••• Thursday, January 22, 2009

I-Need-Therapy Thursday 

Yesterday I had a bad day at work. There was no one big thing, really, but several big things. In relation to one another, these things presented themselves with eerily precise un-timeliness. With the combination of perfect choreography and the immediate, negligible impact of each event, it was almost spooky.

Think Tchiakovsky, in a mosh pit.

I was so fried by the end of the day, that as I walked to my car I was overcome with the happy thought: " Yay! It's the parking lot!" You know, like "Yay! it's the weekend!" Except it wasn't. The weekend. It was just the parking lot.

My Big Behind
I'm behind in all things everything.
Especially the knitting, blogging, thinking and drinking.

I did finish one of my baby cable socks. I was supposed to be done with these by early January. They are for my boss who won them in a silent auction. Well, it wasn't a true bid. She asked me if she could pay me to knit her a pair of socks and I told her I'd do it for a cash donation to the charity event. I need to get this task behind me, cuz I'm sick to death of knitting under mandated duress.

One of my Mission Possible '08 goals was to complete this sleeveless sweater that I nearly completed when my blog was two months old. For five years it remained in a perpetual state of Undead, awaiting only side seams.

Every time I took it out to complete it, I thought "ew". When I put it up to me and looked in the mirror, I thought "ew, ew." And after sewing the front and back together, I put it on and thought "Too big. Too burly. Make me want to gag and hurly." Followed by, “Ew. Ew. Ew.”

I approached the final 15 minutes of production with dread. Convinced this sweater was not the one for me, I found myself thinking of potential recipients. When I finished it, I did try it on just as my husband walked into the room.

"That looks gooood..." He said, while wiping a string of spittle from his chin. ::Interpret as: "Those boobs look gooood..."::

With the assumption that my husband was seeing me through testosterone colored glasses, I went to the mirror to see for myself, and was pleasantly surprised at what I saw.

Yesterday I wore it to work as a component of this ensemble, and felt mod and sassy all day long.

And yes, my boobs looked gooood. ::I probably should have stuffed a couple of empty rubber maid bowls in there, in the spirit of fair and accurate reporting. And I don't usually stand that straight.::

P.S. The sweater pattern was an Elann freebie and the yarn is Reynolds Cabana.

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••• Friday, January 16, 2009

Oyster Fork in My Eye Candy Friday 

Work has been chewing my ass for the past two weeks. And next week I expect said ass to be handed back to me for rehabilitation, in prep for rounds three and four. Two days this week, I left home in the dark and returned home in the even-darker; full brief case in tow.

But before I commence with this ever-burgeoning maelstrom of woe song, I will stop.
And show you a pathetic piece (or three) of evidence of how lame my life has become.

Following are the only pictures I have taken since Christmas break. I took them late this afternoon, while sitting in my office at home, when I was supposed to be working on a report.

I don't know what's more depressing; that my creative expression has been reduced to taking photos of beads in the sun then blogging about it, or that I can't play with said beads, then take pictures. And blog about it.

And is it just me, or was Christmas break a buttillion years ago?

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••• Sunday, January 04, 2009

It'll All Come Out in the Wash. 

I'm still not ready for my New Year's post. So this is not it. In fact, I started to write That Post two days ago, then realized that I still had some 2008 updates to fluff, before folding for the year. So I'll just consider this post the last laundry load of the year, so I can the new blogging season with a clean set of sheets.

Light Loads
Last night we returned from a four-day, post-holiday refuge at the cottage. I always look forward to going up there, regardless of the season. For me, the cottage means relaxation and rejuvenation; body and soul. And a little knitting. And drinking.

I don't have any unique tales to share. And I didn't have many good photo ops, except for a few with my purse camera.

This a birds eye view of water rolling off some substantial duck ass, taken while we were on a family junket to Traverse City, on Friday. While in TC, I ate what was possibly the best pizza to have ever passed over my buds. I had the Greek. Mmmm. Mm.

For part of the ride home last night, we were followed by a most spectacular, multi-personality sunset. Much to my chagrin, my little purse camera does not perform well under darkish circumstances, going 55 miles per hour on a curvy highway.

While I wasn't able to accurately snap the images I was seeing, I did come up with some interesting, well, representations.

The only touch-up I did on this was to crop it. Any other results can only be attributed to stupid photographer.

This one I found to be a bit curious, because the center of the photo (see the tree?) seems to be fairly focused, while the rest is blurred.

And this one is just plain purty.

I also did some knitting at the cottage.

This is a scarf I finished New Year's Eve, as part of the Mission Possible '08 quest.* A quest I failed, by the way. But you'll get a thorough recap in my New Year's post. ::Remember, I'm just fluffing the sheets, here.::

And I worked on a sock.

