I think it's settled. B came into the office for something else today and I overheard him ask AC what kind of toilet paper he would like. When AC asked why, B said "I'm trying to keep my employees happy. I've been thinking about what you said, I'll get the kind you want, and from here on out, the conversation stops and you don't mention your bathroom issues to anyone else, got it?" AC asked "What brought this on?" and B said "Nothing brought it on, but I've been thinking about what you said, there's a woman in the building, and you need to be aware that no one else needs to hear about your problems in that area. You'll get the toilet paper you need, and the discussion ends now, right?" Then he left, and seconds later AC ran past my office, snapped "I'm going outside" and ran downstairs. I'm sure to discuss it further with B. When he came back in about 10 minutes later, he was very sulky, stomping his feet, not answering my (work related) questions with anything more than a grunt.

Well, like I always say... (okay, not always, but I swear, I'm gonna say it from now on)
Better a cold shoulder than a hairy ass.

Re-reading that now, I can see how that might fit into many life situations. So yup, there it is, my new life motto. Better a cold shoulder than a hairy ass.

Use it freely. Maybe we can get rid of "schnizzle fa dizzle" and replace it with "Better a cold shoulder than a hairy ass."

In other news (oh, was this supposed to be a fiber-blog? silly me!) Fiona seems to have a pimple!

I told you I'm working on some laceweight for the spinning competition at VA FFF this weekend. I was spinning on my regular flyer head, and then thought that I should try the very fast flyer head, and made a switch. Suddenly I noticed the yarn was breaking A LOT. This is not normally a problem I have, and it was getting very frustrating. I tried all kinds of things, moving my hands, different chairs, different positions, long-draw, inch worm, you name it, the damn yarn kept breaking. I finally took a few minutes to really inspect Fiona, and it seems there's a tiny bump, a nearly invisible bit of sharpness where the yarn leaves the orifice on its way to the bobbin. Could that be the problem? This morning, I switched back to the regular flyer head, and the breaking stopped. Hmmm...

Alright, so I'll spin up this ounce of fiber and decide if I want to ply it or keep it as singles tonight, and maybe file the little bump off the fast flyer head, or maybe just wait until I go to the spinning class at Rhinebeck and see if the teacher can tell me if it was me or the bump causing the trouble.

Off to make more coffee. AC likes it meat-lockerish in here, and rather than start a fight over the thermostat I meant to bring in a jacket, but I forgot...
I don't really mind the cold... reminds me of knitting.

.... and the favorite husband award goes too....
GB!

Okay, I liked him pretty good to begin with, but in addition to wanting to kick AC's ass

(the line forms to the left) he was bragging about me at his work the other day, and because of that a co-worker now wants to commission me to knit his family some Christmas stockings! Five, to be exact. It seems they have a family tradition of handknit stockings for the new family members each year, and the woman who was doing it passed away. He sent me photos of one of the existing stockings to show what he was expecting, and it's definitely knitting I can do:



Of course, getting five done in time for Christmas, on top of the scarf for a grandmother and the afghan I've got going for another gift, could prove to be challenging... Hopefully I'll work something out, since it would be nice to get a bit of extra money. GB says "this might be the first step to you having a job playing with animals and fiber all day!"

This is seriously a good guy I married.

Work still sucks otherwise, although I did hear back from one of the bosses on the e-mail about AC. They're going to tell him to cut it out, and maybe even buy him his damn Charmin Ultra to keep him quiet. The one I spoke to is laughing about it, but does agree that it's highly inappropriate and something that would be obviously inappropriate to anyone with any social skills at all. He said "I thought it was over when [the troll] left!" and told me that the other one made the comment that AC almost seemed to have a fetish of sorts. So at least they don't think it's me who can't get along with anyone.

I'm so glad, because I really think for the most part I'm a lovely person. I mean, heck, I like me.

I took many pictures of the skein of yarn for the novice category this weekend, and then forgot to send them to myself to post them... Maybe tomorrow.

Okay, through the magic of television (or something like that) I will now show you a bag after knitting...and one fresh out of the oven - er, washer.


Shrunk down a lot as you can see (yes, Trevor is physically holding it up. What can I say, I have talented cats. That or instinctual - it started sliding the second I lifted the camera and his killer instincts kicked in. I believe GB has a picture of Trevor attempting to kill the bag further by means of sucking, but for now, we're looking at my spectacular felting efforts, and not so much my adorable cat-son)

Thanks for all the comments about AC. When he walked into my office this morning holding a roll of toilet paper and explained that he was going to be busy for a while it quickly reached raised volumes when I said "I have told you repeatedly I do not want to know what you do in the bathroom". He started yelling that I couldn't tell him what he couldn't tell me and he was just being courteous and he would quit if I had such a problem with his announcements. Frankly, I'd rather find a job I truly love for myself, and he can stay here. But I've composed a letter to the two supervisors above me explaining the situation, and asking what I should do... of course station e-mail is down... but we'll see how things go.

