mamacate

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Happy birthday Henry and Eleanor.

You're four. 

My babies had their last day of being three, and the next day, they woke up and they were four.  How did this happen?  Those little tiny wudges who were curled up in my belly, who slowly unfolded themselves in our arms, who stretched and grasped and scooched and crawled and cruised and toddled and jumped and skipped and leaped and ran, right into being big kids.  And although we've been watching all the time, barely able to glance away, somehow, you turned into kids, and we never knew it.

Those magical and mindbending and maddening first four years have slipped past.  I'm wistful.  I can't believe I will not ever be the mom of babies, or toddlers, again.  But I'm loving every minute of watching the people you're becoming.  I love to read the stories you dictate and look at the pictures you draw.  I love to see you figuring things out for yourself, and amazing yourself and us at all that you can do.  I love when you're Blender, when you're a Boodle, and when you set up a veterinary practice in the bathtub.  I love how you've learned to kiss the cat gently and how I can ask you to let the dog out and all the ways you help.

I love that you know how to play.  Really, really know how to play.

(Yup, those are the handknit sweaters.)

I also love that you know how to live life with gusto, and to get every last morsel off your plate, and out of your life.

Happy birthday my darlings.  Thanks for being here.  I love you.

Into the Week

Just a note to tell you that I may be scarce this coming week.  A bunch of work stuff is happening (mostly unbloggable, not bad, just a little nerve-wracking).  I'm feeling a bit more nervous professionally than I have in YEARS, and I'll tell ya, it's not my favorite thing.  But I suppose this means I'm stretching, right?  Yeah, something like that.

Henry tried his sweater on and then wouldn't let me take it off to sew the last ends in.  Ten minutes later, he and El were both rolling down the hill in the backyard in their handknit sweaters.  I'm so proud.  No pics yet, and yeah, no promises.  I tried to figure out what would soothe me but not be boring, and of course it was spinning.  I'd drum carded a few batts of a moorit shetland fleece I got at Rhinebeck, and I pulled those out and am spinning laceweight that, if I stick with it, will be meant for a stole using Sharon Miller's recipe in Heirloom Knitting.

Spinning is good for frazzled nerves.  It's working.

After I'm done with the three different kinds of work stuff, the kids' birthday, and then the festivities and the grandparents and...ugh.

Somebody get me a time machine?

Blender the Bad Guy

Henry: I'm Blender the bad guy!

Mama: Oh, really?

H: Yeah.  I'm the biggest and strongest of all the bad guys.

M: Huh.

H: I have more weapons than any of the other bad guys!

M: Hmmm.

H: I have more weapons, and they're in my pocketbook.

M: You have a pocketbook.

H: Yeah, I'm a bad guy, and I have a pocketbook, and I have lots of weapons, and I can stop all the other bad guys.

M: Well, you know weapons aren't allowed in our house, but thanks for telling me.

H: Sure mommy.  RRRRRROAR!  I'm BLENDER!

So, if you see a little guy wtih superhero underpants and a pocketbook full of weapons, you'll know you're dealing with Blender.

Blender the bad guy.

Beware of Blender!  And his pocketbook of doom!

I love my queer little family.

A Randomized Sample

Sometimes I think I don't have anything random to say.  This is one of those times, but then, you know, I start typing and random stuff turns up.  So let's see...oh, look, here's something.

