Date night? Tuesday - AKA knit night. Miko's in NYC so I don't really want to go AND I won't need a sitter. God forbid I show up at knitting...

7. Went to the doctor for my check-up. I adore her so much. I unloaded about Calvin and what was going on and she was so great I almost started bawling. I sort of thought she would think I was over-reacting, but she was so sympathetic and understanding and had good ideas and is going to send both of us to talk to someone professional. I really hope that helps. She also suggested that, since homework was such a big stressor, that I give that particular joy to someone else. Daycare, school, Steve. Anyone. Just not me. It's so nice to have someone take away something that I really want to do but know isn't working at all. I am NOT helping him.

8. Calvin is 8 tomorrow. My baby. I'm hoping beyond hope that this next year is a bit smoother. More Dr. Jekyll, less Mr. Hyde. 'Specially since Jack has been sipping the potion lately.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep

I need sleep. It's been what - about a week since I slept properly? I feel like I'm stoned all the time. Not good.

Tonight I should have been setting up for the Frolic. Instead - due to the massive efficiency of Ms Schecter - I am home, emailing dude. Frankly, what I should do is have two glasses of wine and go to bed. But no - I trade inanities via email. Sigh. Monday can't come soon enough.

I like it, but I need a reality check. Is he an asshole that can make conversation, or a really witty dude with a dirty streak and a penchant for double entendres? Maybe I'll ask.

I am getting the fairycakes/chris feel again. I know I'm getting my hopes up and am bound to be disappointed, but I can't help it. And I don't care. The feeling is grooooooovy. And maybe it will affect my appetite?

I want to rush home and check my email. Some part of me knows this is going to end quickly, and in crushing disappointment. Why does this always happen to me? The M-word hooks up with someone, has some emails, talks on the phone, has a date where the guy actually shows up and then he's totally in to her. What's wrong with me? Am I overeager? (yes) Should I drag the email on longer? I dunno, but when someone says we should meet for a drink I take that as an invitation. Am I wrong? Am I crazy? Am I obsessed? Do I want to go out with a hot dude named Daniel who can make conversation and is witty and personable? Do I know what a claymation star is? Is he really made of plasticine? Is his personality like a lump of clay, or is he malleable like a lump of clay? Enquiring minds want to know.

Fekola.

Were you scared away by my overeager offer of a drink? Did your agent suddenly call you up with a last-minute fill-in for Grommit? Is my obsession with chickens a turn-off? Did you realize I'm functionally blind without my glasses and don't want to go out with a disabled person (even if it means I get a handicapped sticker on my car)? Did I inadvertently mention I have two boys and you're worried they'll gang-r@pe your daughter while you're not watching? (hmmm… in a couple of years that might be a valid concern) Did your wife catch you surfing the dating sites again? Did skankygal123 email you with a picture of her assets?

I'm stockpiling chocolate for the crash.

________________________________________________________________

In unrelated news, the green sweater of doom is pretty much complete, I have sewed it all together, and while the arms are a little long and the body a bit big, I quite like it. I am going to have to rig up some alternate fastening system so it doesn't droop and drag at the front. Maybe one of those old-fashioned hooks for fastening your pants on the inside, and on the outside a cute button or something. I dunno, I think it might just look like a sack on me.

_________________________________________________________________

Also - I finally realized it was me that bust my brand new machine. While in conversation with the woman who sold it to me, hurling accusations about how it were not workin right, it occurred to me that in the initial set up, where I dropped the carriage backwards off the bed, I might have bent the effing bed myself! I fessed up immediately and the woman was very gracious about my rash accusations (we do have a relationship as she shed tears on me about her newly dead mother as I was buying it) and thanked me for admitting my mistake. I think religion might actually bring out the best in some people. She's a bible basher, not me, in case you inadvertently stumbled upon my crazy ramblings and think it might be me. The point being, if it were me that broke it, I bet I can fix it!

Picture? I ain't got no freakin' pictures. You got the gabbagoo?

Older dudes

So what is wrong with people over the age of 47? I have had this mental block for ages whereby I think that I want to date someone between the ages of 40 and about 46. Old = bad. Hmmm. So far, almost all the men I have met have been jerks, especially the younger ones. Now that I have dipped my toes (ha ha) into the waters of PoF, I find the ones I find really attractive - both physically and expresionistically, are those who are around 50.

At first I thought it was a fluke - one or two, here or there. But I don't think so. Why doI want a younger man who I'm going to feel self-consciously old around? A well preserved 50 year old seems right up my alley. Case in point: 50 year old with a rather broody picture, taken by his kid so it's not very clear. H.O.T. And as he says:

I will endeavor to enamor you with my plagiarized wit, and superficial charm.

