The week went by...

And I didn't post, again.

Twist

I’ve mentioned my protégé Ann before, but this story involves her so I will tell more. Ann is one of my co-workers. She is one of the few who were always actively interested in my knitting. She was the only one who said, “Wow that’s cool. I really want you to teach me how to knit.” This was said for a couple of months when I finally said, let’s do it.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a lefty. I am such a lefty that I find doing many things with my right hand almost painful. Even when I try to do the fun “look how messy my handwriting is with my right hand” game, it hurts me. So, I was quite obstinate when learning how to knit and insisted on knitting left handed and turned everything around. This has caused me much trouble with some patterns and is generally a pain in the ass.

Ann is a lefty, but I did not want the curse of the pain in the ass lefty knitting to befall her, so I strongly suggested that she learn to knit right handed. This was quite comical. I tried a couple of times to figure out how to knit right handed with no success. Then we got my Vogue Knitting book out. I faced her and said, “Do the mirror image of what I am doing.” She looked at me like I was an insane person, and she looked in the book and figured it out. She made the Sophia bag as her first project. It’s beautiful. It’s made out of some Noro yarn or another.

Her second project was a garter stitch scarf. Her third project is this Wavy scarf from knitty.com. Wednesday, we were talking about how she still knits too tight. She had just restarted the project on bigger needles but was still saying how she had trouble getting at some of her stitches. She still had her old one on needles, so I picked it up and started knitting it. As I'm knitting, I notice that some of her stitches were twisted incorrectly. Now, this is something I've noticed after I pick up stitches, but I've never seen them knitted that way. I've never known how I know that they are wrong, I could just tell. Well, just being able to tell doesn't help anyone. I found this helpful video (scroll down to see it... it's under fixing mistakes). But, here's my still rendition of the video.

Well, shit... I can't find my camera. I'll finish when I find it....

Five hours later... I couldn't find it, so I just bought a new one (gotta love being out of debt, eh!!).
Thirty minutes later... My photos suck. I need either a tri-pod/remote control for the camera, a third arm, or someone to help me get the photos. Watch the helpful video.

Anyway... where was I? Her stitches were twisted. After watching her knit and looking at the results, we determined it was her purl stitch. On the same site linked above, we checked out the purl stitch and realized that she was wrapping incorrectly. Instead of wrapping over the needle, counterclockwise, she was wrapping under the needle, clockwise. Which, oddly enough gives you incorreclty twisted stitches. I'm sure there is a very clever, scientific reason for this, but I can't figure it. Knitting is one of the only things in my life that I just sort of accept. I don't know why a row of knit stitches followed by a row of purl stitches gives you nice little "V"s, it just does.

I finished one... now, where's that lace weight yarn?

I said in my last post that I was going to finish something this week or else...

This is Anu's satchel. She chose the colors, and I made it out of Knitpicks' Wool of the Andes. I will felt and post photos tomorrow. The pillows are for pre/post felting size compairsion.

My first Houston friend, Amanda, called me today. Not only is she my first Houston friend, she is my knitting sensei. I hadn't talked to her since May. It was great to hear from her. We have a date with the mid-town Houston farmer's market and some wool next Saturday. FUN FUN!!!.

Oh, I got new shoes today. I love them. I love Mary Janes. The lady at the store didn't know what I was talking about when I called them that, but they are Mary Jane's right? Oh, and I love the wedge heel.

When Bad Ideas Happen To Dumb People

Finally, I saw this today as I procured my new camera, 3 cds (Primus, Flaming Lips, and Death Cab for Cutie), 3 new DVDs (Batman Begins, Grosse Pointe Blank... a repurchase from VHS... my favorite.movie.ever, and season 1 of Lost), and one book of Sudoku.

Now, I understand that the cultural norms are a bit different here in Texas than they are in Virginia or Indiana; however, I don't know that there's any reason for this. And yes, I felt this was so unbelievably ridiculous that I put my camera together in the car and stopped next to the truck and took a picture. Look, things like this won't stop unless we educate people.

back home...

