Old two eyes, over there....

I went to Little A's open house at her school last night. It was fun, but only because she was so excited to show off all her work, classroom, etc... The teacher and students had made a small pile of work on each desk for parents' to get an idea what's been done, what's ahead, and whatnot. Among the pile was a small book entitled "I'm special because..." Inside the book were the classic fill in the blanks:
"I'm ______ years old."
"My favorite animal is ______."
"I have ______ hair."
"I have ______eyes."
You get the idea. Little A has filled out an amazing pile of these things throughout her short school career and so I almost wasn't paying much attention when I read "I have 2 eyes." I had a smirky double-take and then had to laugh. Her dad didn't catch on at first, until I told him, "I think they intended a COLOR, I'm not sure her two-eyes make her that distinct."
I just love the way kid's minds work. She's written a thousand times that her eyes are blue, but today, the thing that she really wants you to know, is that she has 2 of them!

Puppies!

I finished my niece's puppy!

Little A's Kitties

Here are the kitties that I knitted for Little A

Codes, beautiful codes

I was listening to NPR on the way to pick up Little A, and there was a report on police codes. Yuh know, "10-4, good buddy." And I guess a plethora of other "10" codes that I didn't know about. Apparently, the fed has decided that all police stations/fire stations, etc... must fade out the use of these codes within the next year, or they will no longer receive federal funding. The report unexpectedly caught me. I couldn't help but to have a little pre-nostalgic moment when I realized that soon there would be a generation that didn't get "10-4". It's the same silly nostalgia I have when I realize that most people do not recognize "Capisce?" anymore. There's just not enough MASH.
Though I understand that it might be useful to use plain language in certain circumstances, when I think about some drawling southern police officer rambling on about the current situation while the current situation worsens, I can't help but think that the fed is throwing the baby out with the bath water. Mightn't be better to standardize the coding instead of tossing it out?
Coding gives us a common vocabulary, complete with nuances and connotations. For instance, when trying to plan this "date" with RS, I initially suggested coffee. He agreed, but was acting strange, so I asked him why. He said, "Well, I don't want to make it any big deal." And so I informed him that coffee is basically the code word for "not a big deal." Of course then he turned it into a huge deal, complete with picnic and walks along the river, but I'm losing the point. Though it may not always translate across generations, or other groups, coding lets us know very precisely what we mean. Without futzing around with all the details, we can transmit, very easily what we need to transmit. And even when we need to translate, it can be much quicker to say, "Coffee is the code word for not a big deal," than to go into the specifics of every type of outing and its potential of being a "big deal." Similarly, I don't think we need police officers who are caught up in descriptions. I'd much rather know they said something, in 2 seconds flat, and that more help is on the way, end of story. Sometimes there just needs to be an end to the story.

Knitting Kitties

I finished a little kitty for Little A. I made it with a yucky gray remnant and 2 strands of the Target Fun Furr. It came out SO cute. I was such a terd about it though. I had fully intended on saving it for Christmas, but then on Friday, as she was playing with the white kitty I gave her for her birthday, she asked me if I would make her a gray kitty, to be a momma cat to her little white one. How could I resist? I pulled it out just for the shock. She gasped, loved it, and carried it around the rest of the weekend. Boy, somedays it is super-gratifying to be a mommy-knitter.
I also came close to finishing my niece's puppy. I just hope 8 isn't too old for such a gift?
Worked on Brother D's (this makes him sound SO much cooler than he is!) socks and a little on my pinup queen.
The starting-new-things bug is biting me arse again though. And its all I can do to restrain myself from starting fingerless gloves (for me) and my nephew's chess board (though ( haven't worked it out completely yet). Too many projects to finish though. And that means I'm done typing for now!

The Unexpected News

I got back together with N.

