Christmas Sweaters

Hello out there...

I hope you're all having a joyous holiday season. We're still kickin' here at the homestead. It's been a while, lots has happened, yet nothing much at the same time. The kids, they be growing. Here is a rare quiet moment of them adorned in knit wear, of my making (mostly...I had help with some finishing issues). My oldest is 5, soon to be six (yikes!!) and my little man is 2.5. I'm pretty much just tired all of the time!

The knitting...well, it happens on occasion. Not nearly as much as it once did. Who has time? Ah well...it's only temporary.

Anyhow, just popped by to wish all a Merry Merry and a Happy Happy. Perhaps we'll see more of each other in the New Year. Who knows!

Until then, stay warm...

A Blessing

I've been trying to compose this post for a while now, knowing it was coming. I think back to the post I wrote for my daughters first birthday, how concise and profound it seems to me now. I wanted to honour my son's milestone with some equal profundity.

My mind is a jumble. There is much I want to say about this past year. So much to process, mostly bittersweet feelings of letting go and moving on, of one phase giving way to another, of saying good-bye to the baby and hello to the boy, of saying good-bye to babies in my house forever and how sad, how very very sad that makes me.

His was a very worried pregnancy, borne of less naivete than a first timer. Subsequently, I had a very worried baby on my hands once he entered our realm. A serious and worried little person who didn't really seem too keen to trust these crazy people.

But he relaxed over time, and once he was able to eat what he really wanted, which was what was on our plates, and move where he wanted, which was just about everywhere, he was as happy as a clam.

He's a funny boy, a sweet boy, a shy boy, and a cuddly boy. He loves to be tossed around by his dad and snuggled close by his mom. And when he was really wee, the only two things that would make my  Grumplestilskin happy was his bouncy chair and his big sister. He still lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees her enter the room. He adores her, and she likewise. It's the most amazing thing to watch.

So for all the worry and the fear and the trepidation that was all for naught, what I was left with once I held him in my arms and rocked him to sleep night after night, was a blessing. He, my second child, calmed me down, because I had to be to make him calm. He slowed me down, because I needed to take my time with him. He made me pause and really absorb his baby-ness, because he's my last.

Which is why, every night before I lay him down to sleep, I hold him close and whisper in his ear;

'You are a blessing to me.' (To which he giggles, because the whispering tickles his ear!)

Happy Birthday my son. I love you with all of my heart.

Meanwhile, 7.5 months later...

It's been so long since I blogged that it took me a few minutes to figure out where everything was again.

So, how's it goin', eh?

It's cliche to say, but I really don't know where the last seven months have gone. I think that as fast as the first baby grows, the second baby grows that much faster, because you're too busy keeping an eye on the first and too busy talking to the first (and talking and talking and talking and TALKING! The talking never stops!!!) and too busy trying to keep up with your house that OMG, gets buried under clutter that much faster and before you know it, this second little bundle of joy has teeth and is feeding himself and babbling and you just sit and wonder how exactly is all happened.

I think about blogging a lot. But the crafting and the knitting have pretty much gone by the wayside. It's not that there isn't enough time. There are certainly a few hours every evening where I could plod along with this project or that. The real problem is that I just don't care. I'm tired. I'm spent. I just want some peace and quiet. The thought of staring blankly off into space is oftentimes more appealing than plowing through yet another pair of socks. Which I already have a drawer full of.

Not to say it doesn't happen. I knit a few things as gifts this year, and a few things for Mister Man for when he's a little older. But Miss A is still staunchly anti-knitwear so that kinda sucks the joy and the purpose out of the craft. Larger wearable items for myself just aren't in the budget. Nothing seems to be in the budget anymore except food. When in the hell did groceries get so damned expensive? I'm sure I could save a bundle if I just eliminated frivolous items from the list, like fresh produce and dairy products.

So more often than not, I find myself wanting to mommy blog. About the joys and, lets be honest, the frustrations. But I dunno...is it fair to the kids? To have a permanent record of what should be an otherwise private childhood?

I miss the blog, blogging. It felt like a conversation. Which are hard to come by these days, cooped up alone a lot of the time, just me and my mini-me's. Miss A is an exceptional conversationalist for one so wee, although the conversations tend to revolve around fairies, princesses, and bargaining to watch more movies. After a while, it gets a little predictable. We'll just pretend that there is no arguing. No, never. Not with a strong willed almost 4 year old.

Anyway, just thought I'd drop in to say we're still kickin' it here at the homestead. Hope y'all had a good holiday season and are settling in for the long haul of winter. Here's a little dose of cute from me to you, and I'll hopefully drop in again very soon. Until later...

Baby V...

Baby Von finally decided to make an appearance May 23 @ 5:27 pm. Well, decided is probably too optimistic a word. Let's just say stubbornness is a strong quality in my babies, as is largeness, with both of them being 10 lbs. and a little bit. They also don't seem terribly concerned with punctuality. So despite plans to the contrary (what's that saying about making plans?) little V was also delivered by c-section this past Wednesday evening. We're home now, which is fantastic, both doing well all things considered and doesn't he look smashing in his hand spun/hand knit sweater! And it fits!! With a little bit of room to grow. Perfect for warm spring and summer walks.

