I feel like the whole last year has been done under a gray sky. It doesn’t help that it’s all I see when I look out the window.

I’ve seen plenty of blog posts about 2009, and a few really nailed it on the head: last year was the worst year ever. Except that parts of it rocked too. For the rest of my life 2009 will rank up there with the worst years I ever had. The only highlight I’ve got going on is that I finally finished my B.A. Worse, though? The day I graduated will forever be linked with my Dad’s death.

His being gone has changed everything. E wouldn’t have lived with me for the last seven months if he hadn’t. I might actually have a job that I like right now (it’s really hard to job hunt when you’re depressed). The Christmas trip to Europe wouldn’t have happened. Christmas might have felt like Christmas.

Anyways, I don’t do new year’s resolution. But. Things around here need to change.

E’s Christmas present to me was a gym membership, and we need to get back into shape. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of wanting to spend the day sleeping. I’m tired of being okay with how I feel, when I feel like crap.

I need to write more. I still owe my dad a short story that he’ll never get to read. I still have to write it though, or I have no right to claim the painting that is going to follow me for the rest of my life.

I need to figure out how to be happy without E. Not that things are bad between us. Far from it. But I depend on him so much for my happiness right now, that I’m afraid I’m going to start smothering him and he’ll run away. And I wouldn’t blame him.

I need to make new friends. I love my girls, I do, but it’s hard when we’re all spread out throughout the state. It makes it hard to throw impromptu parties and game nights, and shopping trips to the mall. I would love to find a few people who love to play games as much as E and I. I miss playing Trivial Pursuit and cards.

I need to figure out who I am now. I spent so long being “a co-ed”¹ that I don’t know what else I am. I’m no longer a college student. I don’t know who I am, what drives me. I need to learn how to do this all on my own. (I think it might start with joining the local knitting guild all on my own, because I would love to, but am afraid to do it by myself.) I would like to find a cause to get behind. Something that moves me to help other people. Something that is actually important to me. But I don’t know what that is yet.

I need to get back to feeling “normal.” I have no idea what that is. I haven’t felt any level of normal for the last four years. I need to figure out what normal is for me. And I really hope it isn’t gray skies.

These are not resolutions. I’m not going to feel guilty if I fall off the wagon. But these are things that need to happen, and I’m going to try to spend a little time each day working at it. I have so many things I want to do and get accomplished, but I feel like I can’t do anything until I can do this.

But this is life. I have to do things to get things to change. I can’t keep holding off until tomorrow, next week, next month.

To that end, I think I’m going to apply for a job that I would never have thought of applying for on my own. A job that scares me because I don’t know if I can do it, and it will require a whole lot of self-motivation and self-discipline, things that will hopefully come with practice.

I have spent the last 27 years working on my procrastination. Now I need to work on change.

1. Stealing my dad’s terminology there, as that’s what he’d call me.

Slightly undercooked/overcooked Apple Cider Doughnuts.

This may come as a surprise to some, but I love baking.

A surprise, because I’m pretty sure I’ve been vocal over the blogging years about my extreme dislike of cooking. I don’t make dinner, and when it is my turn to make dinner, I’m more likely to get take-out than not.

My dad used to tell me that I’d need to learn how to cook to catch a man. My only response to that was to date guys who loved to cook—or at least, they disliked it far less than I do, and were willing to do it every night.

But as it turns out, I don’t like cooking dinner, but I do enjoy following a recipe. I’m just never going to be that girl who can pull together seven dishes at the same time, but I can do one dish to justice.

So, last Sunday, I was surfing around the interwebs, when I found a post over at Smitten Kitchen about Apple Cider Doughnuts. I love Apple Cider Donuts. Whenever I manage to get up to Apple Hill in the fall, those doughnuts are absolutely the first thing I’ll buy and eat. So when I saw the recipe, I knew I was going to make them. Never mind that I’d never made doughnuts, or even actually deep-fried something¹ before.

E was pretty stoked about the whole deal, so last night we went to the store to get the necessities that we don’t usually have in the house—apple cider and buttermilk. And unsalted butter, since for some reason my mom had only stick margarine, instead of actual stick butter.

