People and ExFriends, And Why The Two Might Not Be The Same
Sometimes I wonder about things. In general, I wonder about the what ifs. While it can be interesting to wax poetic about the what ifs, I’m not consumed by it- there would be no point… at least no point until time travel is possible.
It is, however, interesting to think about what if this never happened and what if you never took this path. Then the what ifs sometimes lead to the wonder whys… you know, the reasons at to why you aren’t at such and such place or why you no longer hang out with so and so. Why has this been my path? Why am I where I am? Again, not something to be consumed by, but definately somethng to flutter a minute or two away on.
For example, after some drama this weekend, I was left wondering as to who exactly would take so much time as to pour through each entry on this blog (you know, through all the yarn and Gerard Butler) to find posts they believe will cause the most trouble for me and report back to whomever so that drama ensues. Obviously this person would have to know me, and obviously this person would have to know the whomever (because you kind of have to know the person you’re reporting back to… at least a little), which would likely mean it was someone with whom I may have once been friends or who was friends with someone to whom I am related in some way or another.(With Me So Far?)
Then this got me to thinking about the wonder whys of why I’m not friends with certain people anymore. I will, every once in a while, reminisce about the good times that we had with so and so… and wasn’t it so funny that one time that _____ happened…. and oh my gosh I remember how ______ was so crazy that he……………… Why aren’t we friends anymore?….. oh yes that’s right….
…and then you start remembering all the crappy things that the exfriend did to you and whoever and you are reminded exactly as to why you aren’t friends anymore.
Then, you may start thinking about how there are people you can write out of your life completely… and then there are people with whom you must forever deal with until the end of time, regardless of how you may feel about them. Its relatively easy to cut and run, and never ever ever again speak to someone. Its not easy at all to have to deal with people who treat you like crap forever and always, and it was never your decision to have them in your life to begin with… and yet you can’t just cut and forget because of other circumstances beyond your control.
While we are taught to forgive and forget, at what point does this become folly? If you look in the dictionary at the word “insanity”, its basest definition is repeating the same thing over and over expecting a different result. Would it not then be insanity to constantly forgive and forget the nasty things that a particular someone does to you more than a couple times for more than a couple years by that definition? At what point is it okay to no longer forgive and forget? Because while forgiveness is divine… isn’t allowing someone to treat you like crap for the rest of your life just plain stupid?
I Loves Me Some Craftster Swaps
So, as you may know (as I mentioned it many times) I recently participated in the Craftster Springtime in Discworld Swap. Yesterday I received my swap package from Serial Crafter, and it was awesome. Some highlights include:
Yarn! What knitter doesn’t like getting yarn?
Some of the yarn she dyed herself…. I LOVE Koolaid dyed yarn, it always smells so fruity.
These are just highlights mind you, the big post about everything she sent me is being saved for Craftster where she can bask in the accolades from the other particiating Craftsters as is appropriate.
In the package were some stitch markers that are awesome! I ADORE the little hearts on them.
Aren’t they awesome?
And probably one of my favoritest items in the package was this:
A Discworld on the back of the Great A’tuin Door stop! I had explained to her about how the Flying Diaperinis will oftentimes use a car or some random other toy to pick the bathroom door lock….. this is my next line of defense, a door stop behind the door! I know, you’re squeeing with jealousy right now (about the door stop part, and not the getting locked picked on) aren’t you?
She sent me ALOT of other stuff, so if you are curious as to what else I received in my gotten goods go ahead and follow the link… you can also see what the other partner pairs sent one another as well.
Thank You So Much Serial Crafter!!!
There is alot of excitement around Chez Stephieface, my sister will be going to her sonogram this week… the sonogram where she learns whether she’s birthing me a niece or a nephew. Its all very exciting! Along those same exciting news, I have an OB appointment this week as well. I’m secretly hoping its the one where they sign you up for the Glucose test, because I secretly love the drink (the orange, not the sprite)….mmmmmmmmm…… Though, my nurses do get a giggle when I call to check if my latest OB appointment is a ‘Should I Shave My Legs’ appointment. As shown in a previous post awhile ago, the baby belly makes leg shaving enter that realm known as “Cirque De Soleil Contortionism-like Activities”…. so its good to be prepared beforehand.
