mamacate

Where I've Been

You know how sometimes, if you wait long enough to get around to a thing, that thing starts to take on greater weight than it ought to do and it starts being harder to actually do it and then it has been even longer and you still haven't done it and what the heck is wrong with you anyway and what exactly do you want to do with this blog thing that you've been doing for almost four years but not exactly since you've barely been doing it all this past year?

Like that.  Which is to say, sorry.  And whoops.  Also, Hi!  How have you been?  Missed ya.

A throng of knitters came to my town this weekend but I missed them because I was throwing money at a mouse.   It was a fun trip.  Not as fun as last year, which was like mouse heaven, but fun.  Now we're back.  And so this blog post seems to be following my "I only manage to blog when I've been off of work for a week" pattern.

But really, here's the deal.  Remember all my talk about IEPs and school problems and stuff?  About how my son has emerging disabilities that haven't yet been well-defined but that make his life extremely difficult both at school and at home?  Well, that's my new hobby.  I didn't choose it.  It is NOT relaxing.  It gives me very little enjoyment, except on the rare occasion that I figure out some way to get the school system to do what they should have done in the first place or I manage to take five pieces from six different doctors and put them together and help find a way to help my kid a bit in a way we hadn't thought of before.  But mostly it's a lot of hard slogging, banging of heads against brick walls, begging and pleading for what are literally my son's legal, moral, and ethical rights, and then having to fight to make sure they actually carry out what they promised because the hard-won agreements are meaningless when they don't actually implement them.

Bitter, moi?  And did I mention the school system is nearly bankrupt and are talking layoffs (including my son's direct staff, or so I gather via him overhearing something).  Yah.  Thanks for that "stimulus package."  That $600 is way better than providing our kids with an education that will give them any hope of paying off the staggering debt you've run up, there W.  Right, yes, bitter.

Anyway, if I haven't been clear before, that's why I'm not blogging much.  The things I have to talk about are too private to put here and make the above sound like a tra-la-la happy romp, and my reluctance to blog it all is probably only exceeded by any sane person's reluctance to read it.

I miss you guys.  I'm hoping to escape for a festival (NH perhaps?) and there's still a chance the house will clear out for a party for Cummington (not to cry in my tea but hopefully it won't be me all by myself with a pony keg, not that you people have ever been much help drinking beer).  Unfortunately, due to the above, it can't happen unless the fam clears out: even having dinner guests is a significant stressor these days.

So that's the news from here.  Mouse: good but expensive.  Job: intense but now better-staffed with an awesome new coworker.  Church: continuing complexity, with a small dash of hope.  Family: well-loved and deeply challenging.  School: don't get me started.  Wool: right, wool--an almost done and completely unphotographed charm shrug is in progress.  I do tell Ravelry things but not necessarily with pictures.

So Wendy, I got nothin.  This my system: I don't do it all and much of it poorly.  Blogging, knitting, and spinning I'm doing less of at the moment.  Perfect is boring.  Life is messy.  I'll see you next time I come up for air.  Or at NHS&W.  XO.

Blah...blah blah blah

Hey there.

What does a knitblogger do when she's not really knitting?  This isn't a riddle (I'm not feeling nearly clever enough for that).  I think the answer is not really blog.  Which is what I'm not really doing.

But despite appearances, I do still value this here knitblog community, so I will whine at you in an unfocused sort of way.  If you like that sort of thing, feel free to read on; if you don't, I fully understand. 

I'll try to do things with wool again at some point.  I trust that I haven't completely given up on this stuff, I'm just in the doldrums.  Call it the winter blues.  Call it a January blah.  Call it an under-treated thyroid disorder.  (I swear I didn't write that email in the link.)  Whatever.  I have all these unfinished projects and none of them make me happy.  Elizabeth I.  A self-designed sweater gift project.  An almost-finished garter-stitch jacket that will look like ass but will keep Rhys warm and very happy since she doesn't care if her sweaters are ugly when she just wears them around the house.  That's not even close to being all of it.  I could be knitting an already-started hourglass, a handspun shetland triangle, a handsome pair of mittens, an ancient fair isle, or a no-longer-mysterious mystery stole.  I could even fix the damn Autumn Rose (which I wore again last week in hopes that I would decide I didn't need to fix it anymore, which didn't exactly happen).  And socks.  Myriad single and half-knitted socks longing for companionship.  Yet I knit not.

