a confession

on our little holiday, after the babes were in bed, my partner and i gladly changed the channel from the toddler station to one with more adult content. we were chatting, joking, drinking, snacking. it was really nice.
then an image came on the screen and everything changed. i became utterly deaf to my partner. i couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen. my mouth went dry, then was flooded with juices. my guts twisted, my thighs trembled...

it was a red lobster commercial.food porn deserves its name. definitley. i was shocked at my strong, instant reaction to the image of crustaceous flesh. no human, no matter how sexy, could have caused that visceral and physical of a reaction in me. these images are nice, but they aren't the ones in the red lobster ads. you know the ones. the light is yellow, warm, inviting. the steam rises from the tender, juicy flesh. a chunk is speared and dunked in a cup of garlic butter. the mind instantly recalls that the only thing better than garlic butter is seafood in garlic butter, especially lobster.
then begins the obsessing. how can i get to red lobster? can i afford it? does it matter? what if i just went for one of their (relatively) cheap-o lunch specials? but those, looking at the online menu, don't include lobster. would shrimp satisfy me? probably not, it'd need to be the real thing. when could i go?

around and around these thoughts go, driving me to distraction. i need to refocus my mind on something more productive. less expensive, frivolous and fattening...
knitting.

late february lists

tomorrow my little family is going away for a one-night vacation. we'll chase the kids around outside then chase them around in a pool, and when they're too tired to stand up we'll put them to bed early, break out the booze, and watch tv. i can hardly wait. i haven't watched law & order since last summer.

today i have been packing. it used to be that packing to go away for one measly night would take three minutes, right before i breeze out the door. but things have changed.
so far i have:

• a 5 inch high stack of books for the babes and i. this doesn't include my partner's reading stack, which will doubtless be at least a couple of inches
• a french press, freshly ground coffee, and mugs, since the small town where we're going might not have the quality of coffee that we have come to require
• a bag with fruit, eggs, rice, juice, soymilk, cereal, etc, etc. enough food for several days.
• ten diapers, two baggies with wipes, two pairs of underwear, three pairs of pants, three shirts, two pairs of socks, two swimsuits, two sweaters, long underwear, a sleeper and a pair of pj's. and i haven't packed a single item of clothing for myself, yet.
• the laptop, charger, camera, and extra batteries. should i bring the crappy old camera, just in case?
• a 6 inch stack of cd's for the road. this will doubtless grow before we leave, and we will still bemoan the lack of selection at some point.
• yarn, needles, and accessories, plus the pattern for the bff socks. also, all the additional help i could find for the two new stitches i'll be using, a cabled increase and a cabled decrease. all somewhat legibly written on the back of some junk mail.
• tomorrow before we leave town we'll need to stop for groceries, booze and more books.

~*~

today my valentine's present arrived from my friend claire. lookit!

amazing, face-rubbingly soft organic cotton, my favourite! and hearts, to be all seasonally-appropriate. does it get any better than this? because i don't think it does. the really cool part is that literally a minute after opening the mail and being overwhelmed with glee i felt a little surge... time to use one of these puppies! claire, your valentine's present isn't late. it's exactly on time. thanks, lovely!

for the love of the yarn

it all started, as these things do, on ravelry. that place makes people do silly things. 'ravelry made me do it' is probably a legitimate defense to use in court.

first, i learned that my local yarn store (lys) had some yarn that i love on sale. 3$ per big skein of soft, local, beautiful wool. then i just happened to be perusing the patterns for things that i could make with that weight of yarn, and i found this.i've never knit a sweater before, but isn't the best time to start when the yarn is on sale?

that did it. the yarn had my head in a death grip and wouldn't let go until i got some. so i made a deal with myself. if i could run all my errands and make it to the lys on one bus ticket, i could have the yarn. if anyone could make it to the five places on my list and the lys (which is far from all the other places) within the hour that a bus transfer is usable, i would say that the yarn gods must be smiling on them and they should get the fibre they seek.

