Down to business

Since I seriously started knitting again a few years ago, I learned I know nothing about knitting. I'm only about two steps away from novice. I always thought I knew how to knit, and that was enough. I had no aspirations to learning new techniques or doing things better (or even properly). I was of the opinion that if I couldn't do it the way I learned it it wasn't worth doing.

I don't think it's that I didn't want to learn, I just didn't see the opportunity. I didn't have the time or inclination to take a class. After all, already knew how to knit. In fact, I would have been hard pressed to identify a topic I wanted to study.

Enter the Internet. Since I discovered "boards" (I don't even know what the real name for them is) when I was pregnant with Calvin, I have been hooked. All that information at you fingertips? People willing to offer an opinion (or listen to you yammer) on pretty much any topic? Heaven!

It started with diapers. I bought, discussed, commented and advised until Jack was born, and then I pretty much was done with that. By then I had branched out into the world of wool and that open up the whole world of internet knitting. The WW forums, the Yarn Harlot and Knitty...and then the thousands and thousands of sites with tips, techniques and patterns. More patterns than I could ever imagine, all at my fingertips. Talk about heaven! (We shall not broach the subject of online shopping - what is it about getting stuff in the mail that is so seductive?)

I think it's been the discussion boards that have most opened my mind. All those people talking about techniques I'd never heard about and I seem to have a mildly competitive streak in me - if someone else can do it I think I should be able to as well. Short rows - who knew? Kitchenering? Magical! Different methods of casting on, continental knitting, magic loop? Revolutionary!

And today, I learned something else that may well change my outlook on knitting substantially. I finally made myself sew up the seams on the socks, and since they are for someone else, they had to be much closer to perfect than my usual sloppy seaming. (In fact, I usually make my mother do it I'm so bad at it!).

I'd heard about mattress stitch, but never attempted it. I Googled it and with the help of this wonderful site I leaped in.

It was not awful, it was not torturous (well, a bit hard on the eyes, but I am over 40) and the results? Well, see for yourself. I am grateful for the invaluable assistance of Mr. Crocodile.


With the help of Crocodile's soft, light-coloured underbelly, I secured the edges in proximity to each other and began the process. It's actually a lot like what it must have been like lacing a Victorian lady into her foundation garments. Lace, lace lace, pull snug, repeat.

(D'ya know? I've had these pins since I was a teenager and haven't lost one!)

Lace lace lace....

Pulled snug - look how great that looks! You can see the seam here since the flash spares no detail but in reality it's almost invisible!

All done, ends sewn in....

A quick bath...

And we're done! Thanks mom, for the great sock blocker. Its the perfect size, probably the same vintage as the pattern, which is good. They might not be so compatible otherwise.

That's a cactus behind the sock - get your mind out of the gutter.

One more operation. Lets hope the patient is equally as cooperative.

And since I can't possible let a day go without a comment on the "situation"... I have decided notes are juvenile. Do it in person, all casual like, or don't do it at all. Hey, I heard on the CBC that a woman had such a rapport with her gynecologist after an exam she asked him out for coffee - this is NOTHING.

Diversions...

Ugly dirty looking version of the hat, as mentioned, and the finally satisfactory 3-strand version.

And I finally cast on the socks for Calvin. Hot pink and turquoise, his choice. The picture really doesn't do justice to the true electricity of the colours. Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in Crazy Stripe. No kidding. 2 mm KP toothpicks, but they're a true joy to knit with. Dare I say better than Addis? Sacrilegious, I know.

What kind of wool are you?

You are Shetland Wool.

You are a traditional sort who can sometimes be a little on the harsh side. Though you look delicate you are tough as nails and prone to intricacies. Despite your acerbic ways you are widely respected and even revered.

Why do I always get the "tough cookie" profile? I'm not tough, I'm sweet and demure. Acerbic ways? Me???

Stupid quiz.

Better

A card.

Dear T,

You are cordially invited to go out with me.

_ Yes - RSVP the famous #: 867-5309

_ No - Email me a simple "no". Please put me out of my misery at your earliest convenience so the wound licking can begin and I can master my skills of avoidance.

Sincerely,

Lulu

Printed in classic font on a mildly humorous card. I'm thinking one of those 1950's pics...