So everyone knows the answer to this problem.  Cast on, right?  A kid sweater.  Quick, easy, low-stress, high-reward.  Eh.  Didn't last.  How about a summery sweater for me to wear to the Caymans?  Again with the quick (no sleeves!), plus it keeps me focused on the fact that I will experience sunlight again the future.  I cast on, and am no longer interested.  It doesn't help that, as a fellow raveler pointed out, the yarn rather resembles a potscrubber when knit up.  I caught some whiff of some re-design of the yarn and that the new version is lovely but I have the potscrubber version.  Insert heavy sigh here.  Why knit it if you already know the project is doomed?  Doooooooomed I tell you.  Doomed.

Yes, friends, it's a case of knitting dysfunction (also known as "KD").  A terrible syndrome characterized by proliferation of UFOs, acts of sudden frogging, inability to obtain buttons for completed projects, and the loss of interest in fibers that you have traditionally enjoyed (a more severe, but related disease is knitting psychosis which involves an aversion to yarn shops and immunity to luxury fibers).  Assuming the disease has not progressed to the psychosis stage, we have only one solution, the  first-line treatment of choice:  Chocolate, Wine, and Cashmere.

I predict a full recovery.

I forgot my blogiversary but getting older is harder to miss

So I don't think I mentioned that I'd been doing this blogging thing for three years in June.  So now it's three years plus.  Thing is I'm not doing it that much anymore, so I'm not sure how impressed I can be with myself at this point.  It's hard to have something to say for that long.  Aren't you sick of me?

Anyway, don't answer that, because tomorrow (Tuesday) is my birthday.  I'm a rather boring age, 38, but that's okay, because it means I have a little while until I need to start thinking about being 40.

There have been comments from certain quarters about the need to observe the wild sweater in its natural habitat.  My rack, that is.  Well, that's part of the problem.  See it took me a few wearings to really come to terms with the fact that the neckline is too wide and too low, and the raglan is too long and I will probably need to do something involving scissors and weeping and possibly also alcohol.  There hasn't been time to come to terms with it. 

Love steeking, love it, but the downside is that if you fucked something up, you're screwed because you've got yourself one-row strips of yarn there to work with.  Ain't no frogging.  I have evil thoughts that involve cutting and seaming around the shoulder tops but I'm not terribly optimistic.  --Deb has been down a similar road and it hasn't been easy.  I will probably put the sweater in time out for a while and wear it, because it's just barely wearable, but not quite nice--not as nice as I believe it should be--before I bend it to my will.  I'll let you know when I get there, I promise.  Heck, maybe I'll cut it in public again.  Anyway, learn from my mistake.  If you knit the larger sizes, make the neckline WAY smaller than the pattern suggests.  If I rip and re-knit, I'm going to remove a whole pattern repeat.  Did I mention I made the neckline over an inch higher than the pattern called for?  Yah.  Row gauge was fine while knitting, though I haven't had the heart to measure it post-blocking.

Oh right, did I mention a picture of my rack?  Here you go:

I might entertain exhortations to leave it as is, but you'll have to see me wearing it and tugging at it before you can be sure.  Anyway, pretty colors, huh?

In other news, Ellie got a new scarf.  Laura talked me into buying this insane roving from Heather at the Fiber Revival, and when I got home with the skein, which I spun at the Revival, Miss Ellie declared that it would be hers.  She preferred a Faroese shawl, but a quick calculation had me convincing her that a scarf would be a better choice.  A brief negotiation on the topic of fringe had the deal complete.  Two short evenings of knitting, a little fringing, and we've got a happy girl.

Of course, she's also decided that the scarf makes her a rock star.  I tried to point out that she was already a rock star, but it can be hard to talk to rock stars sometimes, especially when they're rocking out.  See?

Just so that my son does not suffer the combined indignities of not being the current recipient of knitwear (don't worry, it won't be long) and of not being featured on the blog in all his cuteness, I give you a picture of a couple of best friends.