so, of course, i did it. lightning-fast trips to the bank, the library, the drugstore... i did not stop to smell any roses. i had mild panic attacks every time i had to switch buses. what if i just missed it? what if the bus came late? for what was intended to be an enjoyable day off from my domestic responsibilities, it sure stressed me out. but i did it; i deserved all the yarn my backpack could hold.

my final bus dropped me off a little ways from the lys. google maps says it was about a mile. but have i mentioned the weather? it was -33 celsius that day, -27 fahrenheit. bloody cold. and the wind was crazy, blowing sheet after sheet of insidious snow into my face and into all the corners and crevices of my hat, my scarf, and my coat. it was worse than this looksand actually not that fun to walk in. that mile took me half an hour.

i got to the store and found my beautiful yarn. at the checkout i did what it took to cram the yarn into my already full backpack, telling the saleswoman that there was no way in hell that i would carry a bag, my hands needed to stay in my pockets for warmth. as i wound my scarf around my face and arranged my hat and two hoods, she jokingly said that she hoped i wasn't going out walking in that maelstrom. she was visibly shocked when i affirmed that i was. i admitted that if ever my commitment to yarn snobbery was challenged, it was today. but it's common knowledge that i have more stubbornness than smarts, so there i was, in the industrial area (read: bad bus service) in a winter storm.

my original plan was to stay at the store and wind all my yarn into balls using their equipment, saving myself heartache later. but the sun was about to set and the storm wasn't going to get better any time soon, so i figured it would be better to go for my stroll while the drivers could see me walking in the road instead of waiting for it to get dark. (the sidewalks were impassable)

i trudged, head down and shoulders hunched against the wind, through the storm. it sucked. but i happened to look up at just the right moment, and saw a bus! for a moment i thought it was just my wishful thinking taking me for a ride, but the rare and elusive bus that drives that route just happened to be going past! i sprinted and waved and yelled. (this is the place where if i were making this up i would say the bus driver didn't see me, but this here is a truthful account, yo)

the bus stopped. my transfer was long since expired, but the driver so admired my tenacity that he let me ride for free. the most wonderful part is that the bus i was on passes within a block of my house. i was home, drinking hot coffee, 15 minutes later.

but the story doesn't end here. nosirree. i may have escaped frostbite, but there were still more (less dramatic) adventures to come.

remember how i didn't wind the yarn into balls? well, i'm making socks out of that same yarn, from a skein that i bought (and wound) earlier. i'm almost at the toe of the second sock, but the yarn ran out. this evening i got to wind the skein into a ball.

oh, pshaw, you say. big deal. you probably do it all the time, just for fun. but do you remember that i have a 3 year old and a 1 year old? not so fun.to keep it all out of their reach, i had to hang the yarn from my splintery, beat-up bedroom door. as i wound, the yarn caught on the wood and caught on itself and caught on the wood again. plus yarn from the top kept slipping off the door, creating a messy tangle at the bottom of the loop. when the boys realized what i was doing, the wanted in on the action. they enjoyed swinging the door open and closed, crying when made them stop, kicking the door over and over, lying on the floor wailing when i made them stop, begging for treats, whining when i said no...

i wished i was back out in the blowing snow.

it took a couple of miserable hours, but i got it done.
it seems like a lot to go through for something so small, but this is yarn, people. 100% worth it. now i can finish up the socks and get them mailed off (they're already late for my dad's birthday. i'm a very bad daughter) and start a new, exciting project. one that uses yarn that is already neatly wound on cones.

today on etsy

this evening my babes are playing happily without me, the jelly beans are flowing freely into my mouth, and i have a headache, so the siren call of etsy lured me in. i found:

this yarn for my friend amanda. she would make amazing, hand-dyed socks with it. she's incredible, you give her a blank canvas and she makes art.
these seeds for myself, especially these: and these: (because i love growing nontraditionally-coloured things)

this for myself, because paisley reminds me of my sister and i have a thing for green
this for my bathroom, because it's beautiful and the bathroom sink would look much nicer with it.
and, finally, this for daffodylic, because it's beautiful, like her.

