I don't know, but I'm aiming to find out. Right now I have four projects on the needles and plans for at least two more (when my yarn order comes in). I'm making a large felted tote that I plan to use as my new every day bag, but since I want it to be large after felting, it has to be ginormous prior to felting. I'm not super patient, so I have a few other projects that I'm working on when I get bored with that one. I've started a baby blanket for my nephew, who is due in May. I'm trying to knit each of my men a hat - I said to Tom that I'd like to try cables and he thought a cabled hat sounded cool, so that's one of my new projects. And Mr. T wants a hat like the one I made for Miss G/Baby S (whoever wears it - it fits both of them) but in red, white and blue. With stars on top. How patriotic of him. I took some liberties and it's going to be black, red and blue. Hopefully, it will please the rather particular young man.
Oh, and that doesn't count the scarves (ugh, how am I ever going to get to five feet or more?) I'm working on or the sweaters I started for Christmas and never got more than a back done of. But I pick each of them up every now and then and add to them. I'll get them done eventually. Maybe.
I read this way too sometimes. I keep a book upstairs, downstairs and one that travels with me. I don't know why my brain just doesn't like to do the same thing for a long time. I think I'm just impatient and bore easily. Luckily, over the years I've learned how to work around it (hence the dozen or so projects I always have going at the same time).
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Good morning...
My morning ritual. Before we take Mr. T to school, one cup of coffee in my Starbucks mug (even though I don't really like Starbucks all that much - there's a sort of intimidation factor in ordering there that just drives me crazy. Although...I did have a peppermint mocha there when I bought this mug that was TO DIE FOR. Tom is a teacher and as such gets gift cards and things. He's not a coffee drinker at all - not even hot beverages unless he's just been outside shoveling snow or something...which we might have like a foot of this week.)
Then while we're freezing our behinds off walking him up to the school, I dream of getting home to our nice warm house and that second cup of coffee. Because it takes two to make me function. But more than two and I'll be sick. Unless it comes with dessert, in which case, coffee's always cool.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Somebody stop me!
I'm totally in love with felting. Check out this freaking adorable bag I knitted in - this is the best part - ONE DAY!
Pre-felting:
Post-felting:
It's small, but cute. I think I'm going to give it to my cousin for her birthday. She'll be four. The same age as my middle child. I have a cousin who is younger than two of my kids. A first cousin. My family's weird like that. My uncle is only nine years older than me.
But what I really wanted to write/talk about was my obsessions. I get like this. And it worries me. Right now it's knitting (and felting the knitted item). I latch onto something new and it consumes me until I get sick of it and then I never touch it again. I have loads of crochet stuff in my basement that I haven't touched (except to revisit it from a knitting standpoint) in a year or more. And sewing stuff, from back when I was obsessed with sewing. And scrapbooking stuff from when I was obsessed with that. Now scrapbooking and sewing are still things I like to do, just not as often as my original obsessive phase had me doing it.
So this worries me about photography. I'm exploring taking my photography to the next level and then I can't get un-obsessed. But as I told Tom last night, I think there's just so much to learn about photography that I'll just never learn it all and that in itself will keep me interested. For those other things, at least in part, it's the challenge of learning something new. I rarely make the same recipe twice, having conquered it once. If I don't get it right, I will make it all the time until I get it the way I want. And then never make it again.
Pre-felting:
Post-felting:
It's small, but cute. I think I'm going to give it to my cousin for her birthday. She'll be four. The same age as my middle child. I have a cousin who is younger than two of my kids. A first cousin. My family's weird like that. My uncle is only nine years older than me.
But what I really wanted to write/talk about was my obsessions. I get like this. And it worries me. Right now it's knitting (and felting the knitted item). I latch onto something new and it consumes me until I get sick of it and then I never touch it again. I have loads of crochet stuff in my basement that I haven't touched (except to revisit it from a knitting standpoint) in a year or more. And sewing stuff, from back when I was obsessed with sewing. And scrapbooking stuff from when I was obsessed with that. Now scrapbooking and sewing are still things I like to do, just not as often as my original obsessive phase had me doing it.
So this worries me about photography. I'm exploring taking my photography to the next level and then I can't get un-obsessed. But as I told Tom last night, I think there's just so much to learn about photography that I'll just never learn it all and that in itself will keep me interested. For those other things, at least in part, it's the challenge of learning something new. I rarely make the same recipe twice, having conquered it once. If I don't get it right, I will make it all the time until I get it the way I want. And then never make it again.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
More knitting...
My felted bag is felted and wow that was fun! I was a little nervous about taking the project I'd been working on for three days and putting it in the washing machine with the idea of shrinking it. I had no idea how it would go. Turns out it went pretty well, except that I don't like the color I used.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Knitting update...