Previous Loads
This is a pair of socks I finished in time for my older sister's Christmas Day birthday. The pattern is a 3x1 rib, which may be my new fave. The yarn is Plymouth Happy Feet. It's very soft and possibly pilly, but I don't know that for sure.

And these were for my mom, in my previous favorite pattern, Tidepool. The yarn is that Meillen..something. I bought it on sale. These socks were firsts for both recipients. Of course, my mom thinks hers are too tight (we have same size feet, felt fine to me) and liked my sister's yarn better.

Stuck, Scrub, Rinse, Repeat.
Last summer I messed around with some beads and jump rings, to make simple stitch markers for my friends and me.

A few weeks ago I turned it up a notch, by moving from beaded jump rings to more dangly concoctions. The challenge for me was to make the dangles without having the necessary tools or know-how for wrapping wire.

Anyway. My No-Wire-Wrap method, to get the look I was going for, required the use of super glue. That went pretty well for the first, ummm, three minutes. That's about two minutes and 45 seconds longer than I assumed it takes for something described as a "Superfast Adhesive" to dry to the touch.

I was wrong.

This glue is real special stuff though. I know this because as soon as I touched that bead to move it, it stuck to my finger, hard and dry.

First I washed with scalding hot water and dish soap. Nope.

Then I scraped at the edges with the duller end of a butter knife. Ouch. And Nope.

Next I poured finger nail polish remover on it. I was initially encouraged by the burning sensation, which I now believe was the alcohol interacting with my raw skin; a result of the previous interventions.

I even tried peanut butter.
That just made me hungry.

So, I went to wikipedia, where I learned that 1) I had the wrong kind of finger nail polish remover and 2) Ajax made into a thick paste with should be the ticket to un-stick it.

Did I ever tell you how much I lurves Ajax?

After being released from this literal bondage, I tried it again. ::Shut-up. I happen to possess what is known in artistic circles as stick-to-it-iveness. In mental health circles it has a different name, along the lines of Dissociative-ness.::

But this second time, I was smarter. This second time I waited ten minutes before touching the final product. And I didn't touch it with my finger. I picked it up with a toothpick.

Brilliant. No?

On a side note, did you know that wood; skin and superglue interact much differently than glass, skin and superglue? Evidently, instead of merely sticking to the surface of the skin like the glass bead does, with the help of the glue, the wood fibers of the toothpick and the cells of the skin, merge as one. I actually witnessed my skin getting sucked up into the grain of the wood. It was a biological, co-mingling, extravaganza.

Ever see two dogs with their butts stuck together?
It was like that.
Only quieter.

I still wasn't done.
But I was more careful.

My next plan of defense was to present a variety of finger combinations, you know, to spread the joy. The worst of that plan was what I refer to as the Two Finger Pincher Stick This one involved the thumb and first digit of my right hand, which pretty much immobilized the rescue squad.

After the fifth stick, I was scrubbing at the sink when my husband walked into the kitchen. I sooo did not want him to know that I did it again, that I grabbed a dishtowel, tossed it over the offended hand, struck a contemplative pose, and proceeded to gaze out the window.


Don't you ever stand at the kitchen sink at 10:00 p.m., and stare out the window?
With a towel draped over your hand?
And a tear in your eye?
Smelling of Ajax and burning flesh?

With practice and the help of close-fitting latex gloves, I finally got the hang of it.

Aside from the repeated physical maiming, I simply loved working on this project. In fact, one night I stayed up until 3:00 a.m., sans T.V., radio, or wine; just stringing and sticking away. I had no idea that it was so late until I suddenly noticed that my eyes felt like they were about to bust out bleeding, and only then did I get up to look at the clock.

My original plan was to make stitch markers as Christmas gifts for family, co-workers and friends who knit, then put the beads away until the next stick-marker-worthy occasion.

Evidently my inner glue sniffer wasn't done after all, because when we were up north, I visited two bead shops and picked up enough supplies to keep all my friends and family and their mental health workers and psychiatrists in stick markers until the Rapture. ::For you non-believers, that means in addition to all the vacated cars you’ll have at your disposal, you’ll also be up to your sinning asses in stitch markers. Yay, for sin!::

::And it smells good, too!::

I'm not sure where I'm going with all this, honestly.
But I hope you'll stick around.

Final Rinse
Look at the time!
Let's save my adventures in photography for another day. Non?

In the meantime, I'll leave you with this shot from the Lunar Bin, taken a few weeks ago.

*Ravelry, I'm coming! I cleaned out 500 PMs over the past few days. I've uploaded some pics to Flickr. I've been reading some RBrNckng. And smiling and missing it. To my RBrNckng buds, thanks for the shout outs. Jodie, I just read your comment a week ago and it made me very happy and verklempty.