The dough itself was pretty easy to put together, thanks to the use of my mom’s stand mixer (and boy howdy do I want one for myself when I have my own place). However, I did manage to frustrate myself when it came to cutting out the doughnuts. I did not flour the bottom of the dough enough, so when I pressed it out, chilled and cut it, it still stuck to the parchment paper (and there was a moment where I was close to wanting to throw things across the room because it was so sticky and making me mad; good thing E was there to stop me).

The frying, though, was another thing all together. E and I did the frying together, and we could not keep the oil at the right temperature at all. The first doughnuts were over done, then we cooled down the oil, so it looked like we were doing better, but it was still too hot because while the outside looked done, they were a little undercooked in the middle.

They were still tasty, though. We came to a consensus that while we could not taste the apple cider², we did like the cake-like texture of the doughnuts, and are willing to try again.

Of course, we are determined to have the right tools next time, like an actual doughnut cutter instead of using two cups to cut them³, a working oil thermometer, and something to easily fish them out of the oil, instead of using my mom’s old strainer. Perhaps, too, we’ll try the lard that the recipe calls for to fry in (we substituted vegetable oil because of the cost and being unsure of how much we would actually need), because Deb at Smitten Kitchen says that that will help the doughnuts last longer.

I’m only slightly let down that the doughnuts didn’t turn out perfect, but I am perfectly willing to try again, provided that E will eat my mistakes.

1. Notwithstanding all the frying done at Taco Bell. I don’t think that counts, since there were button timers and proper tools, and I didn’t have to continually check the oil temperature.
2. Perhaps because while I did reduce it down the way it said, I had to start with cider from concentrate which is all the store had. Maybe if it was really good cider we would have tasted it.
3. I am slightly anal, and would prefer my doughnut holes to be centered in the doughnut.

Their last photo together.

This isn’t at all what I thought I’d be writing about this week. On Monday, my plans included talking about cookies, and showing off my nearly done sweater.

Then on Tuesday, the second of my biggest fears happened.

Tuesday was the first big storm of the season. Extremely windy, very rainy, and the dogs just refused to go outside. They would wander near the door acting like they needed to go out, but when I put them in the dog run, they just stood there whimpering at the door, refusing to move. So I’d let them back in.

E and Honey hugging. It was her favorite thing to do.

Towards noon, I moved from the living room back to the “office” to hop onto the internets. I hadn’t seen the dogs in about 15 minutes, and I wondered what they were getting into, since usually they lay on the floor of whatever room I was in. I found them coming down the stairs, and went up to investigate. Instead of moving from the door in the rain, they had both decided to do their business upstairs.

I was so mad. I called my mom and told her that I hated them, telling her what they had done. Of course I didn’t hate them, but I hate cleaning up the messes. I was so mad that they both cowered in the cage together¹, when usually Honey wouldn’t let them outside. I was so mad, that even though I didn’t hit them or rub their noses in their messes, they knew I was serious. Rocky was so afraid that he refused to come out of the cage when I told him too, and growled and snapped at me when I tried to pull his collar.

The trip back from Redding.

I was so mad that I put them in the full backyard in the storm, and then didn’t think about them for the next hour. I put them in the backyard because that’s what we do when they disobey and go in the house, and I chose the full back yard so they could at least lay under a tree or the gazebo to stay out of the rain.

About an hour later, after I had cleaned up their messes, and wasn’t so mad at them anymore, I looked in the backyard to see if I could see them. I couldn’t, but that wasn’t so worrying. There are lots of places for them to hide. I walked into the garage, and looked out a different window. And saw that the gate was open.

Immediately, I knew they weren’t in the backyard. The gate didn’t stay latched because the wind was pushing a wobbly fence around² and the latch had nothing to hold, blowing the gate wide open. I walked to my room to put on some pants, and while I was in there my phone rang. Since I had just seen the gate open, and I didn’t reconize the number, I thought maybe it was someone in the neighborhood who had caught the dogs. It’s not uncommon to see animals loose durning the storm.

She would lay her head on anything, regardless of whether it was soft.

It was in fact, someone who had found the dogs. It was animal control, and the dogs had been hit by cars.
This wasn’t immediately serious, not for at least five seconds. Our last dog Zippy had quite the habit of escaping and getting hit by cars, but in her case, it was always a graze. However, this time we were not so lucky.