I'm deeply smitten with the new man in my life and we're all just a bunch of bugs in rugs here, all cozied up and getting readjusted to the new family order. So far, so great. Big sister A is rockin' her new role and Dad is fortunate enough to be able to take some parental leave to help us all out. I have a feeling this is going to be an awesome summer.

With this pregnancy behind me, I feel the zest for former loves returning, if ever so slowly as recovery is my first priority. Eating, cooking, knitting, crafting...I have psychic space for it all again, though time and energy is a completely different story!! We shall see. One thing at a time. For now, I'm just tickled pink...no wait, blue...that his little sweater suits him so well.

Hope to be around a little more often. Fingers crossed.

Until later...

Holding pattern...

Sheesh, February...where does the time go?

So here we are, nearing the end of this particular journey known as my second pregnancy and I'm in that all too familiar holding pattern. I'm hoping this one doesn't last as long as it did with my first, who was a full two weeks overdue. I'm also keeping my fingers crossed that I can avoid another c-section. But it's all wait and see on both fronts. I'm healthy, my little ride along is healthy and for now we wait.

Here's what I've been able to accomplish over these past nine months;

I knit the little gaffer a baby blanket, details on Ravelry (I'm Marti there too, the Nova Scotia one). The pattern is a Hudson's Bay blanket inspired theme. It captured my imagination and seemed perfectly suited to a mushy pregnancy brain, as it was all garter stitch. I used Berocco Vintage yarn, which is 50% acrylic, although you'd never know it. It's so soft and squishy. It made a beautiful blanket, if I do say so myself. And a nice sized one at that. Something to grow with him.

I wasn't sure I was going to be able to, but I did manage to get a quilt made as well. Once I stopped over thinking the process and just decided to cut and sew, it came together in a weekend. I had been collecting fat quarters in the hopes of one day making myself an all blue quilt. No time like the present I suppose! I'm quite pleased with it. I even learned to do mitred corners...properly. I machine quilted it, just stitch in the ditch, and voila, a nice little baby quilt as well. I wanted to make sure that whatever I did for his big sister, I also finished for him. So done and done. Almost.

Remember all that talk of hand spun yarn? Well, I did manage to get it all finished (with another skein of white in there as well) and knit up into a little garter stitch cardi. I've been very big on garter stitch this pregnancy! The sweater is mostly improvised, and in truth, quite small. When I knit the one for my daughter, it was as tiny and delicate and dainty as possible, and she couldn't have been more the opposite when she was born (yet she is now...just a little might of a thing)! She was my little Easter ham weighing in at 10 lbs 2 oz and the sweater, which was only worn on the ride home from the hospital, looked like it was stretched over the shoulders of a linebacker. I'm not anticipating that our new arrival will be significantly smaller, but I do hope the sweater fits well enough for perhaps one other outing, other than just the ride home in the van. In any case, the real accomplishment is that I spun and knit it myself, of which I am quite proud. A meaningful keepsake for me at least.

As is this. I decided, after much hemming and hawing, to do a maternity photo shoot this time around. While I'm simply in love with every photo that the photographer took, this might be my absolute favourite. It just really means a lot to me.

In other significant events, someone around here turned 3 at the end of March.

The time has gone so fast it literally takes my breath away. I swear it was only yesterday that I was sitting here, waiting for her to make her appearance into my life. And now I can scarcely remember a time when she wasn't part of it. She is going to make one heck of a big sister. She's been such an amazing kid this entire pregnancy, even the days when all I seem to have been able to do is apologize for being slow, tired, cranky and just generally not a lot of fun to be around. It's been amazing to share this experience with her, to listen to her talk about and to the baby, to hear her make sense of it all in her own way. Of course, it's still very much an abstract concept. Mom has a big belly (and butt...she brought that up the other day...thanks for that kiddo ;), she's going to our friends house when the baby is born (totally pumped about that) and while we haven't discussed the topic as to how in any way shape or form, she's fairly certain that the baby is going rip my clothes when he's born, presumably popping straight out of my belly (which, in the case of a repeat c-section if it happens, really isn't far off the mark). I'm fine with just leaving it at that for now ;) She's funny, unbelievably smart, and kind. I tell her she's a triple threat. The world had better watch out when she hits the streets someday. This girl is going to knock your socks off!

So that's about it. I'm just trying to fill my days with things that keep my mind off of my two most prevalent thoughts, which are I HURT EVERYWHERE and GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. I'm knitting socks...takes the edge off a bit! But my absolute favourite past time is sleeping. Sleep at night seems to be already precious and elusive, so I sneak a snooze whenever I can, especially on days when miss A still conks out for a good chunk of time. Thankfully I've done a great job of making her as lazy as I am, so even if she can curl up with a video while I get a few dozy z's, she's quite content. As I said, great kid. I owe her for that. I'll try to remember these things when she's a teenager, maybe cut her some slack one day.

Now that the topic of sleep as been brought up, it's starting to sound like a better idea all the time. I was going to attempt to sew, but that just seems foolish when there is a perfectly comfortable bed calling my name. Hey, I'm nearly 38 weeks pregnant. I'll take any nap I can get ;)

We'll see what transpires in the next few weeks. I'll be sure to introduce our little guy once he arrives.