So I taught myself to knit around my birthday. I learned from several different books because each book's explanation was a little different and they all sort of worked together to make it make sense in my head. I've since knitted a sweater for each of my daughters and various pieces of other sweaters and scarves and stuff.
A few weeks ago I started watching Knitty Gritty on DIY Network. Do you know what I discovered? I've been knitting WRONG all this time. Turns out I was knitting in the back loops all the time instead of the front loops. I've been working on correcting that ever since. I think I'm almost used to knitting the right way.
Here's a look at some projects I'm working on:
Bottom of a felted bag (well, a to-be-felted bag):
The back of a sweater I meant for my cousin's daughter for Christmas, but I accidentally made the next size up so it's now for next Christmas (woo-hoo, I'm so ahead! LOL. It still won't be done by Christmas 07).
The earflap hat I knitted for Baby S. Her head's pretty big, but it stretches just enough:
The scarf made from the original (and much-frogged) yarn I bought to teach myself to knit way back in July. It's made on the very small circle from the Knifty Knitter I bought with my Michael's gift card from Christmas. Now I just need to look up how to bind off:
I really enjoy knitting, especially when I take on a project that is actually finishable in a few days, like a hat or the cute little thumbless mittens I made for Baby S. Sweaters and afghans and big things like that or anything knit on size 6 or smaller needles? Not so much my thing. In fact, I just yesterday bought my first size 6 needles to make a hat for the baby my cousin is expecting (same cousin whose daughter might wear the back of that sweater above). Prior to that, I didn't have anything smaller than 8 and even those I don't use. I generally stick to 11 and above. I'm impatient and have problems finishing things. To counteract number one, I keep lots of things on the needles to work on when I get bored with one thing. To counteract the second, short projects that work up fast seems to be the key.
A few weeks ago I started watching Knitty Gritty on DIY Network. Do you know what I discovered? I've been knitting WRONG all this time. Turns out I was knitting in the back loops all the time instead of the front loops. I've been working on correcting that ever since. I think I'm almost used to knitting the right way.
Here's a look at some projects I'm working on:
Bottom of a felted bag (well, a to-be-felted bag):
The back of a sweater I meant for my cousin's daughter for Christmas, but I accidentally made the next size up so it's now for next Christmas (woo-hoo, I'm so ahead! LOL. It still won't be done by Christmas 07).
The earflap hat I knitted for Baby S. Her head's pretty big, but it stretches just enough:
The scarf made from the original (and much-frogged) yarn I bought to teach myself to knit way back in July. It's made on the very small circle from the Knifty Knitter I bought with my Michael's gift card from Christmas. Now I just need to look up how to bind off:
I really enjoy knitting, especially when I take on a project that is actually finishable in a few days, like a hat or the cute little thumbless mittens I made for Baby S. Sweaters and afghans and big things like that or anything knit on size 6 or smaller needles? Not so much my thing. In fact, I just yesterday bought my first size 6 needles to make a hat for the baby my cousin is expecting (same cousin whose daughter might wear the back of that sweater above). Prior to that, I didn't have anything smaller than 8 and even those I don't use. I generally stick to 11 and above. I'm impatient and have problems finishing things. To counteract number one, I keep lots of things on the needles to work on when I get bored with one thing. To counteract the second, short projects that work up fast seems to be the key.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Oh, and do you know what today is?
Today is the freaking four year anniversary of the day I broke the freaking hell out of my ankle.
The short version: I was carrying my son and slipped down a hill while 34 weeks pregnant. My foot went toe-first into a hole while the rest of me fell backward. Broke both leg bones, something in my ankle and dislocated my ankle. I am now the proud owner of a plate and six pins in that ankle. And a kickin' scar.
Long version: Four years ago today it was a lovely February day. Nice and warm - well, warm for February and all. So I took my pregnant self and my 20 month old son for a walk. Dreaming of a glass of water as I chased my son around the grass, I quickly scooped him up and walked down the hill he was near to go home. Unfortunately, my foot met a hole and entered it toe first. While the foot was in the hole, I fell backwards, with all that extra baby weight, both internal and external, serving to just crack about every bone in my ankle and lower leg. I sat there screaming for help, which no one heard (I mean, it was February and no matter how nice it was, it wasn't nice enough to have windows open). Finally a neighbor came out and called my mom, who took me to the ER, where we scared everyone we encountered. Cardinal rule of ERs. Pregnant women may only enter for childbirth-related needs.
Between my refusal to take any painkillers and their reluctance to do anything to a pregnant woman, we weren't really getting anywhere. Not to mention the orthopedic surgeon wasn't on until 4 PM. I fell at 10 AM. They took x-rays. Yep. Broken. I knew that. I'd never broken a bone before, but it doesn't take a genius to know that when your ankle is a 45 degree to your leg, something ain't right. They complimented my good sense to not walk on it. Um, my ankle was not attached to my body in such a way that I could possible have walked on it. Who would try to walk on that?
