Challenge #2 and the TMI Quiz

I'm calling the Child's First Sock pattern Challenge #1, just for the record.

I have gorgeous pics of my progress, and lo and behold I can acutally knit a pattern (and it fits, oh my god!!). However, those pictures are on a deadish camera. Whose battery charger thing has gone into seclusion and can not be coaxed back into the light. So sad. But the good news is that I can knit a pattern, repeatedly, and it looks like it should. After I go back and fix a few funky stitches, but still, it can be done. Besides, what would my knitting be without some funky stitches?

And in reference to the dead camera, lucky me has another one coming today, just in time. My very own itty bitty camera. A camera that is not as big as my head, that has features I can figure out, and that does not require a camera bag larger than any purse I've ever owned (knitting bags do NOT count). Granted the Complex Camera is very cool and records to CD and stuff, but if after 3 years I still can't figure the damned thing out, it's time to officially hand it over to Tech Boy.

Challenge #2 comes in the form of Shedir, best seen here knit by Eunny. I'm using Elsbeth Lavold's Silky Wool in a chocolate color that I bought a few months ago. It's very similar to what Eunny used, it's even a similar color. Totally a coincidence. What's not a coincidence is that I'm using her pattern modifications. I have a pretty small head, so most hats are way too big on me. I'll be doing the braided cables for 3 repeats instead of 5, while trying it on to make sure I don't need to do 4 just in case.

The challenge part is here: 1.) I detest cables and 2.) I want to finish this by around noon next Thursday so I can wear it in the cold. So, speed knitting on something I don't enjoy (don't forget to toss in the knitting ADD). I'm working my zen here though and I will either love cables by the end of this hat or at least have a healthy respect for them enough to stay away.

PS...I have not forgotten about the Prairie Tunic! I just got my IK mag from Denise the other day (thanks D!!), and I'm even more in love after seeing the back of the top! Major drooling over here. The issue is, the Bamboo I bought is not going to work, and I don't like the way it knits up AT ALL. I've ordered the recommended yarn from The Knitting Garden, but it's on back order, and won't be shipped until probably next week. So I wait. In breathless anticipation.

And now for Too Much Information. I took this quiz out of boredom the other day. It says way too much, but I share damn near everything, so here, feast your eyes.

the Romantic

you chose BY - your Enneagram type is FOUR. "I am unique" Romantics have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive. How to Get Along with Me Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me. Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself. Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision. Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little. Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting! What I Like About Being a Four my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level my ability to establish warm connections with people admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor being unique and being seen as unique by others having aesthetic sensibilities being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me What's Hard About Being a Four experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved feeling guilty when I disappoint people feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me expecting too much from myself and life fearing being abandoned obsessing over resentments longing for what I don't have Fours as Children Often have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games are very sensitive feel that they don't fit in believe they are missing something that other people have attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc. become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce) Fours as Parents help their children become who they really are support their children's creativity and originality are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings are sometimes overly critical or overly protective are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Tragically Destined for Failure...Or Not?

I'm one of those people who pick up some hobby, look through books and find the coolest (read: most complicated) thing they could possibly create with said hobby, and then attempt to do it, all while still learning the basic techniques and throwing themselves into frustration when they can't figure it out. Stubborn and impatient, huh? Who, me?

Ha. That barely scratches the surface. Add fiercly independent, horribly indecisive, and easily frustrated, and you've got the start of my list of Damning Character Traits.

Thing is, I'm convinced I'm a prodigy of some sort. I'm brilliant at something, damn it. Oops, add semi arrogant to the above list. I just have to find what that thing is. By trial and error, of course.

The list of things I am NOT a prodigy at is long and boring. I've tried a LOT of things. For five minutes. Some lasted a little longer. Knitting and lifting seem to have lasted the longest. I actually get results from those things. Wouldn't call myself a prodigy of any sort with either, however.

This week I decided to tackle my nemesis: the sock. For the record, socks have previously kicked my ass. I know they're not hard, but my brain makes easy things seem difficult sometimes.

And reading two patterns at once tends to complicate your stitch count and screw things up so that your sock becomes big enough for a small child to crawl into. Watch out for that mistake. Only I would do that, of course.

Still, consider yourself warned.

Have I chosen a simple sock pattern? One would think I might actually LEARN from my mistakes and choose something easy with a little ribbing at the top, and plain stockinette all the way throughout. BUT NO!!! I had to flip through Knitting Vintage Socks, and choose something complicated.

I cast on Child's First Sock, as seen here completed by Grumperina. Not the easiest thing in the book, to say the least. But I've gotten through the first round of repeats (barring some dropped stitches angrily picked up) and things look good. It might actually fit. Someone. Somewhere.

I'm also using the Magic Loop technique. So yeah, throwing caution to the wind, yet again. Tempting fate. Daring the sock demons to eat all my yarn and throw back a wadded mess of expensive fluff. Bring it, I say. Bring it.

I have Addi's and cashmere. I can do anything.

Karma Police!

Arrest this girl...

