Und tudey I breeng yuoo a lung ooferdooe-a messege-a. Nut thet "yuoo" ere-a reedeeng thees. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Thees glureeuoos messege-a vheech is in Muck Cheenese-a -- vheech is, ooff cuoorse-a, zee lungooege-a ooff zee greet Svedeesh Cheff. I em oone-a munt intu my soorgery ruteshun, vhere-a theengs hefe-a beee nut neerly es bed es I ixpected. Bork bork bork! In fect, iff it veren't fur zee internsheep und a vhule-a lut ooff zee reseedency, I meeght un-roole-a-oooot soorgery. Bork bork bork! In zee lest munt I'fe-a, lessee-a, hed my hund oon sumeune's trechea -- durectly -- und a ceruteed oor tvu, luts ooff booel (mmmmmm!), a thyrueed oor fuoor, a leefer, a gellbledder, und mure-a. Und I ves geefee zee hunur ooff furst inceesiun a foo teemes. Um gesh dee bork, bork! I edure-a soobcooteecooler sootooreeng, tuu. Und noo I em bebbleeng evey, typeeng oonly tu get thees incheffereezer tu zee pueent vhere-a it veell insert my fefureete-a cheff-ixclemeshun. Vhere-a is it? Is it here-a? Meybe-a. OoK, zeere's oone-a ooff my fefureetes. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Boot I'm steell veeeting fur zee shneepp schneepp.... I em hoongry, demneet. Um de hur de hur de hur. Zee buy -- VHO IS HOME!!! -- is tekeeng tuu lung tu oorder underveer und koong foo crep oon zee veb, und it is teeme-a fur freekeeng deenner, IH!?!?!?!!!!! He-a keeps seyeeng "oone-a mure-a theeng." Joost oone-a mure-a freekeeng theeng. I VENT DINNER NOV! Ooh, deed I menshun thet my keettee is crezy? Und inurmuoos? Vell he-a is. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Cetnurmuoos. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Beeg geeunt Ferrees-cet. Um de hur de hur de hur. Vell crep. I deedn't get my fefureete-a cheff ooootboorst in thees roon. Bork bork bork! Seegh.

Big Wool

So I've been obsessed with acquiring Rowan Big Wool for a sweater, despite the fact that I have more yarn than anyone could reasonably knit in a lifetime. Well, not anyone, just me probably, because I knit super-slow and don't even have time for that these days. But I do have an @ssload of yarn.

Anyway, I might actually win some on Ebay. "Win." Ha. like I won't still be paying more than I can afford. Now I realize that none of the patterns I have are suitable (they're either ugly/not right or also require Biggy Print). So I just spent 3 hours surfing around looking for a nice pattern for Big Wool. When I don't even have the frigging yarn yet.

Did I mention procrastination?

Procrastinating and beyond

Yeah, so no one reads this, and I seldom write anything here, but I promise to try.

Not that any promise of that nature will mean a damn thing once my surgery rotation starts.

In other news, the Boy should be on his way home having left Iraq a few days ago for Quatar, and hopefully on his way out of Quatar today. I MISS THE BOY. Yeah, he's a man, but despite being OLD now, I still call my men boys, as in boyfriends. Not that there's more than one at a time. Of course, Boy is scheduled to possibly return 2 days before my surgery rotation starts, so I won't see him much. That's still better than the original schedule, which put him back here one week into the rotation.

Ack. I'm scared. Of the surgery rotation. And of the radiology presentation that counts for 1/3 of my grade in my first rotation ever. That's on Monday. It's almost Sunday and I have no presentation yet... despite swearing up and down that I wouldn't leave another thing to the last minute, ever again. Of course, I've sworn that oath at least a thousand times, and remember the very first time I swore it, as I was working on my Hawaii project in, what was it, 4th grade or so, with my Dad, at something like 9PM the night before it was due. That was one long-@ssed non-grammatical sentence from hell.

So, I should really get to that presentation. And then there's the final exam on Friday. Yarrrrrrgh.

I am a lazy @ss

So I tried to post a moment ago. And lost my not so eloquent thought.

It went something like this....

I ought to write more here. Not that anyone would care really, but I did intend this to sortof provide some evidence that I'd lived life once in awhile. More like, a place to remind myself of things I'd lived, as I have a tendency to forget everything -- and worst of all, get all irritated about it when I suddenly remember a tiny piece of something and realize I'd forgotten it.