They gave me morphine while they prepared to relocate my ankle. The orthopedic surgeon suggested that my husband leave because I would scream and he wouldn't like it. He wanted to stay and I wanted him to stay. We learned three things then. I have a very high pain tolerance. I'm extremely contrary - tell me I'm going to scream and for sure I won't. I might bite off my tongue, but I will not scream. And last, morphine has no effect on my pain. Yay. Good things to know. So more x-rays (gosh, hope those don't hurt the baby - don't worry they doubled the heavy apron thing you wear and she was pretty well developed anyway). They relocated wrong. So we had to do that again. Fortunately they got it right the second time. Then they sent me home with a prescription for Percoset, which my husband went off to fill while my mom drove me home. My sister had shown up and taken my son earlier. It was close to 7 now.
The next day we had to set up the surgery to fix it. When the chief of emergency medicine (pregnant women who aren't there for baby-related things meet a lot of chiefs) came in to tell me that it wasn't just a break, it was a BREAK, I didn't believe him. Surgery? But, dude, I just broke my ankle. Slap a cast on me - a nice pretty pink one, okay? - and I'll be on my way. My husband called my ob for recommendations of orthos who did surgery at the hospital I was going to deliver at, just in case, you know. We found one and took an excruciating trip to his office. Yep, surgery. Tomorrow? Sure.
So I had surgery. Met the lovely chief of anesthesia. But the nice lady who gave me the spinal was the one I really liked. I just felt no more pain. I didn't actually feel anything below my ribs, which was freaky, since that included the baby kicking. I slept through the whole surgery, since I hadn't slept in two days. I spent the night in the maternity ward, just so the experts could monitor me. I was having mild contractions, but they loaded me up with fluids and they went away. Apparently babies don't like it when their mamas can't eat or drink for 16 hours.
Then the joy of recovery began. We had a spare bed that was going to be our son's once the baby was born, so we moved that into our living room. My family set up a schedule and someone was with me at all times. My grandmother, mostly, along with two of my aunts. So I spent the last 7 weeks of my pregnancy in bed. My daughter was a week late. I delivered her with a cast on. Fortunately, it was only about 4 hours of labor and none of it all that bad, so I was at least lucky there.
It was loads of fun to freak out the chicks at the x-ray place when I went for follow-ups. "Is there a chance you might be pregnant?" Um, can you see this huge belly? Seriously, I was asked this when I was 39 weeks pregnant. I was using a walker, so maybe the way I was hunched over hid it a bit. They had to dig for the special forms they use for someone who actually is pregnant.
Today I occasionally walk with a limp. I have trouble going up really steep hills because my ankle doesn't quite bend all the way up toward my knee. I can predict the weather much more reliably than a groundhog or our local forecasters. And one of these days I should probably call my orthopedic surgeon and have these plated and pins removed. But the idea of signing up for surgery on purpose? Yeah, I don't think so.
The short version: I was carrying my son and slipped down a hill while 34 weeks pregnant. My foot went toe-first into a hole while the rest of me fell backward. Broke both leg bones, something in my ankle and dislocated my ankle. I am now the proud owner of a plate and six pins in that ankle. And a kickin' scar.
Long version: Four years ago today it was a lovely February day. Nice and warm - well, warm for February and all. So I took my pregnant self and my 20 month old son for a walk. Dreaming of a glass of water as I chased my son around the grass, I quickly scooped him up and walked down the hill he was near to go home. Unfortunately, my foot met a hole and entered it toe first. While the foot was in the hole, I fell backwards, with all that extra baby weight, both internal and external, serving to just crack about every bone in my ankle and lower leg. I sat there screaming for help, which no one heard (I mean, it was February and no matter how nice it was, it wasn't nice enough to have windows open). Finally a neighbor came out and called my mom, who took me to the ER, where we scared everyone we encountered. Cardinal rule of ERs. Pregnant women may only enter for childbirth-related needs.
Between my refusal to take any painkillers and their reluctance to do anything to a pregnant woman, we weren't really getting anywhere. Not to mention the orthopedic surgeon wasn't on until 4 PM. I fell at 10 AM. They took x-rays. Yep. Broken. I knew that. I'd never broken a bone before, but it doesn't take a genius to know that when your ankle is a 45 degree to your leg, something ain't right. They complimented my good sense to not walk on it. Um, my ankle was not attached to my body in such a way that I could possible have walked on it. Who would try to walk on that?