She's vile and vicious, and while you're at it, call PETA.



Woman. Could you emasculate me any further? I am a dog!! I do not wear hats. Or sweaters for that matter, don't you even think it. I will gnaw on your toes while you sleep and poo in your bed when you're at work. And I growl at you until you take off this hideous monstrosity. Oh, god, you're getting the camera? I hate you. Oh fuck, now the cats are watching too. I will never live this down.




So Odessa is finito. And she's CUTE! I was too lazy to get a pic of myself, so I put the hat on Taylor. He still hasn't forgiven me. But I firmly believe that you should humiliate your dog at every opportunity. This one in particular is neurotic, so it's easy. He's trying to dial PETA as I type.

I used Rowan Cashsoft, and some beads from Renee, alternating dark brown and a light amber color, cause I like to shake it up and get freaky. And well, I don't like to be like anyone else. So there.

Hmm. Not as difficult as I thought it would be, that Odessa. Not much of a challenge for myself for the Knitting Olympics. Next time I'll try something bigger like a sweater. But I did learn something new and I did have to restring those damned beads three times, so definitely something gained in the process. Yes, I can be taught. Woot.

I'm kinda bored today. So here are some songs I'm loving right this very second:

Karma Police ~ Radiohead (hence the post title, which is pretty appropriate)
But It's Better If You Do ~ Panic! At the Disco
Such Great Heights ~ Postal Service

I am loving some indie rock lately. Is it too obvious?

Beautiful Disaster

Ah, a week of motivated knitting. Well, some moments anyway.

I finished Picovoli, finally. Washed, dried and blocked. It's cute, but it's still too short for my taste, so I'll probably rarely wear it. Not sure I'm prepared to call it a success because of some finishing issues on my part, but hey, it's done. Maybe I'll add a few inches to the bottom, who knows.

Caution: I'm rebelling and refusing to shower, put on makeup, do anything to my hair, even take off my glasses from scouring bodybuilding mags all day. Deal with it.

I'm gross, and I'm ok.






A close-up. Warning, boobs ahead.





Almost finished with Odessa as well. Really easy pattern that only looks complicated. And with brownish yarn and beads, also sorta resembles a bee hive. In my crazy mind anyway.

Exhibit A:



I have about 5 rows left on the decreases and then I will wear my little brown beehive with obnoxious pride. In 75 degree weather. Because I'm bold and daring like that.


For my next trick, I'll be attempting the Prairie Tunic from IK.

I bought some gorgeous red Bamboo yarn for the tank at Wild Fibre,




but after lots of contemplation I decided to just order the specified Jaeger yarn and know that I'll love it. Any comments on color before I order the Chili (red)? Phlox or Seaspray maybe? I love the bamboo...but...I just can't do it. Not entirely sure why, beat me for it later Denise.

I will also be trying out the Child's Sock from Knitting Vintage Socks. I confiscated Renee's copy and size 1 Addi's (omg, a size ONE?!!?) and brought out the yummy, drool-worthy Richesse et Soie.



I know I know. The yarn will probably pill. You don't have to remind me. But provided I can get them both off the needles, I will wear them until they fall apart. I swear.


Finally, in other news, my competition date is July 29th in Augusta, Georgia. This is in stone, no getting sick, no backing out. My friends Nicole and Kelly will be competing in the pro division, while I am but a mere amateur. I said screw the May show because 1.) I don't really care about it, and 2.) It's not the federation I wanna mess with anyway. I could definitely get there figure-wise, plenty of time, but then I won't have time to build for the next show. I'd rather rock out in July. Cause I'm gonna win, see. So I'm devising my building plan, and oh my god how I love to lift heavy. I can hardly wait. 10 weeks of building, followed by 13 weeks of running my ass off.

Good times, yeah, good times.

Women...oh, and the Day of Doom

I'm not really a fan of women. Generally I mean, not specifically. Salma Hayek, though, is exempt from any and all dislike of women. She is a force of nature. Unstoppable. And before you ask, yes I would...

I have no sisters. Well, step-sisters, but we have absolutely nothing in common (one has ten kids, the other is 8 years old, you do the math here).

Sure, as a kid all my friends were girls, because boys? Just...eww. Germs and sweat and dirt and GI Joes ripping the heads off my Barbies. Boys were rude and smelly. And blew up my dollhouse with their chemistry sets. That's what you get with brothers, and I have three. Blown up life-sized dollhouses. Literally, blown to bits. Except the roof, since it sailed about 50 feet into the air. But still.

As I got to middle school, I realized it's the girls who are actually the rude ones. They'll try to kick your ass just for smiling at the guy they like (but are not actually going with). We learn early what pouty lips and a certain look can do. And if you are the one wearing said look and lips, that chick who's glaring at you from across the hall wants you dead. Meet her on the playground when the bell rings, bitch.

I was lucky to have never gotten into a fight in school. But there were a lot of close calls because I was friendly to everyone, even while sporting my Metallica t-shirts, dyed black hair (cause yeah my black hair wasn't black enough already), and my oh-so-metal black nail polish. Girls usually hate "the girl who talks to everyone". Not that I'm a social butterfly, I just don't see the need to ostracize anyone because they're not 'just like me'.

