tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318688292024-03-13T03:14:03.768-07:00kristinwoodknitsObsessive Knitter, obsessive parent, obsessive reader. Sometimes I like to obsess about being obsessive. Or I call it Being Passionate, because it sounds better.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-11927613721756525402009-01-05T09:44:00.000-08:002009-01-05T10:01:34.738-08:00I don't do Resolutions.You new there was a "but" coming, right? How could there not be? Last week I was digging around in my storage area (aka the space behind the sofa) and found myself pulling out UFO* after UFO, all carefully sealed up in individual ziplocks (suck on <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span>, evil moth population!). And they just kept coming. I was sort of tossing them over my shoulder onto my ottoman. When I finally found the thing I was looking for, I turned around and was faced with <br /><br />Reality.<br /><br />Holy shit, there must be 40 UFOs in the pile. And that is so not all of them.<br /><br />I decided to face that reality every day, starting immediately. I slid each and every one of those suckers (mostly - I've stopped looking behind the couch for the time being) into my bookshelf (right next to the tv, no avoiding them). So maybe I'd feel inspired to actually work on them. No pressure, but hey, with 50 WIPS** staring me right in the face every day, at least one of them's got to be moving enough to me that I'll pick it up, right?<br /><br />So far I have finished three pairs of malingering socks, written down 4 patterns, woven in ends on two scarves. And started on new thing. Which I feel I've earned, what with all the new socks in my drawer. Photos forthcoming, as soon as I can nail down someone who doesn't suck at it as much as I do.<br /><br />I'm kinda excited about all this. Ideas are flowing like hot fudge, man. And I love hot fudge.<br /><br />* 'Unfinished Objects,' for the muggles*** out there.<br />** 'Works in Progress' for same.<br />*** That's what we Knitters call you non-knitters.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-23231378145518808852008-12-31T12:53:00.000-08:002008-12-31T12:55:01.595-08:00I am breaking up with 2008.Goodbye. You've been a real bastard and I will not be looking back. Don't let the door hit you and all that. There will be no booty calling, no drunk dialing, and no rose-colored reminiscing. <br /><br />Kiss my ass,<br />love,<br />Kristinkristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-51083530162090394982008-12-22T08:55:00.000-08:002008-12-22T09:05:18.182-08:00Looking for Mr. Tumnus...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/SU_G_fLHOuI/AAAAAAAAACE/6P4-3Y4HrvI/s1600-h/tumnus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/SU_G_fLHOuI/AAAAAAAAACE/6P4-3Y4HrvI/s400/tumnus.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282659681931049698" /></a><br /><br />As we are <span style="font-style:italic;">still</span> being bombarded with endless snow and snow warnings and more snow predicted and there is a freaking FOOT of snow in my backyard, I begin to wonder. Always Winter, never Christmas?<br /><br />If I could find the damned White Witch, I'd kick that biotch's ass RIGHT NOW, I tell you.<br /><br />Stoopid Nature, stoopid sparkly pretty snow, covering the city with beautifulness and holiday charm, making it look all clean and pretty. Meanwhile, getting all up in mah <span style="font-style:italic;">grill</span>, messin' wit mah <span style="font-style:italic;">plans</span>. <br /><br />Le sigh.<br /> <br />I am supposed to be whisked away on a romantic getaway RIGHT NOW. Drinking wine and gazing at the ocean right outside my oceanside cabin window, lolling around in my nightie.<br /><br />But nooooooooooooooooo.<br /><br />Instead, here I sit. And my friend sits, across town, snowed in in his own house. <br /><br />PLUS! The special secret surprise I worked out for my daughter sits on the other side of Lake Washington, and I can't get to it. What if I can't get to it before Christmas Eve?! It's a really really great surprise, and really, the main event of the holiday. I am so screwed. <br /><br />On the upside, my house is cleaner than it's been , probably since I moved in.<br /><br />Grrrrrrr.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-7720595417837868572008-11-19T08:38:00.000-08:002008-11-19T08:39:42.575-08:00In Today's Episode of Karmic Retribution,I totally wiped out on the way to teach my knitting classes.<br /><br />On the city sidewalk. I tripped over the sidewalk, people. Dig it. I blame the trees. The trees and Phyllis.<br /><br />The trees had grown roots, the roots pushed up the edge of the sidewalk, and Phyllis drive by. Gazing at her and wondering whether I could flag her down and bum a ride, I hit the edge of the sidewalk with my toe, and I bit the dust. Since I had already called in late, I was hurrying and therefore hit the pavement with both hands and both knees, full force. Well, my right knee took quite a bit more of the full force than the rest, but you get it.