And yes, I'm not making any sense. My brain has a fog over it from too much lecture, not enough sleep, and way too much stress. And maybe a nice bleeding ulcer.

I can't BELIEVE I just finally wrote something here again and the frigging server errored-out and dropped it. The ONE time I write something in a hundred years .... Let's see what happens when I try to post this waste-of-space.

Yessssss

Aha! I have succeeded! I diminished that enormous left border somewhat. Quake in your boots, all you bits of wasted space out there -- I will fill you all with useless crap! All of you! Yes -- YOU! Muwahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. On my blog, as in my apartment, no space goes uncluttered. I hate that about myself sometimes.

As for that evil locked box (see last post) -- someone suggested to me today that I make it a little friend -- my own, tiny locked box, to sit next to it. I like that. I was trying to think of some amusing response to the box, but each thing I could think of involved opening it, which I don't really want to do. Well, ok, some part of me definitely wants to, but a good part of me doesn't.

Locked boxes

I'd like to tell my boyfriend "don't EVER leave me at home alone with a locked box for four months again!" -- but, well, then he'd know I'm going crazy over the locked huge box (ok it's a trunk) under our guest bed. Oh yes, if I knew I could open it without leaving any evidence, I'd have a serious problem. Boy would I want to, but I of course wouldn't want to violate him like that. (I was going to replace "him" with "his trust" but then I thought, "trust? what trust? he locked the F*()ing box!!!") In fact, I'd probably be sitting in front of it twitching right now, frozen between morality and my embarrassingly stereotypical freakish-girl tendencies.

So, what the haddock is in the box!?!?!? (Yes, I was thinking about Spongebob and Mr. Krabs just then.) He needed me to find something for him, under that bed, while he was still in VA on his way to Baghdad, and the existence of the locked box was mentioned (by me), along with something like "what, did you think I'd steal something?" He may have mumbled something about "well maybe there's something in there I might want to give you some day." I think that was BS though. I think a long time ago, he once thought about giving me something secret, but at this point, after this much time, I think it's too late for that. BOy, don't *I* sound the psycho girly one again? This is what happens when I have half a glass of red wine with dinner and watch "The Dead Zone." Who would've thought that little freaky skinny Anthony Michael Hall (ala Breakfast Club from 1980-something) would've grown up to be a big strong HOT MAN?!?! And I ramble aimlessly again.

Oh, wait, can I just say how stupid this freaking layout is? What's with the wasted space in the margins?!?!? No purpose whatsoever. Yes, having, oh, 2 or 3 degrees in engineering (2 of them electrical), I should know html by now and have a whizbang custom blog setup. But I don't. So there. I have other fish to fry. A saying I learned from a man who messed me up big time in college, btw. More on him some other time, if I have wine with dinner again, and feel like typing and publishing some damning stories.

Damn, some people take their blogs seriously!

Yikes. I was just looking at a few blogs on this ring I joined, perhaps stupidly. Some people really take their blogs quite seriously. I can't imagine anyone else is reading this, but if you are, I sure hope you didn't come here looking for any consistent demonstration of intelligence or wit or whatnot....

Now, mind you, this blog is less organized than even *I* would like it to be. Take that last sentence for instance -- I can't even see how it's connected nicely to this post. I think I was trying to say sorry, I really crave organization, intelligence, and wit in my life, but at the moment I'm lacking in the motivation department, which frustrates me too.

I hate cropped pants!

So it seems ridiculous that with all that's been going on in my life, the thing that finally brought me back here and inspired me to bother to write an entry was, CROPPED PANTS. I hate them. Cropped pants, capris pants, whatever the F you decide to call them, I think they're worthless. Unless you have some reason to need them, like you're going to be wading for an extended period of time. Although still, I say, wear a normal pair of pants and roll the suckers up. That way, you've still got a useful pair of pants when you're NOT wading or otherwise doing something that MIGHT justify cropped pants. Of course, if I were a skinny, sexy-ankled 18 year-old, I might not have these feelings of animosity toward an arguably innocent article of clothing. But really, long pants are so much more flattering, as they create a nice long line, blah blah blah. Not to mention the fact that they are CLEARLY superior for protection from such environmental hazards as insects that might harbor some horrible virus, or at the very least cause you to itch like a fiend. Why the hell am I blabbering on about PANTS when I have things like a boyfriend in Iraq, a sick father selling the house I grew up in, and, on the good side, a devilishly cute new kitten!

