My daughter's growing like a weed.
This is especially an appropriate comment since the moment I finished the 2 year sweater, I have not felt like knitting very much, and my garden has appreciated this. I went to Home Depot just wanting to pick up some mint and Purple Hearts, and found out that they did not have either so I got Oregano, Basil, and Thyme.
I then got the idea to nix the birdbath idea (hubby is thrilled,) and put in a butterfly garden instead (hubby is not so thrilled.) I have this garden that is in an awkward space, but I think I finally figured out what it likes after seeing so many plants die in it. This garden has been the place where flowers go to die, not flourish, so I am going to take pictures soon just in case my calculations are wrong.
I finally found some mint at Whole Foods, but they did not have anything butterfly related, so I went to Shoal Creek Gardener today and I have quite a haul of plants. They are all of local variety, and I like the yards that I have seen them planted in. Especially exciting is how the dog is completely uninterested in this garden. She has been the scourge of many a plant in the past.
So, what does my daughter have to do with any of this? She has had to 'help' me plant all of it. While we were at Shoal Creek today, she surveyed everything very thoughtfully, and tasted at least one of the plants on the way home. In the yard, she has done everything she can to eat anything on the ground. I have had to drop the shovel, get the leaves out of her mouth, then hurry up and plant the next plant before she does it again. Hubby is no help since he has been working on the stairs to the studio. Who knew gardening could be so exciting?
But, as determined as that child is to eat the weeds, I am determined to plant these flowers.
(I wonder where she gets the determination from anyway...)
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Has anyone seen my pants?
You don't know the meaning of fear until you wake up in the morning realizing that at some point in the night before, you have lost your pajama pants.
I have always had a problem with sleep walking, sleep talking - pretty much sleep-everything more exciting than what I do when I am awake. Mom remembers a time that when I sleep-cooked ramen noodles in the middle of the night. How does she know it was me? I cleaned the pot. I also sleep-ate the noodles, which was pretty impressive because it was my little brother who liked to eat them - not me.
I'm not saying that I am a heavy sleeper, either. I am notoriously easy to wake up. I heard a mousetrap go off in the middle of the night under the house, and I couldn't sleep thinking about the rat in the trap. I cannot sleep through thunderstorms, and when my cat goes to do his business in the middle of the night, I wake up. In fact, before the dog came around, the cat made a pretty handy security system; any time someone or something was in the back yard, he would paw the back window making a swishing noise. Once, in the middle of the night, this happened, and I got up to look out the back window to see this blinding white light moving across my back yard and almost screamed, until I realized what it was: my neighbors at the time had a cat with an inner ear problem (it was deaf and had a bad sense of balance,) so it would go to the wrong house and meow really loud until they retrieved the cat. Since a storm had blown down half a tree and, consequently, part of the fence, the cat was at our back door. The white specter was not a ghost as I had imagined it, but was my neighbor, butt naked, walking across my yard getting his cat, and I did not have my glasses on. I was not woken by the cat, mainly because I had gotten used to that noise, but I digress.
So, last night I went to bed thinking that the pants to the pajamas I was wearing were shorter than I remembered, so I know I was wearing them. Then, this morning I realized that I was no longer wearing pants. It's also laundry day, so I was wearing the special-occasion undies that, if you're married, you know what I mean.
Probably more frightening is that I have been looking for them all morning and still can't find them. Hubby says that I didn't wear them after all since there are no other signs that anything unusual happened in the house, but because I KNOW I had them on and they are not in the dresser, the fact that nothing in the house is amiss only makes me more concerned.
(If you see a cat with an inner ear problem dragging them somewhere, let me know.)
I have always had a problem with sleep walking, sleep talking - pretty much sleep-everything more exciting than what I do when I am awake. Mom remembers a time that when I sleep-cooked ramen noodles in the middle of the night. How does she know it was me? I cleaned the pot. I also sleep-ate the noodles, which was pretty impressive because it was my little brother who liked to eat them - not me.
I'm not saying that I am a heavy sleeper, either. I am notoriously easy to wake up. I heard a mousetrap go off in the middle of the night under the house, and I couldn't sleep thinking about the rat in the trap. I cannot sleep through thunderstorms, and when my cat goes to do his business in the middle of the night, I wake up. In fact, before the dog came around, the cat made a pretty handy security system; any time someone or something was in the back yard, he would paw the back window making a swishing noise. Once, in the middle of the night, this happened, and I got up to look out the back window to see this blinding white light moving across my back yard and almost screamed, until I realized what it was: my neighbors at the time had a cat with an inner ear problem (it was deaf and had a bad sense of balance,) so it would go to the wrong house and meow really loud until they retrieved the cat. Since a storm had blown down half a tree and, consequently, part of the fence, the cat was at our back door. The white specter was not a ghost as I had imagined it, but was my neighbor, butt naked, walking across my yard getting his cat, and I did not have my glasses on. I was not woken by the cat, mainly because I had gotten used to that noise, but I digress.