<br /><br />My immediate concern, of course, was to not look like a fool in front of the many (MANY!) passersby, so I leapt up instantly and pretended to be fine. Which was kind of hard to do, what with the spurting blood and inability to walk.<br /><br />That's what I get for laughing whenever someone falls down.<br /><br />So I hobbled to the nearest restaurant, 20 feet away, which was closed. As was the next one, and the hair salon. Stupid pretend-Village-in the-middle-of-the-big-City and its stupid quaint closed-on-Mondays affection.<br /><br />But the bar! The blessed bar was open.I hobbled in trying to hold my skirt out away from my legs so as to not smear the blood further (read:impossible), yet not up high enough for anyone to be able to see my doughy, unshaven, bloody legs (read: pipe dream). Ah, the dignity.<br /><br />Y'all, I wished I had a camera so bad. Not just to record the gore, either. I don't know if there are words to describe the filthy, horrifying "First Aid Kit" that came out of the back of that bar. Seriously? When I dug around and pulled out the neosporin? Some kind of brown mystery liquid DRIPPED OFF IT AND LANDED IN MY WOUND.<br /><br />I may die. I wiped everything I could get my hands on down with sterile wipes, called in sick to class, and ordered a drink.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-6495417466314309332008-08-09T16:55:00.000-07:002008-08-09T17:06:25.462-07:005 ThingsI moved to Madison, Wisconsin, in January of 1998. Two weeks before the Packers won the Superbowl. Which is not germane to this post.<br /><br />While I was there I did a workshop called The Artist's Way, based on the book by Julia Cameron, bless her all to pieces. Anyway during this time I got into the habit of coming with every day with 5 things I am grateful for.<br /><br />Here is today's list:<br /><br />the thingamajig that turns off my coffeemaker when I forget about it and leave the house, which is every day. I also have that function on my iron, curling iron, and flatiron, none of which I ever use. Still, they all make me feel slightly more assured that when I get home from work, home will still be there.<br /><br />flush toilets. (I mark this one nearly every time. Imagine a world without flush toilets! Gross!)<br /><br />my parents, who are there for me all the time, and in ways I probably don't even realize. They are watching my daughter for me today so I can work. Gawd I love my parents.<br /><br />nectarine season. <br /><br />stick-on back pain relief pads. I keep them in my wallet, the console of my car, my cubby at work, and in my backpack. The salonpas ones are the best, and the least expensive. Such a rare combo.<br /><br />Random, I know. I could go on and on today, I'm feeling pretty grateful. I find that when I do this I feel more content all around.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-32168229762443567972008-06-22T23:47:00.000-07:002008-06-23T00:03:06.180-07:00R.I.P. George<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/SF9KkxqKFfI/AAAAAAAAABw/g8INdpShWbA/s1600-h/51DCNEDRM4L._SL500_AA280_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/SF9KkxqKFfI/AAAAAAAAABw/g8INdpShWbA/s400/51DCNEDRM4L._SL500_AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214968889184228850" /></a><br />I'm sitting here, at 11:47 on a Sunday night, having a drink. The death of George Carlin is so very sad to me. He was 71, yeah, but man, he was always there. He's been in my world for my whole life. I learned a lot of swear words from George, back in the days when I had to sneak back downstairs after my mom went to sleep, and watch Showtime with the sound turned way down low. <br /><br />I've called a few friends, but no one is up this late, and so here I sit, honoring George by myself with a Mike's hard lime, watching him on Youtube. (Seriously? May Joe Pesci bless YouTube, for more reasons than just this. But I'll get to those later. Or maybe I won't. Who am I kidding? I'm barely a blogger.) <br /><br />George Carlin still seemed so young to me, even as I was saying, "Damn, he looks so old..." He's only three years older than my mom. When did we all get so old? <br /><br />***<br /><br />On a lighter note, tomorrow I'll be participating in Monday Crafternoon, where I intend to create a loverly pair of Max-from-Where-the-Wild-Things-Are shrinky dink earrings. I am slightly obsessed lately with shrinky dinks. I made a Harold-from Harold-and-the Purple-Crayon necklace and a Wolverine (X-men! Duh!) Pendant. <br /><br />But I wonder if I can't draw or google up a drawing of George Carlin. Hm. <br /><br />brb.<br /><br />But don't hold your breath.<br /><br />edited to add:<br /><br />OMG! Found it!kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-89339244210789146692008-05-20T12:24:00.000-07:002008-05-20T12:29:00.479-07:00Holy Camoly!this!<br /><br />http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/archives/2008/05/20/in_which_rachel_h_and_i_hatch_a_plan.html<br /><br />Is how I want to celebrate my birthday! My favorite blogger, who shares my birthday, AND Franklin?! Holy God. That would be so cool. Maybe I could ship my self UPS to Toronto. I bet I can fit into one of those big dog carriers.