Until later...

700 yrds. of soft pink handspun...

...and we're having a boy!

Gotta get workin' on that blue fibre.

Pictures soon.

Until later...

Between the Hours of 11 and 3...

I'm waiting for the cable guy. And my daughter is with the sitter this morning, so I find myself in that weird place of total autonomy and no clue what to do with it. So why not blog.

A good friend of mine just had her first baby about a week ago, coincidentally enough, on my birthday! How thoughtful of her. Back in late summer, knowing that I was going to knit for her, she asked if I might be able to replicate the baby blanket that her grandmother had knit for her in her infancy. She managed to find the original pattern amongst her grandmothers things and sent it along to me, along with a paint chip of the colour she wanted (she's a decorator...very organized which, as a knitter, is extremely helpful).

With vital info in hand, I went hunting for yarn and found a nearly perfect match in colour in the Drops Super Fine Merino Superwash wool. Which was delightful to work with I must say. After a little design discussion, my friend decided it would be alright to drop the frilly border, since she knew she was having a boy. Here is the final result;

Very smooshy, very comfy. I was quite pleased that it was done in plenty of time for shipping too, as I was worried that I wasn't going to make it.

When all was said and done with the blankie, I had a few balls left over and decided to complete the layette with a little sweater and hat.

Baby Sophisticate sweater with just a basic baby hat. This was one of those baby projects that just sorta followed me a round for a while after I knit it, so that I could paw at it and look at it and just generally gush about how freakin' adorable it was. Yes, incredibly cute indeed until this showed up in my inbox the other day...

My birthday buddy wearing my hand knits. Just too much. He's being swallowed up by yarny goodness, as all babies should be really. I'm glad he's got room to grow. You really never can be sure with wee ones what's going to fit and when.

As I said to my friend, it does my knitterly heart good to see my hand knits out in the world, being put to good use. It got me to thinking about all the baby knitting I've done over the years and always I get pictures back of the little cherubs wearing my handiwork. There's a lot of yarny love out there.

All of which is making me sorta itch to start making something for the newest bean in my life, the one that is giving me indigestion and a never ceasing back ache, interrupted sleep and spontaneous bouts of weepiness. I have a terrible case of startitis at the moment though. I've got about 3 or 4 projects on the go, and my attention keeps wandering. I keep getting pulled back into wanting to knit another sweater for my daughter, which to me is the definition of insanity, as we all know her feelings on hand knits. It's like an obsession with me...if only I could find the right combo of pattern and yarn, she'd suddenly come around and worship wool like I do. Alas, I don't think it's meant to be. She keeps leading me on though. Her latest request is that I knit her new versions of her favourite bedtime pals, Pinky and Bluey. More on them in another post.

For now, I'm going to go troll Ravelry, actually finish a full cup of coffee and continue to wait for the cable guy.

Until later...

Under the Wire...

Well, it only took three years, but it's finally completed.

I started this project in September of 2009 when my daughter was...7 months old? I chose size three years knowing it would take a while, never anticipating that I would get it done just in time for her third birthday. Crazy. I really, honestly and truly have no idea where the time went. And really have no idea why it took me so long.

I don't find Fair Isle all that complicated. Particularly once you get your fingers around two handed Fair Isle, it goes quite quickly and is a very satisfying kind of knit. I guess I just kept getting distracted. I know I hit a few spots along the way with this sweater where I got frustrated and put it in time out. This all had to do with my inability to count to three during the body part of the sweater. Drove me crazy.

Anyhow, with some hand holding from a fellow Knitterpudlian, I even conquered my fear of hacking at my knitting with a pair of sharp scissors.

It's actually quite exhilarating. Totally counter-intuitive but the result was well worth it. I've caught the bug now, I want to do more colour work.

All that being said, my daughter still hates hand knits. She may look happy in the above photo, but that's really only because I'm taking her picture. She'll do just about anything to get in front of a camera.   She wanted it off immediately after the photo shoot and yes, there were tears (neck is a little tight). Oh well. I'll keep trying. I can't help it. Maybe the next one will like wool and appreciate fine craftsmanship. I'm not holding my breath though.

Until later...

Ambitious Undertakings

First there's this. A Work In Progress until sometime in May.

Which has me thinking about either this...

or this...

that I'd like to spin and knit into an itty bitty baby something or other. We'll find out in February what we're having, should cut down on the decision making. Can I wait till then to start spinning? Probably not.

Until later...

Not Dead...

No, I am not dead. Nor injured. Or trapped under something heavy. Just can't believe that two full months have passed by me already. Such is the life.

Hoping to do one of the following in the new year;

a) Blog more

b) Get real and give up the blog

My preference is for a, but we shall see.

Anyhow, if you're still out there, have a very happy holiday, stay safe and enjoy. We here at the Workshop wish you and yours a great new year.

Stay cool y'all, I'll be back soon.

Until later...

The Imperceptible Beep of Terror...

My dog and I have a complicated relationship. For convenience sake, you could say it's love-hate, with each of us feeling both emotions in equal measure. I don't think I was well suited for being a large dog owner and Hank wasn't well suited for...well...not much of anything.