Maybe its expected news to some. After all, 12 times, eh? Well, I started to get really annoyed with RS, and the more I talked to him, the more I missed N. RS was not going to be N, not the good or the bad parts of N. Which is stupid to want, right? Of course he's not!
So in the end, all I could do was realize that I wasn't done loving that silly boy N. Hopefully, we can work out all the stuff.
I snapped at N on Friday afternoon in an email. I knew I was just being a jerk, but as you may have read, I was in quite the pissed off mood. He was nice about it and just started asking me what was wrong and trying to convince me that I could talk to him about anything. I've known this to not be the case, many times I've talked to him, but since I had resolved to tell him about this RS silliness anyway, I did. His response was far better and far more mature than I would have ever expected of him. So we talked that night, and in talking, it was just there. Everything I missed.
I mean, I'm a tough girl. (heehee) I don't like admitting such things...that I still love someone who I know can be a terd. But I do. More confessions. Hopefully N and I can grow together. I guess only time will tell.

I wish I was having a better writing morning. I should know better on Monday mornings. Phones, boss.....too many interuptions. Hopefully I'll find a peaceful moment later.

Thursday Night Knitting Report 9/22

There's a really annoying guy infiltrating our Thursday night knitting. He doesn't knit, he just sits in our spot (really the only spot that can accommodate a large group without it being totally awkward) all by himself, with his lap-top. LTM (Lap-Top-Man) hasn't a clue in the world as far as I can tell.
He talks to us on occasion. He told M and I before everyone got there that he found us "intimidating" last week. Then proceeded to try to suck up (? I guess that was the intent) by telling us that he had been telling any and all knitters about us. Later I heard him say to a newer girl that this was the second week that he had been trapped over there behind us. Then later still, breaks into a light conversation about appeasing test graders in the USA with patriotic and pro-capitalism BS, and turns it into a full on discussion of economics. I find him to be very annoying. He just ooozes "I don't get it." M and I asked him if he knit, knowing full well he must not since he never removes his hands from his laptop, except maybe to put them down his pants. His response was, "No, I enjoy being heterosexual". BLEH!
Later, when A came in, she told us that someone had posted on our Stitch 'n Bitch board:
"Tee Hee!
During some subway knitting on the T this afternoon I encountered a man who could not refrain from mentioning the W group's existence to me ("I know," I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut.)
Furthermore (and this is where it gets *really* funny) he said that he says "as far away as possible from that group of women". Why? Because you intimidate him!
He then tried to chat me up like an idiot. I changed seats.
Ha, ha, ha! Way to go ladies!!"
So, in the course of one day, two men had declared us intimidating.
Let me describe this intimidating group to you for a moment. We range in size, usually from about 5-12 people. Usually all women, though sometimes there is one guy there with his girlfriend. We knit. We talk. About our week, yarn, kids, cats, yarn, jobs, yarn, etc... We show and tell our latest completed project and ask any and all questions that we might have about current or future ones. I know, it sounds ultimately terrifying. Blair Witch was nothing compared to us.
I just find it so amazing that men are so endlessly intimidated by groups of women, as I know this is not the first time that this scenario has arisen. Is it the undeniable fact that men are not needed in this gathering? Is it that they know the strength of numbers and women just should not possess any strength, be it thru numbers or otherwise? Is it just the reality of seeing and hearing the life that women carry on...that men often times completely ignore? What it is? I'm truly curious. And it seems almost self-indulgent. In the same way that Little A used to get so annoyed when I would talk to anyone else and constantly interrupt (when she was 3!), it's almost seems as if these men need to make sure the focus is still directly on them. "Oh no! There's a group of women in the corner that are not paying any attention to me, and couldn't care less whether I'm here or not. It's so intimidating. Come and pay attention to me before my manhood crumbles." I really don't think that men need to be this pathetic. To think that a small group of women, engaging in one of the most docile and even "womanly" activities, is seen as intimidating is just an absurdity. And if it is any of the above reasons, all I have to say is, "Buck up buddy. We are strong. We have full lives with or without men. We don't really care if your sitting there in the corner jerking off because we've got socks to conquer. But we (generally) come in peace, and there's no reason to project your fears on us."

Cuteness and others

I finally brought my camera into work so that I could upload the pictures off of it. FINALLY.

Little A and Mr. Kitty.

