Our Love Was So Fleeting...

The first pair of socks I ever knit died today. Holes. One in each heel. I am so sad. I have the sneaking suspicion I need to moisturize more if I want my socks to last. Being the first pair I knit, I suspect they were a little too loosely knit for something that gets the abuse of being walked on all the time. Even so, they were good socks, great socks, even - and now they are gone. Forever.

It is a sad day, and the only possible remedy for my heartache?

More sock yarn.

Sock of The Ages

Finally, finally the Earl Gray socks are done! I would have put them on and done a little dance in them, but they aren't for me.



These socks were ridiculous to complete, not because they were hard - it was a lovely and straightforward pattern. No, it was because I kept losing things. Repeatedly. First, I lost half the pattern while waiting for a movie and ended up with my first half sock on stitch holders and me casting on for the second. Then, I lost a needle at the park, so I put the second sock on stitch holders so I could do the heel flap on the first, since that only needed two needles. At one point I misplaced all of my stitch markers and ended up with a small Dora the Explorer charm holding my place. Almost finished my second sock, I hopped into the car, headed to my mother's house, and pulled out my sock to discover I had misplaced a needle again. Luckily my Mom knits, and I stole one of hers. I managed to limp along to the finish line, with four mismatched needles.

No More Nachos Before Bedtime....

So I had this weird dream last night. Which isn't weird part, I have weird dreams all the time - my brain is a dangerous neighbourhood and shouldn't be explored alone after dark. Or in a car with really nice hub-cabs. (I once had a dream that blended Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds and The Wizard of Oz and the only thing in colour were the wings on those damn flying monkeys. They were purple. But I digress. )

This particular dream involved an old high school boyfriend, who according to my subconscious, was flying to Calgary to become a rodeo clown. A large group of us from high school had gathered in a pub for the going away party (I am still unsure why we had all traveled to this party - apparently he is a very popular guy.) While the party was in full swing, some drunken patrons decided to pick a fight with the guest of honour - because "clowns need a good beatin' ". Now that I am awake, I am not sure I disagree - but at the time it raised righteous ire in our group and the dream quickly degenerated into some sort of 80's video street gang rumble scene - bad bandanas, stilted choreography and all.

I know he did actually fly to Calgary recently, because Facebook told me so, and Facebook never lies. I sincerely doubt it was to become a rodeo clown. I hope not, at any rate, because clowns are seriously creepy. I am not the only one afraid of the crazy rainbow hair and too large shoes, either. A quick jaunt around Google comes up with dozens of sites devoted to the clown menace. Which made me wonder - were clowns always creepy, even before Stephen King? Did Mr. King tap into some deep seated clown fear that snaked through the North American subconscious or did he just ruin clowns for the rest of us?

(By the way, did you know if you plug subconscious - incorrectly - into the Merriam Webster online dictionary to get the correct spelling you get this as a suggestion. Really? Does that seem close at all?)

Oh How You Break My Heart

One of our fish died today. The medium sized orange platy with the white belly. This is very upsetting. I feel angry and betrayed, as though the poor little fish died just to spite me. See, I had this theory, this superstition if you will - I figured as long as I was diligent about cleaning the tank, re-arranging the rocks and plants so they never tired of their surroundings, and buying them food that cost more than they did, the fish would reward me by living a long and productive life. That dream is now gone and I feel bereft. The little plastic castle will never be the same.

We will miss you Lola...

...or was that Charlie?

The Tradition Continues...

You will be pleased to note on this fine Thanksgiving weekend that although the world may become more modern and complex, lacking the grace and stateliness of our fore bearers that some traditions - institutions, if you will - remain eternal.

My four year old daughter brought home that icon of elementary school artwork, the pinnacle of holiday decor...

... the turkey hand.

Tomatoes!

After a million days and nights worth of rain, we finally have tomatoes!

Eight is Enough

I was cleaning the tank today, like a good little fish caretaker when I noticed something rather surprising.