I love it when they talk dirty.

Mmmmm

I made yellow Thai chicken curry tonight. I'd thawed the chicken but didn't feel like cooking it but I made myself, what a sacrifice.

It was coconut milk based, something that has stirred nausea in the very depths of my being since the fateful meal in the Bangkok? Singapore? airport in 1993. Heck, it's been a few years - I thought I'd give it a shot.

PC curry sauce, with baby corn and red pepper. I almost had an orgasm. Who new?

Birthday follow-up

It is with great sadness that I report that my ENTIRE family, with the exception of my sister in Texas, who is addicted to Facebook and probably got a reminder, forgot my birthday. I know where I fall in the pecking order.

I would like to thank my friends at work, who never seem to forget. Also - my neighbours for making me dinner, including cupcakes, and buying me beautiful tulips. I love you, man.

Birthdays

When you're a kid, your birthday is the epitome of self-indulgence. It's all about you. Princess for a day. God help you if your birthday falls in the summer or during Christmas because then your friends can't fuss over you at school! (Let's ignore the fact that my little brother managed to be sick and ruin virtually every single one of my birthday parties from the age of 6 to 10 - at least it felt that way, it was probably only twice.)

When I was young, independent and living away from home, it was pretty much guaranteed that there would be copious drinking involved. Nothing says happy birthday like a solppy drink. At the very minimum I had a couple of roommates to wish me happy birthday with the utmost sincerity. Even my family usually came through for me eventually with some cash and a phone call.

Then, once I was happily domesticated, I could count on presents, cake and drinks on the day from my significant other. OK, maybe the presents didn't quite hit the mark, but the thought was there and I didn't have to buy them. There was an element of surprise, and predictability.

Being old and single is... interesting. You have friends, of course, but they don't live with you and generally have their own lives. My family usually forgets, even my mom, until late in the day. My kids are so oblivious they wouldn't even notice if we don't have cake, I think, and they LOVE having cake. One of the perils of single-parenthood is they don’t have anyone constantly reminding them about mommy's birthday, and going off to buy presents, etc. Whatever. It's not like presents make it more special and one can hope that as they get older they might actually remember…

The presents are the great part. Chosen by me for me. Don't get me wrong - I love a surprise present, but the ability to choose exactly what you want for your birthday, to buy something you've been lusting after for a while, is awesome. You get JUST what you want, not your subtle hint filtered though someone else's brain. Yeeeeeeeeeeee ha.

All I wanted for my birthday was a great pair of shoes and two sloppy kisses. Mission accomplished.

I'll take this as a message

I bought a new machine. It is fabulous. Besides the fact that it needs new sponge bars and smells a tiny bit like smoke, I think it will be great!

As well as all the regular stuff, it came with a box of magazines - 1980's, quite amusing - and a huge pile of punchcards. Some 12 stitch (which I should sell as I hear they're hard to come by and I don't have a 12 stitch machine) some Toyota, some Singer (most of which I have but there's some blanks!) and of course, a pile of Brother ones, another punch, another copy of the knitting course I got with my Singer (which is an excellent resource), and ANOTHER ball winder (now I have three). The punch and book I'll probably give to Miko but you can't seem to give away a ball winder for love ror money, go figure.

Brother knitleader? HUGE. The Studio knit radar is about 6" across; this thing is about 2 FEET across.
___________________________________________________________________

There's a new organic burger place near me and we got takeout from there last night. Evidently, eating nothing but donuts all day followed by a huge burger and 1/3 of a poutine is a recipe for GI distress. After a few hours trying to sleep, I gave up and exorcised myself of that demon. Unusual for me. Maybe I'll get the skinny sickies again. One can dream.
____________________________________________________________________

Mine:



Wow - this is probably the most money I've spent in one day since... I bought my car? Thanks, Revenue Canada!

Jacquard for all

I got a YC2 double bed yarn changer a while ago and couldn't think of a use for it. In fact I didn't even try it. Everything I read lead me to believe it was obsolete and essentially useless. Then I ran across a YouTube video of someone using it, or trying to, or something. I can't really remember and I couldn't find it again when I started to look. Anyway, I looked up some stuff on double bed jacquard and it seemed like a totally cool thing to do with a knitting machine, even with my yarn changer.

I hooked up the yarn changer last week and it seemed to work fine. Damn naysayers.

Unfortunately there is hardly any info on the web about DBJ. I thought about it for days, spending countless meetings doodling and trying to figure it out. While I eventually grasped the basic concept of how it worked, when someone recommended the book Jacquard for All, by Wendy Damon, I snapped it up and it was money well spent, my friends. It not only deciphers what's happening, it tells how to punch the cards properly, and even more revolutionary, how to do single stripe backing and even solid backing!