The words that tumbled out of the phone were terrible. “Your dogs have been hit by a car, and the German Shorthair is still alive.” Even in a shocked state, I could parse that. Much quicker than my mom did when I said the exact same words to her. The dogs were hit. Honey is not alive.

She loved my pillows. And shoving me around on my bed.

I was so relived when she said that Rocky was alive. He’s my brother’s dog, and he spends the day with us while he’s at work. I was so relieved that my bad mommying (I shouldn’t have put them in the backyard! In the storm! It’s all my fault!) had only killed my dog, and not his. As I was still on my cell phone with Animal control, and she was trying to calm me down, I was dialing my mom, whose work number I would probably be able to dial during a terrorist attack³. I called her to have her call my brother, because I wouldn’t be calm enough to, because I still had to give animal control a vet to send Rocky to. Because I had to pull together enough to get dressed and find my glasses and run in the storm to the vet’s, which took me 15 minutes. 15 minutes of sobbing uncontrollably and nearly hyperventilating, because the only thing I can think about is how it’s all my fault.

When I got to the vet’s, Rocky is standing there in the room, much blood on the ground, but standing. They had been waiting for me to start, to put him under to stop the bleeding on his leg. They couldn’t address anything else until he was done bleeding. After they take Rocky in, I call my brother to tell him the status, to tell him the vet I’m at. And then I have to sit there and wait.

Her very first time at a dog park, and she loved it.

The animal control officer comes in and tells me they were hit, and Honey died immediately. There were lots of people on the scene trying to help Rocky, which is why she got their so quickly. Rocky had tried to run home on his bad leg, but they kept him their for help. She told me they were hit on Madison, and I wasn’t surprised at all. When I worked there at Taco Bell, we would see dogs hit or nearly hit all the time.

I feel terrible for whoever hit the dogs. They probably crested the hill going the speed limit, and right then, there’s a dog in front of them. Or maybe they didn’t see them at all. And now whoever it is has to live with the fact that they hit and killed my pretty emo puppy. A dog they didn’t see.

Honey and Rock in the back yard.

After the officer gave me Honey’s collar, it still didn’t seem real. Her body was in the truck, but I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to remember her mangled and broken. I would like to choose to believe that the officer fell in love with her and she didn’t want to give Honey back, so Honey is alive and being emo on the other side of town.

Rocky will live, but still may lose his left hind leg. It was open to the bone from hip to ankle, and the vet said he was dragged for a bit, so there is bone missing from his kneecap. The surgeon is supposed to look at it today and let us know, but Rocky was up and around in the vet’s kennel, trying to run around on it. But then again, Rocky is too dumb to know when he’s hurt.

I feet terrible for him, because he’s going to miss Honey as much as I do. My brother and I got our dogs within days of each other, and Rocky was only a little puppy. Honey was the mommy-dog who was patient with her but knew how to put her foot down when he was over the line. They lived together during my first year in Chico, and when I brought Honey up to join me, my sister said Rocky whined and was lonely, and looked for her all the time. He’s going to come home and be looking for her again, not knowing where she went. I can’t imagine not being able to comprehend why your friend isn’t there any more.

I miss my dog. I miss her in the middle of the night when she moved around and wanted out. I miss her in the morning when she would sing to my mom for her treats. I miss her when I’m alone on the computer, when she used to lay with me, her body along the length of my bed. I miss putting her out at night, petting her, and just being able to look over at her and know that there is one thing in this world that loves me unconditionally, even when I screw up. I only had her for three years, but they were the best years of our lives.

I loved Honey, my emo puppy, with all my heart, and she will always be missed.

Sleep well, little puppy. I'll love you always.

1. I was not so mad, though, that I didn’t recognize how cute they were and ran to get my camera before one of them moved.
2. In fact, that portion of the fence fell down completely that day.
3. Which is actually good to know, due to all of the dreams I have where I can never dial 911 properly.

It’s starting to get nippy outside. I wake up cold in the morning, and socks are more of a necessity, rather than an option, at this point.

I am very pleased with this turn in the weather. This last summer was very hot, and much more humid, than we’re used to here in the valley. I was tired of feeling like I was covered in sweat the moment after I hopped out of the shower. But now that the temperature is beginning to drop, I am reminded that my extremities tend to be much chillier than the rest of me.

