Bring back velvet overalls.

Sometimes I just want to ask clothing designers what kind of person they think wears a turtleneck. I guess they're kind of coming back into fashion, but I don't get it. I vividly remember wearing turtlenecks as 90's child, but I think I was fashion forward enough even then to shy more towards the mock-turtleneck. Even still, who wears a mock-turtleneck? Most of mine back then were velvet and had distinctive outfits. Like my velvet floral one that I wore with my purple velvet overalls. I also had a lime green mock-turtleneck velvet dress. My bff had one too, and we wore matching lime green hair claws with them. (What were those claw things even called? Whenever I see someone wearing one I wonder if they know it's not the 90's anymore. Then I feel mean.)

So yeah, I'm fashion savvy. Which explains why I decided it was a good idea to wear patterned maternity leggings to work today. To be fair, last time I was pregnant I wore leggings almost every day to work and this time around I only wear them once a week or so. I'm just pushing the fashion envelope again. It's too bad they aren't velvet. Or colourful.

After today, I have nine days left of work. This is hard to wrap my head around. In 16 days I will be waking up unemployed and rocking out in my sweatpants/leggings when I'm feeling fancy. Because that's what the stay at home me wears.

I've been working full time this week, so we need to get out of the house a good hour earlier than usual. This usually means waking Parker up to change him and throw him in the car, then picking him up 10 hours later. This morning he was not feeling the routine and he cried all through getting dressed and ready to go. I can relate. There's nothing worse than getting woken up to go outside into -36 weather. I almost cried in the car after I dropped him off (he was fine once he was in the car, but I got some good snuggles going into the babysitter's) but that might have had to do with not having time to eat breakfast this morning. I'm so looking forward to a lazy January at home with him.

I used to say that hot showers have healing powers. This is probably still true, but Christmas trees and lights seem to have the same affect on me. I'm looking forward to a weekend of wrapping gifts, seeing Star Wars, and cleaning out the closet in baby's room. Then, when I'm tired of it all, I'll sit in front of the tree and just soak up the goodness of it. In my sweatpants. Probably listening to this playlist.

This year I had grand aspirations of making sugar cookies and then letting chaos reign and decorating them with Parker. My cookie recipe was too crumbly to cut into shapes, though, so I ended up making bars with it instead. There's always next year. I am okay with this. Especially since it takes a fraction of the time to smoosh cookie dough into a pan than it does to use cookie cutters.

Last year Christmas cookies stressed me out, especially when my ginger snaps all turned into bricks and I gave them to the neighbours anyway. This year I pounded out three different recipes and some rum balls in three evenings, while working full time. I'm not sure what my deal was last year, but I dominated it this year. And no, I didn't eat the rum balls, but I wanted to. There's always Easter. And when I delivered the cookies to the neighbours last night I promised they were better than last year's, so please keep shoveling our sidewalk.

And, to finish things off, I thought I would share with you how busy I've been at work this week. I took a nap, watched The Crown (all ten episodes) and The Santa Clause 3 (it was better than I expected), fixed a hole in my pocket, finished a baby blanket, knit newborn booties, and made a cowl, decided I didn't like it, and ripped it all out. The joys of being a phone-answering warm body. If I were wearing my sweatpants and sitting in front of my Christmas tree it would be perfect.

With my own two hands 2.0

I just put our Christmas tree away so I might as well stop putting off something else I've been meaning to do. I mean, mourning the loss of the tree isn't going to get me anywhere.

I posted in May about what I had created so far in 2013 and this is part two of that little saga. This part is actually the better part because there are babies.

I started off the second portion of 2013 by doing a little knitting for an international model, but sadly I don't have any pictures of her wearing my wares so you've just going to have to settle for a weird one of me, which you might recognize.

This bad boy made its way to Alaska and the lovely Angi. She wore it better, but you'll just have to trust me on this one.

So 2012 was the year that everyone announced their pregnancy. Every. Single. Person. And those that didn't announced it in 2013. For some perspective, there were five babies born in the last half of the year for people I'm close with. They showed up sometime between July 15th and December 1st. That's like a full basketball team. A full, properly gender mixed basketball team at that, too.

When my buddy Calvin was born in 2012 I made him a blanket. After that I just kind of kept going with the baby blankets. I mean, there were only two babies in 2012 so that was no big thang, but this year I had a challenge indeed.

First came Raya (Ray-ahhhh).

This picture does this child zero justice. She might be one of the most beautiful babies ever (but actually), but here she looks kind of freaky.

The blanket in its less-than-natural habitat.

Then there was little Leo a month and a half later.

