In which I blame everyone but myself

So, we are in the swing of things with the new job, and it's time to get back to the regularly scheduled life I once had. Nevermind the past few weeks which were taken up with menu study, protocol study, and an odd lack of confidence I can't explain. I let myself get down, and it's time for the manic part of manic depression to begin again.

Upswing and onward! But you won't be able to tell, because I am going to talk about some really pissy stuff.

The mitts. I am really upset about these damn mitts. I have to rip them out and start over again, simply because it will take me less time to do that than to either tink back or pull the DPNs and pick up the stitches before the mistakes were made. Just so you know, never try to cable while catching up with an old friend on your hands-free cellular set. You will not only forget to click the clickety little row counter and totally lose track of the cable, but the stupid wire that runs from ear to shirt to cell (Bluetooth? What's Bluetooth?) will become knit somehow between two stitches on the needle. You will not notice this until you come all the way around twice, because your old friend is so freaking interesting. So, thanks a lot, Lindsay, you dirty bitch. I am blaming you.

What's more about the mitts, I will definitely run out of yarn in the middle of the second one. Swan sent me the Cascade 220 I am using for them, and is trying to find some leftover from the dyelot so I might be able to finish them. Otherwise, I can totally sport the Wacko Jacko one-mitt look at Rhinebeck. Bless her little pea-pickin' heart, I don't know what I'd do without her leftovers. I blame the postal service for not delivering the back-up yarn she's sending me sooner.

I was so excited about Yoshi's sweater. (Note past tense.) I was totally convinced that I had only two more rows of mindless stockinette in the round before I could divide for the arms, and then I checked the pattern, which tells me no, two more inches (which adds up to about ten more rows). I am converting something into the round, and I feel so clever about the whole thing, until I realize that I didn't look at the pattern and was relying on my measurements of Yoshi. Fucking ease and drape. I suppose if I really want him to have an oversized slouchy sweater, I should have considered these things. I blame the fool who told me I should trust the tape measure and not the pattern. I won't name any names. It's possible she doesn't exist. I blame her, though.

Lace? What lace?

In the five minutes I have had per day to devote to knitting, I am almost done with the fluffy cuff on his Xmas stocking. Fucking fluffy-ass yarn with its eyelashes and invisible nylon cord. I scoff at you, eyelash yarn! Scoff, scoff!

I am even having a hard time knitting in front of tv. Damn you, new season of House! Damn your interesting plotlines which will probably have the same effect on my knitting as talking to Lindsay!

Okay, for real now, I am going to go knit. And I am going to make something worthy of a photograph, whether it be me with DPNs piercing my skull, self-inflicted from my state of dementia, or something more, say, fabric-like in nature. And when it turns out golden and beautiful and perfect, I will take full credit.

And I had absolutely nothing to do with Olive getting ill. It was very noble of her to try to take the hit for Maggie, and I am sure she places no real blame on me. She has too much character for such nonsense.

And to Kelly: I was so sorry to hear about Maggie the Cat. I am sure she will be sorely missed.

Dragon, your comment on Tuesday prompted me to immediatly try to kill my cat. Seriously.

So, here's the story:

After hearing of Maggie's plight, Olive the Cat decided to take some karma for the team. See, she had the scab on her back from repeated injections of fluids from when she was very sick way back in August. (That didn't make sense, let me try again: She had a reaction, the Vet thinks, to the needle they used to inject fluids.) The spot wasn't healing, and was getting worse; the Vet recommended I scrub the area with Betadine scrub (the foamy stuff for surgery, not the junk the nurse would pour on you in elementary school).

Now, scrubbing a cat isn't the best idea in the world. So when Olive was done and as rinsed as we could get her, we let her loose. Being a cat, she promptly started licking herself. Then, foaming at the mouth. Dripping long tounges of yellow foam, she started gasping and coughing as mucus flowed from her eyes and nose. It turns out, I poisioned my cat with iodine.
Maggie? Olive would like you to know that she's fine now, and she hopes that her suffering eases yours.

Dragon? Olive would like you to never ever mention me killing her again, ok?

To prove all is well, here's Ms. Olive herself, reclining on the laundry atop the dryer:

(Don't you just love the bra straps in the background?)

[Update: Maggie has passed. Olive extends her deepest sympathies to the family, and really wishes her karmic hit had worked.]

Evil, like the fru-its of the Devil

You Are 66% Evil

You are very evil. And you're too evil to care.Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

How Evil Are You?

And there you have it. I can't get Blogger to tell you, but apparently, I am 66% evil. And I look just like that girl in the early morning.

There are no pictures.

And that is because I have been working.

The second cabled mitt has been started and ripped out three times.

Nothing else has had any progress made upon it, excepting maybe adding one measley inch onto Yoshi's sweater, which requires EIGHTEEN INCHES before dividing for the armholes (I've asked him to shrink down, he refuses outright) so is that really progress? I say no. So, no pictures.

However, I am employed, and training is kicking my ass. Why do I need to memorize the recipes for twelve different salad dressings in order to wait on a table? Why do I need to study for hours on end while pressing (with heavy starch, no less) seven hundred and forty two white oxford shirts as well as a server's apron into sharp creases (you could get a pretty nasty paper cut off my shirt sleeves, I bet) when I can't even ring in an order and the trainer just says "Here's the computer, figure it out"? And high polish on the shoes, no flyaways in the hair, earrings smaller than a nickel, no unnatural makeup (yeah, that one was easy...), stand up straight with your arms at your sides, exude confidence and knowledge about the menu, anticipate the guest's needs, and above all, don't forget that you are there for the guest, so be gracious (read: subservient).