My eyebrows have almost completely grown back now. Now we enter that nerve wracking time where I have to trim them back (like hedges). Here’s hoping I don’t lose them again.
AND in other news, this weekend I’ve learned about a breed of person who pours over websites in their free time to try and create drama for other people. Its a weird breed of person (I mean, really, that’s alot of free time), but there you go. To those people I say this… check out this link… and please dedicate the same amount of time you spend looking for whatever on other sites to this site. You may find something there much more condusive to your free time spending efforts.
I’m Living In A Purple Haze….
The time change, though only an hour, has really affected my children…. and because I am a grown adult I often think “Oh good Lord, its 7:30… which means its really pretty much 6:30… uuuuggggghhhhhh” with a great flourishing roll of the eyes. My kids appear to be waking earlier while going to bed later… apparently Daylight Savings Time only applies in the morning. So let me interject this brief moment to yawn and shake my fist at the injustice of it all….
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As reported in my last post, I’ve started selling off my yarn farming crops. There are some that I can’t bear to part with… like this one ginormous ball of really scratchy wool (that even after 4 years of using it in projects is still bigger than a softball) or at least one ball from every sweater I’ve taken apart in the last couple months or so (my favorite so far being the purple one above). I have to go to the store and get a couple more sweaters today, as well as mail off my first yarn sale…whoopee! I have a lovely customer, from a town nearby where I grew up as a kid, who bought the big skein of the grey wool I had listed in my shop.
The Mister is somewhat perplexed by this, but rather enjoys the good mood taking the sweaters apart puts me in. He was also confused as to why I sit and stress over names for the yarn.
M: What are you doing?
Me: (sigh) Trying to think of a witty name for this yarn.
M: Why? Why not just list it as ‘Green Yarn’? (looking at me like I’m a crack smoker)
Me: Beacause that’s boring, it has to have something that makes it pop from all the other shops that sell ‘Green Yarn’. (I say, putting sarcastic emphasis on ‘Green Yarn’… possibly even using my fingers for air quoting) Besides, I set a standard with ‘Burning Sensation’ and ‘Draining the Lizard’… I can’t allow for disappointment.
Confused as he may be, he does get mild amusement from what I come up with… including the names I veto myself for being “too much” (which means its actually really over the top) like my “Little Red Corvette” yarn might have actually debuted as the “Ooops, I Popped My Cherry” yarn. Even I, have limits…. though no one could ever convice me to change the name of the “Burning Sensation” bag I sold awhile ago.
And while my Mister may not have alot of patience for some of the stories I might tell, he will listen to the yarn naming ones… which makes me feel vindicated after having to listen to so many WoW stories. Some yarns I have in my shop….
Strawberry Cheesecake Goes Straight To My Ass (pink/white slub thread yarn)
Along Came A Spider With A Cold (green lace weight)
Soylent Green Is People (a pretty multifiber yarn… on tag has “3% other fiber” which I could only assume was Soylent Green since it listed everything else)
and My Sheep Has Had Some Plastic Surgery Done (85% Acrylic 15% Wool)
I am nothing if not inventive.
It Isn’t Easy Upkeeping A Yarn Farming Empire
I’ve got alot coming up….
The Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival
My 3rd wedding anniversary
Beans arriving July 12ish
The Stephieface Family’s Returning to West Pennsylginia in August
Most of these occasions require something somewhat in the way of cash… whether its gas to get there or pocket change for things to do. So, after much much much much much deliberation, I’ve decided to start selling off my yarn farming crops. I do the whole yarn farming thing as stress relief, more or less, taking sweaters apart limb from limb keeps me sane. However, I do end up with far more stash than I could ever use.