And in other news, Oscar is sick (kind of). He's got some unexplainable boo-boos on his stomach and side, and (having a pitbull's sensitivity to pain) we didn't even notice until they were pretty gross. So he's been to the doctor, and we have antibiotics to give him in pill form and an ointment to put on the wounds. Anyone who thinks pitbulls are mean should watch me give this dog a pill. That's not to say it's easy. I'd rather give the cats a pill than this guy, but only because I'm stronger than the cats and can actually hold them down, and my cats will do anything for me. I imagine a stranger might risk life and limb if they attempted, but for me, the cats will take pills fairly easily. Oscar is strong enough that his squirms to get away can knock me over. Last night I gave him the pill and then put the stuff on his wounds and he stopped coming to me. Quick learner, this guy. Mom puts cold stuff on me and makes me take icky pills, I'm hiding over here where Dad is. This morning I had my entire hand, up to the wrist, fully within a pitbull's mouth. Not a scratch on me, but lots of slobber and lots of goo from the outside of the pill. He deigned to taking dainty little girly bites out of a piece of bread from my hand a few minutes later (he's supposed to take the pill with food). We'll find out sometime next week just what's causing the problem, but in the meantime, I have a feeling he's going to bond with GB a great deal...

Ah, well. The job search starts again today. I've done that way too much.

I felt guilty at having two posts in a row be almost entirely non-fiber related (although I do think I mentioned fiber at least once in each, and I certainly played with it in my own time) and almost entirely whining about work, so I figured I'd show you a picture of one of my entries in the VA FFF this weekend. This is the bag - pre-felting - that will be entered in the "Felted Items, non-wearable" category. It ended up a lot bigger than I expected (I decided to do that particular stripe pattern shortly after doing the letters and completely disregarded any thought about how much yarn it might take.) and I actually had about a yard left of the blue. It's done out of Lambs Pride with Denim Blue and Blue Blood Red. Once again, no pattern or chart, just me winging it... and no sewing either. Started at one side of the strap and ended up at the bottom (square-ish) without sewing a bit!
Hopefully it looks this good felted. I'll post the end results later this week....



And doesn't Trevor do a fantastic Vanna White impression?

Now go read yesterday's post about my horrible annoying co-worker and pity me. Threats to his well-being are more than appreciated.

Yes, Alyx, sadly, being spat upon by camelids would be cheery compared to work some days. Which shows either how much I love animals or how much I hate my job some days. Possibly both.

It's way past my bedtime on Sunday night, and I had to work today. And because of the day I had, I can't sleep, despite being very tired, and achy and sore-throated.

So a bedtime story for you, all about a person we will call AC.

(That's Annoying Co-worker for the slower-witted among you)

The day began simply enough. The station is moving locations, so we had to go in on our day off to help the process along. The boss was running late, so AC and I waited for him, and chatted calmly while doing so. It came up that I had a pitbull, and then of course came up that all of the research that I've done over the past months about the temperment of pitbulls and their behavior around humans is bogus, but the stories he's heard about third hand are completely factual. So I changed the subject as quickly as I could, not being up for a discussion with a closed-minded ignorant moron.

Now, some have mentioned that maybe my temper is shorter with AC than it is with other people. I will willingly admit that this might be the case. But I do believe that the rest of my day will show why this is the case.

Our "old" location, which I've shown pictures of, was built in the '40s and redecorated in the 70's, and is dark, dingy, confining, with no windows or natural light. The "new" location was remodelled far more recently, is cleaner, brighter, has windows and natural light.

AC spent the day complaining about how claustrophobic is was making him. Fine.

Then AC told the boss that he should buy a different brand of toilet paper because (as he put it, I swear) he gets "reactions". B responded that he buys the tp in bulk for three stations, and that AC is welcome to bring his own.

A few hours later, when B was out running an errand and I was setting up my new office, AC decided to walk into my office and tell me that he was furious with the way he was being treated, and he deserved better toilet paper, and he was going to make sure the station paid for it, by submitting petty cash forms each time he had to purchase toilet paper for himself.

When I told him I thought he was over-reacting, he proceeded to tell me, in great detail, just why he needed Charmin Ultra. I won't give you the information he gave me, but suffice it to say I have now been given an explicit description of the amount of hair in various regions of AC that I'd rather not admit even exist, as well as the process with which he uses the aforementioned Charmin Ultra. I stared at him in disgust and he said "oh, you're thinking about it now, aren't you?" to which I replied "what I'm thinking about is why you would possibly think this is something I want to know, or something that is remotely appropriate to share."

AC: We're co-workers. Doesn't everyone share this with their co-workers?
Me: No, actually some people have decency and realize that's really disgusting.
AC:You don't know that. You're wrong. Everyone else does talk about this. I talk about it all the time.

I chose then to stop the conversation in the only way I could (as he was blocking my office door) and turned away and began scribbling on a note pad as though I was horribly busy.

A bit later, I was taking a brief break out on our "patio" and he came outside where I was.

