Ninjabread men! (a photo essay)

PS: Ninjabread men cookie cutters can be found here. Roll-out brownie cookie recipe can be found here. I added mini chocolate chips before baking for extra noms. Also, in picture 2, notice the wine bottle wrapped in plastic? Turns out I don't own a rolling pin. Oops.

snowed in

Atlanta experienced some serious record snow in January, like shutting-down-the-city-for-a-week snow. It was crazy. I was supposed to start my new job that week, but instead I spent that time snowed in with my honey. It was nice. I'd wanted to take a week off between jobs to refresh and regroup but didn't think it financially advisable. Fortunately for me, Mother Nature decided I deserved a break.

I had plenty of time to go through all the pattern books I'd gotten for Christmas.

I think I'm going to be busy for a while.

I made banana bread.

I would include an after shot here, but my sweetie and I inhaled an entire loaf of banana bread in less than 24 hours. We were in full-on hibernation mode. It was wonderful.

Now, that's enough winter for me, thanks. Please to be sending spring now!

damn rabbit hole

Please forgive my long absence. I have fallen down the rabbit hole that is Pinterest. I've been a busy little bunny there. If you want to check me out, I'm LightWading.

PS: I only got sucked into this because of Ysolda, so I thought about blaming her. But really, I think I should be more concerned that my girl-crush on Miss Whimsical Little Knits seems to be edging into obsession territory, with a possibility of stalking. I'm harmless, I promise!

perfect timing

Every so often, events conspire to work out perfectly. Usually, it happens in a Murphy's Law, "ironic" kind of way: rain on your wedding day and all that. Today turned out to be the opposite of that: a perfect example of perfect timing.
I had to have minor gum surgery last night. It was a local-anesthetic-only kind of thing, uncomfortable and squick-y, but not serious. I distracted myself by planning cables for my next sweater project. (You know you knit too much when . . . )
Now, this was my third go-round with gum surgery (the others were in my braces-wearing, wisdom-teeth-getting days), so you'd think I'd have learned that oral surgeons are lying liars. When they say, "Oh, yeah, you'll be able to go to work the next day", what they mean is "Prepare to spend the next three days whimpering on the couch, dribbling soup down the front of your pajamas." Oh, and "a little sore" is code for "eating anything more firm than applesauce will be impossible. Just give it up."
Fortunately, the weather cooperated with my stunningly miserable mood by being freezing cold, windy, and rainy/snowy. I snuggled on the couch wrapped in blankets, knitting and watching flurries blow by. And dribbling soup down the front of my pajamas.

Oh, also, if you have your own run-in with gum surgery, learn from my fail: don't eat really salty soup. Just don't.

last Christmas . . .

Last year for Christmas, Shiny New Boyfriend gave me a beautiful prezzie, with one condition attached.

I had to agree to marry him.

Well, it was a beautiful ring, and I like him a lot, too, so I agreed. We haven't set a date yet, because we wanted to live together first and get used to each others homicide-inducing quirks without the added pressure of planning a wedding.

He moved in about six months ago, and so far we're murder-free. This is surprising, because apparently, I roll myself up in the covers at night like a burrito, leaving him shivering and resentful, and he puts his dirty dishes in the sink to age properly before he puts them in the dishwasher right next to the sink, instead of putting them in the dishwasher in the first place.
In spite of this, we still like each other a real whole lot. We're looking forward to many long years of finding new ways to drive each other crazy.

(The Best Roommate Ever is now renting my parents' basement apartment about 15 minutes away. She's family.)

being sick sucks. Why can I not learn this?

Why do I persist in thinking, "Man, if I had to stay home sick, I'd get all kinds of knitting time in!"? No. When I am sick I feel far too crappy to do anything other than lie there in a little ball of misery until the illness gives up in boredom and goes to find someone else to torment.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling like I'd been beaten all night with a sack of oranges. I asked my sweetie, "Why, WHY did you beat me all night with a sack of oranges?" He said, "Well, you've gotta tenderize 'em somehow."
Turns out I was coming down with a nasty little stomach virus that has left me fetal on the couch for almost two days straight. It's been awesome. I'm mostly vertical now, which is new and exciting.
All this illness has given me time to ponder the great mysteries of our world. For instance: why do they make thermometers shaped like that? You have to hold them in place with your hand or they squirt violently from your mouth and hit your reflection in the bathroom mirror. They should make some sort of flange or grippy part that you can hold with your teeth so you can do something useful while finding out if you have an actual reason for feeling like death. I complained about this to my sweetie, who helpfully explained, "That's so they fit better in your butt."
Um, no. "This is an ORAL thermometer."
"That's what you think!"
"It's an ORAL THERMOMETER, dammit!"
"Oh, no! Have I been using it wrong? I'm so sorry!" Then he collapsed into giggles while I glared and told him, "I don't love you enough to lick your butthole." He's still giggling now.
One day my revenge will come. One day . . .