For some reason, I have never knit myself a pair of actual mittens¹. I have knit myself armwarmers², fingerless gloves³, convertable-mittens⁴, and even mittens that were not for me⁵.

But Christmas is coming, and I have dedicated myself to knitting two pairs of mittens for two friends, which means I have spent far, far too much time on Ravelry, looking at mitten patterns. There are so many options when it comes to covering hands, and I still haven’t settled on a pattern for the second pair. Although, I keep contemplating mittens for me too.

I seem to be drawn to color-work mittens. After knitting exactly one color-work mitten in the round and loving how it turned out, I seem to not be able to see anything else. Case in point, only one mitten in the mitten montage above is a non-color work mitten. I feel like I need to be knitting a pair of mittens right now, never mind that I’m still working on a sweater and have the sleeves calling/mocking me, and I ‘d like to wear that sweater soon, too.

If all goes as planned, I am going to need mittens this Christmas, for a trip I’m taking with my immediate family⁶, and so I dream about mittens. Poor E, he’s been subject to a lot of “what do you think about this pattern? How about this one? Do you think these would look okay?” He’s been a good sport, but he doesn’t particularly care about mittens.

This is about how I felt about socks when I first learned to knit them a few years ago. I did nothing by browse sock patterns, hoping to find the elusive “one” that would speak to me. Of course, I just knitted a bunch of socks. Oddly, I know that I have issues knitting the second sock because of it’s sameness, but I don’t think this will apply to me when knitting mittens. Perhaps this is because mittens are slightly different, even when identical. After all, your thumb is on different sides of your hands.

The only thing keeping me from knitting a bunch of mittens is my holiday knitting list, and my lack of available yarn stash⁷. Otherwise, I’d be doing more than just dreaming of mittens.

1. Well, there was that one time… I was still learning how to knit/read a pattern, and somehow the mittens I had knit in yellow acrylic yarn ended up two wildly different sizes, even though I had used the same needles for both of them.
2. Actually, I’ve knit this pattern twice, in cotton and in wool. I love them both.
3. Still really, really sad that Honey stole one and buried it where I can’t find it. The one’s I knit were so deliciously soft and warm.
4. I suppose these count as mittens, but since I had to knit finger holes, I don’t really think it counts; especially as I inexplicably lost one on a class camping trip
5. Now that I think about it, it makes sense that the ones I knit turned out pretty big, since I only knit them in one color and so the color-stranding that would have made them smaller didn’t happen.
6. It’s not set in stone yet, and I don’t want to jinx it. Suffice to say I should be filling out paperwork for my new passport.
7. And I have rummaged through it. I have a lot of lace-weight, which is unsuitable for mittens, and a dearth of DK/worsted weight, which is of course just perfect.

It doesn’t even have to be my birthday. In fact, I love celebrating my friends’ birthdays just as much as I love celebrating my own.

Yesterday was my friend Ally’s birthday, wherein she turned the dreaded 23¹ In an unfortunate turn of events, I was unable to go and celebrate with her, as she was headed to Chico to spend the weekend with her boyfriend, and I was in Sacramento due to E’s parents being in town for a car show. Otherwise, I would have found a way up there.

I did manage to make her a lovely birthday present, though, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise by posting pictures of it before she actually got it, hence being a day late with her birthday post.

I met Ally in the same class that I met E. In fact, she sat directly in front of me, and I was intrigued by her riotous curly hair, and the way she was so self-assured. I remember being pleased as punch when I realized that she was awesome. We never really hung out, only talking in class. It wasn’t until the end of the next semester, when I ran into her in the BMU² —she was just returned from a semester abroad in Prague. We were inseparable all that summer. We played Mario-Kart, I helped her move, she threw my birthday party. We fell in love with Cobra Starship, and managed to make it to Warped Tour to see them.

Ally is one of my most favorite people, and made going to Chico for school entirely worthwhile. I only lament now that we live far to far apart for such good friends to live. I am so proud of her, being a reporter for the newspaper in Eureka, but I won’t deny that I still wish we lived in the same city, instead of 5+ hours apart.