AC:This is more than you want to know, but I wanted to tell you that I peed, but I put the lid up, and afterwards I put it back down.
Me: For future reference, when you start a sentence with "This is more than you want to know," you're right, and you shouldn't tell me.
AC:What, I'm just being considerate, and I'm not going to stop telling you these things because I can tell you if I want to.

These are the kinds of conversations I have to tolerate. If I tell him to stop, normally the response I get from him is "You have to be patient with me, I'm very, very sensitive, and my feelings get hurt easily." Very, very sensitive, my ass. B and I had both assumed that his significant other (that's right, this classy guy got some woman to commit to him) was a huge dominatrix type woman, an angry, bossy type who looked like every man's worst nightmare - this based on the way he behaves, and the way he's mentioned to me that he's had many people tell him he's way too good for her. I finally met her and she's a tiny, relatively polished, classy woman.

What I get is starting to feel more and more like harrassment from him. And I feel a little trapped because things were so bad with The Troll that I feel like I've been shoved between the rock of tolerating abusive/harrassing behavior from co-workers, and the hard place of having the boss think I can't get along with anyone and I'm more trouble than I'm worth to keep around.

This damn business. It brings all the psychotic freaks together, and screws with your mind with slow, devastating torture.

Things I would rather be doing than being at work today:



























Heck, even


Instead...

For the few of you who even noticed, I didn't post yesterday. I went home sick. I never go home sick (in my whole life, I've been sent home by bosses more often than I've actually gone home at my own suggestion), so I was feeling pretty bad. Funky blood sugar things, I think, waves of nausea, dizziness. GB said I was hot, and since I was clearly not in "the mood" I assume he meant feverish, as well.

For a while I sat at work thinking "I can't drive if this gets any worse. I'll call GB and have him pick me up tonight." In one of my more lucid moments I realized that was silly, and since computer errors meant I actually had less work than usual, I went home around lunchtime. Snuggled on the couch with Aslan, even Oscar was calmer than usual and settled nicely on the floor... Felt pretty moody and icky and restless most of the evening, couldn't even focus enough to knit or spin very much (believe me, I tried, but when you're feeling dizzy, doing something that involves looking in the direction of a quickly spinning wheel is a no-no) but woke up feeling much better (not great, but exponentially better) albeit it a little worried that today is another weigh in. So if it's a bad week, can we all agree to blame the illness, and not my lack of moral strength?

I did remember to take a picture of the Niddy Noddy I got last week (Saturday?). It's a Kromski, 2 yard, with Mahogany finish, and quite lovely.

That yarn is actually dark green with some red and gold. Remember me mentioning the sheen from Jen's merino/silk blends. I was not, in actuality, just whistling "Dixie" on that one.

And I think we've also finally found a bone that Oscar can't chew through in one day.

I think it's from a pterodactyl or something. Oscar is about 60 - 65 pounds. Notice the size of his "arm" compared to the narrowest part of the bone. Every so often he becomes highly motivated to move it, and he can lift up one end and drag it a bit. When he drops the end, it sounds like a bass drum. While he's chewing on it, you'd think the garbage disposal was on for all the grinding, scraping noises. Can you guess whether it was me or GB that felt the need to buy this for him? I'll give you the hint. It was not the one of us who was home yesterday listening to the bass drum/garbage disposal of bones while they were trying to recover from sickness. Though I must admit it's cute to watch him try to decide whether to play with that or the small felted mouse intended to be a cat toy but which quickly became his.

Oh, and KC? I've never spun Coopworth either, to my knowlege. Again, let's blame the fever for my delusions that led me to type "Coopworth" when talking about my benevolently benefacted fiber for the lace weight catagory. It was (and still is) Corriedale, and is a yummy dark chocolate color. It's also the most lanolin-rich fiber I've spun... I like it, but can't spin it for long, because my fingers start to stick together! But it's going well, although I think I'm going to change to the very fast flyer head on my wheel. I've been using just the fastest setting on my standard wheel, and been pretty successful. I've got enough to play (6.75 oz total, and the final skein only needs to be 1 oz) so I'll see if the very fast flyer changes things drastically....

And now I'm ready for another nap, but have to hang in there until after work...

Edited to add:
Also, something funky is going on with me and Little Barn. Ordered a pound of Superwash Merino from them over a month ago, paid through PayPal, and the order never got to me. So I contacted them after a month, they responded quite quickly to my e-mail, and said their policy was to send the product again with the understanding that if I ended up with two packages, I would either pay for the second, or send it back to them. It's now been a week and a half since the second package went out, and it's still not here either!!! So now I'm starting to suspect foul play, although not with them, with either the mail service, who didn't feel like going up to the house with a pitbull tied up outside it (even though Oscar can't come anywhere close to the door) and so felt they could just toss the package, or if one of our neighbors is wandering off with it. Weird. Suggestions? What do I do here?

