I've become a lady of the night

NO, not in the extra-curricular, street-walking, earning extra money for yarn way, no, no, no. More of the can't-go-to-sleep-yet, just-a-couple-more-rows, why-isn't-there-anything-on-tv, maybe-I'll-listen-to-a-few-more-podcasts, HOLY CRAP when-did-it-become-2:30am kind of way. Sleep and creative knitting do not go together, there's just not room for both. I don't know why my most energetic, thought inspiring, fastest knitting must come after midnight. OH it's hard to get up in the am. The fact that Jeff has been traveling has made these night-time knits a little easier, I don't have to worry about keeping anyone up.

Last night I had a knit-piphany. I had been going through books and books and books and internet patterns and all sorts of things and even PURCHASED another freaking book to get a pattern to make a cardigan/bolero/shrug kind of thing for my daughter. I was printing shit out at 11:30 last night to get ideas. I'd even worked about 2 inches of 90 stitches back and forth stockinette stitching for the back of a pattern for her, but it just wasn't speaking to me. Actually, it WAS speaking to me, it was sounding like a petty, obnoxious pre-teen being bored. Seriously, the yarn was bored with the pattern and no matter how hard I tried to look at the cute, pretty little pattern there in the book, it wasn't good knitting. Life's too short for that crap. If I'm gonna knit something, I'm gonna enjoy the living crap out of it or I'm not gonna knit it. Period. That's my new philosophy.

I have been recently been bitten by the Elizabeth Zimmerman and Barbara Walker bug. I've been reading and reading and chuckling and just loving the hell out of those little pictures and stories that go along with the inspiration that is EZ's work. So, at 12:30am, I decided wtf and cast on for my very own inspiration. I climbed up on top of the desk in my kid's room, leaned out over my daughter's very high bunk bed and measured the back of her neck and also where a raglan seam would be from her neck to her armpit. I rolled her back over, "no, honey it's not time to get up yet, go back to sleep, you're dreaming, your momma's not really measuring your armpits in the middle of the night, what a silly dream you're having."

I'm going to make the world's cutest pre-teen bolero/shrug/cardigan ever knitted on the face of the earth out of koigu kersti that decided it didn't really want to become my friend's clapotis. I'm even keeping pattern notes so if it works I may have an actual pattern to post here. I think I'll call it the tween's dream bolshrudigan. Wish me luck.

STILL 138 lbs, hanging in there. Still sucks. I miss real food. Ah well. Just thinking of my reward helped me put down the nutty bars box after giving one to Joey. PUT.DOWN.THE.NUTTY.BARS.AND.BACK.AWAY.SLOWLY!!! If I have a taste of the good stuff, it's all over. I've now realized I cannot do ANYTHING in moderation, especially eat good food. Nope. It's now been so long since I've had a taste of actual good stuff that the Kashi rice/peanut/fake chocolate CRAP bar I pulled out of the pantry actually TASTED GOOD. That's the secret of those "healthy" people. They don't actually ENJOY running, sweating and eating cardboard-flavored things with raw veggies all the time, THEY JUST DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER. Secretly part of me wants to run up behind them and cram hershey bars into their mouths just to see the light of day dawn upon them, you know, bring them back to reality. Now I really wouldn't do that. I just THINK about it, that's all. It would be a waste of good chocolate.

I wasn't very clear on the previous post, I didn't actually lose all the weight in the last month, I just got SERIOUS in the last month and went from eating sensibly and exercising more to TOTAL FREAKOUT STATUS. I actually was the 168 closer to early October. 18 pounds to go and 6 and a half weeks left. Holy crap. If I somehow get there sooner, I can end this insanity. It's really sad that the whole losing weight for "living healthier, living longer" theory wasn't enough of an inspiration for me. I have tried for that off and on for the last 20 years. Nope, it takes serious cash and the threat of public humiliation in great humidity go get my ass moving. Hey, whatever works.

Dear Dieting Goddesses:
I appreciate the fact that I'm able to try on dresses in the very low single digits. I really do. I love that I can now wear a SMALL or even an EXTRA SMALL top. I don't mind that my already tiny boobs are getting smaller because the thrill of actually WEARING a SIZE FOUR dress to the holiday parties was quite possibly the biggest thrill of my life. The fact that it was an A-Frame style doesn't really bother me at all. I think I showed great restraint by not actually spray painting the size tag across the back of the dress. The fact that I am still wearing a SIZE 12 EASY FIT pair of jeans doesn't really concern me. I'm just a titch concerned that if I go down any smaller in my upper body I will have to buy my bras at Target's training bra aisle and I will start to resemble a weeble-wobble. What do I have to sacrifice to get the thighs to go down JUST ONE FREAKING SIZE? I've already sacrificed chocolate, I'm down to one or two diet cokes a day, I'm drinking green tea and eating crap that bears turn up their noses at. I'm SWEATING dammit. Can at last 3 or 4 of the remaining pounds come off the lower body? PLEASE? Pretty please with fat-free-sugar-free cream and splenda on top?