Clearly he loves it.

This one was my biggest disappointment. It wasn't very big, it didn't look as nice as I'd hoped, and I was almost embarrassed giving it away. Apparently babies and their mommas actually don't mind little blankets because they're good for car seats as you can see. Or at least that's what people keep telling me.

Then there was Karleigh Belle.

I haven't met her yet because she's in Ontario, but this girl has some pretty excellent style already. 

Victor was next.

This pattern is one of my favourites (this being my third time making it). Victor is totally into it too, as you demonstrated by his fist pump.

I, too, am really into it.

Last but not least of the babies is my nephew Michael.

Michael knows where the beach is.

Like the hat? This blanket I can't take any credit for.

While we're on the subject of hats, I whipped up a couple others over Christmas, too.

One for Calvin...

(I unashamedly ripped this picture off Larissa's blog.)

And one for Victor.

Okay, here's a double whammy of Victor with his blanket AND his hat.

I also made Calvin a pair of mittens. Knitting happens during lazy Alberta holidays. Three hats and one pair mittens. Not bad, not bad.

That's exactly how I feel about mittens, too.

And then, of course... I should mention this:

This photo is proof that you can smile about anything later. 

Aaaaaand, I almost forgot, but I whipped one of these bad boys together for a Secret Santa gift. It was pumpkin coloured and I completely blanked on taking a picture. It was the first truly symmetrical Rae I've made yet. Success!

No baby blankets on schedule for 2014 yet, but we just got started and people love to procreate. Right now I'm finally working on a sweater for myself, but the world is my knitting oyster and the possibilities are endless for the rest of the year. And this sweater? It should be done by the end of the January instead of taking six months.

The cowl that made me swear like a sailor being attacked by the kraken while in a bar fight in a storm on the ocean.

Here's a little mid-week quickie to keep you tied over until I have a chance to write a real post this weekend.

I had a little spare time on my hands this past week so I decided to make myself a cowl with some leftover yarn. I've been wanting to make this cowl for months, but have just had other things to knit and fill my time.

Well, a week and a half ago I got a chance to get it done. It's really simple, just knitting in the round, but it finishes with the Kitchener stitch, which gives it a seamless end. Just know that it's a different kind of ending that's a bit more labour-intensive, but looks beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that you can't even see it. I've done it once before and was surprised by how easy it was. I figured this time it would be the same thing.

I started finishing my cowl on Monday night. I figured I'd be done before bed. Or maybe it was Sunday. Either way, it's Wednesday night and the darn thing just finished.

Something's hinky with this cowl. Everything went perfectly, except that my colours weren't connecting very nicely but that would be easy enough to hide, but when it came time to take out my provisional cast-on and do my Kitchener... it all hit the fan.

Cue me staying up later than I would have liked and having a half finished cowl to show for it. I'd had to undo it (my Kitchener) a couple times due to the seam being crooked and looking like garbage. I was mad. My wool started to break. I dreamt about the Kitchener stitch all night long. It was laughing at me and my epic failure. Last time was so easy!

Last night I had an hour or so to work on it, which should have been more than enough to do one simple row of finishing, but I STILL had to come back to it today.

The hidden part of the seam on the inside looks like garbage. Last night I made the concious decision that this cowl wasn't going to be perfect. It was going to have character. I'm starting to become a knitting perfectionist and the reason I love this pattern is that it's seamless. Why the heck would I want to have a freaking visible seam? If that's what I wanted I wouldn't have done the whole provisional cast-on (which was a pain in the butt, too, FYI) business.

Luckily, for the most part, the visible seam isn't too bad.

Until I finished.

ARG!

Because just thinking about it makes me want to throw something. Like a tantrum.

I may have done my Kitchener a little tight, but I just wanted it to be done, loose felt weird, and my wool was threatening to break AGAIN. So, my invisible seam wasn't quite so invisible because it was making a bit of a tighter line through my cowl.

Being the problem solver that I am, I gave the cowl a little tug, to encourage everything to stretch a little and maybe loosen up. Well. Everything else stretched but the freaking yarn I'd used on the seam FOR THE PAST THREE DAYS decided to snap. Right on the pretty side.

Seriously. What a cheap, plastic hoe!

I may have yelled. And growled. And decided that life may not be worth living anymore because this fun little side project had literally just decided that it would throw me over my knitting breaking point and ruin my whole beautiful cowl experience. Also possibly my life, because that's how excited I was for this cowl. I've been thinking about since May, gosh dangit!