Two new fish.

I know they are new additions because: a) I can count, and b) they are very, very small. Although, they are actually quite large for babies, which means they have managed to hide from me for probably a couple of weeks now. A pretty impressive feat considering how much time I spend peering at the tank. Seriously. Even the fish, with their brains the size of a lentil, are somewhat alarmed by the amount of time I spent staring at them. Of course, what choice do I have, with them just dropping babies into my lap, willy nilly? It's not like they announce they are expecting with little baby shower invites and maternity tops from Old Navy. They just leave whatever babies who manage to avoid being eaten and expect me to feed, house and keep them in little plastic castles for the next few years.

And do you think they ever say thank you? Ha!

You will be pleased to note...

... the mystery has been solved and the peppers are both sweet AND hot! It's a miracle! Actually, the real miracle is that they finally ripened. I was beginning to get bitter and resentful at how long Mother Nature felt it could jerk us around with half ripened vegetables. Tricky bitch.

I Am Easily Amused

These fish have taken over a large portion of my life. I realized this once I hung up the phone after an hour long, long-distance call with my mother, where we discussed the relative merits of the fish we had brought home, and which breeds would be most compatible with both them and the size of tank we have.

An hour.

Complete with me on the laptop googling fish breeds and my mother with her "Big Book O' Fish" on the other end, spelling out latin names. This wasn't the first hour long conversation, either. It wasn't even the second. It's good to know the crazy runs straight down the maternal line.

[caption id="attachment_279" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="scary mermaid Dora"][/caption]

So far I have talk to fish people at pet stores, done hours of research on the internet, and changed my mind a dozen times. I have stared at the tank, observed the fish behaviour, and psychoanalyzed creatures with brains the size of couscous. All so I could decide the tank and it's inhabitants are just fine as they are, and it was time to leave well enough alone, we wouldn't want to tempt fate, why ruin a good thing, and other such axioms.

For now, anyways.

[caption id="attachment_278" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="totally awesome pirate ship, dude"][/caption]

If These Things Eventually Take To The Streets...

... killing everything in their path, I do apologize.

I decided this year to do some container gardening on the balcony. Never one to do something small when it can be done bigger than all get out, I planted three types of tomatoes (regular plain old, cherry and yellow), three types of pepper (orange, green and some sort of cherry variety that is either sweet or hot - I've forgotten), zucchini, cucumber, cabbage (not my idea - blech), and rainbow swiss chard. I wanted squash and eggplant, but I was brought back to reality vetoed by someone with no sense of grandeur (who also apparently wants to sit on our balcony).

So, this is the tomato tree:

[caption id="attachment_272" align="alignnone" width="224" caption="soon we shall take over the world..."][/caption]

This thing is taller than me. It is huge. Gigantic. It might be the most fabulous thing ever, if it ever grows a tomato.

I do have two cherry peppers, and if they finish ripening, I can figure out if they are sweet or hot. Preferably in some way that doesn't result in a Lucille Ball moment.

I Think I Will Have The Fish....

So we have fish now. They are small and orange and apparently endlessly fascinating to all members of the household, both human and furry. I am not kidding - these fish are now the topic of several conversations a day. For instance:

**B.B. - "I think the rocks are artfully arranged now, you can probably stop. It looks good, really good. Okay, your hand is beginning to shrivel up, don't you think it is time to stop. Maybe? IT DOESN'T NEED ONE MORE ROCK."

Me - "Just a minute, I'm not done yet."

***

Me - "Now now, if you get to have the shipwrecked pirate ship with real rocking action -the best technology 1973 had to offer - then Sweetpea gets the Dora Mermaid figurine."

B.B. - "Have you seen that thing, it is so ugly."

Me - "Yeah, well so is the pirate ship and both of them are cluttering up the natural beauty and classic lines of my carefully arranged river stones, so deal."

B.B. - "That ship is awesome."

***

B.B. "Are you staring at the fish again?"