Happy Birthday, Ally! I know that you’ll get everything you want (and maybe a few things you don’t).

I chose to knit Ally a jellyfish because the very first thing she crochet for me (and, if I recall correctly, the very first amigurumi she ever made) was a tiny octopus. This jelly is the second amigurumi I’ve ever knit, and is the first time I knit a fair isle pattern and didn’t rip it out afterwards. I love the little details about the knit, and hope that it brings a smile to her face when she sees it.

Originally, I had intended for this to be a Christmas present—I began my Christmas knitting in August, and October wasn’t on my mind. It was a few weeks after I knit it that I realized that Ally’s birthday was fast coming up. And that wasn’t a bad thing, since the moment this was off my needles, I wanted to mail it to her so that she could see the awesomeness.

Of course, I still need a Christmas present for her, and given a list of options, she’s chosen mittens.

So now I’m dreaming of mittens. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.

1. Dreaded because as Blink-182 so eloquently put it, “nobody likes you when you’re 23.”
2. Oh, how I love that place. All the best things seemed to happen there.

I’ve had three interviews with Macy’s, as it seems they keep passing me from department to department with no actual takers. And they’ll be hiring seasonal soon, which I would be perfectly fine with, if they had said that was all they had back in August.

In August, I went to a job fair for Kohl’s, which was a bust. Though all online/newspaper outlets said it was a job fair, it was really a mass interview session for people who had managed to swing interviews a month before.

I keep putting stuff out, though it makes me sad. After doing weeks of 5+ a day and not hearing a word back from anyone, I’ve lost heart. It’s like I’m sending my resume out into blackholes never to be seen again.

I keep applying at the school district I used to attend; every week they have between 2–10 postions that I qualify for, mostly clerks and secretaries and campus monitors. Working there is top of the list, since I know they pay well and I know I’ll do good in a position there. The problem is all the inter-district hiring that goes on, along with the influx of applications. At least I’ve had someone mention they remembered me because my resume design was so memorable.

I’ve also taken a test to be a librarian’s assistant out in Yolo county. I like libraries, and everyone says that this would be the perfect job for me. It’s hard to be upbeat about it, though, since maybe 15–20 people took the test with me, and none of them looked terribly stupid. I know that I’ll make it on to the list they can interview from, but I have to hope I’m in positions one or two to actually get interviewed, and I don’t know if I did that well on the math portion. Never mind that if you’re a veteran or county employee you get preference points to boost your score.

I’m sure I’ll be working before Christmas, but I really hope it’s not a seasonal job. I mean, I’m okay with that, but I hope to have another position somewhere, too. I could really use the money.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and couldn’t fall asleep because I was so stressed about how I was going to pay back all of the money I owe. It’s not as much as some people, I know, but it still stresses me out. I have to start paying back my student loans in November, and that’s only a month away.

If you hear of a job, let me know, ‘kay? As for me, I’ll be scouring ProBlogger at the suggestion of Josh, to see if there is anything I am knowledgeable enough to be blogging about.

He and I have never been good with important dates, at least when it comes to our relationship. Unless I happened to write about it somewhere, I don’t know what day it was when we first went out to lunch, or dinner, or a movie, or on a real date at all. After all, I thought we were dating a whole six months before we really were! I could go on about how in the beginning he was terrified to define anything, and I was pretty much ambivalent about it, other than that I wanted him to acknowledge we were more than friends

I remember asking Ally to carpool on a field-trip for our “Food Forever” class¹ and E asking if he could join in. It was a drizzly November day, and he and I talked about random things during our walk around the professor’s property². When Ally dropped us back at school, he walked the long way around with me to get to my bike, since the BMU was locked unusually early.

I remember running into E in the BMU early the next February, orange chicken rice bowl in hand, and hounding him for bar names for AM and I to hit later that night, for our first time out on Chico. Told him he was more than welcome to join us, and was pleasantly surprised when he did. He walked me home, and we stood in the living room for another hour talking before he finally made it back out the door.

