Thing One:
B, from the living room: "HEY! If I'm practicing piano one hand at a time, I can still drink Coke while I practice!"
Um, yippee? And isn't there a rule about not drinking Coke on weekdays in this house?
Thing Two:
Saturday night I wandered off to bed, as one does, and made a stop at the porcelain bowl on my way. As I was sitting contemplating life, as one does, there was a rather sharp sound and the toilet seat seemed to lower itself a little. I looked down.
There were copious quantities of ...something ...on the floor, on the backs of my legs ...
Completely mystified, I stood up and turned to look at the toilet seat. Nothing seemed awry.
I raised the toilet seat.
Someone had folded two small take-away packages of ketchup and set them on the rim of the toilet bowl and then carefully lowered the seat again.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Domesticity
A, doing chores: "What did you do before you had children?"
Do you remember wondering that? Even asking your mother that? I do. I wondered who made the salad before I came along. (The answer was: "No-one. I hate making salad." And then she added "One day you will have your own children, and they can make the salads.")
I spent a few moments thinking about the chaos my house is and was and ever shall be. "Half as many dishes", I said.
***
A is so lovely. If I didn't love her so much, I'd be jealous. She is tall and willowy and graceful and oh so comfortable in her own skin.
And B - words fail me. He is earnest and funny and he has the most glorious thick curly hair ever to grace a ten year old head. He does nothing by halves - he's either loudly enthusiastic or loudly non-enthusiastic.
And TechnoBoy and I? We get to live in this house, with these people.
It's a lucky lucky life.
Do you remember wondering that? Even asking your mother that? I do. I wondered who made the salad before I came along. (The answer was: "No-one. I hate making salad." And then she added "One day you will have your own children, and they can make the salads.")
I spent a few moments thinking about the chaos my house is and was and ever shall be. "Half as many dishes", I said.
***
A is so lovely. If I didn't love her so much, I'd be jealous. She is tall and willowy and graceful and oh so comfortable in her own skin.
And B - words fail me. He is earnest and funny and he has the most glorious thick curly hair ever to grace a ten year old head. He does nothing by halves - he's either loudly enthusiastic or loudly non-enthusiastic.
And TechnoBoy and I? We get to live in this house, with these people.
It's a lucky lucky life.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Just for C, who likes it when I update ...
Here she is, holding her new lap blanket. A seriously fun knit for a seriously fun person.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Does this haircut make my butt look big?*
Notes for the next do-it-yourself dog grooming session.
1. Do it outside.
2. No really. Even if it's cold out. You can do it in stages.
3. Don't wear clean clothes.
4. Consider goggles. (I have dog fuzzyfur in my EYES)
5. Even a small dog has a LOT of hair.
6. Bathe the dog afterwards, especially if it's a curly dog. Curls cover a multitude of uneven.
7. Do the feet with scissors, not the clipper.
8. It takes longer than you think.
9. Your dog will forgive you. (and she won't shake with fear like she does at the groomers)
10. (this one is just a guess, as she's not home yet) There is a chance your teenager will be less pumped by how Not Awful the dog looks than you will.
Seriously - I thought she'd look like she'd been caught in a lawnmower. (the dog, not the teenager) She certainly doesn't look like she does when the professionals are done with her, but she doesn't look embarrassingly ridiculous either.
*Sadly, Toopka, yes it does. You don't have much patience for clippers near the lady bits and I finally gave up.
1. Do it outside.
2. No really. Even if it's cold out. You can do it in stages.
3. Don't wear clean clothes.
4. Consider goggles. (I have dog fuzzyfur in my EYES)
5. Even a small dog has a LOT of hair.
6. Bathe the dog afterwards, especially if it's a curly dog. Curls cover a multitude of uneven.
7. Do the feet with scissors, not the clipper.
8. It takes longer than you think.
9. Your dog will forgive you. (and she won't shake with fear like she does at the groomers)
10. (this one is just a guess, as she's not home yet) There is a chance your teenager will be less pumped by how Not Awful the dog looks than you will.
Seriously - I thought she'd look like she'd been caught in a lawnmower. (the dog, not the teenager) She certainly doesn't look like she does when the professionals are done with her, but she doesn't look embarrassingly ridiculous either.
*Sadly, Toopka, yes it does. You don't have much patience for clippers near the lady bits and I finally gave up.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Life with not just any 14 year old
I'm not here, I'm knitting a scarf for Patrick in the yummy, smooshy and yet somehow manly yarn and after that I am knitting a scarf out of that Cadenza I finally broke down and bought but ....
If I don't write this down, ten years from now Technoboy and I will look at each other and ask "what was that thing A did with the tea?" and we will not be able to remember and then we'll just laugh anyway and say "well it sure was funny" and the other one will say "yep she sure was" and we will go back to doddering fools with a vague memory of A having cracked us right up.
