I've been knitting the beanis, and sometimes I use the pattern from the Anticraft and sometimes I am just winging it. But right now, I've got half a ball done, and it's hard to resist the temptation to ask my sweetie to just drop trou so I can compare size and ratios, so I know I have something realistic. And yet, I'm too embarrassed to do that.
So my sister is married by now.
I sincerely hope she is happy. But I doubt it. I think I managed to explain to someone today why it bothers me. She's so worried about what other people think and what others are worried about, she doesn't let herself be excited or bouncy. She hides it from us and isn't Here it is, Be happy for me. If she could tell me that, I'd so be there for her. She feels shame, and I am ashamed for her.
¶ 12:06 AM
She's on antibiotics now, and appears to be doing well.They would still like to do a dental on her, but I don't know. Apparently, they usually do a spray on the back of the throat before inserting the breathing tube. The vet prefers to do a lidocaine drip instead, and believes that Sassy would do better with this kind of anesthetic. Almost dying once is bad enough. I don't really want to risk it.
My sister did call last night. But she didn't really reassure me that she was happy. So I'll worry. I hate it when my catty predictions come true. I'd rather she be happy.
¶ 12:51 PM
My sister is pregnant. She is marrying the guy on Saturday.
I could be happy about this if he wasn't one of the creepiest men I have ever met and slightly more intelligent than damp toilet paper. And I would be slightly relieved if she would call me and tell me about it herself, and sound genuinely happy about it.
But no, I had to find out through Mom. Who called me wanting to call my niece and beg her to get out of that house. She's been living with her mom since leaving here. I am to call and suggest grad school, and I will. I will offer my spare room again. I will ask my friends if they have an opening for a history/theater major. But I am going to seriously worry.
oh, and my hip hurts too much to let me sleep. Tonight, I am actually tired.
¶ 11:47 PM
Sassy is losing a lower canine. It is sticking out and looking wildly uncomfortable, like a feline bulldog. There is no obvious inflamation or red gums, so I'm not worried at the moment about serious abscess going on. But we can wiggle it, and it sticks out really far. She's an amazingly tolerant cat to cope with us wiggling it. We'd give it a yank ourselves if we thought it would be helpful.
I do know they won't be able to take her out back and knock her out completely for a dental cleaning. She almost died last time they tried it. So I worry that her days are seriously numbered. She can still manage to eat. She ALWAYS eats. And she is still wanting cuddles. So we cuddle her and give her soft stuff (which we know she can't clean off thoroughly enough), and oh, yes, she's the diabetic cat.
Fret, fret, fret.
I also get more and more worried about my Mental Health about being shut in like I am most of the time. I forget how to talk to people and find myself ruder than I should be. Jazz doesn't mind. We try to be kind to one another, but we're both naturally blunt people. It's just more crap to fret over. And fretting doesn't help.
¶ 8:08 PM
On some level, it is probably wrong that I want this. I want enough for a scarf, even though it is very very expensive. Or even one skein could be knit into a scarf, enough to scare the neighbors and annoy my parents, and have people admire that I could have the nerve to wear such.. Or the complete lack of taste.
And I have another comissioned knitting piece to do... Someone wants me to knit this (NSFW) and has even ordered this delicious yarn for me - The colorway is called Henpecked, and we fell out of our chairs laughing.
I am still thinking of making stitchmarkers- when I can find the time of little dangling penises with huge Prince Alberts, so they can dangle from knitting needles, or earings, or even necklaces or keyrings. I don't know why- they appeal. I don't even know if my sculpting skill is up to the task or if the fumes of baking Sculpy will prove too much for me. I just know I have to try. And then figure out the way to sell these little jewels.
Does this make me a pervert? I prefer not to think so. But I will have to fret over the legalities of "obscentity laws" in order to market them. And unfortunately, it's a business I can't happily tell my mother about. Gram would have laughed. Mom will actually be shocked. Oh well.
¶ 12:26 AM
I don't care who you are fucking over on the board of the tv network. You Look Terrible. You should not be out in public in that number you had on tonight- you would have been wearing a more attractive outfit if you had been wearing one of the stupid bunny suits the contestants were wearing.