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-14124802740983985752008-05-19T08:13:00.001-07:002008-05-19T11:17:52.759-07:00All our bathtub water are brown.:(<br /><br />Looks like weak tea in there. So here I sit, flummoxed. It's not stinky, it's not coming out of the kitchen sink faucet. I called the landlord. Here I sit, stinky, with bedhead and morning face. I need to take the darling child to school. My back hurts. Oh, yeah, I got my period, too.<br /><br />I suppose it's only a matter of time before I become so disgusting that the brown water is cleaner than I am.<br /><br />Here I sit, waiting for that moment.<br /><br />UPDATE! This just in, from the landlord. Apparently, someone called "they" must have just "stirred the mains." Huh. Which ultimately means that we should not run anything like the dishwasher or washing machines until we can get the water to run clean in the tub. So, after (over)watering all the plants, I am pouring gallons of water down the drain, looking for the clean. Yeesh.<br /><br />p.s. still stinky.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-90378493756256497812007-09-06T11:22:00.001-07:002007-09-06T11:31:22.869-07:00For Jen, my darling patient friend.I believed I promised you this recipe a jillion years ago. Sorry. <br /><br /><br />SPICY PEANUT* SAUCE<br /><br />Serve over pasta, grains, salad, greens, or steamed vegetables. <br /><br />1/2 cup smooth peanut butter<br />2 Tablespoon soy sauce (I use wheat-free tamari because of my daughter's gluten allergy)<br />1 teaspoon brown rice vinegar or other mild vinegar of your choice<br />1 teaspoon pure maple syrup<br />2 cloves garlic, pressed (I often use 3 or 4)<br />1/2 teaspooon ground ginger<br />1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, to taste (for BG and me, that's 0 teaspoons! - but you may like it)<br /><br />1. Place all the ingredients in a blender**, and process until very smooth and creamy, using just enough water or broth to make a fairly thick sauce.<br /><br />2. Serve at room temp. Will keep in refrigerator 3-5 days.<br /><br />I almost always double this recipe because it is so unbelievably delicious and if there are no leftovers, I will be sad, sad, sad.<br /><br />* I use almond butter instead of peanut butter, usually. It is fantastic.<br /><br />**Blender is actually optional, but your arm will get kind a tired if you whisk it. Can be done, though. Good for the upper arm strength.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-79433685558329451602007-08-31T13:08:00.000-07:002007-09-01T14:51:09.139-07:00Are you in the PNW?A friend of mine is collecting chemo caps for the hospital where she works. If you want to kick in, I'm collecting and will mail them to her at some unspecified future date. Let me know.<br /><br />edited to add: Here's a link to some patterns, as requested by my beautiful Mom: http://www.chemocaps.com/page3.htm Love you, Mom!kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-12322467134289344222007-08-26T09:12:00.000-07:002007-08-26T09:21:55.064-07:00What I Did This Summer.This is not the only thing, but it has been by far the most important thing. It's from Victorian Lace Today, and is for my greatly beloved friend, Emily. Love in every single stitch.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/RtGndUVhHjI/AAAAAAAAAAg/dXlYgRm4eb0/s1600-h/IMG_2394.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/RtGndUVhHjI/AAAAAAAAAAg/dXlYgRm4eb0/s400/IMG_2394.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103043974904487474" /></a><br /><br />and a detail:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/RtGnuEVhHkI/AAAAAAAAAAo/8iR9nXw2Bi0/s1600-h/IMG_2398.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GxaPbaacchE/RtGnuEVhHkI/AAAAAAAAAAo/8iR9nXw2Bi0/s400/IMG_2398.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103044262667296322" /></a><br /><br />and for Sasha, the one for my friend's wedding is a pattern I put together - picot edge, vine lace & diamond lace at the ends, with zigzag vine lace center. It's finished except for the grafting, and I will post pics as soon as it's blocked. I've finally borrowed a decent camera, so I'll be posting a whole bunch of pics this week of some of the many things I've been doing. <br /><br />And for Jen, your recipe is forthcoming. I'm off to the State Fair! Funnel cake, here I come!kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-77241630348848451592007-08-19T08:35:00.000-07:002007-08-19T08:45:45.350-07:00Well I love a rainy day.I do. (Shut UP, Eddie Rabbitte get out of my head!)