Hmm. If anyone ever reads this, please, please please, learn to appreciate the person who brings you your food and refills your damn water glass. Saying thank you never hurt anyone.

So. I have to go run a bajillion errands now, while reciting the red wine list over and over. They'll love that while I get my oil changed and grocery shop.

Make two.

Here's the first cabled mitt, all ready for me to finish the thumb and weave in the ends. It's actually the second one I made; I had to rip out the first one (we'll call it a prototype) because of certain design flaws. I changed to ribbing on the edges instead of seed stitch, moved the cable over so the branches would line up with my fingers, and changed the recommended increases for the thumb gusset to something I found a bit neater.
Yes, that's a safety pin on my thumb.
Oh, and then I get to make another one. Damn my symmetrical body! Thank goodness I took really good notes.
Swan is sending me a small bit of the same yarn so I will actually have enough to make the second one... yeah. Design flaws.
But it matches my Pixie hat and I'll have several FOs to wear to Rhinebeck. Swan knows that the gauntlet has been laid down and she has to wear something she finished to Rhinebeck as well, and scarves do not count.

This is what I have done with myself while not working. I think I was reasonably productive. New job starts tomorrow morning at (ack!) 9:30 AM. I wait tables, people. I do not do mornings.

But I have some lovely stuff to make footies for Rhinebeck as well... If the second mitt only takes me two days like the first did (minus a good bit of dropping stitches and picking up a damn cable that missed a twist, as well as an increase that decided to not be there), then I will have head, hands and feet wrapped in wooly goodness. And a Cookie Monster!

It's taking over!

This house is an unholy mess. And it's all my fault. I can't even blame Walter for this one; she's not allowed to play with the yarn.

For goodness sake, just look at all this yarn. It's insanity. There are two UFOs, an FO, and a lot of sock yarn here alone. As well, there is the PL Blankie that I was supposed to send out two days ago. Yeah. I suck. Also, that drawer is full of yarn, needles, and other crafty stuff.
Then there's the other end of the couch, with yarn catalogues, books, a box from Swan, and the finished Cookie Monster on it.

There's the entire coffee table (which is humongo, btw, and has really big drawers full of... you guessed it.). It currently supports no less than five pattern books, two UFOs, DVDs, more yarn catalogues, a book of graph paper I was using to design my new cabled mitts, and God only knows what's under all that. And of course, the drawers are in an even worse state of disarray, which is why this stuff isn't in them. Out of shame and a sense of human decency, I will not subject you to a picture of an open drawer.
There is the pattern library, which even though it looks fairly full, is not. Half my pattern and knitting books are all over the house. Oh, and there is another box from Swan that is conveniently holding all the great stuff she sends me, as well as a plastic bag full of paints for the Munny and some stickery-type stuff for it. You will notice, it is on top of a chest of drawers. Go on, guess what's in the drawers. You're probably right, unless you are ridiculously stupid.

I really thought that being unemployed meant I'd clean all this crap up. HA! So much for that great plan. Instead, I've played around with some designing, cabling up some fingerless mitts to match the Pixie hat for when I go to Rhinebeck...

That is one half day's worth of work. I'm pretty excited; I've never cabled more than a swatch.

I also had to play with Walter and style her hair.

She looks like Cindy Lou Who, doesn't she? And just so you know, her T-shirt says "Daddy drinks because I cry."

In other Walter news, her halter is finished... and really, really big on her. We're going to put a box pleat into the back so we can just rip it out when she gets bigger, but still wear it now.

Seriously, though. Jenn did a nice job, and was a bit heartbroken that it doesn't fit properly. We haven't re-checked gauge yet, but I'm sure we will just as soon as I clean up my entire house.

I did, by the way, wonder to myself why I was taking pictures of my entire mess rather than clean it up. It's because procrastination is a strange sort of virtue, and I wanted to do it as creatively as possible. Not because I'm really, really lazy.

And just so you don't think I really suck that bad, I do have a second interview today at my first pick for a new job. I nailed the living crap out of the first interview, and will be working again soon.

There has been a rash of FOs over at Swan's site, and I can't have her showing me up. So in an act of amazing bravery and commitment, I prepared to seam up the Cookie Monster Sweater.

Eskimo helped. It took me literally hours to get my seams the way I thought I'd like them, with many cigarette breaks and walking away from it all to watch children and eat. But then again, it took me months to pluck up the vigor to seam it in the first place, so let's remember the important things, okay?

And then we block. Well, two days later, we block. A girl's gotta work.

I know; you really wanted to see me model it. Well, too damn bad. It's all wet right now, and I wanted to get the pics up now while I have time. And I look like Lazy Sunday Morning, so no pics of me, sorry. I assure you, it makes me look like the Cookie Monster.

And no, I have not yet secured myself some employment. I was busy finishing the sweater. Priorities, people!

So, what have I learned? Finishing ain't so bad; don't try it under any sort of influence, though, and that includes both chemicals and your cell phone. Treat it like driving. Knit Picks Suri Dream leaks a little dye when washed, so block on a towel that matches the color. I look pretty cute as the Cookie Monster (you'll have to take my word for it). Yoshi can get me Christmas presents that are great for a really long time. Hands down, the best present ever is yarn. And wet alpaca yarn smells like (you guessed it) a wet alpaca.