Anticipation

The new kitty I'm getting as soon as I get back from the cruise
The cruise
The new Twilight movie (yes, I know)
The line-up of summer movies at my local drive-in theater
Holes at my local theater
Weekly picnics at my favorite, free, Spray Park

School is almost out. Summer is almost here.

The Slithy Toves...

Check these out:



'Twas Brillig. Right?

I've been in negotiations with the artist, who is a friend and just happens to need something knitted by October (alas it's not a hookah).

Now that my pair of shoes is safely in her to do list, I feel it's okay to broadcast her Etsy site to the rest of the world.

Gyre and gimble on over to Mamagems Etsy store.

Don't step on the mome raths.

Swimsuit Shopping

Well, despite my being in the gym 6+ days/week, ellipticizing 15-20 miles, yoga 2-3 hours, and lifting weights 3 times/week, I have gained 3 pounds.

But I have lots of energy, better posture and can see and feel results. Especially notable is the inch I lost around my neck.

Be sure to compliment me on how skinny my neck looks.

The same event that is motivating me to spend my knitting and blogging time at the gym--a cruise in June--is the same event that drove me to the mall last weekend, to buy a swimsuit.

I love Eddie Bauer. Scratch that, I love Eddie Bauer, but I really love their outlet store.

I found a $135 swimsuit (brown) for $29.99. It's a miracle suit which advertizes looking ten pounds thinner in ten seconds. The work is actually done while putting on the suit (10 seconds? Ha!) but it enhances my neck bust (which has lost 1/2 an inch) and slims my torso (no measurable change).

I also decided to try on a swim skirt. I am not a skirt wearer. Skirts are as pointless to me as dress socks are to my children. But all these cute athletic skirts have been living in my head (thanks to a certain VW who gave me some trendy wardrobe suggestions) and I decided I needed to try one on so I could veto it with authority.

I came home with this one. It's pink and it's a skirt and I can't explain it but I liked it. And it was only $19.99.

I also got a top sort of like this one to go with it. $75 marked down to $19.99. And it's green. I heart green.

Yes, a skinny necked, flat chested, overweightwoman can enjoy swimsuit shopping.

Thank you, Eddie Bauer Outlet.

Crazy

Not sure I'm liking that this blog has become my weightloss journal, but I've lost four pounds. So there you go. This puts me one pound away from my first goal, which was to start losing weight.

It's crazy because I've done it while eating in excess of 2000 calories a day.

It's crazy because it's hard to eat 2000 calories a day (unless I allow Whopper Eggs to enter my house).

It's crazy because, I could lose weight faster if I ate, say, 1400 calories a day, but then my body would think it was starving, screw up my metabolism and hit a plateau.

But what's really crazy are the Burpees. Because I'm such a weanie. I broke a sweat yesterday after doing seven. Seven!

And I'm doing push-ups on my knees.

More Exercise

So are we all up to snuff on Burpees? Today we do four. Unless you're just joining me. Then you're stuck doing 1+2+3+4=10. If you slack until day 32 you'll have to do 495 just to catch up.

I've also been sticking my arse on a cardio machine of some form and going three miles every weekday. Sometimes the treadmill, sometimes the elliptical. It depends on several variables like how good my achilles are feeling, what shoes I'm wearing at the time, and what's on my iPod.

Speaking of which...

I discovered the Fat 2 Fit Podcast. It's very motivational and informative. I've been on this boat before but this one explains why all the other boats have sunk. For starters, there is a physiological reason why I can and should eat 2200 calories/day. As it turns out, when I limit my socializing with my good friends Ben and Jerry, 2200 calories is damn hard to accomplish.

I two weeks I've lost three pounds. And that is exactly as it should be.

Burpee Challange

I'm here. Still kickin'.

Vish has decided to forgo his afternoon nap. I had hoped he would take after his older brother, who would still take a nap if his schedule, his pride, and our affirmations weren't hindering it. But alas, his little body has decided it doesn't need the extra sleep.

My body is using naptime to get healthy.

To begin with, I started my own Burpee Challange. In 2009 a group of people did this challange, but since I didn't know about it then, I decided to start now. I have a small group of people on Facebook joining me (okay, so two of them live with me) but I'm inviting you to join me as well.

March 18th is day 3. If you join me today, you will have to do 1+2+3. It's better to join me now then on, say, day 32. By day 100 we will do 100 Burpees. After that, I will be on a cruise and you can take your year of rest.

I did 3 on day 1 just to make sure my form was okay and that I wasn't going to mutilate my joints. I was sore on day 2. This is a full body excercise that works your arms, core, legs and heart. You may split them up throughout the day (though I would hope this won't be necessary until about day 20).

There's a good video of a burpee on the above link. The process is: Stand, squat, jump to plank (push-up position), push-up (I do them on my knees, Yummy skips 'em), jump back to squat, jump to standing.

Repeat.

Will you join me?

Blue Washcloth Anecdote

During his final year of college, the Businessman and one of his fellow RA friends (we'll call him Al) decided to rent a house together and found lodging with two other people. One bathroom, four bedrooms, coed.

Before the Fall semester started, one of the dorms lost their water so they invited another RA friend of theirs to use their shower. Once the water was back, she resumed showering in the dorm.

Fast forward several months when the three boy roommates started whispering behind the back of the Girl Roommate.

Have you noticed that smell in the shower?
Yes! It's that rank washcloth.
Is it yours?
No, I think it's hers.
What is she washing with that thing to make it smell so bad?
*pause*
Are you going to tell her?
Hell no.

This went on for a few weeks. They affectionately called it the Poon Cloth. Finally the Businessman confronted Girl Roommate.

It's not mine! I thought it belonged to one of you.
Whose is it then?

At this point I suggested that perhaps the washcloth had been left behind by their Summer guest. After five months, it was bound to reek. The Businessman threw it out.

The next morning, Al wanted to know where his blue washcloth was.

We received a blue towel set from the roommates as a gag graduation gift. I threw the last one out today.

It was getting stinky.

Scary

The face of genius:



Now that Vicious refuses to nap, I have had much less time for knitting and far more time to discover that the child scares me.

In an attempt to keep him occupied during an award ceremony, I whispered various 3-4 letter words which he dutifully wrote on a spare sheet of paper. Sounded out, figured out the letters and wrote them.

While building rockets, jets, and guns out of Legos, he told me that two 3s make six and three 2s make six but there are are no 3s in eight unless you add 1 to make nine. My head is spinning, how 'bout yours?

He has started a science journal (thank you for the idea PBS). In it he has been drawing pictures of the weather; Taping various treasures into it; And asking for help with the spelling of words like protoceratops and exoskeleton. He didn't need help with T Reks.

While at the book fair, he asked if he could use his money to buy an anatomy book. Because he likes looking at bones.

Please note: He is four years old.

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.