After receiving this message via IM, I have composed the following very long post: "You haven't blogged in a while - what's wrong with you?"

After arriving back home yesterday, I stopped by Carrabba’s for a delicious lunch. Now, there are Carrabba’s all over this great nation of ours, but the whole thing started in Houston. Now, someone once told me that I was wrong and that the whole thing started in Florida, but I believe my version of the story to be the truth especially since yesterday, after I finished stuffing as much penne in my stomach as humanly possible, the proprietor of the establishment, one ‘Mama’ Rose Carrabba, came over to ask how my meal was (that and the website verifies that the dudes in the commercials are from Houston). Anyway, this Carrabba’s, which is still owned by the Carrabba family and not by Outback (or maybe it’s owned by the Outback, but is run by the Carrabba family), prepares food that is vastly superior to the food at other Carrabba’s. I’ve been craving their pasta for about two weeks. You notice, I say their pasta because I don’t just want some Barilla with Prego like I normally settle for at home; no, I want this lovely al dente homemade tasting pasta goodness (I can not verify the actual origin of said pasta, but it tastes like the real homemade thing). I also specifically wanted a special I had a month or so ago which was not on the menu but was prepared for me after my cute-butted server put in the special request for me (he later said that what I had ordered sounded so good that he was going to order it for lunch). The fact that my request for penne with a light cream sauce, gorgonzola and asparagus was met indicates that this place, no matter who owns it, is not run by Outback. Figuring that I was on vacation for the day, I ordered a glass of wine. I ordered Marquis Phillips Shiraz from eastern Australia (the photo is of the company's logo) because I thought that I had heard of it before. Well, on my first taste, I knew that no only had I heard of it, I had consumed it before. It was an amazing, instant recognition. I just started drinking wine about a year ago, but gosh, I now understand the effect it has on people. I had it at Houston’s Tasting Room, which is a lovely little wine bar in the Uptown area (there’s one in midtown, too). But as soon as I tasted it, I remembered where I had it, who I was with, how much I drank, and what happened. I was with a bunch of folks who regularly attend the bar’s Saturday tastings and later that day had more with a person I have decided I just do not like (and about whom we will not speak). And after, I kept drinking various expensive wines and got drunker than I’ve been in years and was horribly hung over for the next 24 hours. I don’t know enough about wine to say what it tasted like in poetic, “cloves and earth” terms, but it’s spicy and would probably go better with something like steak than penne a la Homiquest. Yum.

I was returning from Chicago, where I spend the weekend with my best friend in the whole entire world. We did things that many would find boring, but that we find just fantastic. Those things are: eating and watching movies. We had two lovely brunches, one lovely dinner (well, I had two lovely dinners, but Jimmy John’s isn’t really the stuff of gourmet dreams). We saw two lovely movies and a third movie of which we shall not speak after the following paragraph. Two lovely movies: A History of Violence and North Country. We had brunch at M. Henry on Satruday and La Tache on Sunday. At M. Henry, I got a stack of pancakes with berries and mascarpone crème and granola on top. So good. I mean, so good. I also had vegetarian sausage because I completely dig it when places offer things like that. Sunday, I had waffles with berries and crème anglais. That was good, too. However, French waffles are somewhat crunchier than Belgian ones, but I got enough crème anglais to completely offset the texture difference (I asked for a ramekin of extra sauce… I really like crème anglais). Dinner Sunday was at Reza’s which, though tasty, was not quite the meal our brunches were. Friday, I got to see the baby in the hat, who has doubled in size and tripled in weight. She’s just the cutest thing ever. Luckily, everyone was understanding when I didn't want to hold the baby for more than a few minutes, and they don't think (or at least don’t tell me that they think) I am a horrible person and will never be a good mother. Besides, Anu likes to hold the baby enough for both of us. And the baby’s Mommy, Marie, was looking great and much more comfortable and well rested than last time I saw her. The baby’s Daddy was in Taiwan, playing with his tools.