i might get the soap dish, but probably nothing else, thanks to my personal economy. plus my toilet is broken and i need something pretty to distract from the stench. but man, etsy is a freaking wonderland for virtual window shopping.

urgent call to activists

your attention, please. there is a serious problem, and all of you need to contribute to rectifying it. if even one of you slacks off, this tragic occurrence will continue. that would be unacceptable.

we all need to contact the USNANA (underwear styles naming association of north america) to let them know that a major error has occurred within their profession:

boy shorts are not actually for boys.

i know what you're thinking. there's no way that such revered and admired academics as these could have made such an obvious mistake, but somehow it has happened. in spite of all the clinical studies, the peer-reviewed research, the veritable fount of information that is the JGSN, (journal of gitch style namers) in spite of investigation of the subject dating back to the greeks, or even earlier... somehow they got it wrong.

i know you're thinking 'who is that chick to question a conclusion reached by the hallowed profession of lingere labelers? does she have an advanced degree in skivvieology?' the answer, friends, is no, but i have eyes and i know what i have seen.

boy shorts are definitely not for boys.

think of a baguette in a grocery bag. think of a strand of hair escaped from a turban. the man-bits don't fit. the dainties don't fit. the name doesn't fit.

so join me in my letter writing campaign, my organisation of global protests, and my personal grief at having been so misled for so long. join me and right this terrible wrong.

i'll see you at the trillion person march on washington.

**because i'm silly like that, i propose a contest. the last one was so much fun, don't you think? whoever can come up with the best new name for boyshort undies by the end of the month gets a bunch of handmade giftcards. i'll break out the crayons, construction paper and posterpaints and send you at least ten whimsical little cards to inscribe and pass on to those you really ought to give cards to.

comment away.

dear

dear lover:
you are a saint. thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou for watching the kids when you got home from your (12 hour!!) night shift. when i got home (at 3 pm!) they were happy, well fed and clean. i'll find a way to repay you.

dear baby:
you can sleep now, it's ok. in fact, babies all over this time zone are sleeping at this very moment. go ahead.

dear sock:
please knit your own damned self. and be done by monday morning, ok?

dear obama:
when you started choosing your cabinet i was bummed, it looked like all the hype was going to come to nothing, based on your choices. but you've proven my pessimism wrong, so far. i definitley don't agree with you 100%, but you've gotten more right than any other politician active in my lifetime. thanks!

dear money: you should consider entering in along-term, stable relationship with me. i'm very nice, i promise.

dear daffodylic: i really wanted to talk to you last night, then again this afternoon. i wish you lived next door.

dear self: you're doing ok. things aren't perfect, but you are doing well. please take moments to be peaceful and grateful.

dear winter: enough already, get lost

dear ikea: i'll see you in april, and i can't wait.

kisses,
me

grossout contest winner

the contest is over, these are the entries:

1. "Haggis - food with a heart!"
2. "It's not a mineral, it's not a vegetable - must be an animal?"
3. "Now with the right amount of squish!"
4. "It comes in a can!"
5. Haggis, The dinner to eat with a friend.
6. Haggis, AN excuse to drink scotch
7. Haggis the OTHER OTher white meat
8. Haggis, Down home cooking for the down home family
   
9. Haggis, the Heart of the party.
10. Haggis: The heart of Scotland in a can
11. A wee taste o' Scotland
12. Haggis in a can: It don't get much better than this! (yes, the grammatical error is on purpose)
13. Haggis, a step above roadkill
14. Haggis, not even your mom would eat this.
15. CANNED HAGGIS: Slightly less disgusting than a big pile of crap!
16. Haggis: Naturally gluten free!
17. Haggis - eat it at lunch and your mother in laws cooking will be greatly improved at dinner!
    