Hank's major issue is that he is a bundle of nerves. He's nervous. Of everything. Most of the time. Well, in the house he's alright. But that's about it. Which is why he lives a cloistered life, since his introduction to new people, scenarios, enviornments, has largely been met with ultimate disaster.

It's not an ideal situation for any of us, but it is what it is, and we work it out as best we can. We have an equilibrium that seems to be enough for now. I've come to accept that this is the best we can hope for.

Sometimes though, you just have to shake your head at some of the stuff he pulls. Par example; my husband and I were watching tv the other night in our livingroom, where Hank is usually a fixture in the evenings. An entire hour had gone by, a show completed, when it dawned on me that Hank was nowhere to be found. Very unlike him to just wander off to another part of the house on his own...unless he's up to something (like, oh I dunno, barfing in our bedroom or leaving a calling card in my craft room).

I got up, checked the hallway, called out for him and then it dawned on me. The door to the downstairs bathroom, because of the unlevel floor, swings closed on it's own unless pushed all the way open where the bottom corner will catch on the floor. This has happened before. What makes him go in there, I don't know, but I went and pushed the door open only to find a sheepish faced Hank staring back at me from the darkened bathroom. I just shook my head and gave him a little pat. A whole hour. And not even a whine.

Just a few nights ago, I was getting ready to go to bed. Hank, who's usually underfoot while I'm on the couch, followed me upstairs as I started my evening routine. Change, go to the washroom, bed, light off, unconcious. Off to the washroom I went when suddenly, this 100 lb + German Shepherd breaks in (door must have only been ajar) and attempts not only to get under my legs but actually behind the toilet. He frustrates me at the best of times, but this was a violation of privacy and personal space that I just could not tolerate at nearly midnight.

My entreaties to get him to leave were unsuccessful, so I just simply left, wherein my big scary black dog followed as close to me as humanly possible back to the bedroom. Something was up. He was being weird. I climbed into bed and Hank decided that he'd do the same. Which is a big no-no. He's never been allowed on the bed...ever. Just not the kind of habit you want to get into with a 100 + lb dog with dominance and authority issues. But he was insistent. I can't get physical with him, cuz he'll get physical right back (with his teeth) so my only hope was that he would obey my commands and get the hell off my bed. He did. But then got right back up. So I did the only thing I could think of. I kicked him out of my room, put the baby gate across the stairs and called my police officer husband who was on duty to bitch about how weird our dog was.

I must admit that I was getting a little freaked out by his behaviour. Something was spooking him and it was starting to spook me. If someone were lurking around, he wouldn't hesitate to let me know, but this was something else entirely. So I called my husband. While I'm on the phone, the dog is trying to climb over the baby gate at the top of the stairs. Which has now woken my daughter. And is pissing me off to no end.

So I put him in his crate, which is in our room. At which time he starts pawing and chewing on the wire. Now I'm really at the point of WTF. What do I do with this dog who won't settle down? I'm not doing a perimeter check at this time of night. Wait, I know someone with a flashlight AND a gun. Maybe I can persuade him to check things out. I call him back and ask him to swing by to see if there's anything in or around our yard.

I let the dog out and we're standing in the hallway when all of a sudden, I hear it. It's faint, ever so faint, but I hear it. *beep* In that instant, it all becomes crystal clear.

My heart softens. I offer words of comfort to this pathetic creature, of whom so many of my friends are afraid. 'It's alright buddy,' I say. 'I'll fix it.'

I grab the step stool from the next room and climb up to check the smoke detector in the hallway. Hank trys to climb up my leg. Wait, no battery. That can't be it. I hear it again.

*beep*

I call my husband again. "Where are you?"
"I'm right outside."
"Can you check the smoke detector in the apartment please? I think the battery is dying."

Early on in Hank's life, the smoke detectors, particularly the one just off our kitchen, left a traumatic mark on his psyche. They are super sensitive, so much so that just setting the oven to 400 or above would set them off. You can visibly see whatever mental fortitude Hank can muster crumble under the weight of an errant smoke detector. His eyes wild, his breathing laboured, the poor animal simply cannot cope. And I think even more difficult for him to deal with than the actual smoke alarm going off is the intermitent *beep* of a dying battery.

Remember, this is coming from a dog who doesn't know any better than to poop uphill.

Long, unecessary story short, my own personal constable on call saved the day, I explained to Hank that we got it all sorted out and that he could calm down now. He uttered a huge sigh of relief and then promptly let his entire body weight just fall to the ground, as is his way of lying down. Usually body checking the bed in the process. There he would remain, snuggled up on my side of the bed, as he always does, until morning, wherein I will figure out how to step over a massive, sleeping pile of dog and our little dance will start all over again.

I have to go have a little chat with him now. He's outside trying to catch crows.

*sigh*

Until later...

Dead Rat...

Are you like this? You think a line from a movie is amusing, so it gets stuck in your vocabulary for a while? Around those closest to you, it becomes an in-joke, a common phrase you throw around.

Well, one of little A's favourite movies is A Bug's Life. There's a scene in the movie when Flick has just arrived in the bug city and there's this millipede that's essentially a city bus, being driven by another bug. The bus driver calls out a series of stops as the bugs are boarding and he ends with '....and Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad Rat.' I don't know who started it, us or her, but either way, my wee girl now goes running around, randomly shouting out 'Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad Rat.' We think it's hilarious, but I'm just waiting for the day when she does it in public and someone asks me, 'Did she just say...Dead Rat?' For now, she's too busy announcing to the wide world when she's successfully used the washroom in public, so I think I'm safe for a while.