The first movie, Stay, was a complete disaster of a movie. If you plan on seeing it, don't. If you still plan on seeing it, skip this paragraph cause it has spoilers. It had some of the most obnoxious cinematography with meaningless strange angles, unnessecarily poetic scene cuts, and trying-too-hard-to-be-wierd wierd camera effects. And it was just a pain in the ass to figure out. There were all these twins and triplets walking around identically dressed, but there was never an explination for their existance. Ewan McGregor (who is much less sexy doing an American accent) wore these way too short pants with ankle socks for the whole movie, and we were never told why. In the end, the whole movie was basically a dream. I mean the guy who dreamt it was awake, but he was dying, so it's effectively a dream. It was just a disaster.

I also went to Arcadia Knitting which was nice, but really doesn’t hold a candle to my yarn store in terms of volume of yarn in stock. Anu bought me four balls of yarn which I was given and told, “Knit me a scarf.” I knit the scarf in record time, but have no photos of it as Anu’s camera is broken and her phone camera is without proper phone-to-computer wires. I also can’t find anything about the yarn I used on the web, so I will try to get more details up later (I think I kept one of the labels from the balls).

A couple of other, random items.

1) I finally broke down and bought pants that fit this weekend. I was looking for jeans that fit, but came up short, so I got work pants. It’s strange, wearing pants that fit. I am quite aware of their presence on my body; whereas my too big clothes just sort of come along for the ride when I move around. Anyway, I think I like them.

2) I think I’ve given up my writing class. Why? Cause I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of it. What did I want? I wanted inspiration to start writing. And? And I realized I had to find that in me. I think I’ve found it and will post more once I’ve decided.

3) I’m going to finish a knitting project this week. Even if it is just one sock. I have too many projects going and haven’t finished one since the hat.

It pays to Discover the card that....

From an email I received today...

I wrote about my debt woes here, but I never gave the update: I am out of credit card debt. Been out for a couple of months. I also finished paying off my dad. It's like a 17% raise now that I don't have those payments. It's great. I can't even get into all the ways that it is great. It's just nice not to have to worry about it. It's nice to be able to buy a plane ticket to my parent's house for Christmas without paying my power bill late for two months. It's nice to be able to buy new work shoes cause my old ones were falling apart without waiting an extra month to refill my prescription. It's nice not to have to worry (I know I already said that, but I worried about it a lot).

But these people. "Keep using your Card!" Keep using your card because we miss charging you 20% interest on your balance. Keep using your card because we wrote this great law that Congress just passed making it more difficult to file bankruptcy after we help you fuck your life up. Keep using your card because our stock price is only up 11% year on year. Keep using it and will will give you a Cashback Bonus on all your purchases (granted the bonus is only 1 percent of what you spend, but it's still really nice of us to give you anything!!).

You know what else annoys me in the credit card industry? The freakin' store credit cards. You buy $15 worth of merchandise, and they say (and I know they have to say it, but it still bothers me... i don't bitch the cashier out cause I know it's not her fault), "Would you like to open a store credit card, it can save you 10%?" And I just look at them and say, "Do you know how much 10% of $15 is? It's $1.50. No, I don't want to save $1.50." Then they say something like, "Well, you also get special coupons in the mail." No thanks. Clothes at 25% per year...

Tonight, we rip

I've made a decision regarding midwest moonlight. I am going to make it smaller. As in fewer repeats per row. So, we have fun. We rip.

Step one: scarf.

Step two: cat toy.

Step three: ball.

Step 4: scarf in progress. Imagine the first photo about 2/3 its current size.

looking for help??