TB has started drinking sweet tea instead of Coke, as much as he can. It's cheaper and maybe has less sugar. TB drinks copius quantities of liquid. The tea jug is often empty, and I have taken to making tea when I see that it is empty. Today I ran out of sugar in the sugar canister so grabbed the sugar bowl for the last 1/3 of a cup of sugar I needed.
I came home from driving someone somewhere and TB asked "Did you make the tea?"
"Why yes I did." I replied, expecting possibly some gratitude.
TB left the room and returned with a cup of sweet tea for me. What an innovative way to say thank you, I thought, and took a big gulp of the tea and promptly spat it back out into the cup.
"A!" I hollered. "Did you put salt in the sugar bowl?"
A came laughing into the living room, and TB repeated the question.
"Funny story." she says ...
"One day I was making rice with cinnamon and sugar for myself and as I was putting sugar in, I thought how funny it would be if someone had put salt in there instead, so I put enough salt in there that Mom wouldn't put sugar in on top of it.
Then I took a bite of my rice and it just wasn't sweet enough and so I took the sugar bowl that I had just put salt in and added some to my rice."
The lecture on Lets Not Waste Whole Cups of Salt waited until we had all stopped laughing at each other.
If I don't write this down, ten years from now Technoboy and I will look at each other and ask "what was that thing A did with the tea?" and we will not be able to remember and then we'll just laugh anyway and say "well it sure was funny" and the other one will say "yep she sure was" and we will go back to doddering fools with a vague memory of A having cracked us right up.
TB has started drinking sweet tea instead of Coke, as much as he can. It's cheaper and maybe has less sugar. TB drinks copius quantities of liquid. The tea jug is often empty, and I have taken to making tea when I see that it is empty. Today I ran out of sugar in the sugar canister so grabbed the sugar bowl for the last 1/3 of a cup of sugar I needed.
I came home from driving someone somewhere and TB asked "Did you make the tea?"
"Why yes I did." I replied, expecting possibly some gratitude.
TB left the room and returned with a cup of sweet tea for me. What an innovative way to say thank you, I thought, and took a big gulp of the tea and promptly spat it back out into the cup.
"A!" I hollered. "Did you put salt in the sugar bowl?"
A came laughing into the living room, and TB repeated the question.
"Funny story." she says ...
"One day I was making rice with cinnamon and sugar for myself and as I was putting sugar in, I thought how funny it would be if someone had put salt in there instead, so I put enough salt in there that Mom wouldn't put sugar in on top of it.
Then I took a bite of my rice and it just wasn't sweet enough and so I took the sugar bowl that I had just put salt in and added some to my rice."
The lecture on Lets Not Waste Whole Cups of Salt waited until we had all stopped laughing at each other.
Monday, December 07, 2009
The best laid plans (also if you do not knit, this may not be the entry for you)
No, AP, no, I tell myself*. Keep. It. Simple.
And somewhere the knitting fairies rub their tiny little hands together and chortle with glee.
It started with dishcloths. I was going to make eight dishcloths, give them to people who admitted they would use them, and that was going to be IT. I made one, and then another one, and then dishcloth cotton went on sale:
(note the look on the dog's face. Doesn't she look delighted?) and hahahaha I'm sure you'll all find this as amusing as I do - most of those aren't even for Christmas. If I sell a thousand of those puppies, I can make a mortgage payment! (in Reality I have no idea what our mortgage payment is, but in anticipation of the scolding you will all give me for that, I'm totally asking TechnoMoneyManager the next time I see him. Or he can just read this and shout it out to me from his office. No need to shake any virtual fingers, Internet.)
So then I thought I'd knit a (secret item) out of leftover yarn from a scarf. There was only one skein left, so it would be quick. So I knit half the (secret item) and thought ...well that's knitting up a bit loose, I'll do it again, but with two strands of yarn. So I pulled from the center of the ball and the outside of the ball and I didn't like the way the colour changes were matching up - kinda muddy. Not pretty. And this is silk/merino blend - it deserves to be pretty.
So logically** the only thing to do was wind the entire ball two strands together until I hit the middle, snip the yarn, wind the two strands into separate balls, and then wind one of THOSE balls in the other direction, check the colour matchups, AND rewind it all in two strands again. Here's how that went:
Although I eventually did get it all done, even the knitting, despite the voice in my head*** whispering LET IT GO as I tried to decide how exactly to modify the pattern so that I wouldn't run out of yarn. I only started over twice. Or three times. Or maybe four, but I'm really bad at math so I lost count.
