love is all you need

Sorry for such short notice, but I will now be blogging at:

http://loveisallyouknit.wordpress.com/

(Please note the name has changed to "love is all you knit" as opposed to "need.")

When I logged in to post, blogSpirit notified me that I had reached the limitations on my free account and would have to enroll in a paid service to continue.  Normally I would be fine with that, but the pricing page was written in French (or a similar language, I can't be sure since I don't speak or read it) and I couldn't for the life of me even figure out how much they wanted to charge me.  Then there's the fact that I've known for a while that I would eventually want to switch to another service....

So, please update your feeds!  I would hate to think of losing my blog-friends just because of crappy blog service.  Besides, if you don't update your feed, you won't get to check out those awesome stripy socks I'm making.  (Yes, I'm saying that purely to entice you to visit my new place!)

And on a technical note... my problem now is that I really want to move all my posts from blogSpirit over to my Wordpress blog so that it can contain my entire blogging history, but a techie friend of mine looked into it and there's not really an easy way.  Have any of you moved from BS to WP? (I know WP has an import feature, but not one for importing from BS.)

Sunday afternoon we were all headed back from the Chelsea Piers (where we spotted Richard Belzer,) and on the street next to a pile of garbage I walked past this:

I doubled back and peeked in the bag, "Oh my gosh, it's in pretty good shape! Joey, I want it!"
He reminded me, "But its trash, and trash is gross."
"Yes, its trash, that's why I want to take it. Do you know how much these things cost brand new? I've been wanting one for over a year now..."
Then I had to explain to the other guys what a dressform is. They all convinced me that it was gross and dirty, and it made Aaron start sneezing, and we would have to carry it on the train and to the bar and the 13 or so blocks home.... and so we walked on. I had gone about four steps when I ran back, grabbed the bag and said, "Sorry, I have to have it. I'll carry it and I'll disinfect it when I get home!"

And so I carried my new dressform happily to the train stop, onto the subway, and to the bar, waxing poetic the whole time about how I couldn't believe it was such a great find, and why someone would throw something like this away, and how it probably only ever served its sole purpose to hold clothing, so it couldn't be that disgustingly gross. Josh and Aaron assembled it next to our table once we were inside the bar and we all marveled at how cool it really was.

We continued our usual bar run, complete with games of Jenga and Big Buck Hunter, when a random drunk girl wanted to get in on Joey and Aaron's game of pool. Aaron got stuck playing with her and he kept coming over to our table telling us how drunk she was, that she couldn't even hit the ball without trying three times. I overheard her talking about her friend who had "fallen asleep" on the street outside the bar and how he was supposed to be meeting her there. (Classy!) Then her friend walked past the window and when he saw her he came inside. I watched him stumble drunkenly over to where she was playing pool and talk to her for a little bit. Then he sauntered over by our table, put his arm around my dressform and leaned heavily on it. I turned to him and said, "Hey that's not the bar's it's actually mine, so please don't lean on it, I don't want it to break." And he slurr-mumbled something about "Leaning lightly," and continued to lean on it very drunkenly and threatening to break one of the not-so-sturdy plastic parts of the stand. "Please, dude, you're messing with my stuff. You're gonna break it!" I warned again as Joey walked over, noticing that this guy wouldn't leave after I had asked him nicely. Then the guy noticed that all my friends were watching him closely and he flipped out, saying some crap about how no one in New York can take a joke any more, and I think I said something like, "It's not a joke if you break my stuff," and it ended by all of my guys being on high alert at this drunken idiot gone on a rampage, saying how he wanted to kill himself. His pool-playing friend was even trying to calm him down cause she could even tell through her own drunkenness how idiotic he was being. The stress dissipated quickly after that because the drunk dude left the bar. We actually saw him again later as we were leaving and he was by the bathrooms trying to open a locked bathroom door, and then knocking on it repeatedly while one of our group used the facilities.
So, the morals of the story are this:
1) Don't drink so much that you end up a belligerent fool.
2) One man's trash is another man's treasure.

