Victory

100,000 stitches.
6600 feet of yarn.
2200 cat heads.
23 Band Aids
16 days
3mm needles
1 finished sweater.

Ugh.

I am sick of this color combination. Porcini and parsley?

I am thinking about the 10+ pairs of socks I want to knit by Christmas.

I am dreaming of spending an entire week NOT knitting.

I have watched more TV in the past twelve days than I have in the past two years.

I heard myself say: "No honey, I'm not going to play with you. I have to finish this sweater."

I may have been talking to the Businessman.

Can't Write. Must Knit.

I'm at the part that looks like I'm almost done, but my rows are now almost 500 stiches long.

Luckily I lose a couple stitches every row.

Acceptance

I'm still very, very sad. Sometimes I can smile and the tears have slowed. But I still double take every black object in our house, imagining it's my kitty.

Here's my knitting progress as of Sunday morning. I'm supposed to be halfway but I'm just shy. By about 124 cat heads (yes I counted).



The coincidence of knitting a sweater with 43,875 (that's a rough estimate) cats is not lost on me.

I do know he would have thoroughly enjoyed the process.

Grief

My cat died this morning. We chose to end his suffering in the comfort of our home.

He was a wedding present from my husband.
He lived in three states.
He thought my pregnant belly was the best bed. Ever.
He hated other cats.
He wasn't scared of dogs.
He loved the Businessman.
He loved me.

I, crazy cat lady that I am, love this animal. This beautiful, secondhand feline who entered our home and our hearts.

Oh Clive. I miss you.

Set Back

I took my cat into the animal hospital this afternoon. I never take my cat to the vet unless it's bad.

He's in an oxygen chamber right now waiting for the vet to examine him, and I expect I'm going to have to make a tough decision in the next day or two.

It's hard to knit when you can't stop crying.

Four Days Down...

I'm realizing that I knit slowly. Maybe it's the 300+ stitches on my 3mm needles. Maybe it's the muscle twitch in my left eye. Maybe it's the knitting machine I set up proudly in my living room to show my mom, but haven't had time to take down because all my spare moments involve teeny weeny cat heads. And one torch.



While drudging through 45 7-stitch repeats my wandering thoughts figured out how I can do fair isle on my machine without a punch card.

Which means I can do whatever pattern I want. Not that these punch cards aren't appealing:



It also means that with every hand-knit Ravelympic stitch, I have to remind myself:

Cross country skiers could use a snowmobile to get where they're going.
Lugers, skijumpers, and bobsledders could use an elevator.
I could have knit this whole sweater on my machine.

But we choose not to take the easy way.


Tuesday morning. Day 5.

Olympic Knitting Day 1: Let the Games begin

It's all about the glory right?

After a rocky opening ceremony in which the actual ceremonies were great but my ability to count to 336 was severely impaired by no fewer than eight women, a bottle of wine and tons of carb-rich snacks, I managed to knit 10 of my desired 27 rows and chat with my mom until 2:00am.

The next morning I realized my self-imposed knitting needle hiatus (due to a shiny new toy) caused my knitting callous to soften and crack open.



Luckily, like Lindsey Vonn, I will overcome my injury.



By early Saturday morning I was this far:



Stay tuned for more Ravelympic coverage.

Industrial Revolution

During the Businessman's company Christmas party we were chatting with another couple about the "Ugly Christmas Sweater Contest." It seems the better half of the couple I was talking to had knitted the winning sweater. Some concoction involving an acrylic giraffe.

I mentioned there's nothing worse than intarsia gone awry.

Her eyes lit up at my obvious knitting knowledge. We talked shop for a bit but her interests have fallen solidly on quilting.

Which is probably why she made her husband drag a large load of equipment to the office. And then instructed the Businessman to take it home. To me. Purveyor of all things knitting.





A knitting machine. From the 1970's. And, once oiled, tuned, and dusted, in full working order.

This is why my blog has lapsed, my kids have no clean socks and I'm finally plowing through the 2000 yards of sock yarn I bought because it was on sale.

Amigurumi Crustaceans

Almost three years ago I got my 6yo (who was almost 4 at the time) some hermit crabs.

The're still alive.

Just spending a few days gleaning all the information I could resulted in our household owning hermit crabs that have survived 3 years.

Mostly they bury themselves in the sand and I'm never sure exactly how many I have until I do the quarterly sweep through of the sand. I rarely get to see them. More often, I go into my son's bedroom at night and hear the creepy crawlies scuttering around, scraping their shells against the glass. It's amazing he hasn't had more bizarre nightmares.



I decided this pattern must be knit.



After all, it would be nice for the children to have a pet they could...well...pet.



These claws don't make horrible glass scratching noises.

Hermit Crab by Hansi Singh
Random scraps of sock yarn
Eyesight aging: about 25 years

Christmas Is Only 325 Days Away

The knitting god(esse)s are mocking me.

I decided this Christmas (2010) was going to be the Christmas that I knit socks for everyone and they can all take it or leave it. I suspect a couple family members will become completely enchanted with handknit socks which will just make future holidays easier. Everyone else can remind themselves that it's the thought that counts.

My mom will probably get a sweater, because we're like that.

Armed with this decision, I went ahead and purchased some sock yarn, decided on some patterns and cast on. In January. Because this is smart and responsible for someone who wants to give well-made items eleven months hence.

And I'll be damned if I've gotten further than a cuff on any of them. I'm having gauge issues on my FIL's sock, learning curve issues on my BIL's sock...

...and I can't find the two magazines that have the patterns I need for ALL my ladies' sock patterns.

Vogue Knitting Holiday 2009 and Spring/Summer 2009, where are you? I know I had you two months ago. Where did you go?

In other news, I've discovered Bridges on the Body. This blogger is doggedly sewing her way through corseting history and it's total eye candy for me. A beautiful distraction from misbehaving socks.

ETA: Found my magazines. In the last place I looked.

Birds and Bees and the Meaning of Life

Warning: What follows is a goofy story about parenting.

Vicious goes to a church-based preschool because it's cheap, close, and the curriculum is good. Quite frankly, we're not too choosy when it comes to preschool because it's PRE-school. If my kids can learn to interact with peers and respect authority then the mission is accomplished.

One thing about sending your kid to church-based preschool--the kid comes out trying to fit God into his little self-created universe. He's grasping the concepts of God being omnipotent, omnipresent, and possibly omnivorous.

A conversation in my car last week:

V: Did people make those cell towers?*
MM: Yes. Some people have the special job of building cell towers.
V: So God didn't make the cell towers.
MM: Oh crap, that's where this is going. Well...God made the people who made the cell towers.**
V: Then God didn't make the cell towers. So he didn't make everything.
MM: Think fast. When two people love each other very much...

That's correct. I decided to jump right into baby-making. Those questions I can answer. Plus, it's nice to use my biology degree every once in a while.

He corrected me by telling me God made babies.

*Cell towers are the tallest things in our town so he's enchanted.
**The Businessman is very Christian. I'm not, but feel it's better for the kids to learn something about spirituality rather than nothing.