Additionally, my emotions and current mindset influence what sweaters I decide to dismember…. and sometimes this backfires badly. By backfire I mean having a crop of girlalicious yarn, then finding out I’m having another boy. You know, backfires like that. Now loooking at the girlalicious yarn, I cringe, knowing that I could make something from it but also knowing I would think of nothing but my unrequited desire to have a daughter the whole time I had to handle it. Emotions are awesome for tearing sweaters apart… but suck when it comes to using up the stash.
So, I’m selling off the extra stash in my Etsy shop so I can 1) earn some extra pocket money for the things listed at the beginning of this post 2) make room for more stash 3) and get rid of my physical yarny emotional baggage. Keep checking back for good pictures of the yarn as the Pittsburgh weather allows.
Currently I am sitting here in suspense… as stated in a few recent posts, I am participating in the Craftster Terry Pratchett swap. I’ve already made stuff, boxed it up, and sent it off to my partner. One of the rules for Craftster swaps is that you have to get the delivery confirmation option, to ward off people who say “Its in the mail” but never actually send anything. The thing about Delivery Confirmation numbers is that not only can your partner stalk their package on its way to you…. but you can stalk their package on its way to them. I already received the email notification that my partner’s package arrived yesterday… now I have to sit and nervously wait until she posts that she’s opened it. Will it be enough? Will she like it? Did I totally screw the pooch this go round?
I need TUMS… or another sweater….
The Name Game
One of the things that people like most about pregnancy is deciding what to name the baby. While this can be one of the most fun aspects of bringing a new life into the world, it can also be the most stressful because you have to play………
The Name Game… or the Let’s Try To Impossibly Please Everyone Game.
It all (obviously) began when I was pregnant with Sam. The Mister and I weren’t sharing any wedded bliss at the time… in other words, we were shacking up and weren’t hitched- with no prospects of getting married in the near future. So the arguments began simply……
What last name would our baby have since we weren’t married to one another?
Now where I come from if you are an umarried lady and you have a baby, that child will have your last name. This is what I know, and what I was expecting.
The Mister had other ideas, which were that the baby was going to have his last name because he was involved in its making. The whole being married thing was never a question because his child was going to have his last name, regardless.
I don’t think we came to an agreement until a tearful 7th month in pregnancy, a time until which I had pretty much convinced myself that the Mister was the most unreasonable bastard to walk the face of the Earth. In a fit of absoloute frustration, I relented, under the condition that if I must suffer having to raise a child that I was certain I would have to provide documentation proving I am the mother of (remember, I never ever thought the Mister and I would get married) because we have different last names (I used to imagine many scenarios where I would be picking my baby up from somewhere and they wouldn’t release him to me because I was obviously not his mother… I don’t even have the same last name) that I would get to choose his first name since I obviously have no choice in his last name.
This was not something that the Mister was willing to budge on either…. did I mention unreasonable bastard? The Mister did not want to give up control over the first name as well, having already vetoed several perfectly good names like Michael, Aidan, and Ryan. This was where even more fighting began, but I stood strong… we both made the baby, so if I got no choice in the last name, he got no choice in the first- all’s fair in war and baby naming.
We fought well into the 8th month of my pregnancy. I can only imagine the confusion that my OB nurses were suffering when they would adopt the high squeaky “aren’t you just so happy you’re pregnant” voice and I would shoot daggers at them with my mind.
Then, epiphany, I suggested the name Sam.
Sam, you see, because my unmarried last name was Meade… my initials being S.A.M.
My initials were S.A.M, my dad’s initials are S.A.M, my grandfather’s name is Sam, my favorite Lord of the Rings character is Sam, my favorite Terry Pratchett character is Sam.
It was perfect.
And it surprisingly passed.
Now, you would think that with the War of the Roses like battles that ensued over the first and last names that the middle name would be equally fought over. Honestly, the middle name was the easiest name of the bunch… taking all of five minutes over dinner to be decided on. Figures, right?