Things that cause me angst

Antibiotics. My dear doctor (well, actually her secretary) called me last night to say yes, I did have strep and I needed to take antibiotics. Well I'm better, I don't want to. So I call up and say do I still have to? She says yes since I might get rheumatic fever and die. Yeah, right. And if I hadn't gone in the first place and didn't know would I still be about to die? Anyway, I'll probably take them just so I don't infect my poor kiddies if it isn't too late, but then she says, you're not allergic to penicillin, are you? Ah, YES. Doesn't anyone even read my file? It should be easy in the new computerized world, no? Sheesh. I think I'm more likely to die by going to the doctor than not.

The freaking Unoriginal Hat. I have knit this THREE times, and I still think I need to rip out this version. The second version, two strand of rust and one of white with a grey streak looked AWFUL - kind of like it was already dirty- so that didn't make it far. The third version, three strands of rust (we shall not discuss the chaos created by unravelling three strands of wool over and over) was fine but I am knitting like a constipated crone - I couldn't even get the stitches off the cable and back in the needle it was so tight. Sheesh - It's not even much bigger than the first one so I think its gotta go too. Mind you, I have the pattern memorized now.

My indecision and the fact that I think I'm going to make a very poor choice when the time comes. My justification is that people ask each other out all the time - why does it have to be a federal affair? So he says no - how bad can it be?

Yeah yeah, pick yourself up of the floor. I know it will traumatize me beyond belief and I will slink around like a kicked puppy for weeks, annoying everyone I know.

My job, which is a boring hellhole. Why are some people so able to find pleasure (or at least some degree of satisfaction in what they do? I wish. I feel like I'm just marking time until someone discovers just how little they need me and I'll be out on my arse.

The weather. It's March and there is still feet of snow on the ground. Nuff said.

OK, this is totally naval gazing and of no interest to anyone but myself but still. This is the modern equivalent of dear diary. Get bent.

Version 1

By any stretch of the impossible, would you like to go out with me some time? Out out. Like grown-ups. Not lunch in the cafeteria.

I'm sure there are a thousand good reason why you shouldn't, but I don't care about those - all I want to know is if you'd LIKE to. If not, please let me know so I can commence the process of feeling totally humiliated and stupid - and rightly deserved. I have a highly overactive imagination. Just send me an email saying NO and we shall speak no more of this. You thought I avoided you before...

If you might contemplate this with any degree of enthusiasm, call me 867-5309 and we can discuss further.


Version 2:

Would you like to go out with me sometime?

Yes - call me 867-5309
No - send me an email. All you have to say is no.

Being the yappy bitch I am, I'd lean towards A. but that's now. Things'll change in an hour, I'm sure.

No comments needed on the lunacy of even contemplating this. I am well aware.

Two week reprieve

Dude is in SW until next Fri. Ah, the stalky power of the intrawebby. I can prance around without any worries - or more likely, formulate some dastardly plot for when he returns. This is so stupid.

Feh.

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Yay! I feel like a million bucks, so in honour of the occasion (no other reason, really, what other motivation could I possible have???) I am all skanked up at work today. Short skirt, fluffy top, BOOTS. Yes, the big guns.

The boys were delivered home last night with Jack having just barfed. How freakin' fabulous! He seemed in fine spirits though, so we had a bath and went to bed. Clean bed, I might add, having spent all freaking day doing laundry. Sure enough - he barfs on MY duvet, which I just handed down to him, and Binky, which really needed a wash so that was OK. He barfed until about 3 am and each time I thought, "I really don't feel as bad as I should".

Woke up this morning a new person. Not tired, neck a bit sore, but generally GREAT!!!!! I'm such a great mom- I pack the munchkin off to daycare.

Do you care? No. Oh well, it just means now I can do something more taxing than the idiot proof hat. Which unfortunately is destined for the frogpond as it fits Calvin - not exactly the size my intended recipient.














(Why is this picture so crap? I'm sure it didn't look so bad before...)

I wish I could come up with a good use for my skanky outfit... besides numerous trips past the Building. How subtle is that. But have I ever been eyeballed today! Cathy would be jealous - I even got conversation out of it.

So... today's dilemma: how do I top the cupcake incident? I don't think I can. I think what I need to do is either put a cork in it, or go whole hog and ask him out. I shall have to be fully prepared for rejection, though. I strongly suspect this has all been in my mind all along, especially last week, the week we shall call "fugue state week".

Things I need to contemplate with more clarity:

1. He kissed me. I don't care where he kissed me or why or anything, he's not French and he kissed me. That is not something I'm prepared to gloss over. Not to mention it seems to be way over the normal bounds of work relationship without crossing any formal lines. The dude is GOOD.