• I got to have lunch with the FeminiKnit Mafia yesterday.  Yup, I ate a prosciutto panini with the mafiosa herself.  Technically, she watched me eat, since she was meeting old friends for lunch, but she was nice about it and knitted on her very lovely non-worsted-weight sock.  We discussed the extreme inaccuracy of yarn weights like "worsted" and "sport."  I started babbling about the "Worsted Count" formula for coned weaving yarns, the whole 2/2, 2/24, etc. thing, which boggles my mind in a way I find interesting, but I think made the Mafia want to scratch out her eyeballs.  But she was kind about it.  She didn't yell "shut up already!" which, really, would have been a reasonable response.  And I didn't even start with the Bradford count vs. micron count.  Anyway, it was a lovely meeting, and I hope to see her again soon.  Thanks Mafia!
• Speaking of me boring the brains out of people, you should be aware that if you ever ask me a question about beer, I will start to act that way too.  Some folks who went to lunch with me at SPA were subjected to same, complete with impromptu beer tasting (I think the bartender was taking notes).  I used to brew beer.  You get like that about hops and mash and adjuncts and grain and yeasts in the same way that we get about the wool.  I've forgotten a lot, but I can still talk at some length (ahem) about the traditional styles, bitterness/maltiness, balance, and taste of beer.
• I freely admit that the male psyche is a mystery to me, a rather academic one at that given my life partnership.  But 10 years ago or so, when I was brewing, I encountered the funniest phenomenon.  Guys were beyond impressed with a) the fact that I knew beer, and b) the fact that I brewed it myself.  In fact, impressed is not even the word, at least in terms of b).  I observed something that looked a lot like lust in the eyes of more than one guy with whom I shared these facts.  I find this interesting.  Where does this come from?  Some archetype of the alewife and the happy (drunken) household?  (Since we're being random here, did you know that children used to drink beer at breakfast?  The stuff we drink now was closer to "small beer" than to the ale they drank back then, and it was really for children and breakfast.  You know, most important meal of the day, all that.)  Probably it was just a matter of a guy realizing he was talking to a woman with whom he shared a sense of priorities.  I can see that.  When Mel and David got together, you know, two fiber guys...it was so romantic...sniff.  Anyway, for some reasons girls were not so impressed.  Of course, I was already spoken for, so it was a moot point on both sides, but it has always puzzled me.
• I'm feeling a little bitter about the fact that NH Sheep & Wool is on Mother's Day weekend (I know, last year is the only year in memory when it *hasn't* been, but I want to spend the whole weekend there, dammit!).  I'm going, but then have to sprint home to do motherly things, and then have to hop a plane the next day to do a poster at a conference (about which I am also bitter) and also hang out and knit (yarn crawl anyone?) with Sara, Teri, and Minh.  I suppose the whole thing about hanging out with friends will make up for the whole poster thing.  Do you think it would be a bad career move to start a Knitting SIG (special interest group) at the conference?
• Thanks for all the kind words about the stash closet.  I must have done a good job, because I didn't realize that it's totally deceptive in terms of how much yarn is in there.  I mean, there are 10 sweaters' worth of yarn in there, plus enough for countless shawls and scarves.  And yes, there is more.  There's a giant bag of random skeins of leftovers and such, the huge quantities of Brown Sheep I've mentioned previously, the old WIPs I'm too afraid to count (and which, to be perfectly honest, I've lost track of--they're in a rubbermaid bin somewhere in the basement).  There's also the next-to-the-chair basket, and the next-to-the-couch drawers.  No worries, people, I'm not going to disappoint you by having, like, less wool than you.  I might even flash the fleece/fiber stash on April 1 if you all promise not to mock me or express shock and horror.  I just really don't want to be the top search return for "wool hoarding disorder" or something.  Oh crap, I bet I am now.  Never mind.
• Speaking of storing things, you may have noticed that my Lendrum flyers and bobbin winder are sitting on a shelf in the closet.  Has anyone with better spatial skills than I have figured out how to store these?  They're such a weird shape.
• Hey Norma, I'm going to try hot yoga one of these days, soon.  I'm trying to coordinate with a coworker to go, because I'm a little chicken to go by myself.  We can't decide whether it is going to be the most amazing, transformative thing (as everyone tells us) in the way a wonderful, health-giving experience can be, or if it's the most amazing, transformative thing in the way a hellish gauntlet of pain can be.  Seriously, let's hope Norma's steering me straight right.
• I needed a break from the ack-crylic Henry sweater last night, so I sewed seams on Klaralund.  I don't know why, but I just hate sewing seams.  After years of doing it badly, I've actually become reasonably adept at it, but I still loathe it.  It seems unfair.  I knitted this whole thing, now I have to spend time seaming it?  I'm also unbelievably slow.  Not sure why.  Not sure what I can do about it either.  Except procrastinate some more.  There ya go.

