YOh no

I recently started knitting the ribbed lace bolero to break up the endless 3x1 ribbing monotony of the tubey, and to stop me from wanting to scoop my eyes out with a crochet hook while making the crocheted grocery bag.

All was going well, I was easily doing the 2x2 ribbing while still managing to wiggle my foot and mouth along to Alexisonfire's Crisis at the same time with nary an error. I then reached the lace rows and saw no reason to think I was about to screw the whole thing up. I did, for a brief moment, think to myself that I should thread through a lifeline. But I didn't. The fact that I didn't want to should have been an indication that I should have. *sigh*

Turns out that the YOs in the pattern are simply, well, yarning over. No knit stitch involved. (Of course, I didn't know that then. )Crap. So, I got to the end of row 1 and nothing seemed amiss. The stitches all made sense, and I had nothing left over. Then I did row 2.

This is the point where I realized something was terribly wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I turned my iPod off in the middle of Rough Hands. Mid-song, people. I never, ever, turn my iPod off mid-song, because I consider that to be sacrilege. And I especially wouldn't even consider turning it off in the middle of one of the Best Songs Ever.

I sat there, with about 5 stitches left to be worked, realizing that the number of stitches I was supposed to work didn't equal what was left. At all. I looked at the pattern and then back at the knitting. I may have let out an involuntary whine.

Now I have to rip back and start the lace part over. I also have to go and repent now for having stopped mid-song. I feel dirty.

Sometimes I eavesdrop

I have decided to give myself some time to escape from the usual 'mom duties'. I've barricaded myself in my daughter's room (henceforth known as bookworm), and have commandeered her computer.

I've been enjoying a few minutes of not being interrupted. Not having to stop the moment my one year old son (aka Little Monkey) wakes from his nap, whether I was in the middle of something or not.

Very nice. I guess this is what life was like B.C. (Before Children) I wouldn't know, since apparently I'm so old I can't even remember back that far. Not that I'm complaining, I'm just saying that time is one of those things you never seem to have enough of when you have kids. Of course, that also means the reason you have no time is because your life is so overflowing with goodness and joy and mirth that you simply cannot spare any time. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

So, I was sitting here enjoying my moment of solitude, sprucing up my little blog, when I overheard the following conversation from the living room:

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Setting: Mr. Operandi (my hubby) and bookworm were tucking away some of Little Monkey's toys so as to lessen the 'war zone' look of our place

Mr. Operandi: Did you just put the knitted toys into the drawers?
Bookworm: Yeah
Mr. Operandi: No, keep those out, he likes those... put the other crap in the drawers.
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And I thought the goodness of the knit toys went completely unnoticed. I feel all warm and fuzzy, now. Maybe in this delirium I can negotiate some more yarn to add my my stash.

I mean, it's for the children.

Obligatory introductory post

So here it is... the dawn of yet another blog. Another blogger facing the vast openness of the blogosphere and forced with the pressure of saying something interesting.

Well you know what? I'm not gonna do it. I'm not. I will not bow to the expectations placed upon me. Interesting? Bah! It's for weaklings. For those who are too ashamed or worried about starting off with Boring.

So what can I tell you about myself that's completely uninteresting?

I'm a mom of two. We're of the learn-at-home ilk. I knit. I love music. I have a snaggletooth that I love. I still have a baby tooth. My favourite colour is orange. (Ok, maybe that's interesting in a psychological analysis kind of way.) I wear glasses and I cherish every moment I wear them. Why? Well, I don't wear makeup, and I figure the glasses are my way of making my face less boring. (It's a tough job.)

What can you expect from this blog? Whatever you want... just don't blame me when I don't live up to your expectations - you would have brought that on yourself by placing lofty (and frankly completely unreasonable) demands on me. Really, you oughta be ashamed of yourself!

I'm snarky and sarcastic. I can have a caustic sense of humour. I can be so utterly self-deprecating that you will weep at the thought of my delicate fragile self being damaged by my alter-ego. Weep. Get the tissues out.

I'll post about anything and everything, and hopefully you'll be amused. And if not? I'm cool with that. That's why your browser has that handy dandy red 'x' in that top corner.

But please, don't leave me. I couldn't take the abandonment.