the best kind of distractions

No word yet from the job interview, and I have progressed from being on pins and needles to being on nails and railroad spikes. And possibly cacti.
Yesterday, after a grueling morning of having my gums violated by a sweet little sadist named Missy, who is concerned about my periodontal health and thinks the best way to fix things is by JABBING THEM REPEATEDLY WITH POINTY OBJECTS until I want to give up military secrets just to MAKE HER STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, my sweetie took me out, to take my mind off things and possibly to keep me from chewing on the actual walls in my call-back-related anxiety.
We had a tasty tasty lunch at Atlanta Bread Company (oh, bagels. Why must you be so delicious?), in front of their wonderful snuggly warm fireplace and ice cream from my favorite ice cream place which was located RIGHT NEXT DOOR. (Was there ever a clearer sign of God's sanctioning of tasty noms? I don't think so.)
Then we went to Eat. Sleep. Knit. I had never been before. OH. MY. GOD.
When I asked the very friendly staff lady the whereabouts of the Malabrigo, she said, "In the warehouse in the back." I might have had a yarngasm. An entire warehouse? Filled with Malabrigo? Yes, little Kimmy, there is a Santa Claus. I then asked, "Do I ever have to leave?" and she said, "No! You can live here!" I love her. She thinks I was joking. The joke's on her; I'm moving in next week.
It was, to put it lightly, incredible. Rooms upon rooms of yarn, all beautifully organized by type and color. A warehouse of Malabrigo and Blue Sky Alpaca and Misti Alpaca. The entire building was redolent with that delicious, dyed-wool, vinegar-and-sheep smell. Did I mention the WAREHOUSE of Malabrigo? I feel dizzy just thinking about it.
My sweetie bought me Christmas yarn, because he is the perfect man.

Malabrigo Chunky in Sunset, destined to become Abrazo

Madeline Tosh Vintage in Forestry, to make Norah Gaughan's Droplet hat

Claudia Handpainted, in a color I've been coveting for a loooong time: Copper Pennies. It's sock yarn, so it doesn't need a plan, but I'm thinking maybe Acorn Stash socks.

So now at least I have plenty to do while I fret. CALL ME, DAMMIT!!!

fall!

Spooky earrings . . .

. . . so many leaves . . .

. . . bye, bye, summer clothes . . .

. . . who knew candy corn came in so many different varieties?

Happy Halloween!

Christmas socks: done!

The Best Roommate Ever has been sick with death lately (not swine flu, just some sort of plague complete with hacking cough, making her life miserable). She's been getting plenty of rest and applying warm kitty compresses to speed the healing.

In other news: BRE's Christmas socks are finished! Woo-hoo! Now I have visions of Mason-Dixon's Felted Trees dancing through my head. They're just so cute, and look at how wee they are! They'd knit up in no time, like potato chips. Must . . . knit . . . cute . . . Christmas . . . decorations . . .

happy halloween!

Soooo . . . reasons why I should not shop alone:

I was ooo-ing over some itsy-bitsy little Halloween-themed baby shirts ($1 each!), when suddenly I realized, "Hey! We have cats! Cats are sort of wee-human-sized!"


Jaymie didn't seem to mind his, but Alex was less than impressed.


Having Mommy and Auntie Kim follow him around and take pictures was the final assault on his dignity. &*%$# paparazzi.

Happy Halloween!

I have a confession to make . . .

I am totally in love with Shiny New Boyfriend. Totally and completely gone. He's so great and I'm acting all stupid and squishy and I lurrrrrrve him. And yet . . .
.
.
.
.

I still rock out to Single Ladies by Beyonce. (And by "rock out", read "car-dance in an exuberant yet dorky manner".)

Sing it, girl!

Update: Near as I can figure out, Beyonce was married when this song came out. Woo! Let the car dancing commence!

Reason #657 why I like animals better than people

You can say horrible, horrible things to animals as long as you do it in a cute voice.

"Who's a giant pain in the butt? Is it you? Yes, you are! You can shut right up with your whining, because you are a fat obnoxious kitty who is not going to get fed. Yes, and if you don't get out from under my feet, I'm going to sell you to the gypsies to be made into a hat. I am indifferent to your problems; oh, yes, I am!"

Just try doing that to your loved ones.

Alex senses that his human slave is mocking him,
and plans to retaliate by barfing up a hairball on her pillow.

Holy torrential downpour, Batman!

Amazing amounts of rain have been falling on Atlanta for the past week. It's been truly incredible. Fortunately, Chez Wading Lightly is on a hill (unlike poor Southbork), so we're not too worried about flooding. We have been fending off massive ant incursions as the little beasts look for somewhere dry to set up shop. Shiny New Boyfriend's car was totally and impressively overrun, but other than that, we've managed to escape unscathed so far. I'm really, really ready for it to stop raining now.