So, here is a photo of boyfriend AND of Ferris, my new kitten and temporary boyfriend substitute (only in that he is the target of my need to love, in an innocent way, for you sickos out there. AND, he greets me at the door with love (or at least purring) when I come home). (OK, so it's a photo of kitten and a photo of the boyfriend, vs a photo of kitten and BF, to get technical.)

Circular Wisdom

Someone on the SNB forum just reminded me of a problem I had when I first started knitting in the round -- knitting "inside-out" by accident. So I did a search for insight and found this fantastic circular and in-the-round knitting site. My, that was an awful sentence.

Next up: Sophie3?

Sophie3.... will she be in Kureyon, or the same Manos as Sophie2, but with a Fibonacci-striped addition of the gold/maroon/brown/yellow frufru yarn that I used in Sophie1?
I'm thinking, I'll add one stitch on each of the 4 sides to get one extra decrease, and therefore (is there an e at the end of that? I see it both ways) 10 extra rows to allow the Fibonacci pattern to be more perfect. Skipping the first 0 and 1 in the sequence yields [1,2,3,5,8,13]. Then I'll have the plain yarn stripes count down on the way up the purse, and the frufru stripes count up.
regular (frufru) :: 13(1)8(2)5(3)3(5)2(8)1(13).
So, that's 13 rows plain, 1 row with frufru, 8 rows plain, 2 rows frufru, ... ad nauseum.
Of course, I should be working on my thesis.

Sophie2

Yesterday, I swore that I'd work my ass off on school work and workout today. But that was before BF told me he was leaving for Iraq in 2.5 weeks. Of course I decompensated and turned to my knitting. I felted Sophie2:
Here she is before:


and after:




And an extreme closeup of the weird felt that Manos del Uruguay produces:


You might think that she's just not felted enough, but supposedly Manos makes this boucle-like felt regardless. She's hella-felted. 4 or 5 cycles, and she shrunk like hell. She's not getting any smoother than this, I think.

more IM wisdom or lack thereof

ME:I figure, maybe he thinks he's safe since I'm fat as a cow at the moment, and therefore he thinks I'm incapable of attracting another man.
[snip] and I don't mean that is specifically related to his decision to run off to Iraq. just that he doesn't really try anymore. But, I'm working my ass off in the gym, and I'll get back to being happy with my state of fitness and won't feel so insecure and that's that. If my needs aren't being met, maybe I'll have the courage to do something about it. But I'm not famous for that ability.
OTHER PERSON: there's a natural decline in "woo-age" from the initial peak to some steady-state value.
[SNIP]
[other person says something about the "stupid stuff" men do at the beginning of the relationship but not later -- i.e. romantic, nice gestures, etc.]
ME: I know. But if the steady-state value leaves me unhappy, then, well, ack. And, if it's "stupid" to him, then that's not what I want. I need to feel cared about and unique in his life. If I'm not, or it's not in his nature to help me see that, then that's likely to be a problem for me.

Why does he want a girlfriend anyway?

I was just IM'ing someone and this came out, when asked about the boyfriend. I thought it was harsh, yet telling, so I want to record it here.
" I am in quite a foul mood over it. I think because it forces me to acknowledge certain things about him and our relationship that I have tried to pretend aren't the case. i.e. he really doesn't need me. he doesn't need to talk to me, to talk over difficult decisions, etc. has no desire to tell me either the good or bad things that have happened to him over the day, that kind of stuff. I actually really do not understand why he even wants a girlfriend anymore.
I don't like the imbalance of attachment that we seem to have. He could care less if I went off to a life threatening situation. "

fat cow is angry about iraq

He's lucky I'm a fat cow now, actually. Because maybe if I weren't fat as hell I'd be more confident in my ability to seek a mate. i.e. he's safe and can get the milk for free without buying the cow. See, metaphor gone in a circle. Seriously, it's been almost three years, and I just turned thirty. I've never been one to want any legal commitment before, but turning thirty and seeing wrinkles is making me think I should've tried for it before I got all dumpy. Yes, I'm pissed now. Probably because anger is easier to deal with than sorrow right now. So he is getting the fat cow's milk for free, so why should he buy her?