It does look a little silly when I stretch it out to my measurements, though. (Smallest size on top and almost-largest size on bottom: we can't all be perfect!) But I am completely giddy with my find.

So the yarn store never called me back. I'm floored as to why they didn't call me back- I reorganized my resume to show off my customer service and retail "skills," as well as wrote a nice intro into how much I love knitting and the whole fiber world. Plus, I knitted a bad-ass lace swatch at my interview. Actually, I wasn't even interviewed, I just went in and was asked to knit a lace swatch. Then they said they'd call for a second interview and they never did. And I KNOW I didn't make any mistakes on that dang lace swatch. So I chalked it up to maybe they interviewed someone who knew someone and it just didn't work out for me. But then I saw that they RELISTED their original help wanted ad. Maybe I should apply again just to piss them off. Actually, no. I will just not buy from their store. There's one that's way closer to my apartment anyway.
So, since I last posted I not only didn't get hired for the yarn store job, but I did get hired for a personal assistant job. And I worked one day and then turned it down. I've never done that before, but I came home from my first day and just bawled my eyes out at how horrible a day it was and then took it as a sign that I probably shouldn't do that to myself on a daily basis. And today, I went for another interview, doing the same thing I did back home. It actually seemed to go pretty well for an interview and I want to say that I'm a shoe-in. I guess I'll go ahead and post this and then we'll all see what happens together.
It has been an amazing but emotional month here in Brooklyn. I love this city and I'm so glad I moved here, but I miss my family and my dogs and I'm anxious to get settled and comfortable again.
So as not to have a completely depressing post, I'll end with some fun, upbeat commentary:
Joey got a job and it is one he really wanted- he starts tomorrow.
We live in such a fun part of the city and have had a complete blast every day that we've been here.
If I get this new job, I'll have plenty of time to knit and read on the subway ride in.
I've basically just had a month-long vacation in NYC with my favorite person in the world. Now we get to start new lives here and keep on enjoying ourselves.

You know the feeling: things are going along swimmingly, so great that you amaze at how well things are working out. You go out and buy a ton of lottery tickets because your luck is actually that good. Then something slightly negative comes your way. You optimistically bat it away because you are not going to let things worry you this time. This time it is going to be fine, like it always turns out to be fine. Then the whole roof starts caving in on you.

First, it was the slight worry that the landlord didn't really want to rent to four people. That was quickly resolved with the suggestion of paying a little extra in rent to cover the wear and tear on the building and the extra cost of utilities. Then it was the fact that our move might get pushed back a few days, but for good reason because the band might be able to play a record label showcase in LA the week we were supposed to move. Then it was last night at 11:30 when Henry jumped off the bed, vomited up his dinner and his first round of heartworm preventative, and started panting and hyperventilating like there was no tomorrow. That was nicely resolved with a late-night trip to the emergency animal clinic, a steroid injection, an anti-nausea injection, and $130. (It was an allergic reaction to the preventative.) I was able to deal with these things- mainly because things were still turning out pretty well.
Then there came the call Joey got from the broker today saying that the other two of our four in the apartment situation would need co-signers. That was supposed to be resolved with a few phone calls, but one of them hasn't been able to find someone who could co-sign. Joey is working on remedying that situation, asking that maybe if we offer a larger deposit that person's co-signer could be waived. If not, we have to find another place, and our four might be whittled down to three.
It is at this point that Joey actually thanked me for being so cool and logical about everything, thanking me for being optimistic and reminding him that we can always find another place if we need to, that not all hope is lost. So I made myself a sandwich, using the last of the turkey breast that Joey picked up last night. I poured the last of the iced tea into a glass and sat everything down on the coffee table in the living room as my phone rang. Joey and I were discussing how things will work out- not to let the fact that we've already put in our notice at our jobs, or the fact that we've already sold both of our cars worry us. I was then distracted by seeing a man through the window. He was putting on a camouflage hooded jacket and was carrying some weird looking items. One of them looked like a stick with a tennis ball on the end. Another one of them looked like a metal pipe. He started walking through our front yard and I thought he might be coming to knock on the door. Daisy was barking at him through the window, and I'm on the phone trying to relate to Joey what I'm seeing. I ran into the other room to get a better look at this guy when he stops in the yard and opens the sewer drain with one of his tools. Oh. He's a utility guy just doing his job, not some psycho killer come to murder me and my dogs. Phew.
Then I hear the crash of my sandwich plate on the floor. The dogs knocked it down and were moving in on my sandwich when I finally lost it. Poor Joey got to hear my breakdown over the phone. There was much cussing and stomping and asking the dogs if they were 'happy now?' I actually said, "I'm not good right now, Joey." He said, "I know." Then I stormed into the kitchen with my messed-up-dog-hair-encrusted sandwich and set it on the kitchen counter, hard enough that the plate broke in two. "Now I've broken a plate," I relayed to Joey.
The idiocy of my breakdown was starting to flood my brain so I told Joey I would call him later and lay down on the couch. I started to think: that was the last of the turkey, there's nothing else in the house to eat, it's 2 o'clock already and I need to eat lunch and get back to packing...