18. Tasty, High Protein Snack!
    
19. "Slow Cooked" in "Natural" grease!
20. Also used as an industrial-strength cleaner!
    
21. Won FIRST PRIZE at Milton Valley's Annual Science Fair!

i was surprised, relieved, and disappointed that no one went to the dark and strange world of offal/awful puns. it would have been so easy to say 'it's not awful, it's offal!' or something. but you all kept away from there. my readers are classy that way.

it was really hard to choose a winner. my favourites were 2,10, 19 and 21, but the people i've asked to help me choose kept saying that a different one was the best. honestly, i'd overlooked it. it's in with a bunch of them that all start the same, and my eyes skipped right over it. but the more i looked at it the more i liked it, and so i give you the winner:

Haggis, the Heart of the party.

maria, you opted out of the actual contest, but i'm still going to send you a prize. i'll figure out what eventually. good job!

good housekeeping

today i my friend and i were joking about our messy homes, and i realized my place looks like a dump. shamed, i decided to do something about it. sometimes shame is good, if it makes you productive. see?

before
after
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after
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after

guest post: daffodylic tells a tale

and now, my friends, i bring you your weekly guest blog:

One Weird Day + Easy Hummus

My weird day started in my afternoon writing class; the lesson of the day was “The Topic Sentence” so I was doing my thing up in front of the class, writing notes on the sticky old white board that smears when I try to wipe it. With Valentine's Day just behind us, I chose Love to brainstorm on the board to illustrate the process of writing that perfect topic sentence. We needed to narrow the topic, so we discussed types of love. The class discussion went haywire, so I redirected... “Family love, folks. Family love is a type of love. What's another type of love?” Friends, ah yes. Students typically come up with that one on their own. OK, last one. My brain willed the students just to come up with what my students come up with every semester: Romantic love. Come on folks... it's not that hard....

“SELF love!” Shouted a greasy, squinty-eyed boy who sits to the right. The class twittered, and I had to keep my facial expression blasé and unimpressed. I try not to over-guide my students during class discussions, but I went ahead and gave them the “Romantic Love” bit. Coming back to the family section, I asked what kinds of family love there were. I received the typical answers: Parents, siblings, kids....Mr. Self-Love tried to interject his point of view of masturbation being “family love” but we all ignored him. Friends went smoothly. However, when we got to the “Romantic Love” section, a clueless older student who sits in the back called out, “PETS!” There was a moment of painful, awkward silence before the class roared with laughter.

“Uh... romantic love, Al. We shouldn't have romantic love for our animals. Perhaps pet love could go under family...” I might have stammered through my response. It's possible. The class was rapidly getting out of control. Self-romantic-love came back up, and I guided the discussion again... the example I give every semester....

Puppy love.

The class howled. Exasperated, I tossed my almost-dried-out dry erase marker down on the desk and explained, “Puppy love, class, is infatuation.”

I tried to rein them in, I really did. I took our brainstorming and tried to relate it back to creating the topic sentence, which I had to give them because they were too obsessed with discussing masturbation and bestiality.

I broke down. I took the coward's way out: Book work and early release. Weird freaking class.

I deserved a little break. A treat. Ah yes, a peppermint latte from the campus coffee shop. I'm friendly with the girl who works there, and as soon as she sees me come in, she starts the espresso machine and pulls out the bottle of peppermint. We chatted amicably – “How are your classes going?” and “Your students behaving themselves?” Nice, normal small talk. She frothed milk and pumped peppermint into a cup.

She stopped suddenly, “That's it! I know who you remind me of! The girl on Step by Step, that old sitcom. You remind me of the tomboy, cool sister!” She looked back to an older gentleman sitting in the back of the shop. “Don't you think so?”