Iraq

That BASTARD. He *asked* to go to Iraq, and didn't tell me, until he got orders, which coincidentally start the day we were to fly to my friend's wedding. WHich is to say I just found out 15 minutes ago.
Now, I love him, and I understand his sense of duty, but it still hurts that he chose to go, and never shared his plans with me. But the main point is I'm worried as hell.
I'm talking about my boyfriend, btw.
I'm so upset I can't write anymore.

SABLE

I learned a new acronym at the NH Sheep and Wool Festival: SABLE -- Stash Accumulation Beyond Life Expectancy. I should have known that I would go in this direction, as I tend to go all-out-crazy in collecting the best of the best supplies for whatever new hobby I've taken on. And ha ha ha ha, as I was googling "SABLE Stash" to confirm the acronym, I found Clothesknit's 'Reality Check' blog entry, which includes the best idea I've heard all day/week/month: THE YARN DIET. Clothesknit credits the idea to someone named Sharon, whom I don't know well enough (at all) to feel I could just write her name without an explanation... but if she indeed came up with it, she's my heroine today.
Anywho, I'm fat as hell now, and I love yarn, so the yarn diet sounds like a plan. Something like losing 5 pounds means $50 for the stash. I think I might make that first $50 go toward something to PUT the ever-growing stash IN, however, as I've filled my mom's yarn trunk (ok, partially filled with her stash and my grandmother's stash), and yarn is now taking over the apartment, much to the boyfriend's horror. Actually, he probably doesn't notice. He doesn't notice much these days, except me noticing that he doesn't notice much, which he just notices as nagging. I hate the thought that I could be a nag. And I've drifted all over the place in this post....

I hate tassles

Well, I hate making tassles. The almost-a-wedding-present "shawl" is done, minus the evil tassles, and I really need to send it along to the intended recipient. But I have failed three times at making a satisfactory tassle, and I can't quite envision how I'm going to attach the tassles even when they're done, so I'm reverting to my default state of procrastination.
So, I imagined up a pair of arm warmers to make, using some unnamed lace pattern in The Big Book of Knitting. It has occurred to me that they won't be particularly stretchy, without a ribbed pattern. So I'll probably be casting them aside in frustration soon. Or sooner, because the tiny yarn and the lace annoyances are driving me batty.

I can't wait to felt Sophie #2! 

Sophie #2 is awaiting felting.... She is done in Manos Del Uruguay yarn. I didn't get quite the cool swirling I hoped for, but when I took this picture, and the zoomed one above, I noticed a flame-like thing I hadn't seen before, on the bottom left! 

Sophie Before and After

These photos are poorly exposed, but they show how much Sophie shrunk in the felting process, thanks to the front door for providing scale:

Here is Sophie, slightly underexposed, in natural light. Damn I hate the flash on my little camera. (Scroll down past the weird palm pics to see more about Sophie's felting adventure) 

Sophie is finished! Although I might add a tassle closure, if I can decide how.... 

Weird palm leaf painting from the right ... see how it changes depending on how you look at it? I hated it when I first did it. It grew on me, and I really like it now. 

Weird palm leaf painting from the front... 

Weird palm leaf painting from the left 

More Sophies, and toooooo much of me

Sophie #1 is drying, and I have already started Sophie #2. She will be in Manos Del Uruguay, in a really neat yellow/orange/red/brown handpainted scheme. I haven't decided if I'm going to add some of that sparkly slubby yarn yet.

I looked at the skirt I just ordered, and hoped it wouldn't fit b/c it's FREAKING HUGE. A TENT, I tell you. I almost cried when it fit perfectly. I want to cry, or worse -- I can't believe how enormous I've become in such a short time. Seriously, I can't wrap my brain around it. Bad metaphor. Really bad. I honestly cannot connect what my eyes are seeing with reality here -- I've gained 55+pounds in one year. How the F*&K did that happen????

Look! Sophie made my hand look like a gorilla-man's hand.... (during the felting of Sophie Purse #1, knit in Reynolds Lopi)
 

Sophie is felted and drying!!! Note how furry the Lopi gets when felted. Soon, Sophie will have a shave.... 

Sophie Purse #1 pre-felting, yet another view, but with pooooor exposure. 

Sophie Purse #1 pre-felting 

Sophie Purse #1 pre-felting 

More works in progress....