Okay, is that a reasonably random sample of the ways my brain cells are frittering their lives away?  That and 24.  So fucking scary.  I'm actually kind of sorry I started watching it--it's so violent and so scary.  But I'm addicted.  I want to know what happens.  I may just read all the summaries and leave it at that.  I can't. Take. The. Stress.  Now, if I start talking about Lost, people, you need to call someone.  Please.  Think of the children.

Less than Two Days

I survived.  There was vodka.  My mother-in-law, thank goodness, is the kind of person you can turn to at a party and say, when told there will be champagne, "Good.  I was wondering who was going to get me drunk."  And she will laugh and give you alcohol.  WASPy in-laws have their advantages.  But we're all glad to be home, I think.

Speaking of relatives, I did something else in less than two days.  I (started and) finished my mother's soy silk shawl.  Here's its brief modeling moment before hopping into a priority mail envelope.  It's nothing fancy, just a couple of miles (okay, a couple of hundred feet) of garter stitch on big needles.  But it's from stash, and I think she'll like it, so I'm happy.

I chose this picture because it's the only one with no unfolded laundry in it.  Not kidding.

Speaking of messy, is it wrong to be intimidated by the intimation that only "neat" people work at The Container Store?  I am messed up enough (both literally and figuratively) that I felt like a bit of an imposter shopping there Sunday.  It was like, you know they're looking at you.  They can see the uncontrollable hair and the way you can't figure out how to pack the containers in your cart.  I did, however, pay special attention to trying not to give too much away by have a messy cart.  No, seriously.  Yeah, and the whole digging for the wallet in the yarn-filled purse at the checkout?  They were SO on to me.

But whatever.  My stash closet is predominantly organized, at least by my standards.  I can actually say that without lying.  I mean, I have to say predominantly because a) non-yarn items in there are a disaster, and b), well, wouldn't want to jinx it.  But here's the full frontal view.

Don't talk to me about the wallpaper.  We're remodeling, it was left from the former owners, it's the kids' playroom, you know.  But I'm very happy with my accessible, visible yarny goodness.  I will flash the stash (no promises of everything, but what's here at least--I'm still not showing you my fleeces) on April 1.  But there's nothing in there I'm not confident I'll knit.

Maybe this is progress?  Hasn't stopped me from my obsession with obtaining a mioget Shetland fleece (you think Wendy likes saying "hogget?"  Try saying mioget.  Musket.  Shaela.).  Dude, they're little.  Like, 2 pounds.  I hereby declare that if sock yarn doesn't count, Shetland fleeces don't count either.  Who's with me?

Overnight at the In-Laws

It's not like there's not a hormonal reason to be cranky.  I freely confess to that.

But here we are, spending the night at the in-laws, so we can attend a weekend of festivities for step-cousins, which is fine, except, ugh, all in one weekend with a freakin' overnight?  And did it have to be the same weekend as a local fibery party I really wanted to attend?

Could I be any crankier?  Let's see how much sleep I get.  Because almost-four-year-olds in a strange place--not so much with the sleep.

My mother's birthday is tomorrow, so I'm knitting the boringest garter stitch shawl with soy silk yarn (tofu yarn for the vegan).  I should get back to that, but Gladiator has been playing in the living room and what *is* that?  A festival of blood and suffering?  Jaysus.  (And yes, I voluntarily watch 24 so where did the high horse come from?  Don't ask me, but I'd rather not watch it be killed, thanks.)  We're switching to Harry Potter now, and my wine glass needs a refill (yes, coping beverages, at least, are readily available chez-inlaws), so back to the bean-laden shawl I go.

One more day.  Wish me luck (or at least access to liquor).

A Finished Sweater

Look, I do sometimes finish things.  And look at that happy boodle in her brand new sweater!

I confess that I didn't expect this sweater to come out so well.  I thought the raglan increases were a little hinky--expanding too fast and then stopping oddly with a pucker.  I put the flowers in as a bit of an afterthought (more of that auto-pilot stockinette knitting that gives me knee socks when I didn't mean to) and I thought they were too low.  But girlfriend inherited my long torso, and I think it works.   And blocking (wash and lay flat, shaped, to dry) took care of many things that made me nervous when I'd just finished knitting.  I heart top-down sweaters--the lack of finishing work is dreamy.