So, I should have never gone to the orthopedic doctor. First of all, I can not get used to how everyone around here wears cowboy boots, and I'm just supposed to think it's normal. Where I come from, a doctor wearing cowboy boots is just not cool and is a reason to leave and never come back. Not only did my doctor wear cowboy boots, he was wearing these scrubs that were just too small. Honey, give it up, you are 55, buy a large. I don't want to see that shit! Anyway, I get in, they take the obligatory x-rays (which really, I've decided, are just a billing device. "So, Kristen, it looks like your bones are ok" Oh really, that's great. That's actually why I came here. I just wasn't sure whether or not I was running around with a broken wrist. I mean, those things don't hurt do they?) and make me wait the obligatory 20 minutes. Then he comes in and touches the wrists, makes me flex them, does this hurt, does that hurt, blah blah.

The following conversation goes a bit like this: "Ok, we need you to get an MRI." What? "Well, we need to see the tendons and we can't do that with an x-ray." Well, why did you give me an x-ray then? "So that we could bill your insurance extra money." Oh, ok. "But we think that it's a problem with your tendons. I'm going to give you some Celebrex to take care of the pain while you are working." Ok. "So take the medication, get the MRI and come back so we can charge you $40 more and bill your insurance for $500 more." Wait, what do you think the long-term solution is? "Well, this medication should help, and we may give you cortisone shots periodically to take care of the pain." What? "It will help with the inflammation and the pain." But what about the things that are causing the problem, like should I wear a brace or something? "No, just take the medicine." And get shot up with steroids? "Yup, we can bill your insurance a lot for those."

So my options are now either 1) stop knitting and my wrists will feel better or 2) take pain medication daily and get shots of cortisone and they will feel better. I don't particularly like either of those.

3 Needle Ghetto Style

I'm making this out of this for Christmas for my most bestest friend in the whole world. Well, you know how things can get tight when you pick up stitches on a short base (this one is about 2 inches). Well, my wrists won't tolerate it, and I don't have any double pointed 10s. So, I use my Denise set to create the new, 3 Needle Ghetto Style of knitting.


Update: Just what makes 3 needle Ghetto style so ghetto? Well, there is nothing inherently wrong or ghetto in knitting with three needles. As you see in the above photo, however, these three needles have only two points between them. So, once I knit all the yarn from needle 1 to needle 2, I have to take the cap off one end of needle 3, place the needle tip from needle 1 onto needle 3 and replace 3's cap on needle 1. This slows a girl down considerably.

Oh, but it gets better. Yesterday, I brought my bag to work to show Ann. She commented that it looked a little small. I immediately enetered complete denail, oh no, it's a bit small, but not too small, whatever. I measured when I got home and saw that what should have been 16 inches was actually just under 12 inches. So, I'm thinking what's gone wrong? I substituted yarns, but they are the same weight. I mean, I understand a slight difference, but 4+ inches (difference of 1.667 stiches per inch in the pattern and 3.75 stitches per inch the way I was knitting)! What gives? I pull up the handy dandy pattern, and notice that the pattern calls for size 13/9mm needles. Oh, 9 mm not size 9 needles. Now look, I don't believe there is anything inherently wrong with the metric system, but this is just annoying. And it's confusion like this that really makes me wish that someone would just give up and get us all on the same footing.

Needless to say, I ripped it out and started over. I'm not giving someone a purse-sized satchel for Christmas. That's just wrong. Well, you could have held a small child in it, but now it's just big enough for an embryo, sorry.

Photo Op

I'm not going to type much because the Irish are in the midst of an epic battle against the first ranked USC Trojans. Anyway, here are some photos in lieu of typing...

We start with some sweet kitties!! Apache loves to sleep in this position. See the yarn on the floor by him? My apartment has been taken over by knitting.

Liam hiding in his kitty cave. The thing is about as tall as me and outfitted so the cats can play between the levels. Seriously, they are too fat to get in between levels. Oh well.


Works in progress are kept in this bin. This bin contains my knitting pride and joy. It also contains my knitting guilt due my inability to work on only one project at a time. There is also guilt at not being able to keep my four projects at a time rule. Or my five projects at a time rule. Or my six projects at a time rule. I now live in a knitting rule free zone. It's knitting anarchy at my house.