So that's ...hardly any Christmas knitting, but that's okay because I can just do it on the drive home. I have fourteen hours. Although I did finish a sock for my SIL, and if you haven't tried it on, you're not the SIL that's getting it. Do you know how long it takes to make a sock? A very very long time. I do love you all that much, you SILs who read this blog, but I would need to know that you would WEAR a handknitted pair of socks before I could emotionally commit to it.
Also I have knitted a purple hat for my niece that was so ugly I almost burned it. But then I realized I could rip it out and try to fix what was wrong with it twice, and then make a poncho. She's four. Should the poncho have a hood, do you think, or a seed stitch collar that I design myself (hahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahaha) or shall I leave the neck edge the way it is? It's a fine neck edge now. Also if you are the mother of my four year old purple-loving niece, could you measure her neck from that bony knobby bit down to wherever a poncho should end, and fire me off an e-mail? Much appreciated.
And in other knitting news, I accidentally let TechnoBoy stay in the room last night while A and I went through my sock yarn discussing what yarn she would consent to wear socks made out of. There was a look on his face I'm not particularly fond of, so figuring I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, I picked up the purple knitpicks freebie sock yarn I got and starting petting it and purring. They're both suddenly treating me a lot more *carefully*.
ETA: TechnoBoy encourages me to consider the terms "net" and "gross" when attempting to make the mortgage payments through the sale of knitwear.
*This is a lie. I call myself Susan. When I use a name, and not a descriptor.
**TechnoBoy: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
***TB: "That'd be the voice of reason, honey."
And somewhere the knitting fairies rub their tiny little hands together and chortle with glee.
It started with dishcloths. I was going to make eight dishcloths, give them to people who admitted they would use them, and that was going to be IT. I made one, and then another one, and then dishcloth cotton went on sale:
(note the look on the dog's face. Doesn't she look delighted?) and hahahaha I'm sure you'll all find this as amusing as I do - most of those aren't even for Christmas. If I sell a thousand of those puppies, I can make a mortgage payment! (in Reality I have no idea what our mortgage payment is, but in anticipation of the scolding you will all give me for that, I'm totally asking TechnoMoneyManager the next time I see him. Or he can just read this and shout it out to me from his office. No need to shake any virtual fingers, Internet.)
So then I thought I'd knit a (secret item) out of leftover yarn from a scarf. There was only one skein left, so it would be quick. So I knit half the (secret item) and thought ...well that's knitting up a bit loose, I'll do it again, but with two strands of yarn. So I pulled from the center of the ball and the outside of the ball and I didn't like the way the colour changes were matching up - kinda muddy. Not pretty. And this is silk/merino blend - it deserves to be pretty.
So logically** the only thing to do was wind the entire ball two strands together until I hit the middle, snip the yarn, wind the two strands into separate balls, and then wind one of THOSE balls in the other direction, check the colour matchups, AND rewind it all in two strands again. Here's how that went:
Although I eventually did get it all done, even the knitting, despite the voice in my head*** whispering LET IT GO as I tried to decide how exactly to modify the pattern so that I wouldn't run out of yarn. I only started over twice. Or three times. Or maybe four, but I'm really bad at math so I lost count.
So that's ...hardly any Christmas knitting, but that's okay because I can just do it on the drive home. I have fourteen hours. Although I did finish a sock for my SIL, and if you haven't tried it on, you're not the SIL that's getting it. Do you know how long it takes to make a sock? A very very long time. I do love you all that much, you SILs who read this blog, but I would need to know that you would WEAR a handknitted pair of socks before I could emotionally commit to it.
Also I have knitted a purple hat for my niece that was so ugly I almost burned it. But then I realized I could rip it out and try to fix what was wrong with it twice, and then make a poncho. She's four. Should the poncho have a hood, do you think, or a seed stitch collar that I design myself (hahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahaha) or shall I leave the neck edge the way it is? It's a fine neck edge now. Also if you are the mother of my four year old purple-loving niece, could you measure her neck from that bony knobby bit down to wherever a poncho should end, and fire me off an e-mail? Much appreciated.
And in other knitting news, I accidentally let TechnoBoy stay in the room last night while A and I went through my sock yarn discussing what yarn she would consent to wear socks made out of. There was a look on his face I'm not particularly fond of, so figuring I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, I picked up the purple knitpicks freebie sock yarn I got and starting petting it and purring. They're both suddenly treating me a lot more *carefully*.
ETA: TechnoBoy encourages me to consider the terms "net" and "gross" when attempting to make the mortgage payments through the sale of knitwear.
*This is a lie. I call myself Susan. When I use a name, and not a descriptor.
**TechnoBoy: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
***TB: "That'd be the voice of reason, honey."
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