Really, your face is pretty and usually your hair is perfect, but your clothes and your jewelry make me want to plot murder, and I am not a murdering sort. I end up staring at your clothing flaw instead of wanting to pay attention to what you are saying. Perhaps this is for the best, as the show Big Brother is only getting more and more ridiculous. Yes, Jazz is a fan. I am NOT. I am a fan of him, and that's the only reason your scrawny ass ever appears on my television.
Please help save my sanity and dress more attractively. Not like a fashion victim/slut, but like the really pretty person you can be.
¶ 11:11 PM
Thinking of dispensing with the OT ... so little is on topic and most of it feels like a public diary anyway. Maybe I can do annoying headlines... but I don't like headlines unless I get paid for them.
Sunday I went to the park for a meeting (SCA). It's an off week in a new location, so I don't expect to see anyone. I arrived early to claim a nice table, sit with my helmet, and knitting needles. I cast on for another pair of socks. This time I am trying a hemp-cotton blend that is different in texture from anything else I have used, but I feel politically smug when I use hemp, and I've loved cotton since I have known what cotton is. I found 5" long #2 needles (2.75 mm), and I haven't worked with needles so short before. The yarn wanted a bigger needle since it's a bigger yarn, so I thought I'd give it a try. And I lost one of my #0 (2.0 mm) needles, so it would be harder to knit a sock that way. The last pair of socks were on the #0 and had 15 stitches per needle for a sock that will fit. This set up needs 12 stitches per needle, and I may have to drop the bottom of the sock to 11. But some give in the sock will be needed because these aren't superwash, and they won't stretch much. I find myself wanting a cardigan out of this yarn, but it was a tiny skein for a ridiculous amount of money, and I don't think I could afford that much yarn. I cast on the toe and finished the toe, then left to go home.
But I remember my first time at the park, for another meeting. No smells bothered me. I could hug the people who had used body spray (But I didn't wear perfume just for you!). I didn't need a second thought about how the wind is blowing because I must be upwind of So and So. This time, I sat off out of the way (and yet visible in case friends did show up). Everyone who did walk by did so at least 20 to 30 yards away, and the smells washed over me like tsunamis of perfume. That one had bug dope. That one bathed in cologne. That one is fresh from the pool- the chloride scent very strong. I could be a new superhero with this sense of smell... It's Fucked-up Super Canary~! Able to smell one part of methane in a stadium! And I know I am more sensitive than I used to be. This does not bode well for my future health. A slow down hill slide is not good at all. I'm still able to go out like this, but now I'm getting sick from the smells almost every time. How long do I have before going to the grocery store becomes impossible? I'm grateful for the internet so I can at least still do research and have conversations. Being locked inside my home would slowly drive me mad, no matter how much I feel safe here.
¶ 1:27 PM
I hate to say I told ya so, but I told ya so. http://www.theinquirer.net/default.aspx?article=41350
Chemicals Suck. They make me ill. And every time I hear about something New Improved And Better Living Through Chemistry, I cringe.
Oh the visit with the nephew and the fabulous ex-brother-in-law? We all had a great time.
Now to destress a wee and try to get back on a normal sleep cycle. Why I go nocturnal in the summer, I don't know. But it plays havoc with my social life and marriage, and the boss doesn't like it when you sleep past your log in time...
¶ 10:46 PM
This rather schizophrenic blog was started as a fictional blog, written by a character of a story. I've since taken it over for writing personal stuff I don't mind sharing with anyone who cares.
I am also writing thoughts about writing and stories that move me.
Anything not marked might be just me, Georg, posting as myself.
It's just this blog, okay? Some of it is story. Some of it is animals. Some of it is knitting. It's a blog.
For story #1, I do recommend starting from the beginning of this blog if you haven't read this before.
Please start at the beginning.
I did mean it to be for http://www.nanowrimo.org - but I never got quite got it done under the wire.
Jeannie is the author/main character.
Frank is her husband. Poor man.
Tony is musician/singer.
Angie is a teenager, who was Jeannie's best friend. Now currently dead.
Honestly, there is no connection between Jeannie and me and Frank and my husband.
Frank and Ether. This will be much weirder than Frank and Jeannie. I like the name Frank. No one expects a Frank to lie.
A desert story. Anna is the main character. Currently there is only her little brother and an old servant, and a mysterious redhead.
The necro story. A young necromancer heads off to the Hated Ones to find her trousseau.