Me - "No."

B.B. - "You are! You aren't looking at the computer, you are just staring at the fish. Again."

Me - "I was thinking that if I moved that big rock, then I could use the plants to hide the filter..."

B.B. - "You are a crazy lady."

***

Me - "Look how fast that little one is, we should name it Zippy."

Sweetpea, rolling her eyes - "I think we should name it Charlie. Zippy is a silly name."

Me - "I really thought I would manage to get past the age of four before my child realized I was a total dork."

***

B.B. - "Honey, It's four am - what are you doing? Why is your hand in the tank? ARE YOU ARRANGING THOSE ROCKS AGAIN?!"

** I have decided to refer to the man who now shares a closet with me as Benjamin Braddock (or B.B. for short) for the purposes of this blog. It's not his name, it's a terribly sadassed movie reference, but it is better than SO or BF or any other acronym, right?

Four Year Old Geography

- "We forgot Zinah's thank you card!"

- "I know honey, she moved to Germany the week after your party and we didn't get it to her in time."

- "We will have to go to Germany to give it to her! We can take a plane! I think I will check on the balcony and see if there is a plane we can take to Germany. Maybe a biplane! They are fast! And then we can take a ferry."

"I don't see any planes, Mommy, I guess we will have to walk."

Tour De Fleece #2

So I spun up some more yarn, this time Karaoke "Mermaid", a 50/50 soysilk and wool blend. Although still chunky and bumpy, this one came out much more evenly. On a side note, this spinning thing is AWESOME, and why have I been waiting so long to start doing it? Dude, I MADE yarn.

Tour De Fleece: Part 1

[caption id="attachment_219" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="First Spin"][/caption]

So this is my first attempt at spinning, with an unidentified white wool roving. I then decided to also try my hand at kool-aid dyeing - this is the final result. A very small amount of a very unevenly spun yarn.

This Way Lies Madness...

So the great big man socks are finally finished.

[wp_caption id="attachment_215" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="The Manly Man Socks"][/wp_caption]

These socks were cursed.

Mostly by me.

I bought the yarn in December, not realizing that I needed three balls for giant man feet, not two. Brought it home and promptly dumped it in the stash. Started the socks in March. Quickly realized I was going to run out of yarn when one ball only got my halfway down the foot. Went to buy more yarn, the yarn this store has carried for a zillion years, to find out it was discontinued and put on clearance. No yarn of this kind was to be found anywhere. (Although I admit, I didn't try the internet, because I didn't feel like using my credit card for one ball of yarn. Which would have led me to using my credit card for several balls of yarn.) So I bought a light coloured yarn that I thought I would do the heels and toes with. Started the second sock. Got halfway through and realized I really didn't like the light coloured yarn. Frogged it. Went and bought a dark gray yarn. Made a promise to myself that I would ignore the fact that one heel and cuff was plain gray and one patterned. It would be okay, they would be fraternal twins. I would NOT UNRAVEL  AN ENTIRE SOCK TO SATISFY MY OCD. This was in March.

I dithered about unravelling the sock. Dithered some more. The would be recipient of the socks started to nag. Kept on dithering until there was absolutely no time to reknit the first sock. Mission accomplished.

May rolls in. Started the second sock. Again.

Made it half an inch into the second sock and promptly lost a needle at a friend's birthday party. (Don't ask me why I was knitting at a birthday party - it's an illness.) Searched for the needle. Searched some more. Finally gave up and decided needle was truly lost. Went to three shops before I found another set of 2.5 mm Hiya Hiya DPNs in stock. Started the sock again. Unravelled the toe of the first sock so I could finish the second foot. Had a little cry. Reknit the first toe in dark gray. Finally, finally finished at the end of June.

Now I just need to weave in the ends.

Tour De Fleece

So I have committed myself to the Tour De Fleece . My goals are to actually remove my spindle from the closet, relearn how to spin, and then spin one skein of yarn. We will see how it goes.