Then I quit whining and got back up and went to make myself another sandwich. I might not have anymore turkey, but I just found some tuna.

PS- The dogs apologized.

"Well we all shine on,
like the moon, the stars and the sun."

Yes my friends, that red light means that the rat zapper is right now, a mouse morgue. Until Joey gets home and I make him officiate the burial ceremony. At least it wasn't another rat.

I've never experienced a cross-country move before. In fact, I've lived in the Dallas area since I was 6 months old. Sure, I've done the small move to a college dorm, and to many apartments since. But I've never moved 1,550 miles before! We're closing in on about a month until our big move and so many things are whirling around in our minds.
Joey, his brother Aaron, and a friend Eric are all flying up to Brooklyn this weekend to hopefully succeed in finding a safe, affordable apartment for us to rent. Fortunately, they're staying with a realtor-friend of Eric's, so that will hopefully help them zone in on the good stuff.
I'm going down to my parents' farm this weekend for a girls knitting weekend with my mom and sister. My mom scored a few bags of wool from a neighbor who raises sheep and we're going to try to clean it and spin it. And no, none of us know how. I've printed out a few instructions I found online, but we're just gonna see what we come up with. I'm sure hilarity will ensue. I'll make sure to take lots of photos for you guys.
In other news, we've still been fighting off a few remaining mice. About a month ago, Joey and I purchased "The Rat Zapper," in high hopes that we could just get these mice out of our house already. Basically, you throw some dry dog food into one end, and the mouse gets a high-voltage-battery-powered-so-quick-its-almost-pleasant-zap on his way to the food. Within four hours of setting it up, we had our first contestant. He quickly won the grand prize all expenses paid trip to mousie heaven. For the next few days and then weeks, nobody else showed up and I thought we were in the clear. Then one night as I was snuggled on the couch watching my new Elizabeth Zimmerman Knitting Workshop DVD, Daisy started freaking out and sniffing under and behind the couch that I WAS LAYING ON. She sniffed and circulated that thing for hours that night, so I brought the Rat Zapper in and set it up near the couch, hoping our little friend would come out for some food and entertainment. Apparently this guy was being a couch potato and did not wish to compete in our little game show. Then a few nights ago my brother in law, Aaron told us he had seen "Ratatouille" (as we so affectionately call our mousie friends) in the kitchen. I moved the Rat Zapper Game Show set to the kitchen and waited a few nights. This morning I found our next contestant. Let me just nicely say to you that the Biggest Winner of All Time, was in fact, the Biggest Winner of All Time: he wasn't a cute little mousie at all. He was a 5" long (not counting the tail) rat. In. My. House! I'm still shuddering as I recount this tale to you. Now, my dilemma: I can't just go on and pretend that I did not catch that thing in my house, but I cannot go on to catch more of them, because that will just freak me out further. Good thing I'm moving in a month. Please, oh please don't let our apartment in Brooklyn have rats. (Go on and laugh at my naivete.)
Moving on, we found out last week that Henry is heartworm positive. The vet said that he was in great shape and his heart sounded excellent, so he was probably still in the early stages. (Meaning they probably hadn't done much damage to his heart.) She said she would have no worries at all putting Henry though the painful and somewhat risky procedure to kill them. We took him in on Monday morning and received his first injection. We called the vet and checked in on him later that day and they said he was doing fine. He received his second injection yesterday morning and we were able to pick him up last night. The injections are extremely painful, and Henry is sore as all get out on his back. He really doesn't feel up to moving much right now, which is a good thing because he has to be extremely calm and inactive for the next two weeks. The injections are a form of arsenic that kills the worms and also a little tissue at the injection sites. Henry has disintegrating worms and arsenic floating through his bloodstream right now. He even has to eat a special dog food to help ease the load on his liver. He's pretty mopey and tired, but I've taken the next few days off of work to take extra special care of him. "I don't feel so good, guys."