Inspired by the cover of the book and several swatches, I set out to chart the interlocking circles pattern. We shall not discuss how long this took and where I did it. And while a normal person starts with something simple to master the technique without driving themselves batty, no - not I. Jump in with both feet. (Also, I only have two punch cards left so I wanted to make the most of them.)

Anyway I charted the pattern onto graph paper (the centre block is the graph, the rest are just copies to make sure it lines up)

Then drew it onto the punchcard

Then I tried it. While I followed the directions pretty carefully, I got stripes on both sides the first two times. Eventually I clued in that I might have started the pattern on the wrond row, and sure enough, I backed the punch card up a row and the next time, tada! Not perfection in any charting sense, but it worked! (Squint a bit and it looks better.)

Colour me pleased.

I might be buying a new machine. Maybe. One I REALLY need.

Self-employed is the new buzzword

Ah spring. The turtles are out at Riverdale farm


As are the monkeys



Spring also seems to have brought out the critters from the online dating woodwork. The new code word for the day is "self-employed". By throwing this out, you no longer have to make a commitment until the last moment, keeping your options open. God forbid you set up a date with Suzy and then along comes Cindy, who seems much hotter and easier. This saves you the akwardness of cancelling with loser Suzy to bone Cindy. Brilliant! Add this to "average" as a classic.

CrustyRUs

Lazy Saturday

It's true, alcohol is the root of all evil. At the least, serious procrastination. Fortunately this particular indiscretion was cured by a diet coke, a pot of coffee, two tylenol and a lot of sleep.

Despite this handicap, I have positive things to report:

I did my taxes! I am legendary for completing all of it except one tiny step, then waiting MONTHS to finally finish. This time it was only weeks. Nothing like the promise of a pile of filthy lucre, direct from the government, to make one complete it.

A sent my camera in to be fixed! After years of nagging my children to put the wrist strap on before they started using it, especially over water and sand, I managed never to have a serious incident with my old camera. The new one? *I* dropped it, lens open, into the sand. Einstein. But I took it to the fabulous Sun Camera for repair and they anticipate it will be done on Tues. That's efficiency for you. (I haven't got the hang of this one yet - my pics tend to be blurry and the colour is weird. I hope I find the other one. I hope I start looking soon.)

I ripped out the gigantico arms of my cable swing cardi and they are progressing much faster now that they are 3" narrower. That's some effed up sizing. I rechecked the back and it seems to be fine so hopefully I'll find a way to merge the sleeves with the armholes with about a seven-size difference in stitch count. It hurts my head to think about so I'm ignoring it for now.

I've knit both the toys in the KBOY - the octopus/squid twice. No pictures since they are still on my defunct camera.

Jack is five, Calvin is big enough to be physically helpful, sassiness seems to be abating (am I jinxing myself or what?) and all is right with the world. I'm still fat though. Some things are a constant in my life. What - coffee and Nutella taost isn't a healthy breakfast? Not even *part* of a healthy breakfast? I'm shocked.

I'm contemplating the logistics of buying actual BOLTS of fabric. Maybe I should get on with the attic.

ABC of peeves

A is for Assholes who run around on their partners
B is for Bell Canada - how do I hate thee?
C is for Cunts - you know who you are
D is for Deadbeat dads everywhere
E is for Expectations which are unreasonable
F is for Fat - why does anyone care?
G is for Girls who let themselves be doormats
H is for Heathers everywhere
I is for Idiots - stay away from me
J is for Jilted, well related to A
K is for Karma, one can only hope it gets those who deserve it - I can't tell
L is for Lavalife, scummy and vile
M is for Manners, where have they gone?
N is for Nanny-nastiness - treat her well or you'll pay!
O is for Obnoxious people
P is for Patience. I have none
Q is just Q
R is for Rage. I have too much.
S is for Slippery, Slimy, Scuzzy steve.
T is for Tit
U is for Unfortunate incidents everywhere.
V is for Violence
W is for Wimp. Grow a spine
X is for Xs. Just go away.
Y is for Yellow, colour of barf.
Z is for Zed, not Zee.

Steps towards craziness

Yes, that's a knitting machine. Not just in my bedroom, but attached to the bed. And a cat.
It's official: I have no life.

Clean sweep

It's January 31st and I am preparing to usher in the new Knitter's Book of Yarn (KBOY) Year of Knitting. I would like to say I have cleaned house, organized my stash, completed all my outstanding FO's and picked all the yarn for my projects but that is too much like organization for me. Some things have happened coincidentally, so we will say they are in response to my bold knitting plan:

One night I was so tired I took 1/2 a Percocet night to put me in my happy place and ensure a good nights sleep. I wanted the warm fuzzy feeling but it didn't happen! I was most disappointed. I guess, like most bad relationships, I was in love with the idea of Percocet, rather that the reality. Hit the road, Jack, and don't you come back until my next serious injury.

