Word of the day

November 20, 2011

Aawww, freak out! It’s a KNITTING POST! Woop, woop!

Hold on to your cats, spinsters, we’re gonna get wild up in here.

It’s that magical time of year, again. It starts with the leaves changing colors, and it ends with me rocking quietly in a corner and vowing that we’re going to celebrate Christmas like Buddhists next year. (We will all stare at a wall and contemplate the freedom of not wanting, having, trying or doing. And come December 19th, that will sound like the best bloody Christmas miracle.) But it’s still pre-Thanksgiving November, which means that I haven’t yet hit the wall. The wall, you ask? The wall that is that crushing realization that once again, I will not succeed in making hand knit gifts for everyone I know; I will fail to make the 7 kinds of Christmas cookie that define the season in the Martha part of my brain; I will forget how long it takes to write Christmas cards, resulting in dashed signatures or late arrivals, or both; I will struggle to find the time and Rockwellian enthusiasm for decorating the tree, knowing that every ornament we hang is just one more I have to pack away in a few weeks; and I will develop a Pavlovian response to the ringing of bells. Of course, instead of drooling, I will involuntarily lower my eyes and move furtively away from the Salvation Army volunteer.

But I digress.

A lot.

Hey! New word: digracious. Adj. Easily distracted. Talkative, but without focus. Also: possessing the tendency to overshare. Also, also: probably what I should have named this blog.

Whoops! There I go again. Getting all digracious  on you guys. You’re welcome for that word.

So, it’s that magical time of year, when the holiday spirit has gripped me, but is not yet squeezing the life out of me. And I am knitting. Furiously. Do I know you? I probably have a little project that I’d like to make for you. Socks, felted slippers, thrummed mittens, a hat, scarf, or if you’re really special, a sweater. (And by really special, I mean Jesus and midgets.) (I haven’t the patience to knit large garments.) (Dan lacks a sweater, and a number of sock mates.) (Around here, it’s never the same sock twice!) (ba-dum bum ching!)

As a result of this neurotic urge to knit gifts for everyone I know, I have half-finished knitting projects covering my desk. It is a miracle I can even reach the keyboard, and my arms are resting on 5 needles. Of different sizes. (Non-knitters, this means I need a damn intervention.) I am taking a break from knitting to write this. And consequently, I probably won’t take a pee break until Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday.

Must. Knit. All. The. Things.

Furthermore, the weather is not playing around anymore. It is getting what we in the South call “cold as a snake’s legs*” (and what everyone in the mid-west calls “almost too hot, where are my shorts?”), and my child needs a hat. I knit her a dah-arling hat last winter. I purposely knit it two sizes too big thinking that I’d get a pass on knitting a hat for her this year. Behold the cuteness of a six month old (gloriously non-motile!) baby:

7 months old!

And behold my little Stewie** in her hat this winter:

Uh-huh. (These pictures stink, but my kid won’t stand still for an instant, and my needy dog was attempting to apply his body to mine in almost every shot.)

For comparison, here is a random adult’s head wearing the same hat:

The heck, kid? You’d better be growing enough brain in there to solve the world debt crisis AND climate change. That is what hat knitting costs in this house. Be glad I buy your sweaters. (Dan, you want your sock-mates? You owe me a teleporter.) (People, that is called LEVERAGE.) (You can thank me in person for the teleporter.)

Next post: The “toddler” hat I knit for Ivy. Followed by the “bucket-sized” hat I knit for Ivy. Followed by a detailed account of Ivy’s birth story, including the part where the OB told me that she was literally holding pieces of me together when the head was crowning! It was awesome.

I’m exaggerating, of course. With all the knitting I have to do, I won’t have time to write a damn thing.


*I made this up. But it does sound rather Southern, doesn’t it? Promise that if you ever say “colder than a snake’s legs,” you’ll say it with a thick southern accent? And really, I don’t think inserting a ‘hoo-doggie’ would be going too far… Granted, I’m fake-southern. But gen-yoo-winely digracious! Hoo, doggie!

** Fellow cave-dwellers, this is a ‘Stewie’:


Here is a letter I wrote to a yarn company that only sent me 83.33333etc% of what I paid for (and ordered).

Dear Lovely Yarn Artists,
I am writing a message of dual purpose. First, thank you for my lovely, gorgeous, smooshy yarn. I love it. My fingers are twitching, my needles are full, and I am already drooling over future purchases.
My second purpose in writing is slightly less positive, I’m afraid. You see, I ordered six skeins of Eidos from you. I ordered six because I’m planning on knitting three stranded projects this Fall, including the Hwaet! pattern I bought from your website. But my package arrived and (sob!) there were only five skeins, leaving my husband’s second Hwaet! skein MIA. Incidentally, the excuse of knitting my husband the fabulously literary and rather extremely obscure Hwaet! socks instigated and justified the entire purchase. I’m sure you know how that goes…
Alas, the Lithos colorway appears to be out of stock. Or that is my inference, given the penned slash through the “1 | Lithos” line of my invoice. I understand how this kind of thing happens, and I am sure you must also understand how one often buys a second colorway because of how it would look with another. The weird thing is that I WAS CHARGED for the skein that I didn’t get. At least, that’s what I surmise from the “This Completes Your Order!” email you sent me upon shipping, in conjunction with the fact that I paid for 6 skeins. Had I been informed that the Lithos colorway was out of stock I would have been much less surprised and disappointed that my package contained only five skeins. I might have even had the foresight and opportunity to find a substitute! Alas, indeed.
Considering the fact that I wasn’t informed of the backorder or asked if I wanted to select a replacement, do you think I could choose a replacement and have it shipped without being charged for shipping? Even better, do you think it will be long before the Lithos colorway will be back, large and in charge? And am I first in line to receive it’s neutral goodness then (without paying for shipping)?
Respectfully, and with much gratitude for your consideration, I remain your knittish fan,
Stephanie Goodrich
(a large glass of wine *may* have contributed *somewhat* to the tone of this letter… maybe. smooches!)