My dancing queen

Little A with Itsy Bitsy at Busch Gardens

Little A's first day of school. She wanted the pigtails so that she'd look like Bubbles.

Just some things I knit and crocheted for a baby charity

Validate me, please!

So first thing this morning, I read Roo's most recent post and the post that she links to. And so here I am, once again, thinking about my body, thinking about that thinking, beauty, men, and above all, validation. Like all women, this is not a new thing for me to be thinking about. For the past year or so, I've felt ok about my body, but appalled to know that the reason I feel ok is because N is constantly complimenting me, so genuinely that there's no denying that he actually does think I'm beautiful.
It's a weird thing for me to consider. In my least self-deprecating moments, the best I can muster is to believe that I'm ~ok~, could be better, could be worse. The words pretty, and beautiful certainly never enter into any self evaluation. But with a year of full-on praise, I've been generally able to maintain my ~ok~ opinion and haven't sunk back into butt-ugly image for quite a while. But its not like I've had some grand epiphany that allows me a better self-image, its more like I've been in a self-help group of two for the past year, and after continual repetition, I've started to digest what I hear everyday. I can never feel quite comfortable with it because I know the reason I'm being kind to myself is because a boy is being kind to me. And why am I still giving this boy or that boy more control over my self-image than I have, whether their reflection of me is ugly or beautiful? It's maddening and makes me feel like a child. And just to increase that childish feeling, when I'm not in a relationship, I start to diet and exercise, with the full belief that I can thin my way into someone's heart.
But the thing is, I know, deep-down, that there's someone to validate whatever it is that I choose to think about myself. If I want to be an ass hole or an angel, ugly or beautiful, genius or dolt, there's going to be someone right around the corner to validate it. So why is this the never ending post, the never ending issue? Why is it that I can't get there myself?

The 12th time

So, apparently a run-in in the doorway with N means that the talks must begin again. We're playing the friend game, which is always awkward with him, but after a year and a half, when face to face, I can't be brutal with him and have to be at least kind enough to accept and give back friendship.. I can be honest, and sometimes brutally, but not brutal for the sake of exorcising him completely out of my life.
He said, during our long talk that took place WAY too early on Sunday morning, "I never told anyone I was doing this, but I always knew, some how, that you would ask for your key back 12 times, and I kept count. And this was the 12th time." It was one of the strangest statements he pulled out of his arse that morning, but if anything makes me think that he knows, deep-down, its that.
12 times? I was not keeping track, and hearing that number, and knowing that I had been thru various bullshit with him that many times made me feel like anyone and everyone should know we had beaten this dead horse to a pulp. It also made me feel like a temperamental spaz. God damn, I HATE the key "issue" and I just cannot believe its been a whole carton of eggs worth of key issues.
We decided to have coffee tonight, and tonight was the night. And sometimes I hate that familiarity that comes with knowing someone to the core for a while. It was so easy, and we talked for 3 good hours, came home and talked for another hour on the phone. And I hate that its more difficult to be distant than to just talk, like old long lost friends. I suppose I should like it, knowing that I haven't completely lost such a large part of my life, but I know how hard it is to detach anyway, and it would be much easier to accept that we are done if we weren't so easy and comfortable with each other.
I casually mentioned talking to RS (the neighbor), just so he wouldn't see and be shocked, and I could see the flare of jealousy in his eyes. But I haven't talked to him really since that day, just a couple of friendly waves....but that flare of jealousy always makes me feel like I'm playing with fire.

In knitting news, I've got the pockets and the zipper left to JMom's hoodie, and hopefully I'll get a picture of it up before the end of the week. I also started a little dog for my niece out of $1 Target Boucle and it is turning out great. So soft and cuddly! It's quick, so doggie might be sporting the hoodie soon!