They gave me morphine while they prepared to relocate my ankle. The orthopedic surgeon suggested that my husband leave because I would scream and he wouldn't like it. He wanted to stay and I wanted him to stay. We learned three things then. I have a very high pain tolerance. I'm extremely contrary - tell me I'm going to scream and for sure I won't. I might bite off my tongue, but I will not scream. And last, morphine has no effect on my pain. Yay. Good things to know. So more x-rays (gosh, hope those don't hurt the baby - don't worry they doubled the heavy apron thing you wear and she was pretty well developed anyway). They relocated wrong. So we had to do that again. Fortunately they got it right the second time. Then they sent me home with a prescription for Percoset, which my husband went off to fill while my mom drove me home. My sister had shown up and taken my son earlier. It was close to 7 now.
The next day we had to set up the surgery to fix it. When the chief of emergency medicine (pregnant women who aren't there for baby-related things meet a lot of chiefs) came in to tell me that it wasn't just a break, it was a BREAK, I didn't believe him. Surgery? But, dude, I just broke my ankle. Slap a cast on me - a nice pretty pink one, okay? - and I'll be on my way. My husband called my ob for recommendations of orthos who did surgery at the hospital I was going to deliver at, just in case, you know. We found one and took an excruciating trip to his office. Yep, surgery. Tomorrow? Sure.
So I had surgery. Met the lovely chief of anesthesia. But the nice lady who gave me the spinal was the one I really liked. I just felt no more pain. I didn't actually feel anything below my ribs, which was freaky, since that included the baby kicking. I slept through the whole surgery, since I hadn't slept in two days. I spent the night in the maternity ward, just so the experts could monitor me. I was having mild contractions, but they loaded me up with fluids and they went away. Apparently babies don't like it when their mamas can't eat or drink for 16 hours.
Then the joy of recovery began. We had a spare bed that was going to be our son's once the baby was born, so we moved that into our living room. My family set up a schedule and someone was with me at all times. My grandmother, mostly, along with two of my aunts. So I spent the last 7 weeks of my pregnancy in bed. My daughter was a week late. I delivered her with a cast on. Fortunately, it was only about 4 hours of labor and none of it all that bad, so I was at least lucky there.
It was loads of fun to freak out the chicks at the x-ray place when I went for follow-ups. "Is there a chance you might be pregnant?" Um, can you see this huge belly? Seriously, I was asked this when I was 39 weeks pregnant. I was using a walker, so maybe the way I was hunched over hid it a bit. They had to dig for the special forms they use for someone who actually is pregnant.
Today I occasionally walk with a limp. I have trouble going up really steep hills because my ankle doesn't quite bend all the way up toward my knee. I can predict the weather much more reliably than a groundhog or our local forecasters. And one of these days I should probably call my orthopedic surgeon and have these plated and pins removed. But the idea of signing up for surgery on purpose? Yeah, I don't think so.
You might have a bad day if...
The night before your 18 month old is up every two hours crying inconsolably and then dozing off. You however cannot sleep because she kicks like the devil all night long. And you're on the sofa so your husband - who gets up for work before the sun - can get some sleep.
You make coffee and groggily wait for it to brew while you get kids ready for school. Go in to get cup of caffeine only to discover you forgot to add water. Begin to wait again.
You look outside and find it's cloudy, but the snow they called for ended hours ago. Get all the way to school (where you have to wait outside for your child to be dismissed - we don't get a bus in our neighborhood) and it starts snowing and sleeting and raining on you. And your sick 18 month old. And your very clumsy 3.5 year old.
You catch all the diseases your darling children have been kind enough to bring home from school to you.
Top it all off with that monthly visitor. Nothing like going outside in 20 degree weather with killer cramps.
Yeah, that's been my week. And I'm afraid I was rude to my sister-in-law who was kind enough to invite me to a kids event thing, but it costs money that is just not in the budget right now. And I haven't heard from Miss G's preschool about which class she's in for next year, so I don't know if I need to worry about preschools all over again or if she's in the class I want.
You make coffee and groggily wait for it to brew while you get kids ready for school. Go in to get cup of caffeine only to discover you forgot to add water. Begin to wait again.
You look outside and find it's cloudy, but the snow they called for ended hours ago. Get all the way to school (where you have to wait outside for your child to be dismissed - we don't get a bus in our neighborhood) and it starts snowing and sleeting and raining on you. And your sick 18 month old. And your very clumsy 3.5 year old.
You catch all the diseases your darling children have been kind enough to bring home from school to you.
Top it all off with that monthly visitor. Nothing like going outside in 20 degree weather with killer cramps.
Yeah, that's been my week. And I'm afraid I was rude to my sister-in-law who was kind enough to invite me to a kids event thing, but it costs money that is just not in the budget right now. And I haven't heard from Miss G's preschool about which class she's in for next year, so I don't know if I need to worry about preschools all over again or if she's in the class I want.
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