Okay-- so, for years, I didn't think I had allergies.
I just thought I had an irritating cold that arrived between February and March every year, didn't come with a fever but left me with body aches, itchy eyes, congestion and post nasal drip.
Same time. Every year.
A brain trust I'm not.
Anyway, now that I have admitted I have allergies, I suppose I'll have to investigate the whole spectrum of chemical enhancement open to me. But that would involve leaving the house for something not required by law-- like scaring up food for the children or going to work out. (Working out is a special joy-- there is some sort of plant over the pool, and right when I think I'm getting over my allergies, it dumps big clots of yellow pollen on the water. Last year I started sneezing and nearly drowned.)
I've got to do something, because my other option is curling up in a little ball and whimpering away my day. Ugh. I fell asleep at 11:30 last night-- at my desk. I'm serious-- these allergy things are kicking my ass.
And it's not a good week for it, either.
The kids are home this week, and although my parents took them Monday-- witness the pretty pictures at the lake-- and I'm taking them to the art gallery tomorrow, with friends, that leaves them with three days during which to knock around the house and wear their pajamas until three-thirty, when they have to leave for dance lessons and it becomes absolutely imperative that they change. But essentially, having mom home means bothering mom, and, well, making appointments with mom to skip out on two hours of work in order to sew together a stuffed dog. (I'm sure there will be pictures later. That's what I'm doing when I get back from my workout.)
So, conducive to getting work-- including blogging-- done, this environment is not.
But all is not lost-- the kids have been mildly entertaining, for one.
Yesterday, as I sat at the table working (what else!) suddenly Zoomboy started shouting the Song of Our People: "SQUIRREL! LOOK! SQUIRREL!"
Because, you know, there's not six-thousand squirrels per square acre in our neck of the woods.
Anyway- I snapped this shot of the two of them, looking out on the world as though the rare giant purple-striped majestic squirrel were flying by and crapping candy. It was a big moment in our day, believe you me.
And then, to make it adorable, I posted the pic on Twitter, and someone *aherm Tiggy-Bubba* sent me this meme-- and I about died laughing. Ah, the brutal, savage pit-bull-- how you besmirch your noble ass-kicking image with pretty much every breath you take. (My friend Berry Jello's pit bull once made out with me for twenty minutes. She was really the most affectionate dog I've ever tongue-kissed. Bar none. I'm starting to believe that whole "fear the pit bull" thing was made up by people who beat the shit out of their dogs and wanted an excuse for why the dog got pissed.)
So that was exciting.
Also exciting? I finished a knitting project. I'm particularly proud of this one, because it's for my friend's daughter, and so far I've managed to keep her family well ensconced in wool. I'm also proud of this one because I fucked it up heinously, and managed a comeback with a newfound technique.
For knitters, the word "steeking" brings about a special horror. But I knit the hood from side to side and seamed it on the top-- and then realized that I'd cast on way the hell too many stitches. The hood was big on ME, and I've got a GINORMOUS head-- and I had a limited number of ways to fix it. Option A: Leave it as it is and say it's romantic. (My intended victim, er, recipient has a very small head. There's such a thing as too romantic.) Option B: Seam the thing twice and just let the four inches extra flop around. Option C: Seam the thing twice and *shudder* CUT OFF THE EXTRA, then crochet the seam to secure the ends.
Cutting off the extra is "steeking"-- it means you're cutting the steeks-- or horizontal bars of the stitches-- and hoping the extra stitching will secure the knitting. Usually this is done on small stitches, mostly wool yarn, because the felting helps keep the stitches secure, and if you're doing extreme color work, it's actually easier to do the project in the round, and then cut your seams and secure the edges.
This was none of those cases-- big stitches, double yarn, wool/acrylic blend.
Securing that seam was like putting clown feet on the stitches, and I could think of no way to do it with less bulk. But the plus side is that the hood has a definite shape-- and since the recipient wanted ears, it looks, well, gremlinesque.
I sort of love it.
And you may or may not have noticed that my family thought it was awesome. Mate (and someone on Twitter as well) proposed that I put eyes in the obvious places. Alas, the young recipient didn't want the eyes, but I was seriously just a trip to the craft store away from googly eyes and big plastic eyelashes on that baby.
I sent that puppy out yesterday, asap, before my family could get too damned attached. I hope the intended victim loves it as much as we did ;-)
Oh-- and as for the T-shirt?
This was a gift from Elizabeth, because I sent her Bitter Taffy, the sequel to Candy Man. I promised her no angst-- Mary approved!
This T-shirt was the result, with the angst-and-pain meter, and the Mary-approved range.
I am charmed and excited-- and can't wait to wear it to Orlando in two weeks. WOOHOO!!! I'm getting out of allergy central!
My kids may never forgive me!