Can ya stand it?

In wheel news, I have divested myself of a very well-loved wheel, because someone else loved it better.  The Norm Hall needed to go back and live with Sara, which is okay because it's too similar in function to my other wheel.  I've already used some of the proceeds to pick up a used Schacht, which so far rocks my world.  I'll probably hang on to the Lendrum for travel (maybe...maybe not), but the Schacht could easily become my primary wheel.  I just like spinning on double drive.

I think I'll go do just that.  I need to come up with some solstice gifts for teachers, plus I have a deprived child who has no currently fitting knitwear.

The Plague's Not as Fun As You'd Think

I really should stop tempting fate.

I read some blog post a while ago about someone who was laid up sick and who got a lot of knitting done, and I thought to myself, self, wouldn't it be nice to be laid up sick and get a lot of knitting done?

Well, I got the former all right, but not that much knitting came out of it.  That's because when I get sick, it's not usually the mild sniffly drive-by kind of sick (okay, I don't actually slow down for those, this may be why), but it's usually the asleep for 20-hours-straight kind of sick, and this was one of those.  I woke up for an hour or two, then tried to knit and went right back to sleep.  Fat chance.

A few rows were knitted on the MS3.  Not so much as you'd notice, but more than were in this picture.  I'm a fair bit into clue 3, let's say.  Way behind most of the rest of y'all but what would you expect?

Yes, and now my computer can't even post a photo.  Some stupid explorer window that won't close.  I'll put it up there next time I'm in a quiet space on the home computer with no kids climbing on me.  So, that should be in the next six months, I'm quite sure.

Never mind, I'm going to bed.  Just a shout-out to let you know that I'm (almost) alive.  Thanks for the wonderful dialogue on the Serious Stuff post.  Don't worry, I won't be doing too much of that.

PS: I've also been knitting socks.  Shocker!

Springtime: Socks, Swallowtails, and Bears

So let me just preface this by saying that yes, I suck.  I hath not blogged in weeks and weeks.  I doth suck in great muchness.  Of this I am sure.

This time, it's not even just that I have nothing to say.  I have actually knitted.  Finished things.  Even blocked them.  There are photographs.  But the computer and the camera and the USB cable are not to be in the same place at the same time before midnight.  It just means trading blogging for sleep.  And here we are.

I made a swallowtail shawl.  Looky.

Jager Farm icelandic laceweight (this time not handspun; I bought it dyed and spun at Rhinebeck).

I also made my best pair of socks EVAH.  64 stitches on 0s, slip-stitch flap heel, short row toe.  They fit perfectly.  I've made lots of socks that fit okay, but these fit GREAT.  LOVE.

Oh yeah, trekking 110 (I think).  You know, the one that's that color.

(Now if I could just make a perfectly fitting sweater, because while perfectly fitting socks are an utter joy, you know, they don't really "pop" the outfit.)

In other news:

BLEGGER!  Chez mama (about 25 minutes east of Cummington, near Northampton), May 26, after the festival.  Email me at mama (at) mamacate (dot) com for directions, and if I have never met or spoken to you, tell me someone we both know or direct me to your blog.  Just safety stuff, you know.  But really, come, come!

Speaking of festabals, I'm going to NH!  Sans kids!  Rilly!  V. v. excited in case you couldn't tell.  It still might fall through, and I've been given injunctions against strong drink and staying out late (presumably the part about loose women went without saying, but then again think about who I'll be seeing there).  But I suddenly get to go, and that's kinda nice.

Another thing.

De bears.

It's that bear time of year here in lovely Florence ("uptown" in local parlance).  A mama bear and the three cutest cubs you could possibly imagine spent the afternoon, overnight, and the next morning in our backyard.  As moms of multiples, we could totally relate to her.

The photos are not that great.  I got better video, but dude, if I waited till I had time to remember how to download that, and find all the cables, well, you'd never hear from me.

Here's mom giving the kids a five-minute warning that it was almost time to get out of the tree.  They were more inclined to listen than my kids.  Hmm.