2. He asked me if I was OK having lunch in the cafeteria. This is supposed to be my role. And my response was very sub-par - I just glossed over it! What was I thinking? We should have been dining uninterrupted chez the Holiday Inn. Poor showing, my friend.

3. He said "stop avoiding me". I wonder which incident this could have been in reference to? Because you know, I do it so often. It was probably the president's thingy, which was painfully obvious and juvenile, but could also have been the incident in the cafeteria where I pretended not to see him. Who knows? He does have a point though, and he noticed!!

Hai dued. Me hot for yew. Can we baing now, or layter?

In like a lamb

Yes, March is in like the proverbial lamb, or so I gather from the two seconds I spent outside today. Too sick to clean the house, too sick to run, too sick to do anything except knit, sleep and watch Buffy, which is strangely adddictive.

I'm starting to think I'll watch anything that doesn't have either snow or commercials.

My, it looks like you've finished knitting the socks! What a perfectly Kitchenered toe.

Thanks, Barbie!

Are you going to do the back seam?

No, I think I'll wait until my faculties are all there. Kitchenering took it all out of me.

Oh, OK. Um, you don't mind if I invite a friend over... while you're not using the socks...

Oh, alright. But don't get anything on the socks. You know what that Ken's like.



















I got a bit distracted by another crack hat. This one the Unoriginal Hat by the Harlot. Can it be as small as it looks???

Betty freakin' Crocker

Wow! Those are some fine lookin' socks. Do I see the start of toe shaping?

Why yes, Barbie. How observant of you. I have just begun to shape the toes.

Impressive - when do you think they'll be done?

Well, Barbie, since you ask - I think they might be finished this weekend. But do you think you could find some clothes for the next shoot? Maybe even just a top? A scarf? This is family content here.




















I am sick. Run down, swollen glands, crusty, tired sick. Slept all day yesterday and STILL didn't feel any better. Went to the doctor today and they couldn't see anything of course, but said maybe I had mono. As if - that's the best laugh I've had all week. Mono - the kissing disease.

I made cupcakes yesterday for the kids, and to see if I could make purple icing. Talk about a colour nightmare. I made bruise colours. Tasty though, if you don't mind eating bruises. Took the rest to work so I wouldn't eat them all and used one to bribe C to get TH's office# for me. Not like I couldn't have done it myself but I don't want to leave too obvious of a trail, you know. The fact that she did that for me, and that B said my cupcakes would be irresistible made me do something a wee bit silly: I dropped off a cupcake on my way home.

Now I'd been thinking about this for a while of course, but I was hoping my common sense would prevail. I had pretty much talked myself out of it , in fact. However, the lack of negativity from my enabling friends I took as tacit permission to do this silly thing. (The fact that they didn't know what I was planning is irrelevant, highly irrelevant.)

He was not there so I left it with his secretary, such a lovely woman. In the initial plan I was going to drop off two so she didn't feel left out, but my piggy friends ate all the rest. Next time, for sure.

Get an email later saying thanks so much for the "fairy cake". He's so British it's funny. Didn't mention having sex on the office floor - always a disappointment, but unsurprising considering the amount of glass in his office.

Now what? The logical next step of course would be to proposition him but even I, with my cajones clanging the way they are lately, don't have the balls for that. So I think I will do the sensible thing - nothing.

Although it's highly probably I will change my parking habits.

Rehash

I don't know why I worry about stuff like who's in the cafeteria. I'll tell you who's there: everyone and their dog. But fortunately no comments from BR. Slug lady was there and I saw her looking TWICE. Bet she wonders what's going on.

OK, here is the blow-by-blow...

I met him in the lobby where he was talking to some dude who I know but couldn't put a name too. All smiles, as usual. Nice teeth for an english boy. Manchester. Wait, wait while he finishes his convo. Then - get this - he does the kiss on the cheek thing. Two cheeks. I almost passed out. He has lovely smooth cheeks. I guess all that shows is that he's not a hairy Italian monster who has 5-o'clock shadow at 10 am, but it was nice.

So we go hang our coats - how civilized- and get lunch. As we're walking in he says you have to tell me all about reg. blah blah blah, and I looked at him and said - no, it's your turn to answer questions. Ha.

I took it as significant that they were serving mac & cheese so I didn't have to anguish over what to eat. Them's good picking food. I told the cafeteria chicky that I was paying and of course he said no, no, so I looked at her and said "I'm paying. He doesn't know what he's talking about." Smooth, eh? That's why I have to beat the men off with a stick.