<br /><br />I was thrilled to wake up and discover it's pouring out there. I opened the back door to let in the cat, and the smell of wet gravel driveway, and soggy, mossy backyard hit me full in the face. Mmmmmmmm. Maybe it's because I grew up here in the Seattle area, but I gotta say there is nothing like it. <br /><br />I love the sound of the rain, and walking in it, and sitting indoors with a window cracked, listening to it fall, having a reason to wear hand-knit socks after a looooong stretch of sweating my way through a day. Wearing the cool weather (and blubber-concealing) clothes. <br /><br />If I could, I would spend the whole day sitting near a window drinking hot beverages and knitting. I'm doing a lace stole for a friend who is getting married September 2. I have to work in a few hours, so as it is, I will squeeze in as many rows as I can while sitting in a window seat on the bus. And it will be great.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1131326911360892892007-04-28T09:22:00.000-07:002007-04-28T09:24:55.375-07:00Mmmm...ChickenI've been thinking about chicken a lot lately. I'm just wild about it. I'm going to knit a chicken sammich and eat it. Comments?kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-56494128202522068112007-04-25T07:51:00.002-07:002007-04-25T08:01:51.695-07:00I had a few thoughts.Did I ever tell you that Canadian money is my favorite money of all? Better even than Monopoly money, or Chuck E. Cheese tokens! I love Canadians. They have a coin with a beaver on one side, and the Queen on the other side. Gives an all new meaning to heads or tails, yes? Yes!<br /><br />ALSO!<br /><br />Who is more wrong? The person who starts to turn right into a gas station without signaling and narrowly misses hitting the car on her right (Oops! Yes I was wrong and I fully admit it, I MADE A MISTAKE), which is trying to illegally pass on the right, or the driver of the car (who tried to illegally pass on the right) who then follows her into the parking lot to threaten her with violence?<br /><br />Yeah, that's what I thought, too.<br /><br />Sticks and stones and all, but why does it continue to bother me, when I know she was probably unhinged in some fundamental way and not someone I care about or respect or even know at all? I just don't get what causes people to need to do something like that. She actually wanted to beat me up. Tried to bait me into a fight the whole time I was pumping my gas, which is traumatic enough by itself (threedollarsagallonohmygod). Weird! Anyway it made me feel all nervous and twitchy for a surprisingly long time after. <br /><br />AND, there is knitting coming. Seriously. The battle of the camera batteries may well be on the way to won. Or I will maybe just cobble together something with borrowing, wheedling, and batting my eyelashes.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-13239435509219967312007-04-19T07:42:00.000-07:002007-04-19T07:44:52.302-07:00Here's a linkI really really really like this guy's music. You should check him out.<br /><br />http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=50801037<br /><br />I was very happy to learn that he's finally coming to my town, and on the day after my birthday! Couldn't ask for a better gift. Anyway, it looks like he's having a great year and I wish him all the best.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-41304935720178872962007-04-15T12:39:00.000-07:002007-04-15T12:51:59.514-07:00I hear through the grapevinethat it's nice to see me again. As in, I haven't been myself for a long time, and I seem to be back. <br /><br />I do feel it, feel myself coming back. I didn't really know that anyone else was looking, you know? Apparently my sisters have been looking, and talking to my mom. <br /><br />When you're sad, it gets easy to crawl inside yourself and stop reaching out and forget that others can see you. I tend to feel invisible and think my state of mind is a secret, but no. Not the case. I don't know why this surprises me, I can see joy and misery (and a whole host of other less consequential moods) in others - it's in the posture, the voice, the feel of a person. I don't really know why this thought has struck me so hard, why it keeps rolling back into my mind, but there it is. <br /><br />I guess mostly it's that I'm really glad they were looking. Even when you think you are all alone, you aren't. I feel grateful. I feel grateful for so much these days.<br /><br />Meanwhile, Spring is here! I took a long walk around the park yesterday, among all the brand-new green and the blossoming trees (like big, pink popcorn balls) and slobbering eager doggies. God it was great. It was just warm enough to feel comfortable in the sunlight, but chilly in the shade. Perfect. Then lunch with friends, another walk in the sunshine, and an entire evening of knitting in front of the dvd player. <br /><br />A good day.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-28309973278523879382007-04-13T19:17:00.000-07:002007-04-13T19:19:03.107-07:00All that rhubarb for nothing.(mmmm, rhubarb. Rhubarb season is coming. I wonder if it’s too late to plant some.)<br /><br />So! Anyway!<br /><br />No rats. None at all, no evidence of rats, traps all unsprung. No scrabbling sounds, no restless cat, no droppings to be seen anywhere. It’s quiet here.<br /><br />Too quiet.<br /><br /><br />(insert Gary Cooper pic here)<br /><br /><br />Also!