I remember him calling me in March, last minute, asking if I wanted to go to a “Black-White” party. ME was adamant that I not go and show that I was available at the drop of the hat, but I had nothing better to do, and I hadn’t been to a “real” Chico party before. Turns out it was a “black-light” party, complete with glowsticks. Our party didn’t amount to much, but there was one with a smash of people and a DJ just around the corner, so we walked over there. It was on the driveway at that house that he kissed me for the first time. And then we made-out like giddy teenagers for the rest of the night.

I remember when the ex somehow decided right before Easter that he wanted me back, and wouldn’t stop calling me on the the phone. It was E that made me feel better, E that took my mind off it by hanging out with AM and her then-boyfriend. And I remember talking to him over IM every night that spring break, when we were home with our parents.

I remember playing a lot of frisbee, a lot of Wii Sports and Super Smash Bros., going to dinner nearly every night towards the end of the semester. I remember that during the last two weeks of the semester that May, I’d see him for only an hour or so each day. Either he’d come to play frisbee between classes, or he’d come pick me up for dinner, and then drop me off right after because he had to get back to studying.

I remember that summer, and how he ended up spending it entirely in Redding, and Ally and I going up there for the water park on a hot day, and how he wouldn’t join us for slides, but did for lunch.

I remember him coming down to Chico for my 26th birthday party, and playing doubles air hockey at the U-Bar, and managing to hit a girl in another room with the puck. And how he spent the night and I thought he was mad at me when we went to sleep because he didn’t move all night long, just laid there on his back.

I remember when school started up again, and my dad having a stroke the week before labor day. I was so stressed out about everything, and I finally decided I would fix the only thing I could, which was a seemingly broken relationship with E. We walked around the creek on campus for a half an hour, after he had told me we were “just friends, for now,” and he listed to me ramble on about my dad, and how my biggest fear was that he would die before I got married³.

I remember drunk conversations that explained so much about why he wouldn’t admit that we were dating, and I remember the absolute giddiness that overcame me when we finally got together. I remember meeting his parents for the first time, and getting a high-five from his dad because I like apple pie.

I remember Thanksgiving being really hard to be apart, and Christmas break, too. I remember my dad putting me on a bus, the day before New Years Eve, to go be with a boy I was in love with and he hadn’t met yet. I remember seeing him at the station, and being so overcome with thrill to finally be with him after two weeks apart. I remember being inseparable from then on.

I remember making my roommate mad because he was always there (sorry!), but not paying any rent. I remember throwing a Superbowl party, and after everyone left, him telling me he loved me for the first time. I remember going to Reno the weekend before Valentine’s Day as a present from his parents, and I remember trading off almost every other weekend between our parents.

I remember going on my first spring break/week long road trip with him, where we had a blast. I remember camping for his birthday. I remember the numerous things he helped me do with Sigma Tau when I promised there’d be food.

I remember (my) graduation, and how hung over and scrubby he was from a bachelor’s party the night before. I remember my dad being entertained by E’s hungover-ness. I remember him holding me that night as I cried for my dad, who had died while we were celebrating a wedding, and his parents driving me home from Redding at 2am with us in the back seat, when I had to turn around and send him back to Chico for his own graduation, because there was no way he was going to miss it.

I remember him coming back to Sacramento the next day, to stay. He’s been with me every day since then, making sure that I do the normal things in life, that I not sink into a deep depression that surely would have overcome me, trying to deal with the monumental changes in my life that I will never be ready for.

Every day I love him more. He’s a huge dork, just like me. We find the same things funny. We don’t get on each other’s nerves—after all, we’ve been together for almost 24/7 for the last four months, and we’ve never fought or tried to escape. He’s pretty much the best thing that has ever happened to me, and the heartache it took to get here (minus my dad dying) was totally worth it.

For our “anniversary”⁴ I knit him a little campfire. He loves fire and camping, and I love knitting and surprising him. Until I gave it to him last Thursday—couldn’t help it, I had just finished it, and I didn’t know what day our anniversary really was—he had no idea I had been working on it in secret. He made me recount when I had worked on it without him.

I so love a good surprise!

Anyways, this is for him, so when we’re old we won’t forget the highlights of this first year together.

1. Which, in my opinion is both the best and stupidest class I took while in school. Best because I met both E and Ally, stupidest because I don’t think I actually learned anything new.
2. He was an almond farmer.
3. Which, coincidentally happened. Maybe I shouldn’t tell my fears to E?
4. Because really, we haven’t been counting down to this, I just knew it was at the end of September some time.