Now TJ, his name was a breeze in comparison. The last name was easy since the Mister married me by then (I secretly think he was on to my ploy that since the first kid had his last name, the second should have mine… why on earth should we have a family with everyone having the same last name except me? Let’s mix and match!), and the first and second names were the Mister’s dad and younger brother. Though, talking with the Mister now, he claims he was unsure of the name until we almost left the hospital. It was too late by then…. the minute TJ was squeezed out the nurses asked me what his name would be and I said “TJ”…. I distinctly remember hearing the Mister taking a breath to object, but he remained silent not only receiving mind daggers from me but from the 5 nurses in the room as well… the hospital sort of revolts against you if you anger the pregnant lady while she’s still on the table squeezing out the afterbirth. By the way, I love my hospital, the nurses work on auto mind daggers with any man claiming to be the father of the baby until after the little nipper has been snuggled in a blankey and passes his APGAR. I don’t know why- but I love it, maybe its the amazonian excess of estrogen. Its awesome.
Now we come to Beans. Already the fights have begun…. currently the fights stand at…..
Me: What do you think of [this] as a name?
Mister: You’re only 5 months pregnant, I’m not doing this right now.
Me: There’s no harm in looking into names now.
Mister: Stop. I’m not doing this right now. We have until July.
Me: But people are asking me now.
Mister: I don’t care.
Me: Fine, I’m just going to tell them all that we’re naming the baby [name].
Mister: That name sucks.
Me: I thought you didn’t care right now.
Mister: I don’t care right now, but the hypothetical name can’t suck either.
You see what I have to work with?
Part of the problem, I think, is that complete strangers feel totally comfortable being invasively rude with me. I think its part of being a freak magnet, part of being the person that the weird bus people want to sit next to. I like having the answers short and ready… this keeps the conversation short instead of leaving openings so that the invasive rude person won’t feel compelled to continue the conversation and try to help me decide what name my baby should have.
I was already accosted by an old lady this weekend who told me that St Patrick’s weekend was a horrble time to have a baby because my kid could grow up to be a drunk. At first, I was confused, I said “Pardon?”. She explained her theory again, and once again I was confused. It took some back and forth between myself and the complete stranger to get that she was saying she believed me to be ready to pop at any second.
I explained the baby wasn’t due until July. She looked shocked and poked my belly…. “Are you sure you aren’t having twins then?” she asked… still poking me. While gently but firmly brushing her brittle hand away I answered, “I’m certain. The sonogram says there’s only one in there”. Intrigued, and resuming her poking, she said “Oh, I’d get a second opinion dear, you are much too big for there to be just one baby in there at five months”. I smile and say, “Actually, I was a fat ass before I got knocked up… that may have had something to do with it”.
That usually shuts them up.
Though, it does worry me slightly since the Mister has already expressed concern at how big I am currently. He’s predicting a 12 pounder:
Believe it or not, this was the best pic of the bunch. I have short arms people, taking pics of my pregnant belly is hard. Just know its big and high… my pants don’t stay up.
Zachy Taxi and Other Peevy Things
I knew that today was going to try my patience when I awoke to this:
More Freaking Snow!
Check that, more freaking snow with a crunchy underlayer of ice. Nice, right?
I dislike snow, greatly… and yes, the irony of me hating snow and living in a place where winter lasts until May has already been explained to me. Its not so much the snow I hate, its the lack of snow plow attention my neighborhood gets if you don’t live on one of the bus streets.
This peeve was compounded by the fact that since the magical world ending thing called snow has fallen from the sky, this means that the Mister’s ex will be calling to insure that we are coming to pick up the Zachy monster. I don’t mind picking Zach up- its what comes before that turns me into the pregnant juggernaut of rage that I dislike being.
- Must get kids lunch and get them dressed at least an hour before they are used to doing so
- Must drive Mister to work, in the process the kids miss their naps because they are in the car and begin to become…….. unruly
- Must drive back from Mister’s work to Zach’s house to pick him up (still with kids in car), and then am forced to listen to Zach’s mother talk about how she totally appreciates the fact that she doesn’t have to deal with the headaches of dropping him off….. while never once mentioning any appreciation that I now have to deal with headaches and schedule upheavals from picking him up.