Moms' sock. Plain old stockinette. See heel flap on right. See 2x2 rib on left. Nothing too special (except the freakin' Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock).


I thought I would be really clever and try on my Mom's sock with its newly turned heel. Of course in doing so, I dropped about 10 stitches and have to figure out how to pick them up (I always get confused when there are wrapped short rows involving in the picking up).

A drawer of joy! Love my yarn!!!

Drama

I have a flair for drama. I can find it anywhere. Drama can exist in the drive through at Jack in the Box. Lots of times this drama is introduced and I use it for purposes of humor. Other times, it comes in, and I can do nothing but ride it out.

The fact that I am a crier doesn't help the drama. I tend to cry in the following circumstances: when I feel powerless, when I get frustrated, when I get angry, and when I have to have difficult conversations. This tendency to cry can make maintaining my image as a professional woman difficult. In the wise words of Martha Stewart (care of her reality show, The Apprentice: Martha Stewart), "Women in business don't cry." Well, something as simple as asking for a raise makes me feel powerless and is difficult, which can cause the tears to start flowing. I don't know where it comes from. I've seen my mother cry maybe twice in my life. My dad has cried, but only when something really bad happens (or when he's really happy... surprisingly, good things don't make me cry... I tend to jump around and get really loud instead). I hate that I cry, which probably makes it worse.

That's why when Cingular was a pain in my ass for three weeks, I cried (frustrated, angry). That's why when I talk to my bosses about my performance, I want to cry (difficult). That's why when I was stuck in a group with a man who annoyed the living crap out of me (well, that and he made me want to do him bodily harm by either tossing him out a window, in front of a moving vehicle, etc) during my first semester at Notre Dame, I cried a lot (angry). That's why last night, when my chiropractor's physical therapy assistant tells me that typing shouldn't hurt my wrists because my thumbs are really the problem and that I'm going to have to give up activities that stress my thumbs out (read: knitting) and does all this in a condescending/lecturing tone, I cry (powerless).

I've made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor to see what is really going on and will take it from there.

I Heart TIVO

It's almost pathetic how much I love it, but I do. I really, really love my TIVO. Love it. So last night, I was watching Grey's Anatomy, which I have decided, is the best show ever. Oh, for emphasis: Best. Show. Ever. Fun stuff. Anyway, there was a particularly witty line, but I'm not sure I heard it correctly, so I rewind to make sure I've heard right. I rewind the live tv, watch to the commercial and fast forward to catch up with the broadcast. Can you not see how this is life changing? And, I know, you (the non-TIVO viewer) are like whatever, that's not a big deal. Yeah, it's not a big deal like synthetic fibers weren't a big deal. People weren't sitting around actively pining for synthetic fibers, but once they were created, everyone was like: I dig it; I can wear nylons and they look like silk stockings, but I can afford them even though my husband works on a farm (or whatever). And then there was lycra which just changed lives left and right. Really, don't even get me started (FYI: I worked at a lycra plant for about 3 years).

Tonight, I have my second writing class. It's three weeks after my first writing class, but that pesky hurricane came along and cancelled the second one (last week was supposed to be a week off). I've not done the exercises. Of course, I can't fucking remember my mother's birthday, so I don't know how I can be expected to remember my writing exercises (I still haven't heard from her... she's going to break up with me). I've finally come up with a few things. 1) I am going to be an essay writer. I don't have the attention span for a novel. 2) These essays are going to be in the exaggerated non-fiction genre. I don't know that I am creative enough to write complete fiction, but regular non-fiction gets boring. 3) My goal for the class it to improve a post I wrote for the blog (but never put up) about Weight Watchers. Upon completion, it will be posted here for all to see.

The last question is: Kristen, what's your goal with all this writing stuff? Well, I don't know. I'd love to write for a living. I'd love to write funny critiques of TV shows and movies like they have on ew.com. Of course, I'd love to publish a book of my crazy little essays, but I'm not, you know, hanging my life's happiness on that or anything. So, we'll see. First, I have to convince myself that I write well (enough). From there, we'll see.