See them coming down there?  And seriously, sorry for the bad pictures (click to biggify--I cropped them so you can kind of see something).  Can you see that they look like teddy bears?  I mean, moving, breathing teddy bears (with a 1,000 pound mama who'd kick your ass if you tried to hug them, granted).  It was cool though.

I'm pretty sure it wasn't the same bear from last time.  That one was taller, browner, and I think he was a guy.  This was of course, a mama, round and black.  She even nursed them in the backyard.  Awww.

More socks over here.  When I stood up the sock-in-progress fell on the dog, who was way too tired to do anything about it.  I thought it was a good photo op.

And speaking of photo ops, the fred flinstone socks I made in January and never photographed because they were shy, well they have emerged from their undisclosed location and were willing to pose for the blog.

Anyway, maybe the bears will come join us for the blegger.  Who knows?  I'm going to suggest no camping in the backyard, just in case.

Pre-vacation Freakout

It seems like after about 35, I started getting a little bored with myself.  At this point, even I don't take myself seriously about some of this stuff.  I've learned enough about my peculiar personality to know that the week before I have a vacation coming up, I will, without fail, freak the living hell out for about 80% of that week.

And this past week was no exception.  I admit that life conspired to make me even more insanely busy, including double-booking meetings on two different sides of campus and generally freaking out.  On the upside, I was alarmingly productive, and while there is still a hellacious to-do list in my wake, it's a good sight smaller than it was last week.  It was also nice to have a good reason to put off people who wanted me to do something right away.  Sorry kids, not going to be here.  Toodles.

Work remains crazy.  I know this is an exciting topic.  Blogging actually came up in one of those double-scheduled meetings last week--something about the personal being political and how that message from the second wave of feminism has or has not been translated into young womens' views of their own expression, and it reminded me of a post that's been moldering in my drafts folder for a good couple of months and maybe I'll actually post it now.  So on the upside some of the work is really interesting, though on the downside some of it is tragically boring so there you go.

I've also been getting a bit involved in church politics, which is kind of ridiculous because my church, a UU, is a lot like a smaller version of the college where I work, and really, I have enough memos to write and meetings to go to at the place where they actually pay me.  Yet I go to meetings that last until 10 pm.  I don't know.  Again, bored of myself, yes.

So again, all this conspires to cause me to knit things that go around in a circle.  I did take some pictures of some of these things, though they were mostly taken three weeks ago.  Figure a little more on the trekking socks and a fair amount more on the red sweater you saw here, and you're up to date.  I might take lace on vacation, but I'm not sure I'll actually knit it.

Anyway, socks I finished a while back.  These are those ones with Aloe and Jojoba in the yarn.  Love em.  I gather they have better colors now--I'll definitely be making more of these.

Next, a lovely gift of Rocktoberfest STR from Kristen when she was staying here.  It turned into these:

Even though the striping sequence totally didn't stay the same on the foot (why, I ask you, why!?), I still love my afterthought heels on the socks that rock.  And rock they do, I might add.

I would also like to tell you that the Fred Flinstone STR socks are extremely sneaky, and apparently came downstairs in the dark of night and deleted their picture from my hard drive because that is the ONLY explanation for the fact that I finished a pair of socks in January and it's April and I haven't taken a picture of them.

Some of my friend Gail's truly fabulous sock yarn is on the needles now, though I'm trying to restrain myself from abandoning the almost-done trekking socks in favor of their yummy goodness.  The base yarn is a great wool-nylon blend that's softer than most German wool-nylon sock yarns, but has the beautiful hand-dyed thing going on.  Gail sells her sock yarn at Webs, which is a dangerous proposition, the store being two miles from my house and all.  I've just been trying to stay away from the place, because it's just never a good idea to be in there with a warm credit card.

Anyway, it's not like I've taken out my camera in the last three weeks, but here's the yarn wound up.  I've got an inch or two of a--wait for it--picot-edged sock!--on its way.

So that's the yarn in a nutshell.  You can wake up now.  Coffee?

So, other than that, there was a birthday party.  Wicked cute, people.

We had a magician come, ergo, balloon aliens.  You know, the usual.