I was faced with a few options. The first was the most dramatic one of ending it all and torching my knitting pile, vowing to never knit again, ripping my beautiful cowl to shreds and weeping in the least ladylike way imaginable while, naturally, cussing like a sailor and have a big old pity party for myself.

Another option was to say screw it and attempt to undo my Kitchener without ruining the rest of my work. This would probably take me a couple evenings and drive me to alcoholism and possibly an early grave because HOLY COW let's talk about three days of work undone that should have only taken one and the probability of dropping a stitch is one million percent yes for sure going to happen. Also, my freaking yarn would probably break again, several times I'm guessing, as it went through even more abuse and COME ON there's only so much a piece of yarn and a young woman can take, you know?

The final option was to call it a flop and fix it however possible. I opted for this choice. Clearly. I'm still alive and forming mostly coherent sentences.

I did the worst patch job ever with the help of my darning needle and, fueled by a lot of prayers to the knitting gods, wished and hoped and thought happy thoughts that my little (terrible) patch job would hold. Goodness knows if it will, but it seems to be at the moment.

In case you're wondering, I'm wearing the cowl as I write this. I still kind of want to spill coffee on it and run it over with my car because of all the crap it's put me through (yes, this is how problems are solved in the real world, kids) but I love its colours and if I don't think about it I can almost forget how many millions of flaws it has in it, not to mention the knitting equivalent of hair plugs that it has.

If I hadn't called it a day/cowl I know that this darn thing would be ruining my weekend and we simply can't have that. I wouldn't be able to finish putting up my Christmas decorations and tree this weekend, and instead my life would continue to look like it does right now. I'm currently sitting in a pile of scrap pieces of yarn, circular needles, scissors, and cookie crumbs. In my sweatpants. For reals.

And, since I know you're wondering, NO YOU CAN'T HAVE A FREAKING PICTURE OF THE STUPID THING RIGHT NOW. I need to come to terms with my epic failure of an easy freaking project before I can share it with the world. I promise that I will, though.

Now, I'm going to go to bed and cry myself to sleep and probably dream about the Kitchener stitch being used to sew me into a body bag or straight jacket.

With my own two hands.

May 1st was a special day because three years earlier I was kissing Karl in front of about 150 members of our friends and families. I have things to say about that, but they'll have to wait. Today I talk about some thing I have made with my own two hands. And a little bit of help in the form of pointy things.

Last year I did a rocking job of keeping track of the books I read and this year I hoped to add the movies I watched to that list. Yeah, not going to happen. With the infrequency of my posts as of late, it's ridiculous to subject you to that boring swill all the time. Because that would be all I write about. So, I'm cutting it off in favour of a much more entertaining and much less frequent thing to keep track of: My knitting.

Last year was a pretty good year for knitting and I wish I'd kept track of everything I'd made. I mentioned the blanket and the sweater and I even did a giveaway which I forgot about until just now. But what did it all add up to? Well, this year I'm going to find out.

So we're at the five month point in the year and I think I'm behind where I was last year. I know I am because last year at this time I was already trying to birth the sweater and had my first blanket under my belt as of a month ago. 

Right around New Year's I was working on a super quick project that I had been dying to do but had to wait until the gifts were made and gifted.

I recently took some photos of myself modelling my wares.

This outfit actually gives me a lot of joy because a) I haven't fit comfortably in those pants for a very long time, and b) that is a maternity shirt I bought (not pregnant, just like the shirt) so there's some weird size irony there.

Awkward self portrait, anyone?

Why I love this cowl. So big and bulky you can burrow in it.

I am a firm believer in being able to laugh at yourself. Since there's no easy way to take a photo of yourself modelling your knit wear without looking like you take yourself too seriously and a total tool, I embrace my awkward photoness. You have to, as the Brits would say, take the piss out of it. Or something like that.

I am also quite fond of jumping photos. Because I am a teenager.

Check out that hat.

It's another Jane Richmond pattern and I love it. It's a lot of fun to make and has some awesome texture. The pattern calls for it to be a little slouchy but I decided to have something a bit more fitted. I plan on making a slouchy one in future because I like it so much. And the colour? Yes, please.

And you know, since I liked that toque so much my mom naturally liked it, too, and asked for one.

Close up. Oh, so pretty.

And as you can see, she loves it.
(I don't let her jump near stairs because we can't handle another broken bone.)

Aside from some selfish knitting and then some requested toque knitting, I made something I'm pretty happy with. While it wasn't perfect, I learned some new skills and got another Calvin photo out of the process.

I made my little buddy Calvin a personalized sweater for his very first non-traumatic birthday.

Calvin and Larissa playing a rousing game of "Pants or no Pants?"