Sat down, made some small talk we got down to the nitty gritty. Some highlights:

2 cars - he rents in France, Audi Quattro in the US, don't know about here - we got sidetracked but he parks underground.

He's buying a vacation place in Tuscany with his SIL. Life is rough.

His assistant services his car for him.

We were talking about Steve and I said something about him having a mid-life crisis and he said, "Oh, then he must be much older" which I totally didn't get at the time. God, he probably thinks I'm 30 or something ridiculous like that. Hmmm... how to sort THAT out?

He's hot and I'd bang him an a flash although... I think he smokes. Don't care. He's very craggy around the eyes. He has some weird mannerisms which I kind of like but I suspect might drive you mad after a while. Ah well, not like I'll get the chance to be driven mad by him.

Low points:

The legal chick came to join us. While she's a lovely gal, I wanted her to get the fuck outta there. Things degenerated from there, but as we were leaving (he had to go talk to someone else - the man is a fucking social butterfly) he says to me "and stop avoiding me". Ak! What's that supposed to mean?? Do you think he actually knew I knew he was in the caf yesterday? And to point it out? What's up with that?

I was shaking through the whole first half of lunch. And it turns out I had lettuce in my teeth. Fuckola.

Now what? If he had bought lunch I'd send him an email saying thanks - what are the chances of him dong the same? Pretty slim, I think. While he's very responsive to my emails, he's not big on instigating them. What I should do is let this rest and see what happens.

Whether or not I can do that is another question entirely.

Feh

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Kill me now.

BR was supposed to have lunch with someone who stood her up. She will now have to go to the cafeterial BY HERSELF.

Fuckola.

No guts, no glory

So after sending a series of harassing emails to my little friend yesterday (relax, it was only two - one first thing in the morning and one before I left as I still hadn't heard from him) and perusing his availability, I concluded that he would likely want to have lunch today (if he hadn't decided I was harassing him, which I very much feared).

I dressed with intent this morning, trying to select the perfect balance of stylishly corporate and subtly sexy. Of course that was a total disaster, especially since I slept in the tee shirt I though might make a good accompaniment to the pants and jacket combo. Good planning, sunshine.

Plan B - regular black shirt, black pants, shoes rather that boots as my sole concession to glamour. Of course the moment I step outside I freeze my titties off as the temperature has plunged from near zero to minus a gazillion.

I drag my sorry ass in to work through the acres of wind chill and dude has finally got back to me. All systems are go. Standby for liftoff. I'm about to crash and burn in fiery flames if I don't keep a very tight watch on what comes out of my mouth.

Oh yeah, and you lazy-ass bitches who didn't come to work this morning? (you know who you are). You get NO details until tomorrow. I hope ebola is good to you.

Ok, ok if you want to spoil the surprise...

How do I love the Purple Purl? Unbelievably.

After titless was an hour late, I went to a PACKED house and they still made me feel welcome. And I closed the place. Just little old me. I might just have to move in there.

Finished the foot shaping so it's off to the races. Did manage to yank an entire needle out of both socks, but that's an evening of light damage for the PP.

I won the edamame!

Well, it was a nice theory: dude never gets back to me and I can let my overwhelming obsession die a natural death. Turns out this is not going to happen. Yesterday evening, email from the dude saying when will we have lunch. (OK, I cheated a bit and sent him a "priming" email on Friday but he didn't answer that so I thought I was a goner.) Am I sad? Ah, no. Au contraire.

On a somewhat related topic, I was also thinking that being crazy might not be so bad. What is wrong with having a totally different reality existing in your head? No nasty surprises, you get everything you want, you're always the cool kid, anything is possible! I sort of envy the people on Queen Street who can live their whole lives like this. OK, you wouldn't get anything done (at least not mentally taxing activities) and you'd have to be able to make the distinction between your worlds, but still... there's a lot to be said for not feeling guilty about having a vivid fantasy life. Guilt takes the fun out of everything.

My sympathies go out to my friend Carolyn - her husband was let go from the Ultimate Geek JobTM . However, he is very competent and I'm sure all will be well before too long. Having him home to help with the monsters will be a burden I think you can shoulder, Carolyn.

Oh, and I have a parcel - colour my life perfect. I think it's my purewool!

Sock therapy

On a more pleasant note: I got to see I's baby yesterday - how very, very cute! There's nothing like a baby. In fact maybe it was the baby fumes that set me off (see mental breakdown below).

