Yay for knitting pics!

Now that I have a camera again, I can finally post some progress pictures. The knitting has been continuing apace. Both heels are done on the Crusoe socks

and I just have to finish the cuffs. Note the hairy legs in this picture. Tres chic, ne c'est pas?

This little beauty is something I'm sort of making up out of my head (with a little help from Barbara Walker). It's going to be a shrug in the Branching Fern lace pattern (from The Second Treasury, I think), and it's made from Brookside Yarns Pico Alto, which is so very sadly discontinued. I started with a provisional cast-on at the center back and I'm going to knit the sleeve until I run out of yarn, then pick up the stitches and knit the other direction for the other side. I must use every last bit of this nummy nummy yarn.

And THIS is something special I'm making for that lovely patient woman who gave me life . . .

MOM, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU BETTER NOT LOOK

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A sock, of course. What else. It's make with Claudia Handpainted Fingering weight, and the colorway is Teal Party.

This picture is a little more accurate representation of the color.

The Best Roommate Ever and I watched the Opening Ceremonies last night and I knit a ton on this sock. I'm almost ready for the heel. I just have to blindfold my mother and check the length.

New camera!

Newcameranewcameranewcameranewcamera!

My parents are shopping geniuses. It never fails. All you have to do is off-handedly mention that you might be thinking about looking into the possibility of checking out prices of (insert random thing), and within two weeks, they have found exactly what you were looking for, only better, for a crazy insane price. Touring their new house is stupefying. "I love that picture." "Oh, yeah, three dollars at an estate sale." "That's a really nice couch." "We found that at an outlet for 75 bucks." It is their superpower.

I was going to take pictures of my new supercoolamazing camera, and then I realized that would be silly. So here are some pictures taken WITH my new camera. (Demonstrating the function, see, instead of the form. I am a quick one.)

Alex says: Pet my belly, human slave! Until I get tired of it, whereupon I will signal that I am finished with you by biting your hand!


Oh my god, don't take a picture! Now you're going to post it on the internet, aren't you? Bad human slave! Bad! (stomps off, muttering "grumblegrumblestupidhumans")

Handy tip for keeping cool

I learn so many things at Knit Night. Just in case you were wondering, a handful of ice cubes dumped in your lap can do wonders toward restoring your will to live when sitting in patio seating in August. In fact, the ice cube dumping might not have been entirely accidental. I'm just saying.

(image stolen from Google, because I have no camera and for god's sake, I need some pictures around here.)

hotter . . .

. . . than the hammered-down hinges of Hell, as Jill Conner Browne would say. It's not as hot as it could be (so I keep telling myself, as it hasn't broken the 100's yet), but August is shaping up to be pretty stifling and sweaty. I was doing OK with this summer thing. I like summer, I prefer being too warm to too cold, and for most of my life, I have had an outdoor job during Atlanta and Tallahassee summers. I like wearing skirts and describing the weather as "sultry". But August is trying to kill me. Enough with the heat already. Enough. I'm ready for fall.
Although at this point I must confess that the Best Roommate Ever and I have yet to turn on our A/C. Why?, I can hear you asking, aghast. Because we are A) cheap, B) poor, C) completely hardcore, and D) totally insane. I'm telling you, I'm going to have to marry this girl. Because really, what other human being would be so enthusiastic about not turning on the air conditioning during an Atlanta summer? No one, I tell you. Because that is insane. Unfortunately, neither of us seems likely to become a lesbian at this point, so that ruins my plans. Send popsicles. Rainbow ones. :-)

prayer request

I would just like to ask everyone to offer up a prayer to the deity of your choice for my mother, who, this morning, showing no regard for her personal safety (either physical or mental), bravely set off to suffer through the first day of school. (She teaches first grade.)

Dear sweet, loveable kitten babies . . .

Dear sweet, lovable kitten babies,
If you do not stop whining for food, I am going to sell you to the gypsies to be made into hats. Lunch happens at 4. You have been squeaking at me since 1. Just because I am home does not mean we have food on demand. You are not starving and dying, and you do not need to eat until you are spherical. You can make it one more hour. Auntie Kim will not forget to feed you. I promise.

Love,
your faithful human slave

house!

All the negotiating and going back and forth and calling contractors and getting estimates and all that fun stuff is finally completed, and I'm getting a house! I am very very excited. And a little terrified. This is the most expensive thing I have ever bought, ever. I feel odd, like I'm waiting for someone to come over and say, "Hey, you! What are you thinking? You're not old enough to get a house!" But apparently I am, and I can, and I will. I'm not closing until late August, which is a little frustrating, because I want to play with my big new toy now! But since I can't do that, here's some more pictures.

My absolute favorite "room" in the house: the screened-in breezeway between the house and the garage. The Best Roommate Ever and I both have hammock chairs to lounge in and enjoy the breeze, and I'm sure the kitties will decide they need to live out there. Dad thinks we could easily build a deck off the back (and possibly even the front, if we want to get crazy), so even though that's pretty far down on the list of improvements, I'm pretty excited.

My second favorite room: my bedroom. It's the upper half story and spans most of the length of the house. I have some very fun plans for paint colors.

Even though the whole process has been crazy, it hasn't been busy enough to keep me from pining for a certain someone I reconnected with in Tallahassee. Why do I always seem to zero in on relationships that are doomed to failure? I once heard the analogy that finding the right guy is like shoe shopping: you can find a really great pair of shoes that you love, but they just do not fit. Unless you want to hobble around in pain, you should walk away and find a pair that fits. I am so good at doing this with shopping; why can I not do it with relationships? Those with a firearm phobia do not pair well with gun nuts. Likewise, a vegan/carnivore pairing is probably more trouble than it's worth.
Sigh. Relationships are impossible. It's much more fun to pick out paint colors.