So the summer is gone. Just like that, over. Even the weather seems to have gotten the memo. It was a beautiful long weekend, wherein I holed myself up in our spare bedroom to get it painted and cleaned in prep. for company coming this month. Two full days and once I was done, the weekend was over and the sun was gone, only to be replaced by the grey cool and damp moniker of fall.

Le sigh.

We had a nice summer. It's never long enough though. We had the grandparents visiting for two weeks in August, which little A thoroughly enjoyed, then we went on a little family vacation of our own to Cape Breton.

This is us, being all family-like and having a good time.

More company is coming this month, which I'm really looking forward to. My BFF is coming and bringing her wee baby girl, whom I can't wait to hold and snuggle. That is, if little A allows it. She seems to have collided head on into the terrible two's and it's making me a little nuts. I thought teenage girls were emotionally unstable. They've got nothing on her.

But you're here to see knitting I suppose. Time for a little catch-up.

Our knitting group did a little KAL with Elizabeth Zimmerman's Baby Surprise Jacket. I tried this pattern out a few years ago, and it made zero sense to me, so I put it away and scoffed at the 15 000+ people who seemed to have figured it out. To be honest, I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. I didn't think it was quite as cute as everyone was gushing about. Then one of our members made one and I got to see and hold it in person. It was itty-bitty and adorable. She also de-mystified the pattern by letting slip that the seam was at the top of the sweater, whereas I was of the belief it was at the underarm. So I decided to give it another go. And voila, sweater achieved. I will admit, it is an addictive little knit.

Also finished my August socks for my Self Imposed Sock Club. I don't think it shows up in the photo, but this is the Berroco metallic/shiny yarn. It sparkles. It's beguiling. Or I'm simple. Either way.

I also made a hat a while back, a slouchy sock yarny one, and it's actually making me kind of glad that the weather is getting cooler, because I really like wearing it. And I've decided that at 33, if I haven't got a hairstyle by now, then I'm giving up. This summer I found a head band that actually stays on my head and I don't think I've taken it off since I bought it. Head bands and slouchy hats...problem solved. Now if only bathrobes were a socially acceptable mode of dress, I'd be all set. It dawned on me this morning that I should probably do some fall shopping for myself. Ugh. I hate shopping. Maybe I'll get my arse in gear and actually go to the city rather than resort to Reitmans, the only option around here. Oh how I loathe Reitmans. And yet my closet is stocked full of it. Anyhow...I could do a whole post on how pathetic my wardrobe is.

Well, I managed to get through almost a whole post melt-down free. Back to reality. Until later...

Ahhhhhhhh....

That would be a contented sigh of relief.

My little weekend project is complete and I know have a shiny new(ish) toy storage solution.

While I was working away on it, I had another idea.

Either side of this cabinet was just begging for some sort of clever upgrade. At first I thought chalkboard, but then I remembered that this was going in my livingroom and I didn't necessarily want to encourage chalk use near my furniture or carpet (we've already had one incident that I'd rather not repeat). So I went with magnets. Here's how the primer went on. Black. I was a little worried that the white wouldn't cover it.

But it did. And it works. Not great, but it works. The magnetic force is pretty weak, but it serves it's purpose. I'll just get heavier duty magnets if we plan to put up pictures or anything like that. For now, for her number and letter and animal magnets, it works just fine. They say that every coat of the magnetic primer increases the magnetic strength and the directions recommended three coats, which is what I did. Before the top coat the strength was pretty good, but after two top coats of the white, it was weaker. Since the topcoat covered as well as it did, if there is a next time with the primer (which there likely will be...I barely used any of it) I'll do more coats.

Total cost of this project; $24.99 for the magnetic primer. That's it. Everything else I had on hand (including the handy-man to cut the plywood shelves for me). Once it was all assembled and complete, I thought of a couple of other improvements. 1) Some funky contact paper for the shelves and 2) maybe some curtains for the front. So there I'd need the paper and a curtain rod. I'm sure I could find some fabric in my stash that would do.

Anyhoo, glad to have that out of the way. Onto the next project.

Until later...

Someday...

Someday I will be able to start and complete a project without interruption.

Someday I will no longer have tools adorning my living space (like the air compressor that has lived in the landing upstairs for over a year) and I won't have to pass it off as 'reno chic'.

Somday my husband will work a nine to five kind of shift and we'll see him more.

Someday this house will be done. I might not be living here by that time, but it'll be done.

Someday my daughter will understand the concept of 'I'm on the phone.' Probably not until that becomes important to her though. I think when she's a teen, I'll stand by her and pester her with questions, insist I need to use the washroom THISVERYSECOND or, ya know, just scream for no reason.

Someday she won't shove the last wedge of her banana in her mouth all at once only to spit it out again seconds later in a choking panic. Seriously, how many times does one need to do this to realize maybe I shouldn't do that anymore?

Someday I'll read a book again.