Thursday night knitting and a visit from roo

Oh, I wish they were one in the same, but they aren't. I was so happy, but shocked to see that roo had found me out. Not at all what I expected of this gloomy Friday morning. She wrote, in her blog, how it made her feel to know someone she knew was reading, and I have to say I feel oddly exposed too. Which is just silly because roo knows most of what I would say here anyway and she's one the few people who I know that pretty much always gets what I'm saying. Even if I'm saying it in the most ineloquent way possible. It makes me wonder how these widely followed bloggers feel. And it makes me wonder if they still keep a more private journal behind a firewall. That is not my plan at all. I'll be lucky if I can keep up with one. And in the end it seems to be all about openness. I am generally a very closed off girl, and so it seems than more openness can only do me a bit of good. So, thanks for stopping in roo....as usual, you're already opening my eyes to the bigger and better.

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I'm not having the most pleasant writing session right now. My boss is here, asking every 3 minutes for someone's phone number or trying to provoke comments from me by yelling absurd, insensitive, and retarded comments. It's a distracting morning.
But we must have the Thursday night knitting report, mustn't we? Of course!
It was an odd Thursday night. I left early to meet M since she had to leave early to pick up Ph from the airport. So she wasn't there for most of the evening...and it seems she's like my Thursday night security blanket. I haven't had to be enormously outgoing on a Thursday night for a long time since I know all the regulars by now and newbies were rare through the summer. But last night, there were no less than 7 new people, possibly more. I couldn't remember all their names if I tried. I sat closest to a Courtney with a southern accent. But she's really the only one I can remember. The other closest one was knitting with some of softest yarn I have ever felt. It was Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Chunky. Holy hell! It was heaven! I tend to be a bargain yarn shopper, but I'm gonna have to save up for some of that! I think I'd like to knit a.....LIFE out of it! Yes please, an entire life in Cashmerino Chunky! I'm gonna be saving for a while. Anyone want to buy a vital organ?
I also sat next to JS, who can talk the ear off anyone. I like her a lot, partially because she's completely neutral. She'll talk to you but doesn't expect you to invite her to your wedding after a story about socks. She's comfortable and always good to sit next to if you're not feeling so sociable because she can monologue the whole evening if need be. I'm guessing she finds me to be abysmally dull, as most of them probably do since I'm always dead tired by Thursdays. She encouraged me to check out the yarnharlot blog which I did, and I'm pretty sure I could spend the rest of my week reading. She also told me all about her latest adventure north which was a knitting class that took place over a long weekend in an old house of Rudyard Kiplings. I think this is a picture of the house:

These stories of JS's always sort of make me want to be her, at least for a minute. Besides my classic low self-esteem to which anyone who grew up in the 80's can claim, I generally like being me. But once in a while, someone comes along that just makes me wonder for a moment, how it would be to be them. She's older, apparently been single her whole life, (at least she never talks of any sort of partner, ex or not) and seems to just be happily doing whatever the hell she wants. I mean I can just imagine Ph's reaction if M were to tell him she was going to take a weekend knitting retreat.

JS seems very free. But with that freedom it seems like there is detachment. She talks often about people she thinks are great or smart or talented, but I've never heard her express any actual feeling for any of them. It makes me wonder...and it makes me scared that maybe such a free life inhibits attachment and maybe even love. And maybe just vice versa...that maybe attachment and love inhibit freedom. And this is where my thoughts seem to be constantly caught these days in some shape or form...wondering just what is the balance between freedom and love that I haven't quite mastered. I love Little A more than one could possibly express. And having Little A has, of course, brought huge limitations in my freedom, as any child does. But with Little A, it seems to work. It doesn't cause me much consternation to know that I certainly would be in a very different place if she hadn't come along because that place could not be nearly as good as having her with me, getting afterschool hugs, morning kisses, and before beds talks and jokes. With Little A, the love just outgrows any desire for more freedom.

But then there's those pesky boys. And the big quandary begins. I love the freedom that single life gives me. I love being able to go where I want on my free nights, watch a chic flick whenever I want, stretch out in my bed, drink my morning coffee out of a big flowery mug in total silence, spend my money how I see fit, and on and on. The freedom is great, but it always seems to get to a point where it feels hollow because it's so absent of love. And that's what sends my searching to find the next boy. Inevitably, the boy limits my freedom so much that I start to feel suffocated, stifled, and like I've been swallowed up in his world, leaving mine far behind. I'd leave it to the grand quest of finding the right balance, as I believe that most of life is the quest for the right balance, but it doesn't seem quite right, or quite possible. Does that balance exist in romantic relationships? Or do I have to hold out for a love that trumps the freedom like it does with Little A?