This started out as a sweater from Top Down for Toddlers, but I kind of abandoned the book once I got into the yoke.  The flowers, which are knitted fair isle (I considered intarsia for, oh, about 30 seconds), catching floats after about 5 stitches, which was necessary on probably half the rows.  I got the chart from Jessica Tromp's site, which, if you haven't been there, is an absolute treasure trove.  Great stuff.  The yarn is Colorado Vail, which was on closeout in enormous quantities at Webs last year.  Be warned, however, if you've stashed this stuff: it claims to be superwash, but I have a pair of felted aran sandal socks that beg to differ.  Perhaps the natural color is the only culprit.  But be careful.  I'm guessing maybe it was closed out because the superwash process didn't completely take.

Since, as a twin mom, I'm constantly trying to keep sibling rivalry at bay, I immediately cast on for a sweater for Henry.  I must say they have been surprisingly mellow about this whole one-sweater-at-a-time business.  Henry's will be a top-down v-neck.  I am using this ack-crylic blend yarn he picked out at the store--the colors are just too perfect for him, and heck, for the boy who really doesn't understand why something as interesting-feeling as applesauce shouldn't be eaten with ones hands, machine washability works for me.

 

This is what I did last night while--guess what?--watching TV, but I am going to rip it out--the gauge is way off.  I wasn't liking how it was knitting up as a single strand, so I doubled it.  It claims to be a worsted-weight, but even at 20sts/10cm, it's kind of flimsy.  And doubled, it will make quite a nice, thick fabric, but I'm undecided.  I'm worried it will be too thick.  I don't know.  Maybe I should go find him some green, you know, WOOL for a sweater.  But this has already been pronounced "nice," and I don't want to mess with that.  I think I'll just fix my pattern to reflect the doubled gauge (13sts/10cm--at least it will be quick!).  I can rip again if necessary.

Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the smiley, happy girl in the pink sweater.  And work on getting out the green paint that got on the front yesterday.  Because what higher honor could a kid sweater receive?

Catsup?

One serving of randomness, hold the mayo.  Fries and a pickle with that?  Great honey, coming right up.

• Thanks to Risa's repeated recommendations (go give that girl some love, she got bad news yesterday), I decided to allow myself to get sucked in to 24.  I'm getting the first season DVDs from Netflix, and so far, I've watched the first four hours.  I have a couple of things to say about this.
  • a) Exactly how does someone knit and watch this show at the same time?  I spend the entire time on the edge of my seat, breathlessly staring at the TV, gasping at intervals and peeking through my fingers, which by the way were COVERING MY EYES and NOT KNITTING.  The idea here was to find good knitting tv from a fellow knitter.  Mission Not Accomplished.  Yeesh.
  • b) Do you remember that episode of Friends where Joey puts The Shining in the freezer because it's too scary?  I seriously considered putting the 24 DVD in the freezer after watching the first two hours, but was concerned that it might shatter and then I'd have to pay some sort of DVD-freezing fee to Netflix and that didn't seem quite worth it since rationally, I do realize that putting a DVD in the freezer provides minimal protection from suspense-induced insomnia.  But dude.
  • c) Yes, I realize I'm getting awfully meta with this whole referencing TV shows in relation to other TV shows, and then starting a whole blog about, fergawdsake, reality TV, but, hey, I never said this was a highbrow operation.  I may sip lattes and listen to NPR, but my real primary news source is Comedy Central.  Consider this full disclosure.
• This is the part where I tried to come up with something to make me seem more highbrow, and people, I got nothing.  Not only are my kids going to have to be cool for me, they're also going to have to be smart.
• There is knitting, though extremely slow knitting.  Eleanor's sweater has been in black hole mode for about a week now.  I finished the body last Wednesday (while peeking through my fingers at 24--could this have any relationship to the slowness of the thing?), and thought, hey, all I have is two raglan arms to do, no problem.  Well, here we are, a week later, and I've just finally finished it.  What gives?  El loves it, and I have a big smiley picture of her smiling with it on this morning to share with you tonight.  This is a nice change since she has yet to wear the handspun sweater I made her (just sit for a minute and let the heartbreak of that wash over you).
• I got a Babe PVC niddy noddy in one of those "add to shopping cart to save on shipping" moments, and Henry said the following, showing himself to be, truly, the child of a fiber person:  "This is a microphone and I'm pretending it's a microphone even though it's really a niddy noddy."  Indeed.  Stephanie asks if we think we're making our kids strange.  The answer, it is yes.
• On Saturday Rhys took the kids out to the supermarket (voluntarily--I don't get it, personally, but no complaining here).  I stole a few moments to do some fiber stuff.  I thought to myself, "self?  You should find that bag of madder you got last year."  So I went looking for it.  And I found some shetland fleece from Rhinebeck.  So I decided to do some drum carding.  Which got me to thinking about the other fleeces kicking around here.  Which got me to thinking about Cedric, because Cedric is the fleece that gives me the most pause.  The rest of them I know what to do with, or were cheap, or both.  But Cedric was non-cheap and presents a bit of a challenge, fiber-prep-wise.  You see, Cedric has weak tips and is insanely fine and crimpy, which will make for a wonderfully soft yarn, but also makes the fiber want to nep up if you look at it funny.  So  I grabbed some already-washed Cedric and got out the combs.  And I also had gotten a new diz in that "fill up the shopping cart" incident, and I had to try that out.  So no, no madder was found, but I did wind up with this.  I'm not sure how any of that happened, but it was a fun Saturday morning hour.
• All this finishing stuff, you know, the monogamous knitting and the WIP wipe-out and whatnot, you people are totally killing my buzz.  Jan made a very good point a while back about artists' work habits, and she's not wrong, for sure, but right now the fiber part of my life is pure indulgence--I am doing too much work as it is.  That said, finishing Eleanor's sweater felt GREAT.  And I guess I might have to try to do more of that.  I hate this whole being a grownup business.