I've added a Sophie Purse in Lopi to the pile of works in progress....
Now, to do the twisted handles, or beaded handles instead?
And, BAD ME, I didn't felt a swatch first, so watch it fail to felt and just make me cry.
Pictures later. I should probably go to school and do some "work" and figure out how to make a thesis out of the disaster I have going on there. Stupid fancy medical school program that thinks they're so hot for making us do a thesis for a plain old MD.

How many things can I knit at once?

Well, one, technically... but I've got I-don't-know-how-many works in progress at the moment.
Lessee....

• The not-quite-a-wedding-present shawl in blue. (Candy-fx in blue, soft-kid in palest blue, and Sevilla ribbon in silver-white -- using a modification of the Fiesta Gelato and Rayon Boucle tasseled shawl)
• The original effort at the not-quite-a-wedding-present wrap, in red and gold Karabella Gossamer.
• My silly Homespun "pretty knit poncho" from the Lion Brand website.
• An Alien Illusion Scarf of course
• (damn, what's with the F-15-sounding jets over Brookline right now?)
• A raspberry red chenille scarf for Mrs. D to go with her hat, which is too big I think....
• There's more, I know there's more, I just can't think of it right now.
• Oh yes, those damn socks. What can I do with my other fancy sock yarn, since I know now that I can't stand knitting socks?

And let's not talk about how much yarn I bought at the Woolcott & Co. sale last weekend.

Maybe I should do my taxes.

Claudette's Hat from the side 

Green Manos Hat outside 

Top of Green Manos Hat 

Me In Green Manos Hat eyes only 

Claudette's Hat Oblique-Top View 

Stupid socks!

I seem to hate knitting socks. Which is a problem, because I'm knitting this first pair out of old yarn, as I figured I'd save the two spanking brand new fancy stripey yarns for later, once I'd mastered the sock domain. But my wrists are killing me. I was not designed to knit this tiny-assed stuff. Now, I think that I am of at least average intelligence. I did survive a masters degree in electrical engineering and get into medical school, but apparently, understanding written instructions on heel-turning is beyond my meager intellect. Stupid socks.

Today -- neighbors, past posts, and research stinks

So the last 5 posts or so are random photos I needed to upload for some forum posts, but I'll try to add comments later so they have a little more purpose here.

Neighbors -- I freaking hate my upstairs neighbors. More and more each day. I mean, WTF? Don't they have work or school to go to, instead of playing that incessant loud music allllll the time? Wait, don't I have work or school to go to? Yes, but I hate it. At least they're not running around and making the plaster fall off of my ceiling like they have in the past.

Research -- I am not fond of my project. I don't see the point in walking all the way to that nasty little shared office, through the snow (and worse, slush), to use an inferior computer with inferior software. Of course, I might do some work there. History has shown I'm not too productive there either though.

Oh crap, I forgot to put the trash out and I hear the truck....

Behold, the first blog-evidence of my ever-growing plant addiction. This is the flower of a stapelia. Likely a stapelia variegata (arguably an orbea variegata, but let's not go there), to be specific. Too bad for you there's no smell-o-vision/smell-o-blogger, because it has the spectacular aroma of musty/moldy rotting meat. I can't remember if this was from late summer 2003 or 2004. If the former, it's extra-special, because that would be my very first stapelia flower all my own. Either way, it's still special, as I raised the plant from a tiny piece my mother gave me. Yes, I miss my mother, terribly. But anyone who knows me must be sick of me crying about her by now. Anywho, she gave me the piece in grad school, must've been 2000 or earlier, so it took a few years to raise the plant to flowering stage. I lost a bud first, as well.

Close-up of stapelia flower from late summer 2003 or 4

Octopus with a cleaning fixation?

Albuquerque Octopus Carwash!

This is the octopus on top of the Albuquerque Octopus Carwash. I used to be terrified of octopi as a child. But I'm developing a fondness for them. At least for giant fake ones hanging on top of a building in the middle of desert country, holding sponges and brushes and whatnot. And yes, I recognize that some may argue that "octopi" is not a word. I disagree, vehemently. Or at least argue that it should be. As should "walri" be a word. Really -- think about it, say this out loud to yourself: "Look at ALL those WALRI!" Doesn't that just feel far more satisfying thatn "look at all those walruses?"

Mom's yarn simple hat

So I'm finally learning how to post pictures....


My simple hat -- but special -- my first project to feature yarn from my late mother's stash. I just wish she could've seen me learn to knit!

Leafy-Green Sparkle Hat -- modified pattern from SNB