And - drumroll please - I managed to pick up the stitches for those damn navy socks. I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity, which would involve great lighting and minimal distraction for about an hour, but I finally figured out that was never going to happen in this lifetime. So I booted the kids outside yesterday and went outside to do it. With the help of an extra 6 teenie weenie dpns, I did it! It was warm outside and the light was excellent and the kids were firmly buried in a snowbank, so all was good. Now all I have left is an acre of decreasing (I still don't have my Etsy markers, grrrr), two acres of size bazillion foot and I'm done! (We shall not discuss the elephant in the room named Back Seam.)

Pictures? Hmmmm. I shall have to ponder that.

Perspective.

I have entered the seventh circle of hell where my children are concerned. They drive me mad. - Deliberately mouthy, non-listening, uncontrollable monsters. I can't take them anywhere or keep them home and they don't want to do anything I suggest simply because I suggest it. Yeah, yeah, reverse psychology and all those fabulous techniques. Frankly, I just don't have the energy anymore. If anyone calls anyone poo-poo head just one more time...

I put them to bed and sat down to watch some mindless TV. With the Oscars on there was absolutely no selection, so I was just flipping and I came to this program on TVO. Why I make myself watch this stuff I don't know.

It was a documentary on an orphanage in some eastern European country - Romania, maybe? - and it was truly aweful. It wasn't that they were abused particularly or left to lie in a pile of their own shit, but they were so horribly, horribly neglected. No one EVER spoke to them so they didn't learn to talk. DID NOT LEARN TO TALK. They all rocked like they were autistic, but apparently that's normal when you have absolutely no stimulation. They were fed, bathed dressed and left. So many of them just sat in the chair they were put in until the next meal, repeat, repeat, repeat. What kind of a way to live is that? Some of them FORGOT how to walk. How do you forget how to walk??? They would have been much kinder to just give them a big hug and put them to sleep the day they arrived. I absolutely cannot imagine anyone living like that.

Is it so hard? Expensive? They had "social workers' that came and visited who did NOTHING, didn't even speak to them. Frankly, they would have been better off putting them to work - agricultural work, cleaning, ANYTHING just to provide them with a little stimulation.

The workers there weren't unkind, they just didn't care. No feeling that these were children they were carrying around like sticks of furniture. And they were fed, but many of them were literally skin and bones while the workers, in very dramatic contrast, were typically eastern European- large women with meaty arm who looked liked they hadn't skipped a meal in ages. And the kicker? When the woman making the documentary asked the director what she though they they needed most she said. Get this. A computer. Starving, neglected children and she thinks a computer is what they really need.

How about an ounce of compassion, people??? Oh, I forgot. You can't buy that.

I bawled. Life's little fucking miracles my ass. I kissed my kids goodnight and though how terribly, terribly lucky they are to have all the crap they take for granted, materialistic stuff, but more importantly a mom that loves them more than life itself and would do anything to keep them from harm. I want to sell everything I own and send the poor fuckers the money but you know who would end up getting fatter. I would seriously contemplate packing in my life and going over and punching the living daylights out of those people.

I cried for a hour, at least. Snuggled up with my little bunnies this morning made me cry again (although what they hell are they BOTH doing in my bed when they have their own?). And now I look like complete and total crap. I need medication. No wonder everyone in North America is on drugs. It's the only way to deal with this crappy world. Those poor little orphans could use a break from reality, I suspect. Perhaps I'll just set up a fund to pipe high-dose Ambien into their water supply...

Da hat

MY hat is done. Pretty goofy looking and really too long - if I were good I'd zap out a few rows and make it so I don't have to turn it up, but I like it. Basic black with a little bit of fuzz and spangle. And it ain't a toque so it doesn't give me penis head.

















And a huge round of applause for the Blogger people who finally fixed the spellchecker. I suck at proofing. Thanks.

I'm such a geek.

OK, in my defense I've got a science background and I've always had a wee bit o' the geek in me, but I found this to be hilariously funny:

Colomer France has withdrawn its Intragen 5 patch from the French market, where it had been launched as a cosmetic product for the prevention of hair loss.

A patch for baldness? I thought that was a toupee.

There goes the neighbourhood

In a rare departure from my narcissism, I must mention the fire on Queen W. (photos courtesy of the CBC). Very beautiful in a sad way.