The one girl who was most determined to kill me actually came to my house after school one day. She was mean looking and my little brother was terrified. He's a wuss, that one.

Instead of letting her nails leave permanent marks on my face and certain bald spots on my head, I got her a soda and we sat on the front stairs and talked. She soon realized that it was Bubba (given name, I swear to god) who sent me the "I like you, do you like me? check yes or no" note during English, and not the other way around. I told her even if I did like him, there's not a chance in hell I'd be interested, cause really...His. Name. Is. Bubba. Ya'll.

Even then I had standards. Aren't you proud?

So that's been my habit for most of my life. Make friends of anyone who thinks they don't like me. Unless I just don't care about what they think, which happens more now that I'm older. I'm still astonished when I run across the rare chick who absolutely detests me. I wonder what goes on in her head. For about five seconds.

Then I say, "eh, whatever", and usually something equivalent to "kiss my ass, bitch," with all the love I can muster, and the sweetest smile in the world.

Because there are few things I can tolerate less than superficial, bitchy women. And I steer clear of them like they might infect me and give me boiling, itchy, red sores with their diseased thoughts of, "Oh. My. God. That is sooooo last season!" and "Girl, if you even look at him....".

Honey, don't even. I do not care that much.

I've been wise enough though, in my increasingly older age, to begin cultivating meaningful friendships with several wonderful women who were carefully selected from a slew of applicants. I beat some of them off with a stick, I swear. I searched long and hard and finally found girlfriends who are not superficial at all (or I would have kicked ya'll to the curb, girls, don't doubt me, it's been done before).

They're all intelligent, independent, witty, funny, and determined. Yes, every one of them. With friends like these, who needs sisters right?

So for the dreaded V-Day of Doom...

This valentine is for my girls. I love every single one of you, for who you are and for who you are not. You are all perfect, special, and fantastic to me, and my life would not be the same with out you. *big hugs*

Knitting Olympics

I'm lazy. I'm slack. I'm forgetful. But I'm playing along.

I wanted to join the Knitting Olympics hosted by the illustrious Yarn Harlot, but I apparently let the Picovoli get to my head and I forgot. So I'm cheering from the sidelines and knitting along anyway. Seems some 4000 other people did NOT forget and get to officially be a part of the KO, but I can not count myself among their numbers, because my frontal lobe can only hold so much information and this piece slipped out along with my recipe for tofu Chocolate Chip Cookies (hey, don't knock it, they will kick your ass). Thankfully I wrote that recipe down...somewhere.

For my own personal challenge, I've selected Odessa, a super cute hat with beads. I do not need a hat, but I would wear this one anyway, because yes it's that cool. And I want to manage knitting with beads.

On a racier note, did you know that listening to Blackened (Metallica, ...And Justice for All album) can cause you to get a speeding ticket?! Who knew?

I love my Sirius radio because I get to listen to such a variety of music. I never thought it would cause me to break the law. Oops. Ok, ok, I got away with a warning. But that's because of my risque pink lipstick. And because I'm charming. But mostly because of the lipstick.

Oh. My. God. Ya'll.

I totally have to put on my Valley Girl accent now. Add in Southern twang where necessary.

OH MY GOD! YA'LL!!!

I totally just got a call from Main Street Yarns and like, they are so completely cool and nice and stuff, and um, they said that someone dropped out of Annie Modesitt's class in March, and seriously, oh my god, who would cancel a class with ANNIE! The GODDESS of Knitting (title bestowed by yours truly, but still)!! Anyway, someone canceled and I was FIRST on the waiting list, you know from last month when I went allllll the way to Athens and signed up in person? So, like, I am TOTALLY IN! I AM IN THE CLASS!!! WITH ANNIE MODESITT! OMG!!

Ok, whew. God I'm totally obnoxious. But I had to get that out, ya know?!

*drumroll*

I will be at this class:

Lovely Laces
Sunday, March 5. 1:00pm-4:00 pm
Annie will teach the basic theory behind knitting lace and will help students perfect their chart reading skills. Several lace panels will be knit and a more challenging lace pattern will be introduced.

And maybe this one if someone ELSE drops out (totally crossing fingers for a WHOLE day of knitting with Annie):

New Directions in Knitting with Color
Sunday, March 5. 9:00am-12:00pm
Learn how to read a color work chart in addition to changing colors within a row. Annie will also compare differing methods of carrying yarns in the back of the work.

These two classes are about things I want to do, but haven't had the guts to try yet, so I might have to bump someone off myself so I can get into the second class. Or maybe I'll just trip and break someone's needles and say "Oops, sorry, get out of the class now". Muahahaha.

Back to Athens in March! Woot!

Round and Round

Picovoli and I are no longer friends.

But that's not her fault. The blame lies solely with this knitter.

(So I tell myself, because yarn can not be blamed. It's inanimate. Most of the time.)