Well, I've just sent off my entry forms for VA's Fall Fiber Festival because for some reason I forgot that they needed them by the 24th, and while I knew that today was the 21st, I was temporarily incapable of handling the complex, upper-level math that was 24 - 21 = 3. So I sent them an e-mail saying the forms are coming, and hopefully all will work out. Also sent out another package, and hopefully someone will call me up and say "my goodness, yes, please come work for us, is a million dollar salary okay?"

Oh, and the reason I knew it was September 21st?

It is the birthday of the very dear, very beloved Bess today. I wish there were words to say how very much I love, adore, admire, and just enjoy this woman. I want very much to be like her when I grow up. Go send her some love, she deserves it all and more.

The cold is still hanging around and even getting a little worse, and I've been spending a great deal of my mornings sounding like Demi Moore. If he didn't have to leave for work, GB might get a kick out of that, but as it is, the cats aren't particularly amused. If anything, they think I'm purring more. The radios station is moving next week - in fact, I have to work Sunday because of it - and so the males are feeling very male indeed and throwing and breaking things that will go into the dumpster, which means stirred up dust and loud noises to sooth my sore throat and aching head. I'm feeling pretty rotten right now, and would really like to go to bed. But duty calls, the bastard.

Speaking of the FFF, I've only finished two of the four entries. I decided to enter the hat that I made from the sock pattern, in the hopes that they find it interesting that I used a sock pattern for a hat (hey, a tube's a tube's a tube, right? Just decrease after the leg instead of turning the heel)

And in the novice catagory I've entered the finished yarn from this
.

I'm also entering a felted bag of my own design, the mail bag.

I'm going to do it in different colors, and make the handle narrower as well.

Plus I want to try to enter the lace weight division, using some chocolate brown Coopworth wool from my benevolent benefactor. Just to force myself to spin to form instead of just spinning what the fiber wants to do. Show the fiber Who's the Boss, as it were.

Whew! Yesterday was a lovely, busy day!

We spent the day in D.C. for the Knit Out & Crochet.

It was a bit disappointing. I'd been a few years ago, and felt that while a nice event for showing others about knitting, for someone who's already established there didn't seem to be much... and despite two years to work out kinks, this year didn't seem much better organized.

But we did get a chance to see a few of the museums, which I certainly don't get to do very much.


We got to see Lauren and Christina and Megan, and a few other people when we all just happened to run into each other on our way out.

On the way home we drove past an exit for an antique mall that we've both seen dozens of times before, so we decided to swing in... I saw four spinning wheels - a great wheel, a spinning wheel-turned-planter, a working spinning wheel that had a lightbulb in the top of it for a lamp, and one that looked very similar to Loireag, and was labeled as being from 1890, and ticketed at $550. Feeling quite pleased that Loireag cost me only $81, we left because it was all I could do to keep from whining and limping. No one wants that.

And we did so much walking that now I have blisters on my feet, plus a sore throat and the beginnings of a cold, I think.


But I have now ordered all the yarn I need for holiday gifts, and the plan is to focus this week on getting my entries ready for Montpelier and then keep plugging away on the gift knitting.

Apparantly feeling guilty at having been away so much, GB has said he'll buy me a new digital camera next week, so someone from ROAK will get a little gift shortly thereafter of the camera Jen gave me.

In the meantime, I could really use a nap.

This cold coming on couldn't possibly have anything to do with my foul mood last week, could it?

Bite me, John Cainer:
Welcome to a special time. A very special, very significant, very magical time. Please don't assume, from this, that everything will work out as you want. It may do. Or it may not. That doesn't matter. Truly it doesn't. What matters is that you are learning something now about how you really feel - and who you truly are.

For once, I'd like to learn from someone else's experience. Who I truly am, my ass.

Any guesses if I'm sleeping any better yet?

Three points if you guessed NO! (What can you do with those points? I'll tell you what you can do with those points...)


Ahem.

Excuse me. Okay, positivity. That's the goal to get through today, then I can spend all day tomorrow knitting and spinning whatever my little heart desires with Aslan snuggled up to me, and Trevor at my feet.

I gotta give props to the new WW "Core" plan. I think because it doesn't include counting, I felt like I did badly. I felt like I was eating all the time, albeit it tons of fruits and veggies. I also had lots of salmon (I LOOOOOOOVE seafood) and ground turkey, which I actually like better than ground beef anyway, I just live with men, so turkey is wimpy food. But this was a good excuse to buy some, and I enjoyed it. And couscous out the wazzoozoo (Hey, I'm striving for positivity, you gotta let a little perky sneak in with it.) I really ate so much that I felt like I'd gained four pounds, which is actually not in my diet plan.

In fact, I lost a pound!

So since my first goal is to lose an average of at least a pound a week before January 1, I am right on track!


In knitting, I decided I wasn't quite thrilled with some minor mistakes I'd made in the afghan, so I frogged it to start again. Yes, this is the third start. The first start was a decision to change the color order and to double strand, so that was fairly significant. And this time I took the beginning afghan to my knitting guild, and that means I was distracted, which means I missed a few increases. The afghan is a gift for a precious couple, so I decided it was worth going back and doing it right. I might have left it if it was for me, but for these folks, I gotta give 'em my best.

