Competitive knitting. There are several kinds of competitive knitting. The kind at county fairs, there is a master knitter certification and there is sock wars. Sock wars is like assassin for knitters. I get to knit a pair of socks for my target. When they get my pair of socks they die. This of course assumes that I do not get my death socks first. When I receive my death socks, I send the project I am working on to my assassin and am out of the game.
I pretty much assume that I will die shortly. I hope to have my socks completed before I die though, thus getting one kill in! But, this is complicated by my recent spoon throwing injury. My hand is still black and blue. It doesn't hurt too much, but what will many hours of knitting on toothpicks do to it? I hope all is well, but I have a bucket of ice at the ready.
So, as you are reading this post, I am knitting furiously on my death socks. I have written the weekends posts in advance, so I won't have to worry about managing the blog while I work on my socks. I will update you on Sock Wars, once I come up for air!
Till then, my yarn, purple death will kill!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Don't throw spoons
I seem to be having some anger management issues this week. Let's just say, things haven't been going my way and I have been upset and hurt by a number of things this week. Maybe I am being too sensitive, or maybe the universe is out to get me.
Since things have taken a turn for the better, I had forgotten about how much the universe likes to dance the funky chicken on my spleen. You see, I was starting to assume, every little thing was going to be alright, and I let my guard down.
"WAAAHHHAAA," laughs the universe, "I have been practicing with the River Dancers, now on to your spleen."
Wednesday, was a particularly bad day. Kids yelling and screaming and having eighty five thousand fits. If I had been on my game I would have been on the look out for the universe, but... alas, I was not. So, after a long day of temper tantrums, some mine some the kids, it happened.
Hannah had a bed time meltdown, that made nuclear meltdown seem like a better option. Then, once she had settled down and was tucked in bed, Mac joined in. It started with not finishing the yogurt he promised me he would finish. I was already cooked, and I lost it. It wasn't pretty, and rather than have a fit, I decided to take my rage out on the kitchen sink and a spoon. I hurled the spoon into the empty sink with such force the bits of yogurt on it sprayed the window, and I pulled a muscle in my hand.
That will teach me. I pulled a freakin' muscle in my hand, and now I can not knit. This is like a total complete tragedy. Stop the presses, call 911, I am disabled. This is made worse, as on Friday evening I am engaging in a little competitive knitting. Yes, there is such a thing as competitive knitting. I am already on the DL and we haven't started. I will share more on Sock Wars tomorrow, but lets suffice it to say, it is bad to start out injured!
I have been icing my thumb/hand all day. What was a small redish bruise is not a massive black/purple bruise all over my hand. While it looks horrible, it hurts less than you might imagine. I am guardedly optimistic about Friday. But, since I plan to go to the gym Friday, I hope I don't re-injure myself.
All of this from throwing a spoon into the sink. Hat's off to you universe, you out did yourself.
Since things have taken a turn for the better, I had forgotten about how much the universe likes to dance the funky chicken on my spleen. You see, I was starting to assume, every little thing was going to be alright, and I let my guard down.
"WAAAHHHAAA," laughs the universe, "I have been practicing with the River Dancers, now on to your spleen."
Wednesday, was a particularly bad day. Kids yelling and screaming and having eighty five thousand fits. If I had been on my game I would have been on the look out for the universe, but... alas, I was not. So, after a long day of temper tantrums, some mine some the kids, it happened.
Hannah had a bed time meltdown, that made nuclear meltdown seem like a better option. Then, once she had settled down and was tucked in bed, Mac joined in. It started with not finishing the yogurt he promised me he would finish. I was already cooked, and I lost it. It wasn't pretty, and rather than have a fit, I decided to take my rage out on the kitchen sink and a spoon. I hurled the spoon into the empty sink with such force the bits of yogurt on it sprayed the window, and I pulled a muscle in my hand.
That will teach me. I pulled a freakin' muscle in my hand, and now I can not knit. This is like a total complete tragedy. Stop the presses, call 911, I am disabled. This is made worse, as on Friday evening I am engaging in a little competitive knitting. Yes, there is such a thing as competitive knitting. I am already on the DL and we haven't started. I will share more on Sock Wars tomorrow, but lets suffice it to say, it is bad to start out injured!
I have been icing my thumb/hand all day. What was a small redish bruise is not a massive black/purple bruise all over my hand. While it looks horrible, it hurts less than you might imagine. I am guardedly optimistic about Friday. But, since I plan to go to the gym Friday, I hope I don't re-injure myself.
All of this from throwing a spoon into the sink. Hat's off to you universe, you out did yourself.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Thirsty thoughts on Thursday
* If you are going to keep on keepin' on, make sure you have a green light
* If you think the light is green, get a second opinion
* The week is still young
* It is a tragic spoon throwing injury
* I can't knit
* It's the end of the world as we know it, and I am not fine
* Samac Monster
* Pie, or pi?