Filling the Crevices

I think I have a (possibly unhealthy) fixation with filling small spots with stuff. Large areas, I have no problem with....they feel like open space, but if I have a 12" x 12" space in between the couch and a bookcase or the bed and a lamp....it must be filled. It's like there's a hole in the surface of the room and I cannot just leave it. Luckily my very healthy obsession with yarn helps with my crevice filling around my house.
Unfortunately, I think I may have the same fixation with time. And this may be one of the things that makes me miss N the most...those cracks of time that are just like little holes in life...I miss having him there...to fill those up. Boyfriend's, and especially boyfriend's like N, are odd space holders though. Because often they take up so much time that you still end up with only little cracks of time...not even big enough to fit a good call to a friend. Because N and I live right there, right in each other's faces, it was always hard to portion time. Sometimes I would desperatly need some time alone or sometime to call and catch up with a friend, and yet if he was upstairs doing nothing, I couldn't help but to feel slighted if he wouldn't come down and do nothing with me. So, he usually did. And it's stupid, but I miss that. I miss knowing that comfort and companionship is 2 flights of stairs away. I miss knowing that there are warm, strong arms to wrap around me any moment. I love my friends dearly, but they can't fill that void, that crack in the time.
So that's the time that I usually end up crying, feeling so lonely when I know I'm not alone. Feeling like I miss him beyond anything I can endure, when its really all for the best.

Yarnaholic confessions (the first of many)

So this morning, in between gulps of coffee, I'm working fast and furiously on JMom's hoodie. Yeah, Christmas is still ages away and I've only got the sleeves and 1/4 of the front left, BUT I plan to go to Target with M tonight. And they've got the $1 yarn. Whoopity-doo! So....I'm trying to make some good progress on at least one of these huge projects I've got going to alieve a little of my yarn guilt. Because I do plan to buy. Make no mistake. Not sure where I'll put it. Target will probably get a little more of my money with a few storage bins....hopefully they're not to ugly.
I'm also making dinner for M and S while S and Little A try to do their homework together. I'm sure this will work out very well....? I went to Russo's last night to shop for dinner, but I'm not really convinced of my menu yet. I've changed it three times already. I have a feeling this shopping expedition is not going to be a short one, so I may have to go quick and yummy. I wanted to make gnocchi, but homemade pasta isn't usually the right choice for a quick meal. Ah well.
Need to knit. Still way too much guilt!


And the morning after?
I gots the yarn! I got like 25 balls of the Target $1 yarn. YAY! Several will be for the little doggies I'm knitting neices and nephews for christmas....so hey! when you can get a christmas gift for a buck....no guilt about that!

Awareness, I do foresake thee! (Alternate Title: Huh???)