So I very neatly frogged the red section, and balled it carefully.
Then I frogged the pink section, and balled it carefully.
Then I frogged the orange section, and balled it carefully.
Then I frogged the peach section, and if you think I'm going to say I balled it carefully, you're reading the wrong blog. In fact, if you're impressed I managed to ball three colors without losing my mind from impatience, chances are you know me.

I foolishly thought that there was little enough peach that I could just leave the yarn folded neatly and knit from the pile without problem.

I don't know why I thought this.

Nothing in my past has ever led me to believe this is the case.

In fact, everything from my past would tend to scream that this is very much not the case.

All I can say is that I really haven't slept much this week, and perhaps I'm woozy and delirious.

I managed to frog the cream center - great, now the afghan sounds like a cupcake....
...mmmmm...cupcake

I reknit that, changing the pattern ever so slightly, and I like it better now. Then I got to the peach.

You know, the peach that I'd left neatly folded next to me, where it would simply slide off the pile like liquid and knit right into the afghan and be beautiful.

Yeah, sorry.

I neglected to mention that Aslan was helping. Which means mostly that he's sitting next to me kneading the yarn ... yeah. Kneading. You know, moving his feet up and down, purring away, and shuffling the neat pile.

So I got six rows into the peach, which frankly fooled me into thinking my plan had worked, and that I was now the evil mastermind of knitting.

After that sixth row, I hit the tangle. It's best described as a small square of beautifully knit afghan, happily sitting on my double-points, and instead of a strand of yarn leading to the ball of yarn, I have a birds nest.

I spent a little time untangling that this morning. I'll go back to it this evening. If I can't figure it out by tomorrow morning, I'll cut it.

But I won't be happy about it.

I had a weird dream last night.

I was sitting at our computer, which is right next to the fish tank.

[I should set this up by saying our fish are dolphins in disguise, and put on little shows for us occasionally. They're in one of those big rectangular tanks with the lid and filter and all, and several of them like to swim close to the surface and do those tail flaps that mean you get splashed sitting several feet away at the computer. One of them does little jumps. None of my family members are normal, why should my fish be?]

Anyway, in the dream, I was sitting at the computer, and the fish were splashing me. And the one that jumps jumped right out of the tank, and fell to the floor behind me in the chair. It's one of those roll-ey desk chairs, and I was afraid if I tried to move I'd roll over him and kill him (yes, I know in my heart that fish is a male. Anything that crazy about risking his life through extreme sports must be male, don't you think?). I was afraid to move the chair, and couldn't maneuver myself around enough to see him, wherever he'd fallen, and I knew his little fishy time was running out.

And I tried to call out to GB, but I couldn't get loud enough. Anyone who's ever heard my voice is laughing now. I have a degree in musical theatre performance, and have been in MANY shows where I was the only one not mic'ed, and still been heard over the others. I have been compared to Ethel Merman many times (and I think they meant it in a good way). Volume is not so much a problem for me.

Except in this dream, no matter what I did, GB couldn't hear me, and so couldn't get to me to help...

Doesn't take Freud to figure out what that one means, right?

GB is away again. Anyone else get the feeling I'd take up much less blog space if I just told you when he was actually home? Yeah, it's getting old to us both pretty quickly.

We're still solidly newlyweds, nearing on nine months married. And Uncle Sam spends more time with him than I do. If something goes wrong, guess who can't come to my rescue? My prince charming, my knight in white armour, is off saving someone else's day.

And he's as pissed off about it as I am. For some reason it's hitting me harder this time. He keeps being sent off for business, coming home for what should be a week, and having something happen so he's away a night in the middle of that week, and then off again for another week or more for business. At least we won't get sick of each other, right?

But we're still just learning to be married, and this isn't helping! We're still trying to figure out what the other will tolerate in messes (and yarn all over the house) and who will feed the fish each day, and who will walk the dog, and who the cats go to when they need a cuddle. I wouldn't trade him for the world, and I am so honored to be his wife. But this is not a fun way to be married, and I don't recommend this method... he's the only guy on the planet and beyond worth this.

It has been a crazy couple of days. An awful lot of things - positive and negative - brewing all at once, it seems. Who knows how it will all work out.


In the meantime, I've been working on this afghan for a holiday gift. I had planned to have some stunning pictures to demonstrate the progress, which is really going quite quickly, but the camera isn't cooperating, and the pictures are either coming out too bright - as in all white, with a tiny pinkish glow - or too dark - as in all black, with a faint pinkish glow. So pictures may have to wait, which is okay, because I'm doing different colors than they recommended, because I chose Plymouth Encore instead of Lion Brand Wool Ease. Just like it better. But the color pattern that I chose, while looking great laid out on the floor of my home, is looking a bit funky right now. Once more colors are added and the pattern is clear, I'm sure it will be stunning. I also decided to double-strand it, so it's coming out nice and thick and squishy.