* It is all about your mom, you don't matter
* Mareep, light errand running
* Why does it smell like poo
* The Sheep is coming the Sheep is coming
* If I didn't make the appointment I would have needed it, so I made it and didn't need it, interesting how that works out
* Why am I the only one who cleans?
* Knitting would make it better, but I can't
* If you think the light is green, get a second opinion
* The week is still young
* It is a tragic spoon throwing injury
* I can't knit
* It's the end of the world as we know it, and I am not fine
* Samac Monster
* Pie, or pi?
* It is all about your mom, you don't matter
* Mareep, light errand running
* Why does it smell like poo
* The Sheep is coming the Sheep is coming
* If I didn't make the appointment I would have needed it, so I made it and didn't need it, interesting how that works out
* Why am I the only one who cleans?
* Knitting would make it better, but I can't
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Twelve days back at school
On the first day back at school, my teacher offered me, one Geography test.
On the second day back at school, my teacher offered me, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the third day back at school, my teacher offered me, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the forth day back at school, my teacher offered me, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the fifth day back at school, my teacher offered me, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the sixth day back at school, my teacher offered me, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the seventh day back at school, my teacher offered me, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the eighth day back at school, my teacher offered me eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the ninth day back at school, my teacher offered me, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the tenth day back at school, my teacher offered me, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the eleventh day back at school, my teacher offered me, eleven more days to complete my video project, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the twelfth day back at school, my teacher offered me a twelve page book report, eleven more days to complete my video project, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
Where do I find a homework pass?
On the second day back at school, my teacher offered me, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the third day back at school, my teacher offered me, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the forth day back at school, my teacher offered me, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the fifth day back at school, my teacher offered me, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the sixth day back at school, my teacher offered me, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the seventh day back at school, my teacher offered me, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the eighth day back at school, my teacher offered me eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the ninth day back at school, my teacher offered me, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the tenth day back at school, my teacher offered me, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the eleventh day back at school, my teacher offered me, eleven more days to complete my video project, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
On the twelfth day back at school, my teacher offered me a twelve page book report, eleven more days to complete my video project, ten diabolical spelling words, nine brain teasers, eight state capitals, seven days of Get It Done club, six words in Hebrew, five falling grades, four math problems, three language arts pages, two books to read, and one geography test.
Where do I find a homework pass?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Flying Yarn
At this late date in my life you would have thought I would have learned not to do things that require any skill at all when I am upset. When we found out about Bob's first pay cut, I decided it was a grand time to replace all the switches in the house. It didn't go well. I haven't taken the time to actually finish that job, but let's just say, all I did was frustrate myself further.
So, yesterday, after I was summarily dismissed as not worthy to speak to, I decided to wind yarn. I thought that this would ease my mind and make me happier. Usually yarn solves all my problems. That was not the case tonight.
I put the yarn on the swift and began to crank away at a steady speed on my KPC ball winder. The KPC ball winder and I have reached an understanding, most of the time. KPC means Knit Picks Crap. Not all Knit Picks products are crap, but this ball winder is not worth the savings. It is junk. I sometimes wish for it to die, but a new one is not exactly in the budget. So we spin on.
Back to our story, everything was going swimmingly. The winder was cranking along and not skipping. It wasn't getting tangled or anything. I was starting to feel better. Ok, I was whining to Bob about the situation, but still I was starting to feel better. Anyway, I was cranking along a quite a clip, thinking about perhaps starting a new project in spite of Sock Wars, and the ball flew off the winder. It was a projectile ball of yarn. It hit the wall and bounced. It is never good when sock weight yarn (it looks like think string) hurls across the room.
Since half the hank was still on the swift, this was well, not a good thing. The feed end had tangled back on to itself. The ball had become a horrid mess. It took me a hour and a good deal of effort to untangle the mess and rewind the ball, which I did at a snail's pace. I was not going to have it fly off the winder again. The ball was wound, but I was not any happier than I was when I started.
No, I was frustrated about the whole flying yarn situation, and my feelings were still hurt by the way I was treated. I have mixed feelings about making socks with this yarn... I just hope the yarn and I can kiss and make up.
So, yesterday, after I was summarily dismissed as not worthy to speak to, I decided to wind yarn. I thought that this would ease my mind and make me happier. Usually yarn solves all my problems. That was not the case tonight.
I put the yarn on the swift and began to crank away at a steady speed on my KPC ball winder. The KPC ball winder and I have reached an understanding, most of the time. KPC means Knit Picks Crap. Not all Knit Picks products are crap, but this ball winder is not worth the savings. It is junk. I sometimes wish for it to die, but a new one is not exactly in the budget. So we spin on.
Back to our story, everything was going swimmingly. The winder was cranking along and not skipping. It wasn't getting tangled or anything. I was starting to feel better. Ok, I was whining to Bob about the situation, but still I was starting to feel better. Anyway, I was cranking along a quite a clip, thinking about perhaps starting a new project in spite of Sock Wars, and the ball flew off the winder. It was a projectile ball of yarn. It hit the wall and bounced. It is never good when sock weight yarn (it looks like think string) hurls across the room.