Finally, as my lunch break comes to a close, I must tell of my new office. I moved down the hall on Friday. My new office is groovy except the air conditioner makes a horrible noise. The noise falls between the categories of sound small mammals squealing in the air ducts and a fire alarms going off a couple of floors below.

terrible person

I'm an awful, horrible, selfish, bad bad person. I completely forgot my Mother's birthday. Even after SHE reminded me, I forgot. Not only did she reminded me, but I left myself a message at home on Wednesday to remind myself and still forgot. I've been trying to think of an excuse, but there isn't one. I just forgot. I sent her flowers this morning, but I'm sure that they reek of forgetful desperation...

I survived the week w/o knitting. I actually waited a whole week. Even on Friday when I really really wanted to knit, I didn't. Sorry for the lack of posting, but I was waiting patiently for my home computer to hook itself up, but it didn't. I finally relented last night. I will get the photo thing going soon.

Anyway, though I forgot her birthday, I remembered her Christmas present and started my Mom's sock. It's so pretty. I'm going to have a hard time giving it up. I keep trying it on to see how long it is, and I keep thinking how comfy it is and how well it would fit my foot. I also worked on my Ruffles and my Dad's interlocking balloons. I will post photos of the sock once my computer hooks up the camera (it's very slow and irresponsible).

It was lovely in Houston this weekend. We were finally liberated from the heat. People were running through the streets screaming and yelling: We're free from the oppressive forces of humidity and heat. Well, maybe that was only me. It's supposed to be hot again this week. Just in case we thought we lived somewhere like Virginia where they have quite pleasant falls, the weather is reminding us: No, you live in hell where it is hot, oppressive and you don't get to go outside from May through October.

Update: Why I love my mother..

The response to the e-card I sent my mother:

"Cute card, but you are NOT the worst daughter ever. I love you and think that you are practically perfect in every way! "

How I love my mom. I wish I could see her more.

Day 4

I continue on my week without knitting. I touched knitting needles today and did a purl stitch. They weren't my needles. Really, they weren't. I was sharing needles. No threat of diseases with this kind. Tonight, I will wind some balls and hope that I get a knot or two to untangle (who hopes for that... sick I tell you sick).

Last night I got my first lace weight yarn. I plan to knit a shawl with it. I am very excited. Which shawl? Who knows. It's Skacel something something laceweight ... I don't know the name. It's maroon. I like it. When I got home, I wound into a ball. No knots. I thought I was going to get one, but it was easy to untangle. I wasn't sure about the Skacel (and am still not, I've never even heard of this alleged brand), but whatever. I really want to lose my lace weight virginity to Lorna's Laces Helen's Lace, but I think its a mighty expensive gamble (what if I hate knitting shawls???).

Day 2/Day 3

And of the following alternate titles will be acceptable: "Give Me My Knitting Now" or "Why Is TV So Dumb Without Knitting?" or "Why Can't I Find A Hobby that Uses My Feet?"

Yesterday was painful. I was going to go to a movie, but I was so tired (stayed up late reading The Company ... good book). So, I watched TV. And wished I could knit. And told myself that my wrists were feeling much better, maybe I should just knit. Then told myself that my wrists feel better cause I've not been knitting and to take the week. I'm not bribing myself with chocolate yet, but I may have to start.

Tonight, I go to the yarn store (with my protege, Ann. Who has entered the realm of knitting obsession!!!). What a better way to distract myself from the fact that I am a knitting addict jonesing for knitting needles and wool than to go to a store full of yarn, knitting needles, yarn, knitting books and yarn? I think its a great idea. Like an alcoholic spending spare time at a wine tasting. Or a diabetic going to the chocolate factory for a tour. Or any other number of good ideas in that vein.

My first thought for tomorrow was: what a better way to distract myself than to go to Stitch and Bitch? Oh yeah, that's great, Kristen. You'll go there and what, watch other people knit? That idea has been vetoed. I will probably play with my TIVO.