Sorry I disappeared for a while there.  I guess I have a few reasons

·          Master Knitter swatches do not really make good blog reading… you’ve all seen what seed stitch, ribbing and increases/decreases look like, right?

·          Joey and I have been doing a 60-day gut buster workout thing and sometimes that makes me too tired to even look at the computer when I get home.

·          I am just completely boring right now; my house is a mess because we are trying to ‘pare down’ on household items that we won’t need/won’t have room for in new york, which has become a full time job in itself.  I just think about the amount of work and time and energy something like that takes and then I decide to ignore it and go hide in my room and watch reruns of Frasier.

I’ve really been looking for some knitting stuff to get excited about lately, but I ‘m stuck in a knitting guilt triangle.   I have three projects going right now:

·          Master Knitting Level 1: this one is my top priority, but I find that I have to make sure I pay attention to my gauge the whole time = not conducive to relaxing tv knitting.

·          My So-Called Scarf: about halfway done, beautiful, but I no longer have that cool winter breeze in my sails that would make me rush to finish it.  Plus, MK level 1 takes precedence.

·          Thermal.  Oh, god, thermal.  I really want to have this sweater, but I really don’t want to put in the effort anymore.  I’m at the part where you have to do armhole and neckline shaping at the same time, and I don’t know if I have enough brainpower for that right now.  And again, MK level 1 takes precedence.

Normally when I get in a knitting guilt funk like this I buy new, beautiful, inspiring yarn or haphazardly jump without looking into a new project, but I can’t let myself do that right now.  I need a kick in the butt and get going- with both my knitting and my new york-readying.  So, dear blog readers kick away, help me out of my funk!

 

In knitting news, I am still working away at my Master Knitter Level I swatches.  I was starting to think I was close to the end, but I still have to knit two swatches, reknit three more, knit a hat, write a report on blocking, and finish off answering a million questions about gauge and increases and decreases.  Oh, and there are a kajillion ends to be woven in…

The real reason I wanted to post today was to talk about something that affects everyone on this planet: cancer.  I’m sure if you haven’t been directly impacted by cancer, you can name at least five people you know that have.  Cancer is a big deal and it is everywhere.  In the past 10 years, 3 people in my family have been diagnosed with it.  Only one of them is still alive today.  Not only is it a horrible disease, but the treatment options are pretty horrible as well.  My mom was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma a few years ago and was told that if she didn’t go through with chemotherapy she wouldn’t live more than 6 months.  She chose the chemo, lost her hair, got incredibly sick and thin, but defeated the cancer.  Unfortunately that life-saving-chemo has also taken about 10 years off of her life.  Her heart function will probably never get back to normal and she will always have to deal with chemotherapy’s ugly after effects.