<br /><br />The geniuses at Google have bought Blogger or something and made it impossible for me to sign into my account, somehow. None of their clever help FAQs are worth a turd, and after trying all day, I still can’t firgure out how to get on. So I may not even be able to post this. <br /><br />All this hoop-jumping better result in less spam, that is all I’m saying.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1176229417350847172007-04-10T11:17:00.000-07:002007-04-11T09:20:37.513-07:00Rat WeekSo. It's Rat Week, folks.<br /><br />I have surrounded the house with snap traps, on the sage advice of Random Lowe's Clerk Guy. Because he is an expert, you know. I only snapped my right thumb in a trap twice! Good thing I barely need it to knit, I have a mountain of knitting to do. Remember knitting? This is a blog about knitting. <br /><br />We are hunkered down here for the week, for the most part. I made some arrangements to go out of town, but then I got to thinking - what if somehow the rats get in and then have a week to do some real damage while we are gone? So we'll be spending the days away and coming home before dark in case we need to do damage control.<br /><br />The city hauled in TWO semi-truck trailer sized dumpsters, and a bunch of big trucks and stuff to start the job. I took a few before pics with my camera phone. If I can figure out how, I will post them.*<br /><br />Oh man, they are in there scooping large broken old appliances and whatnot from the back with a backhoe, while the neighbor is moving the hefty bags of dirt from the back to the front! When I was out in the backyard watching the goings-on and sneaking some cellphone pics, he came up with the wheelbarrow and asked me, "Hey, what's goin' on?" all normal as you please, as if this were just another day. Then he loaded three more bags of dirt in the wheelbarrow and trucked them into the front yard.<br /><br />Must save the dirt! WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE DIRT?!<br /><br />Good lord.<br /><br />I am watching for the rats, I can just picture myself out there on the garden swing with my bb gun. All I need is some missing teeth and a six of schlitz.<br /><br />TWO of those huge dumpsters, a bulldozer, a backhoe, and at least five guys out there, three of whom are standing still in their green vinyl suits most of the time, watching the guy driving the scoop. Smoking cigarettes. My tax dollars. <br /><br />Meanwhile Neighbor is running load after load of heftybagso'dirt out of there to his front yard.<br /><br />Oh, did I mention that he spent the weekend digging a huge hole in his front yard, and then cutting up the tree that fell on our power lines in December and burying the pieces in the huge hole?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*My camera phone pics are too big to even upload or something, I can't figure it out. They are also pretty damn blurry.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1176229044720241172007-04-10T11:08:00.000-07:002007-04-10T17:04:02.363-07:00PackratitisMy next-door neighbor suffers from it. <br /><br />(This is the backstory for the next post. This mess has been going on for a little while now. Like, years, actually. But it has only affected me recently. Bear with me.)<br /><br />His backyard is fenced and full to the top with old crap, the easement behind his house is piled high with broken wood things - planks, old furniture, what have you. And hefty bags. There have been up to this point around 100 full hefty bags in his yard. The front yard, since we moved here, has been full of a LOT of aquarium equipment, planters, and full hefty bags. Every window in the house is covered from the inside by boxes and piles of stuff. Every couple of weeks the smell of rotting sewage drifts over and fills my backyard for a day or two. The theory is that there's a broken sewer line in the house somewhere. Or that he's storing sewage. The front yard and sidewalk in front of his house have been covered with ivy and blackbery vines and dog knows what.<br /><br />At Christmastime, an old, dead tree that he had been warned about by neighbors and the city fell down and knocked out the power in my house for eight days. He spent the day after the storm cutting up the tree and hauling pieces of it to the easement behind my house. <br /><br />So a couple of Saturdays ago, I went out to my van to get some things, and what do I see, in my own backyard, piled in front of my van?<br /><br />Hefty bags. A pile of 20 or 25 hefty bags. In MY yard. Apparently the city told him to clean up, so he thought he'd just shift that shite to my yard. I filed a police report, and then, Monday morning, when I went out to take BG to school, I found that the pile of hefty bags had DOUBLED. Fraker sneaked out there in the middle of the night and put more of them there.<br /><br />So again, I called the police, who came out, we all had a conversation together in which the neighbor tried to tell the police that the city gave him permission to store his stuff there, which is on the line between my place and city easement property. LIE. So I called him on it and asked for proof, he immediately caved and agreed to move the bags back to behind his own house.