He stood up. He had a cane that he used lightly to walk over to the counter where I stood waiting for my perfectly normal peppermint latte.

“Hmm. First, you should make that latte a double espresso.” He winked at the attendant. She re-started the machine. “And let's see... I never watched Step by Step. I think you resemble...” He stepped close and peered into my face. My latte (er... double espresso) was ready, and I just wanted to pick it up and sit on a bench in the sun and forget my weird day for a few minutes.

“Ah yes, I know who you look like, but to be sure...” He stepped even closer and touched my cheek, turning it gently and almost caressing. “Leah Thompson. Admittedly, though ma'am, I just wanted the chance to touch your cheek.”

I laughed nervously, grabbed my coffee, said polite thank yous and goodbyes, and went to go find a park bench.

OK, first my class goes out of control talking about inappropriate topics, then some old guy caresses my cheek in a coffee shop. I think we need to chalk this one up to a weird day. So I went home and made hummus because there really is nothing else to do when discussions and conversations and encounters turn bizarre.

Daffodyllic Hummus

• 1 cup (or so) cooked chickpeas.
• 1 tsp turmeric
• 1 tsp cumin
• hand-squeezed juice of one lemon
• A few grinds of sea salt, to taste
• 3 tbsp olive oil

Blend it all in a food processor or blender until it is the consistency you like. Put in pretty bowl and garnish with a tsp of olive oil in the center and paprika sprinkled over the top. Enjoy with freshly toasted pita triangles. And try to forget your weird day.

my knittiversary!

on feb 13, 2008 i started knitting. i don't have pictures of several of my projects, but here's a selection of things i've worked on in the past year, in chronological order, with intermittent reminisces:
i used to knit when i was a kid. my dad taught me. he's a fantastic knitter, but his compulsion to constantly have something on the needles has worn off after more than 40 years. it's ok, i make up for his lack of knitting fanaticism.when i was 8 or 9 i read about hellen keller and became really interested in understanding how she perceived things. (i'd say i wanted to see things through her eyes, but that might be in poor taste) upon learning that she could knit, i started knitting in the dark. i remember my parents finding me sitting bolt upright on my bed (in my mind hellen keller had perfect posture) with the lights off and blinds drawn, knitting. as i recall they were baffled.my childhood knitting involved starting a lot of scarves and getting bored of them. i haven't made a single scarf, so far, and i have no plans to in the near future.my interest in knitting was reawakened by three things:

1. some good friends of mine knit. the things they make are beautiful and interesting. i like making things, especially beautiful, interesting things.
2. i was running low on socks and couldn't find ethical, affordable ones anywhere. my knitting friends, serendipitously, are sock knitters. it had never occurred to me before to make my own socks, but the idea was becoming appealing.
3. finally, i was in my favourite consignment/ yarn store and saw a yarn that took my breath away. the colours and textures sang to me. it was noro kureyon sock yarn, and with it i made these:

since then knitting has really grabbed me. my list of things i'd like to do is as long as my arm, easily. i spend lots of time on ravelry, and often as i drift off to sleep at night i'm thinking about knitting.
colour and light, followed closely by texture, are important to my mental wellbeing. photography satisfies my visual needs, but without something to touch, i'm not completley satisfied. yarn has colour and texture, and turning string into fabric is food for my soul.this year i'm hoping to make one pair of socks a month. included in that is at least one pair of felted slippers and some christmas stockings. i haven't decided if i need to make one stocking or two in a month to meet mygoal. i suspect that it will depend on how ornate the stockings are.on top of all those socks i want to make a sweater or two, a shrug, two hats, and more. it will be a busy year, knit-wise, but that appeals to me.these are my january socks. i've already blogged about them lots so you're probably bored of hearing about them. this hat has me stumped. i should have used a pattern. improvising is great when it works, but when it doesn't...this is one of my february socks. i'm making thick socks for my dad. they'll be done by the end of the month but not in time for his birthday.