I blame Chery. Here I am innocently knitting my cuff down socks one at a time, behaving myself mostly and WHAM. I'm totally floored that I am LOVING this 2 socks on 2 circs stuff. Unreal. cool, fast, and entirely too much fun to play with along the way. Come on, you other toe-uppers know you've done this too, fess up. After the first little pouchy-looking toes appear, they look like a very little bikini top. Being a very little busted woman, I HAD TO hold them up on my chest and model for the Tues. night knitters who promptly rolled their eyes at me. A few more rows and they began to resemble teddy bear ears, so again a modeling pose brought groans WITH the rolled eyes. I was informed that I needed to get out more. yes, I probably do. It's a good thing I wasn't this far along on the socks at the coffee shop. After knitting away all evening, they began to resemble, um, well, knitted vaginas. 2 knitted vaginas right there on my needles.
I must explain that I've been seeing too many cartoony versions of vaginas, uteruses (how do you not say that word and not make it rhyme with hippopotamussessess like on the Christmas song?) and fallopian tubes. Yes, my little girl is studying "health and development" at school and I thought it'd be a good time to explain all the joys of womanhood. I'm trying to have that great you can talk to me about anything relationship with my daughter and figured I'd better learn how the stuff ACTUALLY WORKS to give her a little smoother transition into womanhood. Mom was a 4th grade teacher in a Roman Catholic school and had charts and films and books and POSTERS out the ass. I learned by being sat down with her class (I was a public school kid). I didn't figure it out until much later and then went "ooooooooooohhhhhh THAT'S how that stuff got into there." I asked Beth what she'd learned so far, and her take on the whole thing was pretty much how I started out, mostly confused and utterly bummed about getting stuck with periods and cramps and "Mom, did you know that it HURTS to have a baby?" yeah. knew that one. I asked her if the nurse explained how the little wiggly sperm got into the egg in the first place (thinking cool, my job is already done for me) and she said the nurse said to ask their moms or another grown up woman to explain that part. SO enter some books. We did find a good one for the whole here-comes-puberty-now-what-the-hell-do-I-do situations at Target called The Care and Keeping of You. I highly recommend it.
ANYWAY I normally don't see female genitalia in my knitting, I just looked down at my needles and poof there they were. See, top down socks just aren't as much fun.
I've unloaded an obscene amount of needles and yarn on the destash blog. I've been behaving myself and not buying much in return. I've just realized my stash doesn't resemble the knitter I am now. I need NEW and IMPROVED stash. So far people have bought almost EVERYTHING I've sold on there. in minutes. It's freaky actually. I sold a bag of noro odds and ends thinking it'd sit a while since I think only 1 or 2 of the skeins was complete and before I even got the notice that it posted on the blog I'd already had 2 emails wanting it. freaky. I did another big haul and realized I have a few more odds and ends, but the thing that was taking up a big part of the room was all those hairy furry balls of partial skeins from "the furry stage." Boy howdy, did I knit furry shit when I started. Knit the SHIT out of it. If I knit it, it had to have at least a little furry trim somewhere. I did make some really cute felted bags and such but I just got so now I can't stand to knit with it, heck I can't even stand to look at it taking up room that could possibly be filled with SOCK YARN or MALABRIGO or other lusciousness. So, my bag o' furry balls is up for sale. Wish me luck unloading.
I couldn't help myself, I HAD to have this Elsebeth Lavold silky wool in a buttery sunflowery color I saw on destash. I've no idea what to knit with it but hopefully now there'll be some room in the cedar chest for it.
Remember sweet, pretty Millie our new dog? Let's just say that the next time Jeff rescues a dumped farm dog, we'd better have a damn FARM to put it on. The kids call her Millie, Jeff calls her pretty girl, I call her "that DAMNED dog." Enough said.
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