Until then, I'll satisfy myself with getting things done at a snails pace. Remember this dresser? Well, I didn't end up taking an axe to the whole thing, just the drawers. No seriously. It sat in our shed for the longest time, then finally, in the spring, when we were doing a big clean-up, my husband brought me the sledgehammer and said 'It's time.'

By then, my rage had quieted and I thought to myself, 'well, it ain't all bad.' We stood there, contemplating, discussing, and suddenly, an idea dawned. So I took the drawers out and off to the burn pile we went, sledgehammer in tow. I smashed the hell out of the drawers and man, did that ever feel good.

I got out the orbital sander one afternoon and went to town. I wasn't overly concerned with getting it right down to being totally bare, but just wanted to rough up the finish enough that it would take a coat of paint. I managed to get most of the finish off, except for the really fine, tricky spots.

Yesterday I did manage to get two coats of primer on it (in between potty breaks and lunch and filling up the water table and chasing after an AWOL toddler on deck and getting out her own paints so she would be less fixated on 'helping' me paint) and I think it's really starting to take shape. Now I'm just waiting on the constable to cut me some plywood shelves to fit into the drawer slots and I can put a couple of finish coats on it and it'll be done. The master plan you ask? Toy storage. Small house + livingroom x complete toy takeover = loss of sanity and visual clutter. Bins and baskets on the floor were a good solution when she wasn't as mobile, but now that she's up and about and much more able to get things out on her own, I think this is going to work well. Shelves, with some baskets or boxes, will, I hope, be much neater and more efficient.

Speaking of painting, here is the artist at work.

These were just cheapo-filipo paints I picked up who knows where. I think it's time for finger paints.

She really immerses herself in her work.

OH, and in other exciting news (well, exciting to me), I grew a cucumber :)

Of the four tomato plants and one cuke plant I have on the deck, this is my first harvest. We had some last night...very tasty. Much tastier than the ones from the supermarket. I've got lots of tomatoes coming now, and about a dozen more cukes on the vine, so I'm looking forward to an August full of fresh veg. This gardening experiment has gone rather well, so the constable and I are planning a plot for next year.

Well, I should go figure out something to do on a rainy day. Anyone else panicking that it's practically August and that means summer is almost over? No? Just me? Alright then.

Until later...

'A' List Crafts...

We've had a few rainy days around here this summer and on those days, I've been trying my hand at doing a few more crafts with miss A.

It is with a bit of shame that I must admit that I've been very lax on the craft front with her. In my defence though, really, up to this point, I think she's been a wee bit on the young side. I couldn't see much point in delving into a craft project where she wouldn't be able to at least partially participate.

During the school year, I take her to Storytime at the library, a free program for pre-school aged kids. There's stories, songs and a craft. While A is kind of hot and cold about participating in the first two, she's adamant in her enthusiasm for the latter. We've brought home untold pipe-cleaner/paper bag/paper plate/construction paper creations. It was sort of eating at me though, that here I am, a self-proclaimed craft enthusiast myself and yet I wasn't holding my own when it came to crafts with my wee girl.

About a week ago or so, on a rainy morning, I finally broke out all the little empty toilet paper rolls I had been saving up, the coloured pipe cleaners and the tote full of other assorted craft miscellany. We made bugs. I forgot to catalogue the experience. To sum up, there was a Mommy Bug, a Daddy Bug and an Avery Bug. Then I took a Premium Plus cracker box and made a bug house (re: cut a door in one side). She was quite content with those for an entire afternoon. Those and the Popsicle stick people I made. Here's the tutorial; take some craft Popsicle sticks and Sharpie. Draw faces and clothes on the sticks. Watch your kid go ape shit over them. Feel like a crafting genius. In that instance, there was a mommy, daddy and two Avery 'poppa sticks'.

Anyhow, today I decided to take all of the little bits of broken and de-labeled crayon and make new crayons. I have seen this on the web a few times in a few different places. So I broke up and sorted the bits.



I don't think the sorting step is actually necessary but ya know, this is just how I roll.



Spray a mini muffin tray with some veg spray and let your kiddo fill up the cups.



Take a moment to admire her handy work.



Pop the tray in a 275 degree oven for 7-8 minutes until just melted. Allow to cool for a bit and then put the tray in the freezer to help the solidifying process along. If you leave them there for as long as it takes you to do a sink full of dishes, that should be plenty.



Once the little pucks are hardened, they pop out quite easily...



...and are as much fun to stack as they are to draw and colour with.

Overall, a successful craft. Here's why I liked it; it was quick, easy, I had everything I needed on hand and little A could do it with me. I also like the waste not, want not aspect to it. It seemed a shame to throw out all those little crayon bits and now we have 24 new crayon pucks :) Other suggestions out there for doing this are to use cookie cutters or candy molds to create different shapes. I think next time I'll try and come up with an option that would make the new crayons a more crayon or pencil like shape as I think those might be a little bit easier to use. Either way, a very cool and practical idea. Gotta love those.

Until later...

She Hate Handknits...

I think it's one of my life's cruel ironies that none of the people I live with likes my hand knits.