I also wanted to suggest that everyone who has a tv watch Jack and Bobby. I think it's going to easily be the best show on the air this fall, and I was very impressed by the first episode. The whole premise is fascinating to me and has really had me thinking - what makes someone do something so immense an act as becoming president? Were they different as children... if we'd known, would we have seen it? Are they normal people in abnormal circumstances, or is there something, some spark, that the world doesn't see right away? I waited eagerly for the premiere, and watched thoroughly impressed with the presentation, the performances, and the character development. Even the standard series-beginning-requisite-exposition was handled smoothly, and felt less like "catch up" than part of an already well-oiled machine...
So enough fawning over the show, just know where you'll find me every Sunday night at 9 pm for a while...



And for those who don't scan every inch of this blog daily, I've added a small section in the sidebar to keep up with my WW progress. I've only had the one Weigh-In so far, so it's not all that exciting, and I don't think I'm ready to admit my goals publicly just yet, although GB (the greatest husband in every other state but mine - he'd be in mine if he was ever in it) has promised that if when I meet my goal, he'll buy me an entirely new wardrobe. So there's some incentive. And having to fess up in front of the WW counselors, and now here online, is an added culpability incentive. So I WILL NOT FAIL.

Started work on a gift afghan this weekend... Took pictures, and forgot to load them into the computer... Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.
In the meantime I've got life flying at me from several different angles today, so I'll have to just save myself for a post tomorrow...

Very little knitting talk today... I've been knitting a mohair scarf for my grandmother for Christmas, spinning the red merino/angora that I dyed at Jen's, and coveting this set of sheets.

But I feel the need to get something off my chest.

I don't care if you're gay. I think love is a beautiful thing in all forms, I think lust can be a sinful thing in all forms, and I think the government should keep it's big fat W-shaped nose out of it... but I don't personally care.

That said, I find the question "do you think he's gay?" to be very offensive. Is it just me?

I don't spend a whole lot of time wondering who someone else is sleeping with, or in love with, or whatever. I'm generally happy when anyone else finds love. But I don't think it's really my business unless they personally choose to share it with me.

This is on my mind because my annoying coworker just walked into my office and said, of two talk-show hosts on our station, "Are they gay?" followed by the obligitory "I just have a feeling. I'm pretty good at picking up on that, you know." (I have, in my life, met one person who claims to be lousy at telling if someone is gay. Everyone else thinks they are pros. Whether or not they can actually surmise someone's sexual orientation successfully, the fact that so many people spend time considering the sex lives of others is disturbing to me.)

First off, no, actually, the hosts aren't. They're both staunch republican conservatives who have lived such sheltered staunch republican conservative lives that they've had limited contact with anyone who was an "out-to-them" homosexual. They've said things like "you know, I had someone come into my office the other day and he was gay, but you'd never know it, he was just as nice as could be" (apparantly his previous image of homosexual men was cross-dressing heathens just leaving their veritable den of iniquities.) But that's not the point here. Why would AC care? Why would he think it was his business? Why would he think I would care? And why is it acceptable to ask?

Now, sure, this particular AC has come into my office dribbling food from his mouth because it was stuffed so full of food and simultaneously asked a question, spewing crumbs everywhere the eye could see. Not exactly the cultural elite. So my standards for him are not overly high.

But it seems that many people in society feel that's an okay question. We ask it of celebrities, we ask it of coworkers, almost always done behind their backs.

Really is there nothing more important than who someone else is sleeping with or in love with? We have a war going on, over one thousand Americans have died because Bush told them something we have yet to prove accurate. People inside our own country are out of work, hungry, under-educated. And somehow whether or not someone is gay is of such a national concern that Bush wants to defend marriage against it (oddly, my own marriage has never been affected by any two others being committed to each other, but maybe George and Laura are different) and the caveman AC thinks the business of some guy he's never met is his business, too.

Because I'm really not even talking about the politics here, although I apologize slightly that it did slip in. But it's a matter of common manners, being polite, not being nosey. Why can't someone say "it's none of your business" without someone else deciding that means there's shame involved. It's not always shame. It's just not always your business.

What a weird world.

Now, could someone help me off this soapbox, please?

Today I'm catching up on work and concentrating on burning calories while I do it. (yes, I know, it's too late, but my first update with WW is tonight, and I'm feeling a little nervous about it. And hey, it can't hurt to be clenching my thighs under my desk, right?)

But I think I've settled on a name. This comes thanks to Bess, who knew right away the sort of thing I couldn't seem to put into words. Elfish is what she said. And yes, that's just right - exotic, mystical, ethereal, yet still my own culture...

So..... With a moderate trumpet fanfare

I announce the naming of

Loireag!