We came to blows yesterday over her length. I knit through the pattern, got to the picos at the bottom edge and figured I should probably try it on and make sure it's long enough. Not exactly. In fact, it barely came past ye olde belly button, and it rolls because it needs the finishing touches, so, er...no, not long enough.

So I decided that I was smart and crafty enough to figure out how to insert my needle a few rows back, rip out the picos and just keep knitting. I consulted the instructions in my handy Knitting Answer Book, and proceeded to be super crafty and smart.

Picovoli, it seems, would have me know that I'm no where near as smart as I fancy myself, and thus set out to prove that I am in fact an idiot and I could not count rows if my life (and that of said Picovoli, who almost got her ass frogged, ie. killed, eradicated, assassinated, executed, bumped off, forced to swim with fishies, ripped into a million pieces and stomped on repeatedly, disassemble number 5'ed, etc.) depended on it.

To put it simply, there was much cursing, flinging of yarn, dropping of stitches and the requisite wailing and gnashing of teeth. Which is really not good for your teeth, by the way.

After about an hour, I did prove victorious, though I have a feeling this is not the end of my love/hate relationship with the Picovoli. Don't get me wrong, I don't HATE the thing. I'm just ready for something new and I have some finishing issues.



I'm going to knit about 2 more inches to the length today and then do the finishing at the bottom and the arms this week. She seems a bit on the small side to me, but it is cotton, so maybe there's a stretch effect after wearing for a while.

On the positive side, the negative ease on the bust is just right with the *appropriate* undergarments on. I made the 32" and I'm a 36". Four inches of ease sure seemed like a lot, but it works out well.

And this is not where I work.



Can you tell I'm bored today? Jeez.


And this is not my new knitting bag from Lantern Moon.



It appears I have a bag fetish folks.

Weekends are Sweet

Lots of thrilling things this weekend!

First, I trashed my prescription for the drugs. I don't need that shit. Melatonin is perfect if I find myself lying awake, and the cats are responsible for waking me up every morning at 4 a.m., not anything else anymore. Thinking is good, sleeping is better. Crisis averted because I'm smart and junk.

Saturday, I kidnapped Denise and we made Nate drive us to Savannah for some yarn shopping, petting, and drooling.

We made haste to Wild Fibre...which is an awesome shop, and if you live anywhere within driving distance of Savannah, you should make haste also...




...where we met shop owners Jennifer and Tom (who are so sweet and helpful, really some of the nicest shop owners I've met).



Yes, a man behind the counter who knows about knitting and yarn and...and...and...it's enough to make your head spin in a "Wow, I'm so stunned and impressed and are we sure he's not available? Cause seriously, Denise would take him home..." sort of way.

Men who knit are sexy. Enough said. No offense to Jennifer. She is also sexy.



(see the beer can cozy?!?! you too can knit boys!)

100% bamboo is also dead sexy (like only yarn can be). At $4.60 per ounce, that stuff is to die for. As soft and shiny as silk. I could barely keep my hands off of it. I can definitely see knitting something small and delicate with it some time in the future. And I don't mean a hat, kids.




Sadly, I didn't buy anything for myself this time around. I got a few things for my next gift for the Secret Pal. She's gonna love the stuff I got her! And now I have incentive to go back to Wild Fibre...must shop for self! And I know exactly what I want...

Oh, and psst...my next small project will be Odessa with my one ball of Rowan Cashsoft and these pretty beads. I'm getting bold. Beads. And yarn. Be afraid.





In other news, I appear to be down to 17.6% body fat. I got my measurements done this morning, but I'm not so sure I believe that number. I mean, I've been doing most of what I should be doing for the last four weeks, but I've also been incredibly slack. I have been doing cardio though, so maybe that's the answer. My eating has been at about 90% on. So in four weeks I'm down 1.5%. Well, if my goal was half a pound per week, and that's about half a percent each week, then I guess that's right if you add in the slacking.

Funny, it doesn't look as great as I thought it would. But what it does mean is that I can totally be 15% by March. And 15% does look good. Not sure why I think that's such a great number, but 15% is it. I think it will be a good maintenance percentage.

I had such a great run this morning. Went over to the island to run on the beach, but the tide was up, so I ran along the sidewalk instead. Listening to my running mix on the MP3 player, feeling the cold ocean breeze and just loving the sunshine. There's nothing like it. At one point I found a little stretch of sand, and I walked out to it and stood there gazing out over the water, the clear sky and the boats and I just breathed. I stretched and breathed some more. There are few things in life more perfect than that moment. It's what I love about the water...it's something that makes me feel so calm, peaceful, and happy.

One final word...can we please bring Janet and her boob back to the Superbowl? Paul McCartney (last year) and the Rolling Stones (this year) just do not do it. Where's the excitement? Where's the relevant music? Football is boring. We live for the half-time, and we deserve good half-time entertainment. Next year, I want the White Stripes. Of course.

(Oh, and yay Hines Ward!!! We went to college together and shared a few classes. Go Dawgs!)

Ugh, February

Crazy Aunt Purl cracks my shit up.