It's not often that a section of Toronto's downtown catches on fire but when it does it's pretty spectacular. The buildings are all about a century old and they seem to go up like a tinderbox - no big surprise when I think about the construction of my house, I suppose. In this case, the buildings were three story row "houses" - stores on the bottom level and apartments on the top two. Not only does this result in the displacement of the people that live about the stores - mostly renters I would imagine, who often don't have the foresight/brains/money to have insurance and thus end up not only homeless but with absolutely no possessions at all. While I personally would be delighted if my house burned down, I cannot imagine many other people feel the same way.

Plus, it is such a cool section of Queen that was affected. Not yet all glammed up, but certainly on the way. One can only imagine the delight of those who want to see icky chain stores and the like go in there. No one in their right mind would rebuild the buildings the way they were, and thus there goes the kind of storefront space that makes Queen W. the funky neighbourhood that it is. No more indy head shops, ribbon stores, used record stores or whatever else was there. While they might be able to support themselves when the store and thus the rent is pretty small, in the new and improved bigger-is-better world they will be totally cut out. Let's all hope that Duke's does continue (though my feeling is they may just take to opportunity to get out) since it would be exactly what the neighbourhood (still) needs. Otherwise I fear the suburbanization of the area, egged on by the big box stores going in nearby, the materialistic condo culture and the proliferation of chains like the Gap and H&M that will do zippo to protect the nature of the area unless forced to by ironclad heritage rules.

Don't these people get it? They're moving in because the area is "hip" and "funky". Don't you want to keep it that way? Pull out the Saab and go do your crap shopping at Ikea, Pottery Barn and H&M in the burbs. Oakville beckons you back to the mothership with open arms....

I know, I know it's all been said before. I just had to get that off my chest.

Addictions

Why is it that the City of Toronto needs to clean the snowbanks off Steeles in RUSH HOUR, for the love of god? They've been there for weeks, it couldn't have waited a couple of hours?! They had two of six lanes blocked and it was a living nightmare. It's enough to make me stop driving.

Sometimes I really miss my old lifestyle. I spent the weekend with T in Beachburg and I felt like a 20 year old again. OK, admittedly a 20 year old with not much life, but still. The sense of no obligations was awesome. We drank, hung out, watched countless hours of Weeds (my new great addiction) and yapped. Very nice. Contemplating making "special" brownies to honour the occasion. Smoking might be bad, but brownies only make you fat.

Speaking of addictions, I am totally addicted to the quick and easy rush you get from knitting a hat. I abandon projects with absolutely no remorse if the prospect of one so much as crosses my mind. I did one for Mike on the weekend (basic black KP Swish, huge, tons of extraneous pet hair) which took me less than 2 days. Ah, how long will the love last? I'm knitting myself one finally out of Paton's merino in black (I decide the electric blue was too... electric) using the WW Keppie pattern. This particular hat is bringing me no end of joy as I have chosen it to use up the tiny remnant of yarn scored at the first Knitty yarn circle. I've been waiting for the appropriate project for it and this seems to be it. I don't even know what it it - I know it's Artyarns, and is wool and beads and something vaguely metallic and maybe silk. It is heaven. I feel angels singing when I knit with it. Its soft and silky and a joy to knit with even though it's got the beads. I figured a little bling couldn't hurt my basic black hat and it seems to look pretty good so far. Whether I'll wear it is another thing entirely...

Also bought some Paton's Merino in the aptly name Paprika to make a hat and maybe some mitts for T. She wanted rust and this was the closest I could get without stooping to acrylic.

Socks are languishing ever since I picked up the stitches for the foot. I fucked up somewhere and ended up with different numbers of rows on the socks, ripped it out and haven't got the inclination (or lighting, or eyesight) to pick them up again. Waiting for a peaceful, sunny day. And my Etsy stitch markers - that would help as I seem to be incapable of decreasing properly.

Finishing Jo's sweater for his birthday? Hahahahahahhahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Oh, on a final note: my latest man addiction. I was expecting said man to take some initiative upon his return to our fair shores but I am told by my personal consultant that that is not going to happen. He will, according to the enlightened one, be expecting me to set up some sort of lunch thing (like a formal meeting request). You know what? I'm buggered if I'm going to do that. If he really does want to have lunch with me and is not just going with the flow, he'll A. remember and B. do what I said: tell me when he's back so we can set something up.

Too much to ask? Probably, but at least it might tone me down a bit from my truly obsessive fantasizing. Stay tuned. I only have this week to get through before he's back, then the whole of next week to stew about whether he'll be in touch. Fancy another little wager?