- Do errands since I only get the car once during the week
- At some point feed unruly monkey children dinner, which they will hate and refuse
- Long after the unruly monkey children’s bed times have passed, load them in their unruly packness into the car to go pick the Mister up from work
- Kids fall asleep in car, except Zach who while we wait regales me with stories about World of Warcraft- which I despise (the game not the stories) but listen to anyway
- After getting Mister, drive home and have to carry 30lbs of dead sleeping toddler weight down my street and up my stairs.
Approx miles that the Mister’s ex would have had to drive: 5
Approx miles that I actually had to drive because she doesn’t want to: 90 (no lie, a round trip to and from the Mister’s work is 40 miles… so that’s 40 miles x 2 and the mileage from errands)
The annoyance from this will greaten tomorrow since the kids schedule was off today, so it will be really off tomorrow. By Sunday I want to throw plates and start screaming (maybe in Italian… Italian is a good screaming language), and then I will have to drive Zachy home. Would it be rude of me to yell…..
“I am his stepmother!!! I am not your freaking child taxi!”
… at the top of my lungs at his birth parents? Both of them? Is it unreasonable for me to get angry that I have to shuttle him about for his parents, but I still get no say in really anything that concerns him (even though I am frreaking married to one of his parental units)?
Now I must go to my happy place…….
Gerard Butler in 300…. Gerard Butler in 300……. Gerard Butler in 300
As mentioned in my last post, I had my ass kicked by a knitting pattern. If you want to know which pattern… it was the Bluebell lace Perdita from Knitty.
I actually gave up on it. After 9 unsuccessful attempts I just said, “Screw it”. It was going to be black with purple beads, but it has earned my wrath. Bad lace…. bad!
Must go to a happy place….
Michael Sheen in Underworld…. Michael Sheen in Underworld…. Michael Sheen in Underworld
Ah, that’s better.
And my last peeve of the day…. toys that make noise… enough said.
Happy place, damn it! Go to a happy place!
Gerard Butler and Michael Sheen buying me yarn….. Gerard Butler and Michael Sheen buying me yarn….. Gerard Butler and Michael Sheen buying me yarn……
I’ve Never Had My Ass Kicked By A Knitting Pattern Before, But There Is A First Time For Everything
Working on one of the final things for my Terry Pratchett Swap partner has taught me that my ass can INDEED be kicked by a knitting pattern. I still can’t say what it is, because I may take another crack or two at it and I’d hate to spoil the surprise for my partner. I have taken several cracks at it so far with no success. I checked a few sources and there have been no complaints about the pattern (which means no pattern mistakes), so at this point I’m beginning to think its just me.
First, I kept ending up with extra stitches.
Second, I thought I was doing a ssk wrong (which I was, I blame lack of sleep).
Thirdly, while doing what is the knitting world’s version of contortionism…. a “p2tog tbl” (purl 2 together through the back loop)… I discovered I was doing this wrong as well (Which I blame on lack of sleep and being trapped all pregnant like in a chair unable to go look it up)[btw camping chairs are not knocked up friendly].
Fourthly, after having solved all the issues I could think of…. I still end up with extra stitches.
I finally received all of my birthday presents that I mention here. I love love love the swift- more than I can ever say or describe. I am planning on sewing a case for it and am finding every excuse I can to break it out.
The spindle I’m still working on. My test drive single is all uniform in thickness and is barely slubby at all- it is however like worsted thickness as just a single. Mamma likes the fatties I suppose.
I got my WPI gauge yesterday. I do love it, really, but I think the original picture of the product was a bit of an optical illusion. Here, take a looksee to see what I mean….
Here is the picture I bought it from:
Here it is in real life:
Now, is it just me or would you think it was going to be a bit bigger as well? Honestly I like the size, I was starting to worry about just where I could keep it in its off time. But am I alone in thinking that the first picture makes it out to look a bit bigger than what it is? I had expected from the first picture , I guess, school picture day free black comb size- not stick of gum size.
The Mister asked me about why Lucian is my favorite character in Underworld. He asks me random questions like this all time, its kind of fun- because usually he can guess my answer… he’s just waiting to see if he’s right. Aside from Michael Sheen being a cutie, the reason “why” is simple……
He’s not a bad guy, he’s just reigning down righteous retribution and revenge against the people who killed his pregnant wife. How can I not get behind that? (especially as a pregnant wife?)
