The Will To Blog...

...is hard to muster sometimes. A few reasons; first, I was on my own for two weeks while the constable was on course and for the first week I was sick, for the second the constable took the portable blogging machine back with him on said course. The stationary blogging machine (re: desk top) and I don't get along very well.

Anyhoo...

I'm worried that there is something very, very wrong with me. To illustrate, I present to you exhibit A.



A cake. I made a cake. For no apparent reason. I just was gripped by the notion that I wanted to make and decorate a cake one day and it wouldn't let go of me until I up and did it.



I think what started it all was that one day, I was thinking about little A's first birthday, which will be here freakishly soon (still five months away, but at the rate time is passing, it might as well be tomorrow) and what should I do for it and hey, we'll need cake and oh yeah, my mom used to make some pretty awesome cakes remember the time she made a little one and brought it to my third grade class that was both awesome and embarassing because there wasn't enough for everyone so I could only give some to a couple of other people so really what was she thinking? but anyway I could make a cake and hey, those fondant cakes are kind of cool I betcha I could do that let me Google that and see what I can find out.

Welcome to my diseased brain.

So I Googled and asked a friend of mine who makes cakes, bought some food colouring gel and well, here we are with a heap load of cake without a cake-eating occasion. This compulsion would've been helpful a week and a bit ago when it was the hubby and Hank's birthday. Oh yeah...



Birthday goofiness. Hank is two. Constable is older than that. Little A doesn't have a clue what's going on, but thinks it great fun anyway.



Speaking of her, this is how I found her when I returned from a minute in the kitchen. No idea how it happened. But, I suppose there are worse things in life than to be attacked by a soft, squishy sheep. She's my constant source of awesome in a day. She's...however many weeks older than the last time I posted. Yeah. Almost seven months. Let's go with that.



Now for knitting...oh, the knitting. Sometimes I feel a slave to it, I really do. I'm in the midst of a creative explosion at the moment, so there's a tragic little trail of works in progress strewn about the house. The above photo is the result of a solo trip to Have a Yarn prior to being abandoned, I mean, before the constable went on course. I think a few hours of autonomy combined with wool fumes left me defenceless to the lure of colourwork. It's a Lanett pattern and yarn and it's pretty and delicate and intricate looking without being overly so. Sized for 3 yrs. so I've got a while to work on it, which is a plus since I pick up and drop things at an alarming rate anymore.



There are some others, but in the interest of brevity, I'll just showcase the most recent and what I'm currently working on. From left to right, a wool soaker for my nephew for Christmas and a cabled earflap hat in the works to match (gotta keep all essential body parts warm and toasty); the Pretty Thing cowl a la the Harlot in the works in scrummy alpaca; an adorable little bonnet type hat for the baby (need a photo of her in it to really do it justice); and two felted pumpkins that I converted into little felted pumpkin baskets. I'm also crocheting food, but I don't have a picture of that at the moment. And I've got a few paper projects on the go as well. Damn Cricut machine. I KNEW this would happen.

Hmmm, anything else I need to get caught up on? I did make a couple of soups in my absense. One was what I call a Frankenchickenball Soup. It was chicken soup with chicken meatballs in it. My own recipe. Tasty enough but the chicken balls were too big. After that was a rushed french onion. French onion in celebration of being able to actually eat all the onions I wanted without having to get any grief about it while my beloved was gone and rushed because, well, I started too late in the day for eight hour soup in the crock pot. And you could really taste the difference. FYI, don't rush french onion. I did take photos, but, well, who cares really. Then it was Thanksgiving and I made a turkey but we ate it all before it got to the soup stage.

That should just about do it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and listen to the repeat of Q on CBC radio. I heard the morning broadcast and some female sportscaster totally dissed knitting during their sports culture panel discussion, and since I was playing with the baby at the time and only heard snippits of what was said, I want to make sure I have all my facts right before I send off my snarky little email. As an aside for anyone who listens to copious amounts of CBC radio like I do; a fun game to play while you're listening to Q is to count how many times Jian Ghomeshi says 'zeitgeist'. Can also be played as a drinking game.

Until later...

31...

My BIL once said, upon turning 31 himself, that 30 was one thing. But now he was into his thirties. I'd say that's pretty accurate. Still doesn't bother me though. Just still seems rather shocking or surprising that I could actually be advancing in age when most days I feel about twelve. Same with this whole impending parenthood gig. Some days I'm like, 'They're going to just let me have a baby??? But I'm 12. 12 yr. olds shouldn't have babies.'

Anyway...it's my birthday. And it's not dismal or blustery or blizzarding outside. It's sunny and bright and not at all harshly cold. I woke up feeling refreshed rather than dragged out. In fact, I slept the whole night through pretty much, except for the requisite middle of the night trips to the loo. My hubby's present to me (well, one of them anyway) was one of those wedgie pillows for pregnant bellies. I didn't say anything, just thank you, but secretly I thought to myself, 'Um...something other than a baby item would've been nice.' Now however, after trying it out and waking up feeling half way normal, I worship him. He is the smartest and most compassionate human being I know. I had resisted this purchase myself for the last while since a) I wasn't convinced I really needed it and b) money was needed to be spent elsewhere for baby. But I suppose the tossing and turning, waking up with sore hips, cranky morning demeanour, middle of the day fatigue and retreating to the pull-out couch when all else had failed may have convinced him. Not that his sleep was ever disturbed. Like that line from Christmas Vacation, my husband could sleep through 'a dump truck driving through a nitro-glycerin plant.' He just felt pretty badly for me and wanted to help. I'm one lucky chickadee.

His other gift is a yarn swift, to be picked up at my leisure. I spied one in Mahone Bay the last time I was there, and really, just should've grabbed it then. I kept buying skeins of yarn only to get home and realize that they were just squishy, colourful, decorative twists of fibre that I could only admire until one of my comrades in yarns took pity on me and allowed me to use theirs. Which is sorta silly. I'm a serious enough yarn consumer now to justify owning a swift.

So no real plans to speak of. A massage this afternoon, dinner later this evening. Should try and get Hank out for a play. It's been a few days and he's starting to get a little squirrelly. When the weather is bad or we're busy and we can't get him out for a proper run, he eventually gets what we lovingly refer to as 'Crazy Eyes'. The next stage after Crazy Eyes is maniacal running around the coffee table in the living room until he tires himself out a bit. This is not unusual dog behavior. The Jack Russell who lives in Ontario is quite fond of this activity himself. But he's fifteen pounds. It works really well for him and there is little or no risk of grievous bodily harm either to himself or any object in his path. Hank is a different story. He's 95 pounds. He's half way around the table before he even gets going. I'm just pleased the tv hasn't toppled over yet.

Anyhoo, until later. Off to enjoy the rest of my day.