I've been saying for a while now how much my daughter despises what I make for her. I think it's become kind of a joke, and frankly, I'm not sure anyone took me all that seriously. I would lament at knit night...well, not so much lament as just state the fact...that I can't get within two feet of her with a garment that I've toiled over long and hard. Example; I knit her a cute little cropped ballet bolero for her birthday which she refused to put on, even for a photo. Believe me, I begged, I pleaded, I bribed. No dice. I was relating this story to the other moms who came to little A's birthday party this past March with their little ones and once I was out of the room, they tried their hand at getting her into it. As I was fussing over the cake, I heard a wail come from the living room. I return to investigate, only to find three sheepish looking grown women who are giggling and admit to me they tried to put the sweater on her themselves.

One of the theories proposed for her strong opposition at my knitting group when discussion of this has come up is that I ruined her by bringing her home from the hospital in cashmere. I set the bar too high. I keep trying though.



I mistakenly thought that smooshy bubble gum pink knee socks would win her over. As you can plainly see, I was sorely mistaken. If looks could kill, etc. etc.

I have to admit, this breaks my heart a little bit. And it doesn't stop with things I've knit for her. She's actually yelled at me to take things off that I've knit for myself. I was proudly parading my most recent FO, the shawl from the previous post and she stood in the middle of the hallway, little pointer finger firmly extended and barked, 'No Mommy. You take that off.'

Did I mention she's a bit of a bossy pants? Last night at dinner she's eating her spaghetti and had eaten up all of her fresh grated parm cheese. She turns to me, brow furrowed, hands on hips and demands, in no uncertain terms, 'I want more cheese.' Oh yeah? Well, I want a million dollars. Lets see how likely either of us is to get what we want.

I shouldn't say that no one here likes my hand knits. My husband has worn the hat I've made him a few times, goes straight for the hand knit socks when he's feeling sick (he says they make him feel better) and did admire the felted slippers, but found they didn't fit very well and have since been abandoned. And I bet if Hank weren't a walking sweater himself, he would gladly and proudly wear anything I made for him. That's the story I'm telling myself at least.

Anyhow, back to the pink socks. So inspired to finish the second one at this point. I've asked her if she would help me out with modelling some recent FO's. We'll see how that photo shoot turns out.

Until later...

Gripped...

As a knitter or crafter, does this ever happen to you? A project seizes you, sinks it's teeth in and won't let go? Well, I give you such a project.



I give you...the Shaelyn Shawl (pattern name, not mine). A friend (Chicken Betty) sent me a big 'ol bag of fibre, it sat in my craft closet until I obtained a spinning wheel, I spun it all up into a scrummy two ply yarn then let it marinate for a while until I found the perfect project.



Once I found the right pattern, the yarn started to call for me. It started out as a whisper, grew to a dull hum and ended up being a loud annoying, nagging sound that would not leave me be. And once I did cast on, I quite literally could not put it down. The pattern called for five repeats of the lace pattern and I had intended to do ten, but at a certain point I realized that I needed my life back. That and I needed to lay off the muscle relaxers. Whether it was the yarn itself or my obsessive nature, this shawl caused me pain.

S'okay though, because people, I am smitten. It's one of those projects where I keep looking at it and going, 'Really? I made that? From like, scratch?' I spun the damn yarn for crissakes. Next stop; sheep shearing. I've caught the bug.

Now I'm watching MasterChef and it's making me hungry. Until later...

All Good Things...

I've been sick for about a month. Which made me very cranky. Very, very cranky. I try not to spread the cranky around. It's no one else's problem that I'm so damn cranky, that's my philosophy (doesn't always translate to husbands though). So just like the movie Groundhog Day where we learned the little pearl of wisdom, 'don't drive angry', I try not to blog cranky. Hmmm...maybe that's why I blog so little anymore. *pause to consider this thought*

Recently though, the sun has finally come out and I've been able to get outside and enjoy our epic deck (it really is depic...have I ever told you about the deck?) and I haven't been cold enough for sweaters or mittens or any sort of wooly, layering type clothing at all. As a matter of fact, yesterday I got half a sunburn. Yes, only the right half of me is burnt. I was sitting partially under the table umbrella, engrossed in the fact that it was the middle of the day and everyone was sleeping (the toddler because she's growing, the husband because he got called out twice the night before and didn't get home till 9am) and I had, what felt like, the whole world to myself. Just me, the sun, the birds and my sock.

As I sat there in my little reverie, it occurred to me, without overstating this too much, that despite how utterly craptacular I've been feeling lately and how focused on that I've been, I've got an awful lot to be grateful for and most of the time, without even realizing it, dreams really come true.

When we bought this ramshackle, run-down, sad, sorry, ugly stepsister of a house four years ago, all I saw beyond the cobwebs and the dust and OhEmGee the dirt was potential. I saw my dream house. Wasn't hard for it to live up to that standard. At that time, my dream house was just a place to call our own. Check. As we started to clear away the cobwebs and sweep up the dirt (and tear down plaster and rip out lath and sand floors and put up drywall and paint and paint and paint), my visions started to take shape and slowly over time, I've seen them materialize into concrete reality.

And it has been slowly. So slowly that it really drives me bonkers some days. But then we have a day, like the other day, where we finish up something, or get it to a point where you can allow yourself to get excited about the fact that maybe sooner than you thought, it really will be finished.