She says:

February is funky.

You may think it's because we're in the doldrums of winter, or because February contains Valentine's Day (a.k.a. "the day when I can only assume the rest of the free world is getting lucky and I am watching a CSI re-run and eating microwave popcorn for dinner hate you hate you.") But it's really a planetary issue.

Listen, when Mercury is in Uranus (HAH HAH HAH) we all feel a little uncomfortable in our private parts. Lots of surprise communications. A full moon on the 13th, with Venus un-retrograding and Jupiter humping through the zodiac. Ya'll. There's just a lot going down in the stars for this, the Short Month To Crazy.

Advice to all signs: Chocolate goes great with red wine.

LIBRA (Sept. 23 - Oct. 23)
I'm so jealous! All the planets are lining up for Libras this month, first, there's Mars Moving into your Hot Mama house, and ya'll have a full moon in your Shiny Happy House and Venus is un-retrograding just in time to hang out in your house of Big Pimpin' ... now that's Astrology Gone Right. Go ahead and indulge in that post V-day red velvet heart full of chocolates. Feel smug. Your hard work last month is beginning to pay off, and the rewards are part of the goal!


I hope she's right (not that I believe in this stuff, ya know).

But I get the feeling she hasn't met this Libra yet.

I'll take the Shiny Happy House though...


And while I was at it, I looked up my Yearly Zodiac thing and found this:

DRAGON:

January 31, 1976 to February 17, 1977 (fire - read: look the fuck out)

The Dragon is one of the most exotic and flamboyant of all Chinese astrological signs. Dragons are born leaders and masters of ceremonies. They are idealists, perfectionists, aggressive and determined. (some of that might be a little bit true)

A person born under the dragon is usually fashionable (er, does not giving a shit qualify as fashionable?) and can adapt to many different styles of life. Using their keen sense of imagination, Dragons are forever dreaming up fresh schemes and ideas for new adventures (which are mostly futile <- not my comment, but omg how true!). Unfortunately, they often drive their friends crazy with their "wild" schemes that usually lead to nowhere (can only comment on the driving people to want to choke me...yes, true).

On the good side however, Dragon-types are also surrounded by good fortune, which saves them from making major mistakes (that explains a lot). They are well suited to careers in the theatre, or any place that gives them a leading role (me? attention whore? never).

Although they have the potential for making lots of money, they spend it lavishly on their projects (*cough* yarn *cough*). Dragons are not well suited to growing old and losing power, they lose their temper easily (erm...yeah, no comment).
Women who are born under this sign are usually surrounded by admirers and very popular with the opposite sex. They are seldom disappointed in love.

I would know nothing about the last two statements.

One of Those Days

Phil: Do you ever have deja vu Mrs. Lancaster?
Mrs. Lancaster: I don't think so, but I could check with the kitchen.


Happy Groundhogs Day and junk.

Bleh. Think I'll rent the movie tonight and be irritated with Phil.

But at least I'll have a beer! Or a protein shake maybe.

Oh, and Denise has proclaimed herself President and Charter Member of my fan club. Who knew there was a fan club?!?! I can't imagine why there would be a club of all things. My only redeeming qualities are my extreme nerdiness and love of Diet Dr. Pepper.

And a Picovoli update. I'm on the 3rd repeat of the decreases for the waist. Maybe I have enormous boobs or something because when I put it on, I'm not quite to the waist yet...




Well, at least it will be flattering in some respects. Oh wait...forget the boobs part. Maybe if I tried it on with a normal bra and not a sports bra things would look right!! *grumble*

Musical Therapy

Today I was browsing Rhapsody, cause I love it and I subscribe to it, so I may as well listen when bored (aka Focused) at work.

A ton of songs, like these (especially these), made me smile:

Enjoy the Silence - Depeche Mode
Wish You Were Here - Incubus
Walking With a Ghost - White Stripes
Ring of Fire - Social Distortion version
Falling to Pieces - Faith No More (yes I have an old school crush on Mike Patton...shut up)
Love Song - 311 cover of the Cure song (easily my favorite song of all time, and can I marry Nick Hexum yet? please?!)
Denial Twist - White Stripes (yes more)
Black Math - White Stripes (still more, shut it)
Glory Box - Portishead
Angel - Massive Attack
Pure Morning - Placebo

And the one that made me laugh?

Roses - Outkast (she's the reason for the word 'bitch'...love it!!)

I love Hump Day!

Clarity...I think

I finally saw a doctor yesterday for my insomnia. It's not something I really talk about because it's so intermittant that's it's almost not worth mentioning. My mom suffers from it too, but I think it's stress related.

My worst ever bout with it was last year when I was dieting down for a competition. I got very sick and could not run because my asthma plus a deep cough and a treadmill pretty much equal death. So I got some diet pills from a friend and took them for a few days.

I became a crazy person (a lot more so than usual, and my usual craziness is not real, mind you but can be attributed to my extreme goofiness). Those stupid pills caused me to shake all over, have heart palpitations, and made me stay awake at night in tears because I was SO tired and couldn't sleep and I was terrified that my heart was going to burst.