So, last night I went to bed thinking that the pants to the pajamas I was wearing were shorter than I remembered, so I know I was wearing them. Then, this morning I realized that I was no longer wearing pants. It's also laundry day, so I was wearing the special-occasion undies that, if you're married, you know what I mean.
Probably more frightening is that I have been looking for them all morning and still can't find them. Hubby says that I didn't wear them after all since there are no other signs that anything unusual happened in the house, but because I KNOW I had them on and they are not in the dresser, the fact that nothing in the house is amiss only makes me more concerned.
(If you see a cat with an inner ear problem dragging them somewhere, let me know.)
Friday, April 2, 2010
The end of the 2 year sweater...
The time is almost here when I will take the 2 year sweater into my hands, sew up all the loose ends, put it proudly into water and block the cursed thing into shape for my husband.
To understand the caliber of work this sweater has taken, you must understand the process.
It took me at least 6 months to come up with the yarn and the perfect pattern that my husband would agree to. The yarn was relatively easy, considering I had picked it out for a sweater to make myself until I realized that if I got pregnant, I would not be able to try it on. Why not make hubby a sweater?
Because hubbies are difficult to knit for, that's why.
Finally, I took him to my favorite knit shop that was filled with plenty of patterns to choose from, but all he wanted was the most basic, boring pattern in the entire store. I bought it and began the project with gusto, but soon realized what a daunting task all of those stitches would be. (8 stitches per inch gauge) It soon got set aside while I began quilting, working at the library, and teaching... and then I got pregnant.
While pregnant, I got carpal tunnel making the needles harder to use than ever, so I got down to the arm holes and stopped. After the pregnancy, my hands still didn't cooperate, so I waited until October to pick up the sweater again to finish by Christmas (yet again,) but my daughter had other plans for me and my time. Who said that nursing a baby allotted for plenty of knitting time??? After Christmas, I swore that by Valentines Day it would be done and he would have at least another month to wear it before it got hot again.
For perfect timing, I am on my last inch on the last sleeve and it's around 80 degrees outside. I had to rip out the bottom of the sweater 3 times, (the last time I could not do it but thanks to my sister, it looks great,) the sleeves are a little disproportional, and I have learned, thanks to this sweater, that I twist every single stitch I make. Now my albatross is about to be cut free with that last stitch, and I will commemorate this with much chocolate and rejoicing.
Last week I wanted to show it off to my students. They wondered if someone could actually wear it, so I put it on to show that, yes, it did have arms in the right place and the hole for the neck would fit.
"You look like you are the type of woman who eats cat food on Sundays."
"Yeah, it would go perfectly with a pair of sweatpants."
Let's just say that the hubby had better wear it with slacks, jeans, sweatpants, and whatever else he will wear because after two years of this sweater, he will not be allowed to take it off.
My next project?
Fixing my stitch and starting on a sweater - this time it's for me.
To understand the caliber of work this sweater has taken, you must understand the process.
It took me at least 6 months to come up with the yarn and the perfect pattern that my husband would agree to. The yarn was relatively easy, considering I had picked it out for a sweater to make myself until I realized that if I got pregnant, I would not be able to try it on. Why not make hubby a sweater?
Because hubbies are difficult to knit for, that's why.
Finally, I took him to my favorite knit shop that was filled with plenty of patterns to choose from, but all he wanted was the most basic, boring pattern in the entire store. I bought it and began the project with gusto, but soon realized what a daunting task all of those stitches would be. (8 stitches per inch gauge) It soon got set aside while I began quilting, working at the library, and teaching... and then I got pregnant.
While pregnant, I got carpal tunnel making the needles harder to use than ever, so I got down to the arm holes and stopped. After the pregnancy, my hands still didn't cooperate, so I waited until October to pick up the sweater again to finish by Christmas (yet again,) but my daughter had other plans for me and my time. Who said that nursing a baby allotted for plenty of knitting time??? After Christmas, I swore that by Valentines Day it would be done and he would have at least another month to wear it before it got hot again.
For perfect timing, I am on my last inch on the last sleeve and it's around 80 degrees outside. I had to rip out the bottom of the sweater 3 times, (the last time I could not do it but thanks to my sister, it looks great,) the sleeves are a little disproportional, and I have learned, thanks to this sweater, that I twist every single stitch I make. Now my albatross is about to be cut free with that last stitch, and I will commemorate this with much chocolate and rejoicing.
Last week I wanted to show it off to my students. They wondered if someone could actually wear it, so I put it on to show that, yes, it did have arms in the right place and the hole for the neck would fit.
"You look like you are the type of woman who eats cat food on Sundays."
"Yeah, it would go perfectly with a pair of sweatpants."
Let's just say that the hubby had better wear it with slacks, jeans, sweatpants, and whatever else he will wear because after two years of this sweater, he will not be allowed to take it off.
My next project?
Fixing my stitch and starting on a sweater - this time it's for me.
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