--My Central Park Hoodie. A less than enthusiastic photographer who disappeared inside before I could approve the photo shoot and perhaps request additional shots resulted in a handful of photo's that did nothing for either the sweater or the model. This is the best of the bunch and can best be described as me doing my best immitation of a sulky teenager.
--Meeting new people. It was a perfect fall day here in NS and I had the pleasure of meeting a fellow Raveler and Mountie wife from BC who I have been exchanging Rav messages with for the last little while. Lovely lunch and chat and some yarn shopping to boot in Mahone Bay. A thoroughly pleasent meeting and afternoon, which left me feeling very contented and happy, floating on a little yarny-purchase cloud all the way home. Soon after my arrival the dramatic turn off events resulted in the aforementioned hate.
Hate:
--When the dog shits on the floor for the third time since moving into the house in July. Seriously, WTF? This dog is trained. He practically asks in as close to a sentence as you can get with a dog, 'Um, excuse me, but it would appear as though I need to be let out of doors to relieve myself. Could you possibly assist me in facilitating such?' To which we happily reply, 'But of course Hank. By all means.'
Both the constable and I were in the house and not at all pre-occupied. I was at the computer upstairs, he in the livingroom playing PS2 baseball. At no time did Hank politely ask to be let out. Not until the unpleasent stench of dog feces wafted into the craft room was I aware of his wrong doing. Middle of the landing at the top of the stairs, which, thankfully, had a plastic drop cloth down as we are back at the painting. But still...what gives? He'd been out just a little while earlier, and made no attempt to make his needs known. Instant grumpiness. For the entire evening. Which probably lead to the other thing I hate...
--When I don't listen to that inner voice that says, 'Wait to borrow a swift from someone before you decide to wind that skein.' That mess was a lovely, squishy hank of Tanis 'Sweetheart'. Now it is the bane of my existence and will haunt me until tomorrow, as I refuse to do battle with it any more this evening.
I want a glass of red wine so bad it makes me quite literally want to cry.
8 comments:
Maybe he's paying you back for his little surgery! Poor Hank. Poor you. The smells seem worse when you're pregnant, I swear I could smell popcorn 2 miles away!
Oh hon...I totally sympathize. If only the cravings could be something socially acceptable. :( (Y'know, doctors in England suggest that moms-to-be have a pint of Guinness on occasion...just saying.)
I'd be happy with a Guinness. A nice, tall, dark, creamy, ice cold pint right out of the tap. *sigh*
Thank goodness Jewel has never pooped in the house, and knock-on-wood she seems to be over the, "I have to pee on the carpet" stage. I let her have full access to the house now, she hasn't been in her kennel for ages. She doesn't leave our bedroom at night. She has gotten me up two or three times at around 3am, and that was cuz she had to use the bathroom. (And that used to make me mad, too, cuz when she peed in the back of the house there was no reason for it. We were home, she could get to the front door, the house isn't that big, but yet she wouldn't go to the door. She'll either stand at the front door and stare at me or give a little scratch at it. It's always obvious she needs to go out, so that's why I'd get so mad when she'd whiddle in the back.)
Love the hoodie! Can't wait to see it in person. I, too, need a swift. I am hoping that Santa brings me one this year.
BTW, my doctor always said one beer when you're preggie wouldn't hurt. Trouble is I don't do beer, so that was no help to me. :)
Was just going to second the Ninja--docs in the UK allow you one unit of alcohol a week, IIRC. My cousin asked if she could save hers all up and go on a big drunk at the end!
Try cranberry and club soda in a nice glass--it LOOKS like it should be a girly drink, maybe you can fool yourself?
Hang in there
Alison
(PS Doc just rolled his eyes at my cousin when asked about saving up units, so I guess that was a no, don't go on a big drunk right before the birth!).
OH, Oh, oh!
Love the sweater, really, really do and you still manage the pouty teenager look very well.
Bad Hank! All I can say is 'It Happens' and welcome to loving a pet even though they shit on the floor club. I have your membership card here.
That's a sweet tangle you have there. I recommend what I do - stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. Of course this means you must deny its existence going forward though.
Oh, i just had a better idea for the tangled pink yarn. Take it to your knit night. Someone will take pity on the pregnant lady and untangle it for you. No, seriously, I speak from experience!
the sweater looks fab! (yes - I lived through the 70s and can use words like fab, marvy and swell like I own them~!)
The pink Tanis is very pretty ... socks?
Ummm - not knowing much about the mechanics of knitting equipment, but -- would the antique skein winder work as a skein unwinder as well? Might be worth a shot.
I woke up this a.m., let all 3 pooches outside, they all said they did their business, let them in fed them, knit for literally 10 minutes and one of them left me a pile of pooh on the kitchen floor - there is a lot of finger pointing and blame placing, but no one is owning up to it. The shitting on the floor thing must be the "in thing" for dogs this week!
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