Its the same reason I like Eric Draven in the Crow, and Maximus in Gladiator. If I have to watch a man action movie, I migt as well enjoy the love story in it.
By the way, can I just slip in here….
I hate you American Idol. I hate you more than anything. You are not all that interesting a show to watch, even including the beginner rounds with the bad singers and the end rounds with the final four or whatever. There is absoloutely nothing so redeeming about you that you have to be two hours and FOX has to move House. Anything that upsets my regular viewing schedule is the devil. I hate you, hate you, American Idol.
300
Last night, The Mister and I were given a brief parental reprieve and escaped to the real world to watch a movie. We decided on 300. Mind you, I was surprised that the Mister was willingly taking me to a Gerard Butler movie, knowing of my Gerard Butler fascination.
If you don’t know what movie I’m talking about, which could mean you are one of those “under the rock people” (which is cool I guess, except I always find bugs under rocks and that kinda creeps me out), the quick and dirty synopsis of the film is thus:
In history, there was the battle of Thermopylae where 300 Spartan men stood with King Leonidas and defended a mountain pass in Greece against Persian king Xerxes’ army of 100 thousand. They stood and defended for a couple days…. a couple days. Just 300 guys (actually it was 300 Spartans and a couple thousand guys from other nearby tribes, but the movie is about mostly the 300 Spartans).
Now before you go thinking this is one of those boring PBS like documentaries about a long ago war, let me say if you thought that you would be wrong. Frank Miller (the graphic novelist who also brought you Sin City) had a hand in this movie… so expect lots of gore, violence, blood, and stuff. However, because the background for this movie started as a graphic novel…. the cinematics of the movie are in a word….. awesome. So, about the movie:
- If you are pregnant with your first baby, the first 5 minutes will disturb the mother loving heck out of you as they rehash actual Spartan history. The cinematic that will disturb you most? Lots and lots of baby skulls. (somehow I always end up, while knocked up, going to movies where something happens to babies or could happen… or to their pregnant mommies… I think Hollywood is keeping track of my ovaries)
- This film has more naked boobies than I believe I have seen in my lifetime… bearing in mind that I own my own personal set which I get to see often and I watched Rome.
- The wolf scene was awesome. The wolf was eerie and comic booky. I would be very afraid if real wolves looked like that.
- If you are a female, and not really all that interested in a history movie… you will still want to see this movie. Hard, muscled, hot, nearly naked men as far as the eye can see for the ENTIRE movie. Even David Wenham (Faramir from Lord of the Rings, and Carl the Friar from Van Helsing) has a chisled six pack body of a body builder body in this movie. I consider myself a lucky gal just for having had to sit so close to the front of the theatre.
- The fight scenes are graphic but freaking awesome. You will see limbs flying and blood gushing.
- The Oracle scene is wicked.
- Xerxes’ tent scene was….. um….. a bit much
- Now, I usually sit through movies quietly and absorb it like a sponge. There is one point in the movie near the end where I actually, honest to God, yelled out “Damn Right” unknowingly at the top of my lungs.
The movie was good…. really good… considering to go back to the theatre and watch it again good- and not because it has Gerard Butler…. it was that good people. Really.
MD Sheep & Wool And A Guilty Pleasure Or Two
So, currently I have plans to waddle about the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival with my sister, which should prove to be interesting. I told her that two pregnant chicks should look svelte amongst the sheep (sheep are the new black…. they’re slimming). Our only downfall would be if we both happen to have bad hair days, then we may blend in with our wooly friends, or at the very least get confused for one of them (“why is that sheep wearing a peacoat?”).
I do plan on being there though, waddle and all.
So……. On to the Guilty Pleasures!