I've swept my colon. Our house was ravaged with the tsunami of stomach flu - we all had it. Eight hours of purging from both ends x three people. It was a full upper body workout and I lost a few full days of sleep. Oh well - it's over and we all survived and my pants fit better. I'd like to say I'm taking advantage of the kick-start to drop a few pounds, but my bad habits are already creeping back. Oh, and I broke my favourite glasses. It was my own fault and I wasn't even cross at the time but I am very sad. Bring on the laser eye surgery. Oh, except I had to cancel my appointment due to the barfies... feh.

Organized my Ravelry queue! (Man, I could give them some pointers about drag and drop, but I ain't no IT professional). All the KBOY projects are at the top and in their own queue. First project: the Diamond and Pearls Shawl. That should be amusing.

Also - I watched Start Wars ( I don't have a clue which one - the prequel) and I LOVED it. I thought they did such a good job of introducing all the characters and most of them were damn perfect. Leonard Nimoy looks like he might be dead and embalmed already, but he made an appearance.

Let the madness begin!

Rage against the machine

I am officially on the mend! See all that fuzzy bone? Doesn't it look strong enough to lift plywood?

I have spent a few evenings now trying to MacGyver a new sponge bar for my SK120 bulky knitter and ribber. Very trying. When I first got the machine I set it up and couldn't get it to knit worth beans. Well, to tell the truth I can't actually remember the knitting, but I know the ribbing didn't work. So I stuffed it back in it's box and left it alone for a while.

Fast forward a few months and I am itching to get this working. I pulled it out again and removed the sponge bar from the ribber. I figured if I totally effed that one up at least I could still use the knitter. I took out what was there as sponge - a piece of felt folded in half and wedged in with a piece of yarn - and contemplated my options.

First I tried weatherstripping. I cut it a bit wide and I couldn't for the life of me wedge it in to the narrow and deep channel (5 x 10 mm). I got some round weather stripping, thinking I could sew a case for it and pull it through the channel. HA. In theory it was a brilliant idea but in reality I couldn't get it more than an inch into the bed.

Finally, today I cut a narrower strip of weatherstripping and jammed it in with a bunch of kiddy glue (for easy removal when it totally doesn't work). I glued a pretty piece of ribbon on top and now I am too scared to put it in my ribber. I am fairly sure it will be a disaster. To complicate things, I managed to bend the sponge bar into a most interesting shape in my manipulations - it sort of curves and bends in several different planes so that should complicate the reinstallation. I shall save that joy for tomorrow.

(See the wine? That's an important supply for this job.)

Anyway, while that mess was drying I set up the knitter, gave it some Balistol and it knitted pretty much like a charm. I am optimistic about that, but in the process of setup I did find a picture of the original retaining bar - it had about as much padding as the metal on the bar (e.g. 10 mm) so long-term, I don't think the 2mm of fluff left on the knitter sponge bar is going to cut it. Ah well, at it's worst it performs better than the awful Bond so for that I am grateful. I hatz me some Bond.

I leave you with some lovely pictures. I have developed a small felting addiction:


Above, slippers before. Or should I say "galoshes"?
Below, the Magic Washer. Very cool, very effective.



Below - finished mary-janes. Knitpicks pattern which is easy as pie but could use some tweaking. They're too wide even for my bricks.

Above - felted Galway hat with made-up pattern. Lurve it, but could use some tweaking.
Below, Lamb's Pride bulky hat with flat top and turned up brim - at least that's the plan. Obviously still unfelted.



God, I'm so beautiful I almost can't stand it.

Back on track

Well, blogging has been pretty sporadic lately, but I have a plan. Inspired by the fabulous Miko and Julie and Julia, (the book, not the movie) we are going to knit our way through a book. In our infinite wisdom we have chosen The Knitter's Book of Yarn.

The first pattern in this book is a cabled tea cosy which I have , on 2 separate occasions, tried to knit with no success. I think that may be an inauspicious start, but WTF. Go big or go home. Also - there is lace in this book. Danger, Will Robinson!

I don't know why I think this will improve my blogging. Perhaps avoiding knitting will increase my output. I have no deep philosophical reasons to do this. I just think it might be fun, and definitely a challenge. I think Feb 1 is the start date, and I plan to knit as much of this as I can from my stash. Especially the poo-cle, mohair, and anything in pink.

One Book. Forty patterns. One serious lapse in judgment.