That brings you about up to date around here.  Next stop, Orlando. (I have been obsessively researching Disney.  Go ahead, ask me anything.)  Ever since we announced our trip, my dad has been sending me pictures of me at Disney in the 70s (he worked for them in a non-park-related job at the time).

Here's me meeting Mickey.

And here's me and my mom a few years later.

Onward, here comes the next generation...

Another Traveling Sock

I too have a traveling sock, though mine goes to somewhat less exciting events than some people's.  Here it is posing with two of MIT's eager beavers, as well as some lovely chocolate from the hotel at my host institution.  My travels, while not replete with knitterly company, are not devoid of it.  Tomorrow the Mafia will give me the MIT knitter's tour.  It may involve less wool than wine (I BYO'd the former), but so be it.  There will be women, and probably song, and really what more do you need when you already have a sock in progress?  Anyway, can't wait.

The Good News and The Bad News, Randomly

The good news:

I had a full house this weekend, with simultaneous visits from Sara and family, as well as from Kristen, an honorary member of our wacky family.  There was spinning, knitting, even dyeing.  Good times.

The bad news:

I had to go to Providence RI in the pouring rain and ice on Friday morning and missed about half the time to hang out with the SaraSkates clan.

The good news:

I got my birthday present to myself, and it's wonderful.  I spun up two Barneswallow Farms batts in the first night, plied them the second.

The bad news:

I had to dress up in a suit and make a presentation on a tough topic to a tough room full of Very Important People on Saturday morning.  Good. Times.  I spent most of Friday night muttering to myself and wringing my hands.  Stage fright: it's not pretty.  I kind of thought I'd get over it with practice, but no such luck so far.  Maybe at 40?

The good news:

We're going to Disney World!  I've made reservations for the whole fam to take off in April and go spend too much money to be mouseified and water-parked into oblivion.  It will either be the most wonderful experience ever, or a nightmare of epic proportions.

The bad news:

I freaking made a typo on Orbitz when I booked the ticket.  I gave Henry Rhys' last name instead of his own (the kids actually have different last names than either of us as a way to honor a family member who passed away before they were born).  The first response from Orbitz was, to paraphrase, "too bad, you're shit outta luck."  I asked for a supervisor, and I'm now waiting on hold to see if they can cancel his ticket and rebook it under his correct name.  I can't even tell you.  I mean.  I, I, I.  ARGH!

The more bad news:

As I sat at my desk waiting on hold for the supervisor I opened a really nasty letter calling me out for a mistake a contractor I hired made.  Yes, my fault by proxy, but ugh, you know?  The timing was less than ideal, and ugh, it was a pretty small mistake, but when small mistakes hit the wrong people, watch out.

The good news:

I'm going to lunch with a friend and we'll drown our sorrows in Indian food.  I get to eat dinner out too, though I'll be at a church meeting while I do it.  Kristen is being run ragged babysitting the kids, for which I am deeply grateful.

The bad news:

I should be going out to dinner with Rhys instead, because today is our fifteenth anniversary.  But she's working out of town for the day and I'm at a church meeting.  I'm okay with it, really, but I'm not, you know how that works?  I mean, rationally, this is what makes sense.  Had we turned everything upside down to go out, we wouldn't have had much fun, and it wouldn't have made sense.  But there's still a part of me that's sad that our life is like this after fifteen years.  This is the real stuff of relationships, hanging in, staying strong through times that are challenging or just plain too busy, and I know we're looking forward to easier times just around the corner (and not just Florida either).  But it's just not my ideal for our anniversary, that's all.  So boo hoo me.

The good news:

Orbitz came through.  Though I can't give them top marks based on the front line customer service rep, the supervisor really knew what she was doing and tried a bunch of approaches until she got one that worked.  Henry has his own reservation now, big guy, but I didn't even have to pay a penalty.  I guess that service charge was actually worth it after all.  PHEW.

The more good news:

I'm off to lunch to eat Indian food with my friend.  We decided it was not a day to eat leftover sandwiches, even if it is 20 degrees below ridiculous out there.  I found my silk long johns, which had been missing since they were packed up for the renovation, so there.  I laugh at the wind!