Loireag is a water fairy, known for her spinning abilities. "...In the Scottish myth of the Hebridean Islands, she is much similar to Hebetrot (A kindly fairy who is the patron of spinsters and spinning. Though she appears to be very old and ugly, with deformed lips, she has been known to help women who have little skill weaving or spinning. She lives under a huge stone in a grassy knoll with her sisters, amongst who is Scantile Mab, who is even uglier. A garment woven by her was said to keep ailments from the wearer.) with the exception of the deformed lip. She dresses in white, and is an expert at spinning, more than willing to punish whoever is lax or careless at it. She also love music, therefore, will cause mischief upon anyone singing off key." (from e-fairies.com)


It's the line about causing "mischief upon anyone singing off key" that really strikes me.

When I was in kindergarten, legend has it that I was in a dance recital held at the Mall in Columbia. I still remember the outfits - sparkly red and white, lots of sequins, and fake bicycle handlebars. The dance was to a song about looking for my doggy, who had run away. In any event, at the tender age of 4, I danced my heart out in that recital. Most people realize that the average kindergartener is not in excess of rhythm. But I was - I could dance, and right on beat.

So there I was, dancing happily, but the little girl next to me wasn't on beat. She was OFF TEMPO. The heathen.

So I turned around and yelled at her, in the middle of the stage, in the middle of the mall, and made her watch me until she could dance properly on beat.

It would seem Loireag fits into my home quite nicely.

But how's this for a great news story!!! Go ahead, make my kibble.

Oh, what the heck. How 'bout some knitting content?

This is the bag I made for GB's mail when he's out of town. I used some of the yarn gifted to me by my KR Secret Pal. I used no pattern at all - did the highly scientific "yep, that looks like a good place to start the letters" technique, and no seeming either, just did a three needle bind off at the bottom. I'm quite pleased, although next time (and there will be a next) I'll make the strap narrower.

A Birth Announcement!!!

Height: 2 feet-ish
Weight: Under 10 pounds
Hair: none, it dusted right off
Name: ... um... here's where I need your help. I'm looking for something old fashioned and very delicate sounding. I'll know it when I hear it, I just haven't hit on it yet...

Here's another shot of her meeting big sister Fiona, and being inspected by Trevor and Aslan, the neighborhood bomb-search cats. It's okay, she's safe.

Notice her pale color here, quite similar to Fiona's maple. This is how she came home from the antique mall (I mean... baby wheel hospital). But with a wave of my (sponge) wand and some cleverly chanted spells...





All I did was put one liberal coat of Teak Oil on (GB suggested Linseed oil, but the Teak had fewer health warnings, so I went with it.) It looks like I stained it, but I promise, the oil was the color of Olive Oil, and that's all that I used! Worked wonders, I think.



We'll wait a few days and give her at least one more coat.

When GB and I were shopping this weekend, we wandered into an antique mall. We browsed around for a while, and saw a flax wheel for $50. Since I do not now, nor plan to soon, have the ability to spin flax, I thought it was lovely, but moved on.

After a while, we came to a small room that was completely empty except for one item. Okay, sure, someone else might tell you the room was as full of items as any of the other rooms were, and that there were dozens of things in there. But I only saw one item. A beautiful, tiny spinning wheel, two feet tall (to the orifice) with a one-foot wheel diameter... looked remarkably like a small Kromski Minstrel,

but old, dry, and dusty. And she called to me... She was nearly all I could think about since then... even if she couldn't be restored to proper usable form, she needed a home where she would be loved.

I called the store today, and asked if she was still there... the owner couldn't find her. I panicked. GB was wise enough to answer my frantic phone call with a patient "he probably didn't know what you meant" since she is after all, a castle wheel, and most people think of Sleeping Beauty when you say spinning wheel... So I left work. Immediately.

I drove to the shop, and there she was, smiling at me. I paid promptly, and she's now sitting behind me in my office.

That's right. We are now a multi-wheel family!!! Pictures tomorrow, I promise...



Since that's the most exciting news I have (I must do a bit of research, so her name will be announced tomorrow with her picture) I'll share with you just what a snob Aslan is.

We do now lower ourselves to drinking from a bowl, like a mere animal.

No. We dip our dainty front paw into the liquid, form a cup with our foot, and lick the sustenance from that.

What? Do you expect anything less? He's definitely a champagne kinda kitty, like his mom. Trevor takes after Dad (a beer kinda guy) and will even drink out of the -gasp! - DOG BOWL, if it's nearby.


And this is what Trevor and Aslan gave to their cousins Emma and Gracie - a kitty bouquet, fresh from our very own catnip plant, tied with (of course) Mom's homespun yarn.


And just because it happened to be on the same roll of film, this is one of the cakes from my rehearsal dinner that my mom and dad kindly held at their house New Year's Eve... it's a rose-shaped bundt cake (yeah, she borrowed the bundt pan from me, but I still think the cake looks lovely)


Okay, so pictures of the new baby girl tomorrow! Yayyy!!!!

Alzheimer's runs in my family. They think now it skips a generation. My grandmother has it. Do the math.

And aside from a few negatives that just remind me this is real life, I had one of those weekends that had me frequently thinking "Remember this. When you're old and alone and can't remember anything, this will bring you back. Remember...."