This time of year is a godsend for me, pregnant or no…….. it is the season of Cadbury Eggs……mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
And one of the best sites all morning? This site for how to make a cake substituting Cadbury eggs for the real eggs. I have no idea why, but I love the little chocolatey bastards. They are so disgusting and messy (alot like the Mister)and it can be hard to see my attraction to them (alot like the Mister)- but its there and it is unbreakable people.
My next Guilty Pleasure is the show Supernatural….. I simply cannot wait until 9pm on Thursdays…….mmmmmmmm Supernatural……
I have a big married lady crush on Jensen Ackles. He would have been that guy in highschool who could have convinced me to steal a cow and release it the library just because he smiled at me with the bad boy smile…… not that I ever stole a cow and released in a library mind you….I’m just saying he would have been that guy.
And I’ve saved my strangest and most secret Guilty Pleasure for last………..
……..Michael Sheen…….. I have no idea why I love him so freaky much, I just do. From his insane uncontrollable curly hair, to his ears, to that impish smile. He is the reason why I rewatch Underworld again and again and again…….oooh and Timeline (but that can’t truly count because Gerard Butler is in that one too)….. and Four Feathers….. and …………………….
In the movie Timeline as Lord Oliver
In the movie The Four Feathers as Tench
In the movie Underworld, as Lucian
Gosh darn you Michael Sheen…. you and your dark brooding Welsh charismatic machismo.
You won’t be seeing too much knitting content from me til halfway through the month. I am currrently participating in Springtime Discworld swap- so all my stuff is hush hush.
Happy Birthday To Me
So, yesterday (okay, still today as its not midnight for another 40 minutes) was my 31st birthday. I can honestly say I never expected to make it past 20 (once, I never expected to live past 14 when my dad pissed off some bikers and one jumped on the hood of our car and was punching at our windshield), and yet- here I am.
The day itself was pretty tame as far as birthdays go. I didn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t do anything. I basically spent the day as I have spent countless days for the last 4 years or so. There were some minor exceptions to special it up……
At the butt crack of morning, my doorbell was ringing nonstop. As much as I love answering the door in my jammies, I was so happy to see a package just for me…. a Happy Birthday package from my sister:
She sent me along a bunch of needles I do not have (mmmmmmm 10 inchers) and the Unjinxing Blankie that she made herself.
See, its her theory that since my Mother In Law gave me a buttload of girl stuff the day before my sonogram that it jinxed Beans into being a boy. So to counterattack the jinx she made a blue blankie (under the conditions that if it works and Beans turns into a girl I can give it to one of the other boys, if not- hey at least I already have one gender appropriate blankie). If it actually works, I’ll begin plaguing my expectant friends with gender nuetral blankies to see the outcome like an evil knitting mad scientist. And, a better pic of my sister’s craftiwork:
As you can see, when long ago I mentioned that my sister and I are like night and day- its true. I am a knitter, and she is a crocheter. This may explain why we fought so much as kids.
This is how I know my family loves me….. my parents gave me a little bit of spending cash (weeee… I can still get birthday money….yay!) to spend towards yarn or needles or whatever is my heart’s content. I ordered a bunch of things (man, I can make a small amount of cash s t r e t c h) and now I just await their arrival….
I got a Learn To Spin Kit off of eBay (with a description of the sheep who’s wool is included… his name is Oreo… I am pregnant… is was a match made in Heaven I tell you…mmmmm oreos)
And then, for my Yarn Farming Empire, I got an Ash WPI (Wraps Per Inch) Gauge off of Etsy:
And a swift, also from eBay, which is super sweet and super adjustable with multiple peg holes for multiple skein sizes…. AND its collapsable for easy storage…
My kids are gonna really love this, but they better not touch it by God.
And then the Mister….. the Mister who for years has tried to skim around my birthday… brought me home a DVD called Celtic Woman which I watched alot when they were airing it on PBS
I’m just happy that he remembered this year. You go honey, this year hopefully I can get you a little something (Beans).
As you can see, I’m once again preparing for World War 3 or the Revoloution or whatever you want to call it. It is my firm belief that knitters and spinners will be the saviors of the future.
But those tech guys? Those tech guys are done for (unless we are overrun by machines a la the Matrix).