I am in complete denial about my clothing size, obviously.

When I saw this pattern in the spring Interweave Knits, I knew I had to have it. I had the exact perfect yarn—the Knitpicks Shine Sport that was first intended for a bolero sweater that I had to admit to myself that I was never going to wear, even if I ever did finish it.

So, instead I bought the needles needed, and went to town.

For something like five false starts. That’s right, I cast on for this top five times without acknowledging that there was no way it was ever going to fit me.

Last night, though, I picked it up again, working on it while I listened to a book on tape with Erik¹. After two more pattern repeats, I had to face the music. Or William Shatner’s voice.

This top is never going to fit.

It’s a beautiful, simple pattern. The yarn feels wonderfully soft and cushy. And this afternoon, I have to rip out everything I’ve done, re-cake the yarn, and cast on for a sixth time for this top.

This time, I’m conceding that I will have to make the largest size. And will even measure myself to ensure that it really will fit at that size. If not, I’ll add enough patter repeats that it does.

Because I really want this top. And I swear, I’m going to wear this top next spring. And it is going to fit. Because I said so.

1. We listened to a a book narrated and written by William Shatner. Of course it was a Star Trek book. And of course it was hilariously bad.

If you haven’t heard of it, imagine taking photos with your camera, but never having to connect your camera to the computer to upload it.

Lately, I find myself grabbing my iPhone to take in-progress photos of my craft projects¹ but that camera doesn’t do them justice at all. If I was serious, I’d grab the little Nikon that K gave me as a graduation/birthday present, but I’m terribly lazy and hate connecting to the computer for just one or two pictures.

Thus, the brilliance of the Eye-Fi. It uploads the pictures itself over the local wi-fi network. That I could get used to. Never having to find the camera cord? Check. Easily upload one or two photos at a time? Check.

If someone would like to send me one, I’d be eternally grateful. But as it is, I’ll have to add this wish to the many on the list as having to wait until I have a job to afford it.

Sigh.

1. Dorky, I know, but I like to document what I’ve actually managed to create.

Sure, it might be too early, usually, to think about Christmas but I have a few very good reasons to start this early:

• I like my friends, and we all like handmade goodies. Thus, I wanted to knit them all something.
• I am a very slow knitter. I prefer small projects, but even small projects get procrastinated on.
• I have plenty of time on my hands.

I love handmade. If I could, I’d buy all my presents on Etsy. Well, I’d buy everything on Etsy. As I try to tell E, I don’t want to keep anything around soley because it looks pretty unless it was handcrafted with detail. So, no Hummels for me¹, but a handmade toy? I’m all over that.

To that end, I have plenty of free time and not so much money. And as it turns out, most of what I want to knit my friends will run me two to three balls of yarn, which in turn comes out to $4.00–6.00 each. A unique Christmas present for $6.00 and a few hours of my time? Color me happy.

As you can see, I’ve already started. The Eggplant (or, Auburgine, as the book calls it) was the easiest of the patterns that I’m crafting, and is for a friend who wouldn’t suspect that I’m sending her anything, so it’s safe to show off. Safe too is the in-progress, as you can’t really tell what it is, other than it looks complicated.

And it is. It’s my first real introduction into stranded knitting, and is why that piece isn’t done yet. If it was all one color, it’d have been done in an hour.

I’ll try to keep track of everything I’ve knit, and hope to do a blog post for each one, mostly to talk about why I chose that particular pattern for that friend, since there is a rhyme for each reason.

But it’s nice to actually complete something. I was so thrilled as the eggplant came together. E was super impressed, and I was happy with how my first attempt at knitting a toy came out. It also made me in awe of the woman who came up with these patterns, as even though it wasn’t complicated to knit, I can’t imagine what it took to originally come up with the form and pattern.

(p.s. if you think you’re getting a softy from me, good luck trying to figure it out. besides, i made sure none of the colors rendered correctly so you could figure out just what exactly I’m knitting.)

1. My sister has already claimed them when the time comes to divvy up my mom’s stuff. However, I think it’s cheating for her to buy my mom Hummels when she knows she’s going to end up with them