Jaymie is coping as best he can.

Things I learned today . . .

Do not try to scratch your nose while riding in the back of a truck over a really bumpy road, lest you hit a bump and end up jamming your finger way up into your nostril and poking yourself in the brain. Smartz. I haz dem.

Thoughts while mowing the grass

Thoughts while mowing the grass:

Oooo. Cool breeze. Restores will to live . . .

Pteh! Cool breeze blows dust and grass in my face! Pteh!

I really need a boyfriend, so I can make someone else do this . . .

I'm not dead yet! But I have been trying . . .

So I tried to kill myself twice on Tuesday. The first incident happened at work, where I bashed the ever-loving crap out of my left ankle on a pallet jack and scraped my wrist. The ankle hurt so bad I duct-taped an ice pack to it and just walked around like that for the rest of the day. (Too busy! No time for injuries!) The second happened later that night. The Best Roommate Ever and I were both in our beds, snuggled down to sleep, when I realized I had to pee and went down the stairs to the bathroom. For some reason unfathomable to me, I completely missed the bottom step. Just stepped off into space like it was perfectly natural. I slammed my arm into the doorknob, which gave me a fantastic bruise, and came down hard on my right ankle. I lay sprawled in the hallway, right across from BRE's door, trying to assess the damage. Nothing broken; everything I tried to wiggle wiggled. I heard BRE (jerked out of a sound sleep by some idiot falling flat on her face) say to me, "Are you ok?" "I'm fine," I replied, from my spot on the floor. "No, really." "No, no! I'm fine!" I lay there on the floor in the pitch black, wiggling my toes, and thought, 'This is comfy. Maybe I should just sleep here.' Then I realized. I still had to pee. Damn damn dammity damn.
My plan for Wednesday, mowing the lawn, was postponed until I could be trusted with a power tool with a big spinning blade on it.

funniest conversation EVER

Courtesy of Torchwood:

Toshiko: No, Owen, I can't just hook something up! The entire telephone network is down.

Owen: What about a mobile connection?

Toshiko: [slowly] The. Entire. Telephone. Network. Is down!

Ianto: Mobiles, landlines, tin cans with bits of string, everything, absolutely everything: no phones, phones all broken. [holds up hand in imitation of telephone] Hello? Anyone there? No! Because the phones aren't working!

Er, well, maybe you had to see it. But BRE and I rewinded and rewatched about three times. We're still texting it back and forth. Still funny.

when knerds gather

I spent a lovely, nerd-alicious evening with two of my favorite knitting buds earlier this week, getting our geek on while playing with string and amusing/annoying the other restaurant patrons. We discussed, among other things, the merits of Kenneth Branagh productions of Shakespeare, except for Hamlet, because for the love of yarn, four hours is way too freakin' long for a movie. I mean really. Also, the unbearable whininess of Annakin Skywalker and how even though it made sense that the evil overlord of the galaxy would start out as a whiny little creep, it was still pretty unbearable to watch. Kelly waxed eloquent about the unbelievable arrogance of George Lucas for assuming the fans would give a crap about The Clone Wars after the first three movies sucked so much. I ranted about the crappiness of the writing in the Lord of the Rings books and how vindicated I felt when all of my complaints were echoed by the screenwriters in the director's commentary of the movies. We rehashed the greatest moments of DM of the Ring ("Tell me your name, horsef***er!"). Kelly and Kerry roundly mocked TS Elliot. We also argued the merits of the Harry Potter movies (I still say they sucked), and agreed that Richard Harris' performance as Dumbledore was terrible (I don't care that he's dead. His performance was terrible.), that Ian McKellan would have been infinitely superior, seeing as Gandalf and Dumbledore are practically the same character, and how awesome it would be if Sir Ian were to play Aberforth in the last movie. (How awesome would it be? So awesome that my bladder control becomes questionable, that's how awesome.)
We don't have to practice to be this geeky; it just comes naturally.

so . . . there was a sale at Knitch . . .

So . . . Knitch was having this great sale a week ago . . . and I found this beautiful lumpy, bumpy cream colored wool. I'm going to use it to make a nice, mesh-y sort of winter sweater, something a little sexy but still warm. And of course, the Vogue Knitting was lonely, so it had to come home with me, too.


I think I'm quickly losing my credibility when I call myself a low-stashing knitter.

do you ever . . .

Do you ever find a new extremely funny website that has extensive archives and you feel compelled to read EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM and your whole life gets sucked into it and you finally emerge in a daze weeks later to find out everyone thought you died? Um, yeah. www.textsfromlastnight.com