The Graduate

I woke up this morning with a weight on my chest. It felt like someone was sitting on it and that at some point during the night I had scrubbed my throat vigorously with sandpaper. I have a feeling this one is going knock me on my ass. And I'm not really looking forward to it but if does really knock me down it will give me a chance to watch more Lost.

What? I'm a woman obsessed.

Enough about my boring looming sickness or my obsession with Lost (hey, I'm only 3 years late to jump on that bandwagon). This weekend I got hit on by a dude in his early 20's. Besides the fact that he clearly doesn't remember the first time a Bush or Clinton was in the Presidential Office (not that Hillary is assured of that place) he was also in a punk band. And wearing a leather jacket, with lots of shiny grommits and studs. The kind I suppose punk boys wear. I don't know, I don't have much experience with punk boys, they really aren't my bag.

The thing was he just seemed so damn young and I'm not really into being anyone's Mrs. Robinson.

I'll admit I was flattered. But when he asked me to come to a party with him I realized the music was way too loud, my ears were ringing and I wasn't interested in swilling Pabst for the rest of the night. Sure realizing all that made me feel old, but I'm completely ok with it. I like my music at a reasonable level, I like my beer to taste good and the men I date to understand the difference.

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Too much

I promise I've not fallen into some sort of black hole, unless that black hole is filled with entirely too many books to read (I currently have 8 books scattered about my house begging to be read) and then I've been ordered to start watching Lost too. I've got season one sitting on top of my TV which I started watching last night.

Oh and almost totally ruined dinner because I became so wrapped up in the first episode I forgot I had mac and cheese in the oven. Lets not even discuss the first 3 discs of My So Called Life that I've also got from Netflix that also need to be watched so that I can get season 2 of Lost (look at me planning for the future!)

The truth is I've got entirely too many leisurely things to do to work (or blog apparently). Somehow quitting my job to keep up with my reading and television watching habits doesn't seem to be the most adult thing to do. Yet so deliciously wonderful sounding that it a tempting idea.

But not really.

Since I don't feel like being homeless

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Badass Knitter

I somehow stumbled upon Fig and Plum last week and immediately became obsessed with the idea of the Koolhaas hat by Jared Flood . OBSESSED.

So it was only fitting when the new man joked that he wanted me to make him mittens that I was "No mittens, but how about a hat instead?" (I would make him mittens but he doesn't really strike me as a mitten-wearer and I insist that my knitted items be worn not shoved in a drawer never to see the cold.)

I ordered two lovely skeins of yarn fromLoop (who happen to ROCK! They shipped super fast and even wrote a cute "Thanks Skeezix!" across the top of the receipt). It seems everyone is making the hat from Malabrigo and like I lemming I had to as well. God, their blue color is just lovely. And soft. And nice to knit with. Go buy some. Ok?

In addition to the yarn I also went down to my local yarn shop and picked up another pair of Addi Turbo needles. These seriously made my life beautiful. Sure, they are expensive but worth every penny, from here on out they are my go-to needles. I adore them.

So needles in hand and yarn wound into a ball I got to work. And nearly immediately cocked the whole goddamn thing up. But I trudged on thinking I could fix it/figure it out. Yeah. Not so much. It was my first time working with traveling stitches/cables and while it was a rocky start I'll say that I think I've figured it out. And by rocky start I mean I totally and utterly fucked up the hat and had to rip it all out (about 5 hours worth of work) and start all over again. I think partial blame goes to Brett Farve because I kept stopping what I was doing to watch him rock the Seahawks. Then I'd forget where I was and things just sort of fell apart from there.

See, I thought I could fix the cock up I made but it just devolved into a pattern that looked nothing like the Koolhas hat at all. Although it did still look like a hat, just a had with big fat center cables. So Sunday morning I sat down and ripped it all out, then loudly began berating myself for doing so because I had several false starts with the goddamn ribbing (too many stitches/not enough because I cannot count to save my goddamn life). So I turned off the TV (what I listen to while I knit) and sat in silence until I did the first whole set of stitches, and it was like something in my head clicked into place and bam! it started working for me.