Yeah, that was loads of fun. I flushed the pills down the toilet and I never looked back. I wasn't able to compete, but I didn't die, so I still call it a win.

This most recent problem is anxiety/stress related. The nurse ran some tests, many seemingly unnecessary but whatever. Doctor's diagnosis? I'm disgustingly healthy and people should hate me. And I'm way too stressed/anxious/freaked out/(add your own) for my own good. He prescribed me some pills. Yay, more pills. And told me to remove stressful things from my life if I could.

I went to GNC and got some melatonin instead of filling the prescription. I'll fill it if the melatonin doesn't work. I slept for, oh, about 14 hours yesterday. Peaceful sleep. No stupid dreams, no stupid thoughts, no anxiety. I woke up for dinner and a movie and to check my email and then went back to bed.

This morning, I removed stressor #1 from my life. I did the unthinkable. I removed myself from the things in game (EQ2) that I was responsible for, sent a lovely mail saying goodbye, and uninstalled the game.

I'll probably play another RPG again in the future, but I can't say what yet. Right now, I'm knitting and working out and focusing on my real life. And probably watching a lot of movies.

So Jealous

Ok, so I used to act. And I loved it. It scared the hell out of me, but I still loved it.

It's the sort of thing that literally makes you pull every possible emotion you can feel, as intensly as you can feel it, and basically throw it up and arrange it on camera for everyone to see and critique. When done well, it feels amazing. When you screw up, it's devastating. You work so hard to connect to everything you have and when it doesn't come across, well...it sucks. Life is kinda like that too, I guess.

I took classes from a professional acting coach, and in one of my classes was this gorgeous Indian girl named Noureene. Crazy talented, and gifted in all the areas I had to work extra hard at.

Which is probably why she was on Numbers this week, and I was not.

That, and I never bothered to move to LA because I didn't want to pay to park at the grocery store (OMG that's fucking ridiculous!!) and deal with sleazy agents/casting directors/Hollywood types. Seriously, nothing is free in LA. And there are earthquakes, wild fires, mudslides, Santa Ana winds, smog, and crazy people. I would have loved it. Maybe.

Anyway, congrats to my stunningly beautiful friend Noureene.



It could have been me. I'm just sayin.

Stop Me, I'm Crazy

My best friend Sasha called me yesterday. She's one of the most fun people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. We were sorority sisters and then roommates at UGA, in a big loft room living above truly crazy people who had their parents buy the condo we shared AND give them allowance money to blow on beer every week, while Sasha and I worked two jobs and busted our asses to afford our rent and cars. She's half Puerto Rican, half German, and full blooded vegan/hippy/liberal-Republican/wild child. She's quite the anomoly, and this is why I love her.

She called to ask the most random of questions: would I sky dive with her for her 30th birthday, and then go smoke some weed. My immediate reply was, "Call me for the weed". But, after further consideration, I don't see why I shouldn't jump from a plane with nothing to catch me if my parachute fails. Fear of heights? Pish posh. I can surely get over that, right?

Can I have the weed before we jump? Please?

On second thought, with my luck the jump would go smoothly until time to pull the cord. I'll get a bug in my throat and be so distracted that "EW! Bug in my mouth!" is all that consumes me, and I'll plummet to the ground in a very ugly fashion. And still have the damned bug in my throat. And probably some grass too. I realize this is a fairly irrational fear, and that's what makes me occasionally (really, really) neurotic. I use it as comedy. Work with me here.


Oh! This is Picovoli, in progress. I've finished just one row past the sleeves and I think she looks pretty good so far. The yarn is so soft and easy to work with, and I love love the color. I'll be working on it today to get some shape into the bust so I can try it on and see if it fits! If it doesn't fit, there will be much cursing, ripping back and adding increases (along with the requisite wailing and gnashing of teeth). If it does fit, I should be finished in another two weeks.



While working on this at lunch yesterday, the sweet looking lady next to my table took interest. I always wonder what people think when they watch me knit in public. It makes me a little self concious, really. I forget that knitting at your restaurant table is not quite normal behavior, so I'm checking my teeth for salad bits, my shirt for globs of dressing or diet coke while simultaneously wondering, "Do I look like hell today? Did I get dressed in the dark? What the hell are they staring at?!".

Then I remember. I'm a knitting freak invading their comfortable lunch space. And they are fascinated and afraid.

So this woman gets up from her table and walks over to me. I'm fully aware that I have two pointy objects to defend myself if required. She asks if I'm knitting (no, I'm trying to start a fire!), and then wants to see the pattern I'm working on. "Ok, sure, fine," I think, "she's just curious." Then she says the dreaded six words, "Do you knit for other people?". All I can think is "Oh gods, this woman wants a knee length fair isle jacket in tiny itchy mohair!!". So I cautiously replied, "Not really". She smiled and handed me her card and explained that she's opening a doll shop down the street and wanted to know if I would want to knit doll sweaters and jackets.