<br /><br />Guess what's in them?<br /><br />Go on, guess. <br /><br />Dirt. Or compost or... something. <br /><br />Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway, the police said I shouldn't be calling them about it, I should call the city, but they city told me to call the police. Apparently this guy has a jillion unpaid fines and abatements (is that the right word?) for this exact thing, and now the city is about to go in with big equipment and forcibly clean up the property without his permission, since it's officially a public health problem. They told me they plan to work the whole week of Spring Break, and that I should surrond my house with rat poison during that time because the rats are about to become homeless and they will come to me.<br /><br />Sewage and hefty bags and rats, oh my.<br /><br />Apparently, the Special Circumstances Housing Group is handling the case, they have had it for a long time. The house is within weeks of being taken from him. So I hear. Rumors abound.<br /><br />The Excavation will be over Spring Break, so BG and I are going to visit Grandma & Grandpa. And maybe a couple of other places. <br /><br />I am really freaked out by the rats, though. The rats! OMG. The strange thing is, I never ever see any evidence of rats at all. I wonder if he doesn't have some sort of rat poison all over that place already. Seems like there'd be some bleedover onto my place, it's only ten feet away. And I get a produce box every Wednesday that sits outside my place until I get home from work. If there were rats, wouldn't they be all over that?<br /><br />Another friend asked:<br /><br />'You say the bags are full of dirt? Is it possible he is excavating beneath his house for some secret torture chamber or pot grow room?'<br /><br />ohmahgaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw. Some friend! I am now officially obsessed with the dirtbags.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1175387282632273482007-03-31T18:25:00.000-07:002007-04-10T10:55:14.656-07:00My bubble bath smells exactly like St. Joseph's baby aspirinWhich of course hurls me into a back-in-time tailspin to the time I split my chin open trying to sneak some out of my grandparents' medicine cabinet when I was around four or so. I don't remember being hauled to the hospital to have the four stitches put in, but I do remember thinking the docs were dumb to strap me down like that, as if I weren't a Big Girl, able to control myself and hold still.<br /><br />I still have the ubiquitous chin scar. Thirty six (almost) years later. This is somehow surprising. Scars can surprise you. <br /><br />My little brother had a horrific bicycle accident when he was eight and I was nine. It involved gravel and riding another kid on his handlebars and a very steep hill, and culminated in an overnight hospital stay. Aside from the head injury and lost teeth, he scraped off the skin from both knees, so much so that he couldn't bend his knees for weeks. Big, knee-sized scabs. Anyway, about five years ago we were hanging out at some family barbecue and I noticed he had some big scars on the front of his legs, about mid-thigh. Turns out they are the scars from the long-ago bike accident. It blew my mind. Apparently your leg skin grows outward from the bottom as your legs grow. Who knew?<br /><br />And seven years ago I broke my pelvis. It knitted back together a little off, which throws a very slight bend in my spine, and causes the muscles to compensate up and down my back. The upshot is that every once in a while my back will sieze up somewhere. Rarely in the same spot and usually without warning. It will be a lifelong issue. Not all that debilitating, but still a regular inconvenience.<br /><br />Recently I have come face to face with some new, less corporeal scars. Things I didn't realize were there, holding me back in my new life, residue from sadness and lonliness that I did not really expect. I find myself more hesitant, less confident, assuming worse of people than they most likely feel. <br /><br />I<br /> <br />do<br /><br />not<br /><br />like it.<br /><br />One some level I know that I am still the person I once was, just as deserving of happiness and love, just as fun and funny and interesting and sexy. And on another level there is that litle voice. The one that reminds me that at any minute anyone can just change his or her mind about you and *POOF* gone. I hate that little fucker.<br /><br />I am unwilling to learn to incorporate this scar into my life, my future. I won't just live with it. This is a scar I want to erase. I don't know where to begin. <br /><br />Maybe right here.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1168158308748088842007-01-06T23:53:00.000-08:002007-01-07T00:27:29.686-08:00Kinda tired of packin' and unpackin'It is truly astonishing how much taking apart and rebuilding a household can drain right out of you. If anyone had told me how long it would take for me to get back here, I would not have believed it. But back I am. I have missed you. And there is knitting to be shared. <br /><br />Knitting oh knitting, oh how I love thee, oh how grateful I am for your calming, soothing, repetitive motion, your beautiful colors and comforting soft fibers. You are my balm in sad times, my joy, my wooby.