Busywork

I'm mad at my knitting, but it's doing ok despite me.

This productivity while I defer to a more patient math tutor than myself. Howling "rawr just do it!" and throwing star stickers in the air doesn't appear to have any educational benefits. Its gotten the floor pretty clean with all the sweeping time-outs I've given myself, though.

Still no crimes to solve, except for Who's Been Peeing on the Scale. It's down to one of the cats.

Death Match - MAMMOTH

Prehysteria. Mammothry... Werewolves.

Prehistoric weremammoth has a sad.

All her friends are extinct. The books she's been reading are ancient, and she hasn't had anyone to sharpen her claws wit  on for ages.

Now she just watches youtube videos and gets into arguments with paleo-dieters on the Internet.

Weremammoth contemplates next evolutionary step.

Robotaday and Yermits have more mammoths. sarahapple has been acting out various plagues throughout history, and will be joining us later is back among the living.

Week 34

Maura sleeps by my legs all night, and has decided that my feet are her enemy, savaging my toes any time I move in my sleep. Because I am nice and understanding, I slowly inch them closer and closer to her throughout the night, until they are tucked under her tummy, then dig my toes in and tickle her violently. All her extremities - including her tail - sprout sharp teeth at this point, but ha, that is why feet are thick skinned.

My mother has started pining for Indiana, daydreaming about apple trees and wood cabins and 5 acres to build an aviary without neighbors. I remind her about wet wool, and icy roads, and children with chapped faces, because I am helpful like that, but I knit her a pair of socks to make her feel cozy. And I knit them in three days; my new speed knitting powers owing to a mishap with lactic acid a few nights ago, not unlike the origin story of a very sedentary superhero. Drowsing out of a deep and delicious dream, I curled my toes down before I could wake enough to remember NO NEVER POINT THE TOES and triggered a massive leg cramp that tore my muscles all to hell and inflated my leg like a zeppelin. Where was the foot-eating alarm-cat when this happened, I would like to know? An ounce of prevention is worth a pint of blood, as the saying goes.

And here is an unrelated picture of Astrid as couch throw.

Notable: I managed to get the child up to the topside playground, winning a battle against gravity. There I drew a tree while throwing a stick for him to fetch. Parenting is easy.

turtles and bread

My mom's procedure went without incident, apart from my appalling city driving.

So things are back to the usual slow roll. 

This is still happening. And I am down to one pair of pants that fit. Will be improvising some sheeting for the final weeks.

I baked bread that looked like a turkey.

Ran out of yarn on the second kilt hose. Ordered more, in scant quantity. While waiting, started a new project, which I will also run out of yarn for.

(Improvised toddler verson of the Intertwined Cables Pullover)

The kid has just this week made a brain connection between letter sounds and the words he wants to write. I attempt to help pad this vital thread of brain fat with repetition and piles of buttered bread.

I like the slow pace of things, but have started thinking about being one of those knitters who solves crime while drinking tea and cutting witty remarks. So far, have been spying on the neighbor kid, who appears to be dealing drugs at the dialysis center, using a basketball as his secret signal. Haven't figured out exactly how to go about sleuthing, being as a) nobody has died conveniently on my lawn and b) the neighbor kid has known me for 10 years and will probably recognize me. Crime solving is hard. Just need the right shoes, probably.

Slowing down

Heavy. Tired. We have momentum in the mornings that ends in fat feet and a spine that wants to stay adhered to the couch. We hurry to sweep, load dishes, change laundry, paint, do worksheets, and make dinner before everyone gets home, sucking every molecule of vertical stamina from my iron supplements.

I have been having moments of comfort and happiness, of excitement at the end of a new milk frother and assortment of k-cups. The old dark thoughts have gone walking again at night when my guard goes down, and they catch me while driving sometimes.

We went to a Royal Scottish Country Dance party and the highland instructor blocked the door after seeing the length of the boy-child's legs. I sat knitting kilt hose for those stick-insect limbs while the old ladies nodded and winked at each other.

Feet like a draft horse.

Pattern to come as I write it down. And OF COURSE I ran out of yarn 3 inches from the toe and needed to order another ball, which of course is back-ordered until February. Became overcome by visions of rampant hose knitting and bought a book of old kilt hose patterns. Who am I?

The cats and my mother have stolen the ugly striped blanket I made, and huddle under it all together against the freezing evening rain, so I have started a new baby blanket.

Umaro, by Jared Flood (Brooklyn Tweed)

Editing illustrations, which I am always certain ruins them completely.

Things are slowly moving along.

The quilt is DONE

ITISDONEITISDONE

Now Leif just needs a bed. This being temporarily disassembled and shoved under the big bed until we work out the furniture arrangement in the bedroom. Which we have... Oh, 8 weeks or so to do.

Lighten up

A year needs a theme. I'm unburdening; letting go of losing my house and job and belongings and bodily autonomy. Putting down embarrassment, shedding weight - and hair, and vital fluids - and letting myself slow down and enjoy my people and the time to listen to music and draw.

I have a list, too. I'm leaving off the obvious stuff having to do with life and not dying.

Go to the museum
Make another bronze
Publish 2 more books
Drink ALL THE HOMEBREW
But not all at the same time - no hangovers or drinky emails. Except to Sarah.
Learn to spin yarn
Make a buche de Noel with meringue mushrooms
Finish Leif's quilt
Knit Christmas stocking
Knit kilt hose
Mail things to canadaland
Read more Terry Pratchett
Keep the house cleanish
Do project 365
... Will add to this.

Today people went back to school and work. We got started.


I will get the binding on this thing.

If I can get the effing cats off it.

Did some math, worked out a pattern, and started a pair of kilt hose for Gavin.

Sketched a spot illustration. Then ate a burrito. Checked the kid's progress in his workbook. He writes like a 4 year-old. 

The kid and I got out the acrylics, and stole my mom's egg cups to use as paint palettes.

cat and dragon

There was a checkup. No matter what my symptoms were - headache and chills, fever and stomach ache, missing limbs - the diagnosis was, "You are having a baby. You need a shot."

The year and I are on good terms so far.