I don't really do dolls, per se, but it's something to consider. At least it would be fast knits, maybe two hours each, and maybe some money, not that I care about that.

And thank god she didn't ask for a fair isle sweater. I might have cried. And there's no crying in knitting!

All these are totally true...

I swear.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Melanie!

1. The international dialling code for Melanie is 672!
2. Melanie is only six percent water.
3. On average, women blink nearly twice as much as Melanie!
4. Melanie will always turn right when leaving a cave.
5. Long ago, the people of Nicaragua believed that if they threw Melanie into a volcano it would stop erupting.
6. In Chinese, the sound 'Melanie' means 'bite the wax tadpole'!
7. Only one person in two billion will live to be Melanie!
8. Tradition allows women to propose to Melanie only during leap years!
9. Olympic badminton rules say that Melanie must have exactly fourteen feathers!
10. A cluster of bananas is called a hand and consists of 10 to 20 bananas, which are individually known as Melanie!

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Minor Corrections:

1. Actually it's 912, but whatever.
2. Probably not entirely safe in order for me to keep living.
3. True, except when I have something in my eye.
4. Totally true. And probably right off a cliff.
5. Well...yeah, cause see I was a virgin in a past life.
6. I do often bite wax tadpoles.
7. Absolutely true. I'm that super cool.
8. Wow, I'm going to be lonely. But maybe still cool.
9. No comment on the presence or absence of feathers.
10. Have a bite!

Sunday is for Losers

Ok, so I don't have the check yet, but it's coming on my next pay day. I love "you kicked ass this year, here's some money" bonuses. It's enough to go toward a house or car down payment. It's very rewarding to be thanked for the months you worked two jobs and stayed late to make sure things got handled properly. My boss is great, and I'm not just saying that!

Sundays are odd sometimes. They often remind me of being a teenager, when on weekends I was She Who Cleans the House, and my parents were They Who Mow Three Acres and Attempt to Keep Plants Alive. My brother was affectionately called He Who Doesn't Do Shit, and we all tried to coexist and keep from getting pissed off and stomping around the house. My step-father is especially adept at stomping. But he is easily subdued with an appropriately timed glare, followed by sharp pointy things emanating from within that glare. I am especially adept at said glare.

Waking up to the awareness of it being Sunday causes all types of reactions for me. Sometimes I spring out of bed and immediately start cleaning. Clothing optional. Sometimes it's with great vigor that I clean, and sometimes it's with a heavy sigh and growing irritation that I'm the only one doing the cleaning. Sometimes I wake up and say, "Life is too short, I'm going to knit! And read! And watch TV! And run!". And there is no cleaning, only fun things. I like those days. Maybe I should get a maid.

Sundays also remind me of summers spent in the back yard picking blueberries. Our house had a huge backyard, and in it were pear trees, cherry trees, and about ten blueberry bushes. I was charged with picking the berries before they were eaten by the birds, then washing, packing and freezing them until some unknown date when they might maybe be used in some pie or muffins or something. Needless to say, more packs of frozen blueberries were used as emergency ice packs than actual baked goods.

Regardless, I picked them. And I dragged He Who Doesn't Do Shit along so I didn't have to suffer alone. This usually led to arguments about who got to pick the smallest bushes, and who ended up picking more blueberries. It also sometimes led to chasing each other through the yard while throwing the blueberries as hard as possible at each others heads. If I told you that I have terrible aim, and my brother played baseball and could throw a berry hard enough to leave a bruise, you could probably guess who won most often.

However, when I was being an especially sore loser and was covered in little red marks thanks to He Who Doesn't Do Shit, I would make a little blueberry paste. I'd chose about 30 fat ripe berries and hide in the bathroom while mushing them and getting a nice juicy blue paste to form, and then when he least expected it, I'd walk up behind him and rub as much of it on his face as I could before he tried to turn and do the same to me. I usually got a nice face full of mush too, since he's faster and stronger than me (yes, still).

And I often wonder why we still have such a childish relationship with each other. Sometimes it's all I can do not to chase him around the room and tickle him until he cries when I catch him. Of course, his children would be shocked, so I refrain. But he knows I could. And that's why, no matter how many fights we had as kids, I'm still the winner. Oh, and cause I'm older and he can't catch me in age. Still one up. Yeah.

Can you say LOVE?

I went shopping (online of course) during lunch today and came across Interweave Knits 2006 preview site.

I must make these two tanks now. MUST! NOW!



My shoulders would be so kick ass holding up the straps of the brown one.




And I would totally wear the pink to bed. Or out. Whatever. I just want it on me. Now people, now.

I think I seriously have to work on my patience some day. Like, some other day. My patience level is the size of an atomic particle. Way too small. When I get something in my head that I must have, dear gods don't make me wait. I'll tear myself up inside for that gratification. It eats at me. I can't get it out of my head. My credit card knows this well. It (read: they) hide from me when I start to twitch for yarn. And Ann Taylor Loft. Oh damn. My email has a Loft advertisement in it...