See, our kitchen has this big picture window. In front of that window sits my little kitchen table and chairs. Outside that window used to be the rotten and punky deck that was hideous and unsafe and really only good for going back and forth to the shed. I used to sit at my kitchen table and dream about the day when we'd have a nice deck, one that wasn't terrifying, and when I could look out that window across to the wall of the shed and instead of seeing bare plywood, I'd see siding and in front of that, container gardens full of kitcheny goodness; herbs, tomatoes, small veg. That sort of thing.




Well, there's the deck at the end of summer 2010...(kitchen window over by the 'chimney')


...and from the scraps of decking etc., the constable built me the first of three container gardens to sit across from my kitchen window. His own design, which all in all was rather ingenious. It's on casters so I can roll them around (since they are rather big and heavy) and there is storage underneath with doors on the opposite side so all of my gardening crap is right there where I need it.



T'would appear as though I have a helper as well. And an enthusiastic one at that. Here she is helping me get the plants in while her dad finishes up the container.

For yesterdays supper, I harvested my first bunch of herbs for my homemade pizza crust (pizza on the grill...divine) and a few sprigs of mixed greens for my salad. Really looking forward to those tomatoes so I can make the pizza sauce too ;)

As for knitting, I really did make May Mitts.



The yarn is an alpaca silk blend, so these are crazy soft, cozy and warm. I'm actually quite happy to report that shortly after they were finished, I had little occasion to wear them. Pattern is just improvised to fit my own hands/forearm.



I've recently gotten over a hump with this sweater as well. I started this in September of 2009 and have had stops and starts with it ever since. The end is in sight however. Once I managed to figure out how to count to three on a consistent basis, it practically flew off the needles. Oh fair isle, how I love thee. Let me count the ways (one...when you're going smoothly).



While I'm not exactly finishing a pair per month for my Self Imposed Sock Club, I am still cranking out pairs of socks, the latest being these Owlie Socks, which has been a very satisfying knit. Quick, easy, cute...love them. Love the yarn too. Got it in a swap, not 100% sure what it is, but have been told it is most likely Lucy Neatby. These are definitely for me, and I see myself knitting these again in the future. Not exactly making much head way on the gift sock knitting front. Ah well.

That should get me caught up for now. Now if you excuse me, in contrast to yesterday, I have a non-sleeping 2 yr. old who has done nothing but yell at me from her bedroom upstairs for the past hour and a half. Time to pull the plug on today's nap I think. Le sigh.

Until later...

Death of the Sun...

It's my unhappy duty to report to you all that the sun has in fact died and will not be shining on us ever again.

At least that's what I keep telling myself to stave off insanity. It's been grey here in Nova Scotia since November, and one can only keep a stiff upper lip for so long. Enough already. This is like the non-existent spring/summer of '09 that nearly gave me xenophobia I had to stay indoors so long.

So...another extended blog absence. This time due to another unexpected trip back to ye olde Ontario in April for a family funeral. My husbands grandmother passed away at the tender age of 98 years, a strong and darling woman whom I was very glad to know for the past decade. Little, Dutch, with a beautiful smile and a remarkable life story. She will be celebrated in the younger generations and missed by all.

That said, there is very little to report on the knitting front unfortunately. I've got a bad case of startitis at the moment, and just can't seem to settle on any one thing. There have been acquisitions however.

I wasn't expecting to do any yarn shopping back home as there really aren't any yarn shops, at least not the calibre of the ones I'm now quite used to here, plus I wasn't interested in lugging back a bunch of additional cargo in our already overstuffed luggage. I knew we were going to be doing clothes shopping while we were there, so I allowed room for that and little else.

However, my BFF sent me a link to a little hole in the wall yarn shop that was (in no way) on the way to the city we were planning to do our shopping in. So I made a little detour to check it out. Gotta support local business, right?

To my delighted surprise, it wasn't just yarn but also spinning supplies, so I stocked up on bobbins, which I needed, and overstocked on fibre.



The big pink bump is Corriedale, the bright orange and pink is silk and the remainder is natural Shetland that came from the sheep of the lady who owned the wee store where I bought it all. I'm almost embarassed to admit it, but I don't think it had ever occurred to me that there were brown sheep. I'm anxious to spin it up and see what comes of it. Very excited about spinning the pink. There's 8 oz and I'm waiting until I have something rather special in mind for it before I sit down at the wheel.

I did have the presence of mind to grab a cake of sock yarn in my packing frenzy and damned if I didn't get almost a full pair of socks done while I was gone.



I'm not sure what brand of yarn this is since my online bloggy friend ChickenBetty sent it to me a few years back, sans ball band. Anyhow, they're lovely fraternal twins and I refer to them as Northern Lights, cuz they kinda remind me of what I think they would look like were I ever to see them. (aside; pretty sure I saw them once when I was very young but it was so long ago now that it's a rather hazy memory).

And that, I gotta say, is pretty much it on the crafting front. I was so chilled the other day just going to the grocery store that I resolved to come home and knit some fingerless mitts, which then sent me into a spiral of despair because no one should think fingerless mitts in the middle of May. Even after four years, I really don't think I've acclimatized myself to the Atlantic coasts' version of spring.

Thanks for hanging in there for anyone who still is. Until later...