My family and I have decided to participate in the American Cancer Society’s Relay For Life, which will be held in Fort Worth, Texas on April 4-5.  I am accepting donations, and you can visit my personal donation page here. 

Relay For Life is an overnight event where teams of volunteers and survivors are formed to walk throughout the evening in honor of loved ones who have battled cancer.  The walk is lit by luminaria, which are also in honor of cancer victims and cancer survivors.  If you do not wish to donate directly for my participation, please consider purchasing a luminaria in honor of someone you know who has been impacted by cancer.  You can purchase a luminaria here.

 

When I was eight years old, there was this advertising campaign for milk that showed a little girl that looked just like me standing in front of a full-length mirror with a glass of milk. As she drank the milk she saw herself as she gradually aged, and her aged self would tell her about how great it was to grow up. (And make sure to drink your milk!)

I used to stand in front of my mirror with a glass of milk and try really hard to see what I would look like as I got older. I would consider my big brown eyes that I wished were blue, scraggly permed hair, and multitude of freckles that I wished weren’t there and just really couldn’t see how I would ever look like an adult.

Nineteen years later I look in the mirror and I still see those same big brown eyes and multitude of freckles. (I stopped getting perms a long time ago, thankfully.) I’m pretty surprised to find that I still look so much like that little eight-year-old me did and I really can’t pinpoint what it is that makes me look older now, though I hope it is wisdom.

If I could look back through the mirror and talk to my eight-year-old self, I’d tell her not to worry about feeling awkward and embarrassed. I’d tell her that the feeling never goes away; you just get better at ignoring it. I would tell her to find something she loves doing (which I know will eventually be knitting) and do it a lot. I’d tell her to take more risks, because she’ll learn so much about herself every time she does. I’d tell her to drink her milk and stop worrying about those freckles, cause they’re not going anywhere anytime soon. I would tell her that she is beautiful and smart and worth the hard work it takes to become an adult.

Today is my 27^{th birthday and I’m glad to be where I am.}

Yesterday was a busy mousing day at the house of music and knitting.  It started out in the morning, when I uncovered the bird cage.  (Are you noticing a trend yet?)  A mouse was in my birds’ food bowl.  As soon as he saw me, he kind of ran out of the cage bars and into the fabric of the cage cover.  I quickly had Joey take the cover outside and shake it out, but no mouse came stumbling out.  We went back inside and kind of peeked around the bird cage, and then the mouse took a dive for the floor and began running for his life.  Daisy let out a wild screechy-moan and chased him behind the sideboard.  I grabbed the broom and tried to scare him out, and he came stumbling out of the other end and Henry gave him a basset hound nose-bonk, but the mouse got away.  The PestChaser unit is making the mice very disoriented with its ultrasonic sound, so they are running a little slower and are getting easier to catch.  I imagine the unit makes them feel like they are listening to a very loud version of “Macarena” on never ending repeat.  That would drive me out of a house real quick-like.  Joey and I decided it was time to declare war, especially since they were getting weakened by the noise, but I think they must have had a pep talk like the one Mel Gibson gives in Braveheart, because they were out in full force last night.  I might have even seen a mouse running around with half of his face painted blue.  One brave guy cornered my brother in law in the bathroom, causing him to yell, “Aaahh, I’m stuck in the bathroom.  With the mouse!” and come running out.  Some more dog-chasing-mouse ensued and the mouse got away.  We finally gave in and brought in the WMD's (Weapons of Mouse Destruction)- real mouse traps. This is war, after all and they are toxic invaders.  As I walked into the kitchen this morning to make coffee Joey announced, “We got one!  You might not want to look, cause it will probably make you cry.”  So he disposed of the mouse carnage while hiding it from my view and I asked, “Was it the grey one or the brown one?”  It was the grey one which makes me a little less sad, cause the brown one is the cuter of the two.  But he’s gonna have to go soon, too.