something lurking . . .

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the laundry . . .

too bad I don't have extra-large armpits

The last two days have totally redefined my definition of cold. There's nothing like making deliveries for an hour at 7 AM when the temperature, without windchill, is 13F. When I looked at the weather forecast yesterday, my reaction was, "Wow! Overnight low in the 30's?! Sweet!!" Which would have sounded crazy to me only a week ago.
The weather today has been beautiful, in the 40's (practically balmy!), bright and sunny, with a gentle breeze and soft blue sky. It's almost as if the weather is apologizing for the misery it inflicted on us.
And let me tell you, it's a good thing too, because I am having Sweater Issues, or, more accurately, Being Incapable of Counting Issues. I brought my Brookside Sweater out of hibernation to finish it up before the cold weather ends. (That was why it went into hibernation in the first place. I just couldn't face finishing a brown sweater in May.) I'd finished the body and sleeves up to the point of joining them and doing the raglan decreases. Quick and easy, right? Wrong. The first time, I was only doing half the decreases I should have been; but with a quick trip to the frog pond, I was back on my way. This time, I inexplicably seemed to forget about the second decrease point. I was decreasing at points 1, 3 and 4, but not 2. Is it weird that my first thought was, "I could make this work if only I had extra-large armpits"?

a little FYI

If you should find yourself trying to access Home Depot via the internet, be really really sure you include the "m" when typing in the address. Otherwise, bad things. Very very bad things.

My dreams have gotten a lot more mundane in recent years. I guess my mind is more focused on the day-to-day details than when I was a kid. Besides being more boring, this has another downside. If I dream that I'm married to Bob Dole and raising penguins in Guam, I can be pretty sure that's a dream. But today I found myself wondering if the conversation I had where my Dad told me he found wire shelving on sale for the garage actually happened or if I dreamt it. Crap.

reflection

It's that time of year again. The winter solstice, the darkest night of the year, has come and gone. The sun creeps out earlier and sets a little later each day, but the weather turns increasingly cold. All sensible creatures hunker down and hibernate until spring. It's a time to reflect, repent, revise and resolve.

A friend's recent breakup of a five-year relationship has led to many deep discussions and ponderings about the nature of love. This recent comic also struck a chord of recognition with me. It depicts, with eerie accuracy, the course of um, all of my relationships. Because when I think back on them and on my exes, I don't miss them. I don't miss our relationship.
I do get lonely. I miss very much being special to someone. And I have a loving family and many friends who shower me with affection, and I try to soak up as much of that as I can to fend off the lonelies. But I miss having someone who thinks that I am special and wants to be with me and make me happy. Boys can be very cute when they want you to like them back. And I am both very cheap and very hermit-y, so a boyfriend is good for getting me out of the house and forcing me to try new stuff. The only time I ever go to movies is with a boy, and though I go out to restaurants weekly with friends, I don't eat. I am so tight, I squeak.
So I miss that. But I know (oh how I know), that the only thing worse than no boyfriend is the wrong boyfriend, and I would rather be lonely by myself than lonely with someone. Because there is no worse feeling in the world than being lonely with someone laying in bed next to you.

Finished!

Christmas knitting is finished!

Socks for Mom. For some reason, this colorway doesn't photograph well. It's a very lovely teal and brown, called Teal Party actually, in Claudia Handpainted. She picked out the yarn herself, but she can't remember what color it was anymore. My evil plan worked perfectly.

Socks for the Best Roommate Ever, in Lotus Yarns Nirvana. The colorway is called Dig, and it's a beautiful mix of golds and coppers and bronze.

Felted Clogs for my brother-in-law. He and my sister live in one of those uber-trendy concrete lofts, so she suggested slippers to keep his tootsies warm.

Here's how big they are before felting. (That's my foot, not his.) If I were a nice person, I'd felt them before gifting, but a) I want to let them dry on his feet so they'll mold perfectly to fit him, and b) I want to see the look on his face when he unwraps these and says, "Boy, thanks! What the hell is it?" I'm a bad person.

A hat for my little sister. She recently dyed her hair a brilliant red, and the pink (fun fur: oh, the shame!) hat I made for her a few years ago clashes terribly. She also has cute little bangs, so I made her a tam so she can avoid crushing her hairdo.

Here's the detail close-up. It's not as easy to tell as I'd like, but those are little hearts done in purl stitches.

Merry Christmas to all from everyone here at Chez Light Wading!

(actual) fun with coworkers

Coworkers, I think, are the part of a job that simultaneously has the greatest effect on your work experience while being the part that you have the least control over. Coworkers can make a crappy job fun and a fabulous job miserable, yet you can't interview potential coworkers, or negotiate for better coworkers. They're a little like family that way: you're stuck with what you get, so you just have to figure out how to deal with their eccentricities. Every once in a while, a coworker comes along that you actually like, who makes you laugh and makes your day go by faster, a coworker that, if you are really lucky and very good and eat all your vegetables and pray real hard, knits.
Enter Sara. In addition to being one of the sweetest people to ever draw breath and a maker of nummy nummy baked goods, she was kind enough to allow me to teach her to knit. I taught her two years ago, took her to a few yarn stores, gave her some yarn from a sweater that defied me once too often. She took to it right away, made a scarf or two, a couple of hats for Christmas, but showed no sign of falling down the rabbit hole. (Unlike some of us, ahem.)
Then a month or so ago, she blithely announced that she was knitting a pair of socks for her mom. She also wanted to find a pattern for a cabled hat. Not one to miss an opportunity, I let her use my Ravelry account to surf for patterns. Three days later, she had her own Rav-name.
She has fallen and fallen hard. I couldn't be prouder if I'd raised her my ownself.

She's Knittingscared on Ravelry. Look her up and say hi. She's having the most horrible case of hives right now, and I know she'd love the encouragement.