OTL

OTL: Out to Lunch.  That's pretty much where I've been.  I've been wanting to blog to explain it, but I'm not sure I totally understand it myself.  Sure, life is sheer madness, but that's nothing new.  My job just keeps getting more overwhelming.  I'm keeping my head above water, and things will be fine in the long run, but this first year has been intense. 

That doesn't explain why I don't run home and blog.  I suppose the two kids at two different schools and inadequate child care coverage does, but after dinner Rhys puts the kids to bed and I light a fire and watch TV and do the crossword.  I do low-cognitive-demand knitting.  Sometimes I fold laundry.  I clean the kitchen despite my strong desire to sit on my ass.  After that, the ass-sitting force is pretty much irresistable (hey, some force has got to be strong with me). 

The computer is right there, less accessible than before but hardly difficult to get my hands on.  I look at my knitting and think about photographing it for the blog, think about telling you about it, but friends, I'm bored just thinking about that, so I can scarcely imagine how bored you'd be.  Plus, don't tell, but I don't really feel like there's much chance of me finishing anything but socks, so why blog about it like there's going to be a sweater at the end?  Hmm?

Sigh.

I almost never spin anymore, which is really sad.  Must do something about that.  Really.  First order of business would be to get my wheel back from Marcy, whose fault it really isn't that she still has it--I've been impossible to schedule with.  At this point she probably has two of them.  I even own another wheel that's living with Sara, making her alarmingly productive, that I've never even seen.  Perhaps my mojo will return when the wheels do.  I'm not holding my breath, though.

Henry has finally started school.  He LOVES it.  Their god(dess)parents came over last weekend and Henry sat down to bring them up to date: "I have to tell you something.  I lost my old school, but now I have a new school and it's called Washington Street* and I LOVE it" (*not its real name).  It's all true.   He has friends, he loves his teachers, he's proud of himself, and though things at home are still often hard, he's doing great.

So while work feels out of control and knitting feels insurmountable and it's that February time and life feels harder than it should, things are good.

And someday I'll photograph some knitting.  I'm just not making any promises anymore.

Alive and Well-Socked

Sorry about that.

I'm alive.  Really.

I just got back from a business jaunt to a conference in Santa Fe.  There's this one organization I'm in that gives good conference.  Last year it was Miami, this year Santa Fe.  However, it's kind of weird how both times it was unseasonably cold.

Can I tell you how much I love New Mexican food?  I love New Mexican food.  Several of my conference buddies complained bitterly about having the same kind of food over and over, but I was in heaven.  Comida sin chile no es comida.  When I was able to order my food "Christmas" (meaning with both red and green chile), I was thrilled.  And if you're ever in Santa Fe, just install yourself in the Plaza Cafe and work your way through the menu.  It's cheap, it's delicious, it's friendly, and, well, I just wish every place in the world served sopaipillas on the side with a squeeze bottle of honey.  My main question is why there aren't New Mexican restaurants all over the country.  Really, it's the best food going.  I missed the fam and was ready to come home, but I really wish I could just teleport to the Plaza every day for lunch.  Maybe breakfast too.  Sigh.

I finished all the pieces of Elizabeth and need to block and seam her and then knit the neckline.  I live in fear that this sweater is going to be tragically unflattering, so, like a rational and intelligent knitter, I'm pretending it doesn't exist.  Isn't that the proper reaction when a sweater you knitted at a gauge of >6sts/in might be unwearable?  I thought so. 

Instead, I've been concentrating on low cognitive demand knitting.  Socks.  There have been many socks in recent weeks, and my feet are happy.  I have thoughts about sweaters--heck, I even bought yarn for Am Kamin (talk about high cognitive demand knitting!), but socks are just about perfect right now.

We have the world's greatest houseguest at the moment, so life is good, and we even had a chance to go out to dinner thanks to her.  Henry has fallen hard (apparently the other day he said he was "snorkeling in the love pond"), and the dog is convinced her life will be this good forever.  Nobody is going to be happy when she goes off to the next rotation.  Plus, how often do you get to talk about socks while watching dumb tv every night?  Even poor Rhys is putting up with the yarn talk and enjoying her presence.  January will be all too short.

Photos at some point.  Promise...