2.5 days until Saturday...

Day 1

Intervention

I am not knitting this week. Why? Because my wrists hurt. Why do my wrists hurt? Because my hobby and my job clash. I was wearing my wrist brace at work last week, and one of my co-workers asked why. I explained the job/hobby clash, and he said, "Sounds like you need a new hobby." And I replied, "Nope, I need a new job." I can't decide whether or not this break is for a work week or a full week. Probably a work week.

So, its the first day. I've had to hide all knitting paraphenalia. Moved all the projects to a drawer. Moved all the magazines out of my direct line of vision. Books, gone. All I can do is blog and be amazed by the fact that I used to watch television without knitting. How could I stand it?

God Bless the Gag Reflex

Last week, I was making a phone call during my evening knitting binge. I had removed a stitch marker from my brother's hat version 1 and was holding it in my mouth. When my friend answered the phone, I started to make my astounding point and aspirated the stitch holder. My first thought was to swallow it, but my throat thought better of it. Then I tried a cough. No go. I was wearing my usual post-work/bedtime wear: a t-shirt and underwear and was wondering if I started to choke, would i have time to put pants on before running to a neighbor. So, I hang up the phone and do a deep cough and, just like in the movies, the stitch market flew across the room.

Hey Homiquest

Psssst. Homiquest, over here. What's that? Who are you? I'm your blog. What? I'm your blog. You are my blog and you are talking to me. Yes, and you are answering. Ok. Hi blog. Oh call me work.knit. Sure thing. Where have you been? Ummm, here and there. Are you sure? No. Where have you been? Nowhere. Why haven't you written? Dunno. Haven't felt like it. Just been hanging out. And how do you think it feels to be ignored for three days with no word. Sorry. So what have you been up to? Well, I started my Christmas projects in earnest. I made my younger brother's hat after a comical call home in which he tried to figure out the circumfrence of his head. And how did it turn out? Not so good. It was quite large. In fact, I have pretty big head. On top of that, I have big ass curly hair. And this hat was too big for me. So what did you do? Well, the first day, I hoped that it would shrink as it dried. But it didn't, so the second day, I tried to pretend it wasn't so huge hoping that complete denial would help the situation. And did it? Oh no, denial never helps: my ass isn't too big, the house isn't really that messy, David would look fine in a hat made for an elephent's head. Anyway, yesterday, I took it apart. I took it apart and was really pissed off at myself for not making a swatch. Doesn't every knitting authority advocate swatch making? Well, yes. But I've been making all these scarves lately for which gauge doesn't really matter. So I'm thinking: it's just a hat. A hat for a head the size of a basketball. You aren't helping. But, I made it again. I stayed up really late making it again. Here's the final result.

Why is it lumpy on one side? Oh, that's because my brother head, while not excessivly large, is slightly misshapen. Sorry, I bet it's hard for him. Yeah, it is. We don't really talk about it. I'm sorry. Sheesh! I'm just kidding! No, the ball winder is holding it up for the photo. Jerk. What else? Well, I started my mother's socks. And, the pattern says that it will stretch a lot, but it just looked way too small, so I took it off the needles to see if it would actually fit. And did it? Yes, well enough I guess. But, I'm going to make it slightly bigger. Remember the hat? Yes I do, but if the pattern stretches a lot, it's ok if I make it such that it streteches slightly less! However, I have to say, these size1 needles are taking some getting used to. Part of me wants to use the left over wool from David's hat and make my mom some "chunky" slippers. Oh, tube slippers, so I can avoid the whole heel part. Anyway, at least someone in the house likes size one needles and sock yarn...

Anything else. Oh yes, both Notre Dame and Virginia Tech won yesterday. Virginia Tech is so freakin' good! AND!!!! And? I got a TIVO. I am quite excited about my TIVO. I will get to watch its first recording on Monday (All My Children). That show is really dumb and you should stop watching it. Shut up. You are a blog. My tivo...