Remember the feeling of waking up to a strong, bare, warm, tan and freckled shoulder that hasn't been there in way too long, but for today is...

Remember holding hands with my husband and walking through an antique mall, telling stories of our youths that the items recall to us...

Remember lying in bed with Trevor chirping and purring on my chest, with Aslan in the bathroom talking over the sound of the shower water where my gorgeous husband was...

Remember watching Trevor and Aslan brave the wilds of a new fountain water bowl...

Remember listening to the sound of my step-son singing in his shower down the hall...

Remember...

I hope you're having a weekend to remember, too.

There's not a lot of blogworthiness in my life today. I really just want to go back to sleep - it's one of those lazy hazy days made all the more-so by the few falling leaves drifting to the ground, and my staying up too late last night watching "Miracle". I love Hockey movies.


I rejoined Weight Watchers last night. I'd been doing pretty well on it, and then S had his accident that had me working those insane hours that made it impossible to make a meeting. Working those dreadful hours meant food was whatever and whenever, and so I promptly gained back what I'd lost and then some.

So back on I go, to a new location closer to home, and I think I'll really like this group. It's a small, but vibrant bunch, with people in all areas of their process. Not to mention that the meeting is roughly 75 yards from Cloverhill which just so happens to stay open late on Thursdays (for some reason, most of the yarn shops - at least in this area - are open late on Thursdays. Couldn't they get organized and have different late days during the week? Then those of us who work for what constitutes to some as a living could support all our LYS instead of having to pick and choose...). That means if I go straight from work to the meeting - oops! I'm early! I'll just meander down here to waste some time...

In any event, I have a very specific (and yet vague) goal, which I may share later. I might also put up a "progress update"... we'll see how much I feel like sharing.

I'm generally opposed to Knit Along's for a variety of reasons, mostly that they just don't appeal to me, but Bess mentioned a project that got my juices flowing, and it seems to have had the same affect on Annie, since Annie suggested she do one too, and so it looks like I'll be working on an aran some this fall, with no deadline at all, and holiday gifts will still have to come first.

So GB gets home tomorrow, and we're going to a show tomorrow night... then Monday I may or may not post, as it's a holiday, and Knit Knite. So have a wonderful holiday weekend - fall and sweaters are soon to come!

Ladies and Gentlemen - the moment you have all waited for!

Remember this?


It's now (drumroll please)

THIS:


Oh. You want to see it on?

Okay... Maestro?



Yeah. I didn't think you'd buy that. But you have to admit Aslan is pretty darn cute.

Okay, seriously, I'll try to get a picture of me wearing it this weekend when GB gets home, but if you think I'm asking anyone else in the neighborhood to put it on their heads - you haven't seen my neighbors.


So Aslan (who like most supermodels needs only be known by one name) is who you get.

And to avoid favoritism...
This is the paper weight that sits on my computer while I work:


And this is how good boys ask to go potty:


And that's all I got. Still learning about the finer uses of the camera, or you'd have a picture of my nearest neighbor.

A GIGANTIC spider, about an inch, maybe an inch and a half big, a rich red color, spinning a gorgeous web right in my front doorway. I tried to take several pictures, and she started getting really ticked off so I decided to leave her alone. None of the pictures showed up, except for a slight glow where the flash reflected off the web. This morning the web was mostly gone, so I don't know if she got blown off, or if she took my paparazzi-like photography as a personal afront and moved. Anyone know if there are any venomous spiders in Maryland?

Ahh... September 1st. And the knitting world seems to be on edge.

It's September, and despite the hum of the air conditioners we still hear, September means fall.

Fall means dropping temperatures.

Dropping temperatures means SWEATER SEASON!!!


I've been fairly uninspired in the fiber department lately... just busy with other things... I've fondled some fibers, and even spun a little cotton for the first time (not too bad, but needs work!) but haven't done any marathon knitting or spinning since Sunday. Yeah, just two days, but it feels odd somehow.

Bess's talk of a brick red Cashmerino Aran today got me back to thinking about my aran-style sweater in Chamonix I had planned... and then it occured to me that September also meant that Christmas was under 4 months away, and since I have two mohair scarves, maybe three, and possibly an afghan, planned as gifts, I should put them first. I do knit much slower on mohair, but even so I don't expect they'll take the whole time (maybe, if I do the afghan for this year). Still, I'd hate to be still knitting in the car on the way to Christmas while wearing a new sweater for myself... I intentionally don't do many knitting gifts, since I want it to remain a pleasant experience for me, and one can never tell when one will hit a snag that could be blown way out of proportion by a deadline!

I did manage to figure out the digital camera last night, and immediately set about taking pictures of everything that would hold still long enough (and some that didn't - fortunately for you, fish tanks do not handle photography well, or you might be forced to sit through introductions of all 12 of the littlest family members!) but was unable to mail them to myself at work to load them. I did manage to mail myself the folder that had the photos, but couldn't open it. I'll try again tonight.So there you have it. The reason I laugh in the face of anyone who thinks I'm even remotely technology-savy.