--mamacate comes with fries and a pickle on the side. (with apologies to mimi smartypants for the sign-off)

Camnesia: 1,000 words instead of a picture

Rhys took a little sojourn to open up her mom's house on the Vineyard.  It gets rented for most (all?) of the summer, and Rhys is taking over the management of it.  So the kids and I went out to dinner last night in downtown Northampton.  I didn't realize it would be photographic moment, so sadly, I suffered camnesia and missed taking a picture of the two of them.  So I will describe for you, instead, what I saw.

Now many of you know Northampton, but it's one of those towns that's full of people who are kind of painfully cool.  Something about the five colleges locally, a sort of artsy-fartsy, latte-sipping, volvo-driving (link to wmv video) kind of New England thing going on.  This is not true of the whole town--there's a healthy parallel universe known as Hamp, but when you're downtown, it's Noho all the way. 

At not yet four, the kids fit right in.  Henry had a smoothie at the restaurant that he couldn't finish, so they put it in a cup that looks like a take-out coffee cup.  Henry liked that it looked like he was drinking coffee.  He was wearing a fleece-lined vest, and was carrying his "coffee" and his map under his arm like a newspaper.  Eleanor had found a hair stick that I am saving for when my hair FINALLY gets long enough to use it again, and I put her hair in a bun with it, and she wore her pink velour blazer from Old Navy.  V. fashion forward. V. shabby chic.

So while I may be a bit pudgy, kind of tired-looking, with bad hair most days and exclusively machine washable, stretchable clothes, my kids look like they fit right in downtown.  The two of them, walking along Main Street, with the cool clothes and the papers tucked under their arms--it was just ridiculous.  If they're cooler than I am at not-yet-four, then I'm pretty much doomed.  Remember when I was one of the girls downtown?  Hanging out at the Baystate?  Being the shockER and not the shockEE at Pride?  Sigh.

"Hop in the minivan kids!"

Hey, at least it's not a Volvo.  But truly, only because I don't understand how a rear-wheel-drive car is good in snow.  I'm that cool.  Yes I am.

Too. Much. To. Say.

Must. Create. Separate. Blog.

http://mamacate.typepad.com/reality_tv_sociology/

Reality TV Sociology has its own blog.  My recap of Episode 1 of Black.White ("white people are stupid: discuss") is up.  I'm begging inviting blog contributors--come be a reality tv sociologist for a day!

See you there.