Since half the hank was still on the swift, this was well, not a good thing. The feed end had tangled back on to itself. The ball had become a horrid mess. It took me a hour and a good deal of effort to untangle the mess and rewind the ball, which I did at a snail's pace. I was not going to have it fly off the winder again. The ball was wound, but I was not any happier than I was when I started.
No, I was frustrated about the whole flying yarn situation, and my feelings were still hurt by the way I was treated. I have mixed feelings about making socks with this yarn... I just hope the yarn and I can kiss and make up.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Family, what to do
There are so many things spinning around in my mind I can not seem to come up with a cohesive post. Everything that has happened with Chris has made me think about my sister. She was my favorite sister, and she was very involved in raising me. My parents asked to adopt a little girl, because they knew my sister would like that. I was her baby doll.
When we were growing up, I went every place with her. She took me to the mall, to parties, out with her girlfriends, etc. I worshiped her. When I was leaving for graduate school I spent part of the summer with her. I got to see what was really going on, and it wasn't pretty. I think my parents sent me to recon the situation.
Many of you who know me well, know the story. I am not going to go into all the details, but I left Mississippi with a vow to never return. So here is the issue, Chris is being buried in Mississippi, at, from what I understand, a very blinged out funeral, and I am expected to go. There are so many reasons why I can not do this... 1) What to do with the kids. 2) How to pay for it. 3) My mom does not want to go. 4) It is in Mississippi, and I refuse to go there. I have 4 very valid reasons. But, for some reason, my mother, the voice of reason is wavering. She is bending like a blade of grass in the wind. I hope her weakness does not some how implicate me.
I miss my sister. I wish that we had the kind of relationship we had when she was sober. I wish that she was still alive and healthy and was able to take proper care of her son. But that was not in the cards. It is a sad situation, but I am in a good place with everything and I do not wish to undo all of this by going back to Mississippi.
I think I am going to say my feet are frozen firmly in Chicago.
When we were growing up, I went every place with her. She took me to the mall, to parties, out with her girlfriends, etc. I worshiped her. When I was leaving for graduate school I spent part of the summer with her. I got to see what was really going on, and it wasn't pretty. I think my parents sent me to recon the situation.
Many of you who know me well, know the story. I am not going to go into all the details, but I left Mississippi with a vow to never return. So here is the issue, Chris is being buried in Mississippi, at, from what I understand, a very blinged out funeral, and I am expected to go. There are so many reasons why I can not do this... 1) What to do with the kids. 2) How to pay for it. 3) My mom does not want to go. 4) It is in Mississippi, and I refuse to go there. I have 4 very valid reasons. But, for some reason, my mother, the voice of reason is wavering. She is bending like a blade of grass in the wind. I hope her weakness does not some how implicate me.
I miss my sister. I wish that we had the kind of relationship we had when she was sober. I wish that she was still alive and healthy and was able to take proper care of her son. But that was not in the cards. It is a sad situation, but I am in a good place with everything and I do not wish to undo all of this by going back to Mississippi.
I think I am going to say my feet are frozen firmly in Chicago.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Good news/Bad news
The bad news: The torsion spring on the garage door broke. (If you don't know what a torsion spring is, it is the thing that helps the door actually open, it is sort of important.)
The good news: The cars were both OUT of the garage.
The bad news: Mac ripped his snow boots.
The good news: There were 8 pairs of size 4 snow boots at Target
The bad news: They were all pink
The good news: I had no problem returning the 5 pairs I bought him hoping one would be mis-sized and would fit.
The bad news: There was a woman in front of me who had 75 things to return ALL on separate receipts.
The good news: Kids want to attend my knitting class at temple
The bad news: There are 10 of them and NONE of them know how to knit and there is only 1 of me.
The good news: I almost finished the project I was working on
The bad news: I lost the needles I need to finish it
The bad news: Bob forgot to tell me we were out of bread
The good news: I learned about this BEFORE Aldi closed
The bad news: The trash/recycling cans are locked in the garage
The good news: My trash cans are warm and cozy in the house now. Not only is it easier to dump the recycling in the can, it is a new art installment in my entryway.
It has been a long day.
The good news: The cars were both OUT of the garage.
The bad news: Mac ripped his snow boots.
The good news: There were 8 pairs of size 4 snow boots at Target
The bad news: They were all pink
The good news: I had no problem returning the 5 pairs I bought him hoping one would be mis-sized and would fit.
The bad news: There was a woman in front of me who had 75 things to return ALL on separate receipts.
The good news: Kids want to attend my knitting class at temple
The bad news: There are 10 of them and NONE of them know how to knit and there is only 1 of me.
The good news: I almost finished the project I was working on
The bad news: I lost the needles I need to finish it
The bad news: Bob forgot to tell me we were out of bread
The good news: I learned about this BEFORE Aldi closed
The bad news: The trash/recycling cans are locked in the garage
The good news: My trash cans are warm and cozy in the house now. Not only is it easier to dump the recycling in the can, it is a new art installment in my entryway.
It has been a long day.
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