Er, where was I? Oh yes. My credit cards. Well, my credit rating is actually phenomenal. I really don't buy more than I can afford. Unless I must have it NOW. And besides, I just consolidated everything but my car payment the other day. Wow, look at all the extra money I have now!

Oh. But I have to save for a house and a new(er) car. The hybrid kicks ass. Love it, will drive it until it dies. And it has the added bonus of having my name (MINE!!) on the title. The Jeep (my jeep wishes it was this hot, by the way)? Near death. And ugly as hell. And I have to drive it twice a week AND park in front of my office. I'm not vain or anything, but getting out of that dirty faded green machine with a belt that screams and brakes that screech? You just can NOT be hot in that thing, no matter what you have on. Not that I have anyone to impress, I'm just sayin.

On Friday, I'll show you how awesome I REALLY am...there's a check to prove it!

Home Sweet Home

Broad Street, Athens, GA.



God I've missed Athens. It can be such a shiny happy place to be. There's the Taco Stand where I had lunch with Karen (on the right, yellow sign, yummy pseudo-Mexican, best burritos in town).



Isn't Karen lovely showing off her booga bag? She's very colorful, and it's very fitting!





Karen surprised me on this visit with this:



Her VERY FIRST knitting project! She's working on a sampler scarf where she's trying out all kinds of new techniques! I'm so proud!! Ok, this seriously makes the 10th person I've inspired to knit. It's so exciting to have another thing to share with so many of my friends!


I spent most of lunch staring out the huge windows that overlook North Campus. So many memories. Some good, some bad, some irrelevant. In my heart, it's home, no matter what the memories might be.

It's the first place I ever really lived by myself. I grew up here...not in years, but in spirit.

It's the the place where I got my first tattoo. Oh, and the second one too. I waved to Devon (my super hawt tattoo chick), but she was working on someone and I didn't want to take an unwilling stranger's photo. Especially not one with their ass in the air.



It's the place where I learned to love a good froo-froo coffee drink. Hot Corner Coffee is the shit, ya'll.



And it has lots of cute young people working on important things and listening to their iPods while drinking hot frothy goodness.




It is also the place where I got so completely drunk that I couldn't get up until 6 p.m. the next DAY (sparing you the photos, cause, eww). I was lucky to live through that night. The next day my gay friend Jude, who witnessed my degradation, called me up and made me eat (good Jude, good) and then took me shopping (better Jude, better!). We went to Junkman's Daughter's Brother and tried on wacky clothes and made each other laugh til we hurt. He kept handing me these kinky leather outfits and 5 inch spiked heels, but, well I'm pretty sure he was gay. I think. But I digress....

On the way out of town, we stopped at Main Street Yarns in Watkinsville, GA. Oh. My. God. That place is huge! And they carry everything you can think of. Yes, even that. And that too. And there were people sitting around knitting everywhere you went. It was a beautiful thing. I almost cried. I signed up for Annie Modesitt's classes in March. I am meeting her, damn it. And learning hopefully. I'll probably just stand there for three hours stunned and excited and flabergasted that she's standing in front of me talking. Hmm...yeah I definitely see me making an ass of myself here.

Dark Skies, Black Yarn

It's about to start raining. And I am driving/riding for 5 hours tonight, all during a thunderstorm. Yay.

Maybe, if there's enough lightening, I can knit too...



Today I opened my mail box to this lovely package!



Oooh Elann, sometimes I really love you. I had almost forgotten that I had yarn coming. Ok, not really. I'd been checking the mail relentlessly for days. Sometimes several times a day. Like the mail actually comes SEVERAL times a day. The justification in my head was, "Oh, maybe I overlooked it". Overlooked it? Right. Cause it only takes up the ENTIRE mailbox.


A closeup, with the requisite dog hair. Cause that's how we roll.



In an apartment with FIVE animals, everything I own has some sort of animal hair on it. And I'm allergic to all of it. I swear, once my beloved animals have moved on, there will be no more.

Until I go to a humane society with a friend and MUST come home with the cutest little thing. Or they walk up to me all on their own. I call that animal karma. They cross my path, look all cute, I take them home. Their sixth sense tells them I'm a good kitty/puppy mom. Or that I'm just a big mush who can't resist their fur even when it makes me sneeze. Yes, yes I'm a sucker.

Anyway, the soft shiny goodness of Lara will have to go into my stash box...er...bags....er...area (I really need to organize that stuff!) for a while. I'm still waiting on my Addi Turbos to arrive so that I can start Picovoli. I've been saying I would start this thing for a good 3 weeks now. But I'm always waiting instead. Meanwhile things like 1930 (see the black Lara directly above...YUM) are sitting on my desk, staring at me, begging to be knit. And now I have the yarn for it too. Maybe I'll just take a ball with me and see how it swatches. Ok, I think I just got a little too excited about yarn.

I need a twelve step program, people.

I do have a plan, see. Picovoli comes first, 1930 next and the project after that is one of about 10 things. To knit out of order would just be reckless. Oooh. Reckless Knitting. The rebel in me just shuddered a little.