<br /><br />And now I shall thank you by SHOWING YOU OFF!<br /><br />For the record folks, I have been in negotiations with multiple webdudes who seem to all have the same M.O. of fraking off with my ideas, never to be seen again. <br /><br />So anyway, here we are, in no particular order:<br /><br />DB Cotton Cashmere hat for Trina, (my own pattern) pending her approval:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/200985/P1010715.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/320/501078/P1010715.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Headbands in various colorways (my pattern) for Cynthia to choose from:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/798799/P1010710.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/400/443123/P1010710.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Fabulous Ultra Alpaca reversible cable scarf from Cables Untangled (which, by the by, is an EXCELLENT book! Beautiful patterns, great instructions, and a large stitch dictionary in the back - RECOMMENDED!)<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/25641/P1010705.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/400/508275/P1010705.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Part of a cabled clog sock (my pattern, Ultra Alpaca AGAIN) for the lovely and talented dubby, which has since been finished, and its mate begun:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/121678/P1010704.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/400/434532/P1010704.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Kind of boring Cascade 220 sock for my generous and particular Beloved Mom, part of a pairs of pairs for which she has been waiting patiently for way too long:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/67804/P1010692.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/400/598822/P1010692.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Half of the body for a client sweater, which is now finished up to the neck. It's an Elizabeth Zimmerman saddle shoulder from Knitting Without Tears. Very fun to work, in what else? Berroco Ultra Alpaca:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/1600/491841/P1010688.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3052/2237/400/390874/P1010688.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />There are a pantload of other new items which have not yet been photographed. They will come soon. <br /><br />Thanks for your patience.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1160946706474058732006-10-15T13:42:00.000-07:002006-10-15T14:11:46.496-07:00Taking time out from the endlessness of packing,I SWEAR to myself that I am going to get rid of most of this stuff. Why am I so attached to it? I swear to Dog I keep some things I don't care about just because my mother would be sad if she knew I gave them away. Even though the only way she would ever know would be if I told her myself. (It could happen.) And even though my mother is the antithesis of packrat. Her home is camera-ready, 24/7. <br /><br />Aaaaaanyway, I plopped down here to catch up and was immediately tagged for this meme (chain letter!). I usually ignore them, but this time I seem to be unable to resist. Plus I love talking about myself.<br /><br />- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -<br /><br />Four jobs I’ve had:<br /><br />* Wife (who says it isn't a job?)<br />* Mother<br />* Preschool teacher<br />* retail clerk<br /><br />Four movies I can watch over and over:<br /><br />* Elf<br />* Bridget Jones' Diary<br />* Tombstone<br />* Siverado<br /><br />Four places I have lived:<br /><br />* Seattle, Washington <br />* New York City<br />* Omaha, Nebraska<br />* Madison, Wisconsin<br /><br />Four television shows I love to watch:<br /><br />* Grey's Anatomy<br />* The Office (except that new girl in Scranton better just keep her hands off Jim! Pam will come around!)<br />* The New Adventures of the Old Christine ( I like her, she's plucky! And slutty! Good combination.)<br />* Lost of course<br /><br />Four places I have been on vacation:<br /><br />* Disneyland<br />* Milwaukee, Wisconsin (home of my beloved friend Rachel and her charming jazzguy husband David.)<br />* The Olympic Penninsula<br />* Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (OMG I need to go on vacation! That was in 1989! It shoudn't even make the list! Jeez!)<br /><br />Four of my favorite dishes:<br /><br />* Long grain rice with steamed broccoli and my special spicy almond butter sauce<br />* Mom's tuna rice casserole (shut UP)<br />* Chicken enchiladas<br />* Real Caesar salad (what kind of crazy person puts bacon bits on a caesar salad?)<br /><br />Four websites I visit daily:<br /><br />* Yahoo for my email<br />* wunderground.com, because you never know wht to wear around here.