So I sat on my couch for an ungodly number of hours alternating between watching Friday Night Lights and the Cowboys/Giants game. Finally I put the damn hat down at about 9:30 and then tossed and turned worried that I would fuck it up again when I started to do the decreases. Seriously. I laid there for 2 hours thinking about it. I should have just gotten up and starting knitting again but I didn't.

Last night I finished up the decreases and didn't mess up, I'm so bloody proud of myself I can't even tell you. I'm beaming with pride. Now all that is left to do is worry that the slight pink tinge that is present in some parts of the yarn is too girly for a boy.

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My brain is entirely too fried to come up with anything creative or mildly coherent to talk about since I've spent the last couple of days making guitar electronics hover in the air in perfect register with a previously taken photo. I'm rocking the project but all other brain functions have had to be taken down to their lowest levels in order for my head to not actually explode. Besides basic body functions and the large section of my brain labeled "photography" nothing else is working. Sorry.

I've been tagged by KB , which thankfully is a godsend since this exercise requires very little actual thought on my part.

7 Random/Odd things you might not know about me:

1. I spent part of my youth in Texas, when we moved back to Ohio I had an awful, awful accent. I used to cry every day after we moved away saying how much I hated Ohio and wanted to be back in Texas.

2. I am a very fast reader and can devour whole books in a single setting.

3. I wanted to be just like my sister, Melissa, when I was growing up. I pestered the hell out of her (she was 8 years older than I) and her friends. She's still my best friend in the whole world. Even if she did drop me on my head when I was a baby.

4. I was partly responsible for cutting off my brother's thumb when we were younger. He was playing with my mother's very sharp sewing scissors and I tried to take them away from him thus partially severing his finger. Good news is they were able to stitch him up fine and the thumb is in good working order.

5. I'm obsessed with my new heart rate monitor. I love wearing it to see how many calories I've burned (those machines at the gym are WAAAAYY off on their numbers). I'm considering wearing it all day soon just to see what my normal calorie/heart rates are throughout the day.

6. I love to dance but do it horribly. I don't care.

7. I've actually seen Vanilla Ice in concert, in 2003. It was the weirdest concert I've ever been too. It was during Ice's angry-rock-screamy phase.

Tuesday Tipsy

I'm feeling a wee bit emotional today so the best cure is pinot noir and maybe some tipsy blogging.

I've wanted to share my holiday card but I've been waiting to send them out to friends and such. And since I'm worlds best procrastinator ever I just got them out this week.

Please click on the image for the full size, it's best that way.

I'm going back to my wine. Thank you and goodnight.



Ok, really where has Apricot jam been all my life? How did I get to be 28 and never had such deliciousness? It's like heaven on toast, ok, who am I kidding. It's like heaven on a spoon. Because if I'm going to indulge in jam sometimes the bread is wholly unnecessary. And thus I've saved calories by not eating the bread, calories that can be use to eat more apricot jam. Foolproof logic in my opinion.

I'm sure the shitty store brand version of apricot jam isn't anything like the real tried and true version that I could probably make but since it's January and apricots are completely done for the season I guess I'll just have to wait till mid-summer to find out.

It's the new year so now we are all being bombarded with tons of advertising tell us to stop being fat asses. Most of the commercials incite me into some sort of homicidal rage but I have to say that the Kellogg's Smart Start Cereal one made me fall in love. It features women exercising for their HEART! Not to make someone love them or fit into that size 8 but because it's what you do to be healthy.

It's like a choir of angel's opened up and started singing to me. Thank you Kellogg for realizing that working out for your heart's sake and not the sake of your ass is the right way to approach a lifestyle change. If you go to their website the whole page is dedicated to healthy heart living! Heart disease is the #1 killer of women (far outpacing breast cancer) and I'm so glad to see that a company is promoting something that is so important and isn't focusing on our waistlines and telling us our self-worth is wrapped up in our pant size (like every other diet commercial out there).

And yes, I realize the awesome dichotomy of posting about eating jam straight from the jar in the same breath writing about heart health.

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