Listen, I’m as big of a fan of denial as the next girl, but at some point, boys, don’t you think it might be a good idea to just realize something? ANYTHING? Whether it be a long awaited trip to the doctor to confirm that you’ve been treating your body like shit, or a long awaited trip to the shrink to find out that you’ve been treating your spouse like shit, you all just seem to be tripping through life with your eyes (not closed because how could you check out the chics? But) averted, we’ll say. Apparently so averted that your eyes are spinning to the back of your heads
I’m not trying to be some god damn Deepak here, but come on guys! Just a peek now and then might be useful!
N knows he has sky-rocketing blood pressure, a weight problem, drinks way too much, smokes way too much, eats mostly red meat or fried “x”, but it seems that the real detriment to his health would be a visit to the doctor. After all, he reasoned, the doctor would tell him to go to the gym, maybe put him on high blood pressure or high cholesterol meds that he may have to take for the rest of his life! My, my, now that would be scary. I’m not a big fan of the over-prescription that often goes on here, but I do find it immensely preferable to having a heart attack or stroke before the age of 30. But I guess that’s just me.
Now Ph…he’s another one! When M had to return to the doctor to find out if she was really miscarrying, he tried to opt out of going and also tried to convince her that she should not go. Instead, he wanted an outing to go buy a crib. Afterall, if he didn’t hear the doctor say it, it just isn’t true. But then Ph has so much denial, that one could spend volumes on him alone.
Then there’s the boss. Always a good story there. Who, one day, decides that it’s a brilliant idea to hire a retarded guy to hang from a tree with a running chainsaw. To enforce his denial, he claims that I’m being prejudiced when I question the decision. A day later later, the guy cuts himself with a chainsaw and my boss has to let him go. Shocking. But it’s a great example. Because it just goes to show that sometimes the denial is completely purposeless. He could’ve just as easily hired a guy who was able to handle a chainsaw without cutting himself on his first go, but for some reason, it was important to deny that maybe this guy was better suited to something a little less hazardous. You think I’m done, but there really is no end to stories of manly denial. I could go on forever. I mean, is denial the newest masculine trait? Is it better than being buff or being able to use power tools? I honestly can’t even be that contemptuous about it anymore, because it’s just so damn perplexing! I’d like to think that maybe it’s just the kind of men I happen to know, but these three are all so completely different from such completely different backgrounds, it only enforces in my mind that this is becoming a truly universal masculine trait. And I just don't know how to deal with it.

Princess v. President

On Saturday morning, Little A and I went out for some pancakes. While we were waiting and I was downing coffee by the bucket, Little A asked me, "Who's our princess?" I had no idea what she meant, but after a little more proding, learned that she was asking about the royalty of our country. I briefly and gently (so as to not dissappoint her) tried to explain that we don't really have royalty, we elect and so we have a preseident and senators and yada-yada-yada. She looked at me and replied, "Well, I'd rather have a princess. I think we should have a princess instead of a president."
Normally I would just chuckle off the cute kid-ism, but these days its hard to not see the wisdom in such a desire. So I told her that maybe she should start a movement. And right now, I'd jump on the band-wagon with all my might. I spoke to Roo last night and told her this little tale, and she, too, was all aboard. So it seems we have a movement. Watch out Mr. Bush. You thought you had it rough with pacifists! Wait until the princess movement hits you!

Thoughts of Gumbi

Little A is due here any moment. My breath of fresh air. The other night before bed she told me that she told me, "Mommy, I've been doing some thinking."
I asked, "About?"
"Gumbi," she said. I think I should spend a little more time thinking about Gumbi. Instead I just keep thinking about trust. And how much it sucks that one person can totally destroy your trust in pretty much everyone else. When you really thought you could, and then learn that you've just been completely foolish.
I even tried reading some Dalai Lama to make myself feel all warm and fuzzy toward the world. But I guess you just can push that kind of adjustment. In my head I can see how lovely it all is...but my heart is just impossibly tender and bruised.
That aside, I had a nice easy Saturday. After I dropped off Little A with her Dad, I had a glass of wine and finished my sleeve from "pin-up queen" from Stitch-n-Bitch, and half a hood for JMom's hoodie sweater. I went to the bookstore and browsed to my heart's content. I came home and made a Onion/Pepper/Gorgonzola Flatbread with a salad for dinner. Topped off with a nice piece of dark chocolate and delicious cup of coffee. All in all it was a great day. After I saw that N had left, I left his key and umbrella in front of his door. And even that was good. Just to get rid of it.
Little A is home and I'm off.

the 'rents.

They always called anything out of the ordinary a "spell". Could be an evening spent around a camp fire. Could be an epileptic fit. So it seems that anything worth writing seems like it would involve quite a spell...a man spell? a cooking spell? a knitting spell? a tantruming spell? a spell for hexing? (mua-ha-ha) they all seem good.
I've had a headache spell for the past two days, so naturally I thought a little more screen-time might help out. I'm trying to turn any energy that follows the headache into weekend motivation. So many projects to finish. And those will come....
I'm terribly irritable, so after this very brief and completely vague introduction, it's now time to have some knitting and tea.