<br />* My parenting support group<br />* crazyauntpurl.com<br /><br />Four places I would rather be right now:<br /><br />* Milwaukee.<br />* Someplace where it's about 68 degrees and comfortable to sit outside sipping cappucinos wearing a hand-knit scarf, with plenty of people milling around and maybe some kind of pastry.<br />* All moved in to the new place.<br />* In a dark movie theater, with popcorn and chocolate, and a plain vanilla sock to knit on in the dark.<br /><br />Four bloggers I am tagging:<br />(I'm quoting Laurie here**)<br /><br />* You.<br />* And you.<br />* And you, too!<br />* All ya'll are so tagged it is not even funny. But hey, it's better than that one chain mail where you have to send a dollar to five people on the list.<br /><br />** Probably a moot point since I don't think I have 4 readers. But again, I like talking about myself.<br /><br />Soon I will post a picture of the pile of boxes of knitting stuff. Except I may have already packed the camera. So don't hold your breath.kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1160174921543912322006-10-06T15:36:00.000-07:002006-10-06T15:48:41.556-07:00OK, damn.I'm taking time out from the agony of packing to move (Do you have any boxes?! I need more boxes!) to link to <a href="http://yolatejo.blogspot.com/">this post about grudges.</a><br /><br />I am hereby jumping on that bandwagon, and promising to burrow through my baggage, find the grudges, and get the flock over them. I agree that it's horrible that it took this sad, sad incident to awaken me to the toxicity of grudges, and it's time to change myself in yet another way. So here I go. I can forgive the kid who used to torture me in geometry, once by holding me by the hair while he drew a dotted line on my neck and wrote "cut here," and the father who disappeared, and the aunts with the drama addictions who broke my Nana's heart, and the thrid grade teacher who took away all my books, and the other grudges I'm sure I can remember if given enough time. <br /><br />MEANWHILE, people! I am moving! Oy vey!<br /><br />I keep thinking I have enough boxes for all the knitting cack and really? Again and again it is untrue. I had all these big plans to slash and burn the clutter, purge it from my life, and somehow as I pick it all up it seems that I NEED all of it. And you know, for future reference, books are heavy! They should be packed in the SMALL boxes.<br /><br />Back to the trenches. Wish me luck!kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1159457618144718792006-09-28T08:32:00.001-07:002006-09-28T13:59:30.546-07:00Funny!<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6ZjMWLqJvM">I can totally relate.</a>kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31868829.post-1159383056454203742006-09-27T10:41:00.000-07:002006-09-27T11:53:31.903-07:00Laurie is peeping me!Kind of exciting, really. <a href="http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/">Crazy Aunt Purl</a> asked for a peek into our knitting spots, kids. So here's mine:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010563.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010563.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />That's where I sit, and here's what I look out at:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010564.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010564.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />and what's directly across the way:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010566.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010566.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />You may have noticed the little princess glued to the window. Here's what she's looking at:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010561.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010561.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Do you see him? See the teeny tiny guy? Yeah, he is on the roof of a HUGE house. Not sure what the roof-sitter is up to. He sat there for a really long time.<br /><br /><br />Here's where I am with the dressing gown. This is in the middle of the third ball, and it's the inside, according to the pattern. But I like the stockinette better than the reverse stockinette, so I'm making it inside out. It is so soft and snuggly on my lap. perfect for the Fall-into-Winter knitting, as it becomes a larger and larger lapful. The glaring purple is a misrepresentation, though, it is actually a deep periwinkle. I may have mentioned this once or twice. Aaaaaaaaaanyway:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010567.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010567.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Also! I made a bunch of these lace tie-on headbands. Pattern coming soon. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/1600/P1010572.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3052/2237/400/P1010572.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07919407331873919769noreply@blogger.com0