Since I didn't have any other year old kids around to compare the size to (because this one's in Alberta and I, most thankfully, am not) I ended up erring on the big side. As you can see, Calvin is sporting a sweater dress that would look absolutely fierce with some leggings. His sleeves may also need to be cuffed in true hipster style. Ironically enough, his head should probably stop growing ASAP if it's going to keep fitting into the sweater. Live and learn, I guess. I suggested a good stretch might do the trick. 

What's next on my needles? Well, you'll have to wait and see but rest assured, it's going to be good. I'm still sitting on some wool I got to make myself a sweater (I'm basically a sweater pro now) so that should happen soon.

Okay, friends. Go in peace.

2012 and then it's dead and gone forever.

We're a couple weeks into 2013 here, and I feel as though I have a little catching up to do. I could do a recap of how I spent 2012, but if you'd prefer, I did a recap of being 23 back in August. Since then nothing terribly exciting has happened. I mean, September did, but that wasn't very fun. At least the beginning wasn't. In the end Karl and I visited his brother and sister in law, which was enjoyable. Then my mom and I went to Washington to shop and rock.

After that it was all downhill. I guess. I started running (which, sadly, was not all downhill) and got a new job. My dream job, to be exact. Well, my dream organization. Someday I'll be the CEO, just wait. I also found out I'm going to be an aunt. As much as an only child can be an aunt on her side of the honourary family spectrum. Boo yeah.

So I guess "downhill" is a relative term. I think I always use it wrong anyway.

Well, there was one other exciting event, and that was my first blog giveaway. It was in honour of the one year(ish) anniversary of my blog. It took me a little longer than anticipated to get the scarf done, but I didn't let that bring me down too much because instead of shipping it, my one local entrant won. That meant I didn't need to ship it, technically giving me more time to even the playing field. Just roll with it.

And here it is!

Jessi, the triumphant victor, showing off her two newest accessories: baby Ethan and a killer Dirty Snow White scarf.

Yep, it's a fun thing to win a blog giveaway here at the now incorrectly named Watching Douglas Street. You know what's more fun that winning a giveaway, though? Hosting one. Chances are good that I'll do another one some time in the not too distant future. I might be trying to buy your love my now irregular posting schedule, but really I'm just trying to share the knitting love.You're welcome in advance.

I'm that person.

Our budgeting is kicking it up a notch. I know, you love reading about budgeting. Um, who wouldn't? Just kidding. I just thought I'd share with you that even though we got home just before midnight last night from a supplementary budgeting software session how-to it didn't end there. I woke up at 6:10 this morning and rolled over to look at the clock only to realize that not only did I only have less than an hour left of glorious sleep but that I had also spent the entire night reconciling bank accounts in Quicken. In my sleep. Yeah. And then because my brain loves me so much, once I'd finished reconciling our own bank accounts I volunteered to do other peoples'. Subconscious me is very giving with her time.

The best part of all that? While I slept and reconciled until the cows came home it didn't actually accomplish anything in the real, waking world. So tonight I get to reconcile my buns off, too. Good thing I'll watch Castle before bed to cleanse my brain palette. Hopefully.

This weekend I reconnected with my bed and my husband. Before you get freaked out, I'm just talking about sleep. For the first time in practically three months we both got to sleep past seven am. And it happened two days in a row. I'd forgotten how amazing it was to actually be on a normal person's schedule.

Mom met with the surgeon on Wednesday and she's now taking Furlo out in the mornings. Karl and I are now rotating evenings. Let me just say, starting the day without having to pick up massive dog poops is kind of amazing. 

Because of extra sleep and less dog poop in my life I kind of felt like a superhero this weekend, even though I'm coming down with some sickness. Thanks to Echinacea, Vitamin C, iron, and gummy multivitamins I haven't succumbed to germ city yet. It was close on Friday night when I went to bed before 11 because I felt like crap. Saturday morning I woke up more or less refreshed and renewed.

I'm still a touch on the germy side but I'm going to make it through unscathed I think. My yoga attendance and running schedule are going to be taking a bit of a hit, though. This is the fourth or fifth week I haven't gone to yoga but I'm not too worried. I've been diligently running so I feel like that kind of makes up for it. That and getting massages. Totally the same thing, right?

Actually, my running has been put on hold since Thursday. I ran Wednesday night and it was my last under 25 minute run (run ten, walk three, run ten) of my program. Yeah. Saturday afternoon was going to be my first 25 minute run. I was going to do it, die, then go celebrate with birthday cake at a friends' kid's birthday party. Makes sense, right?

I guess I hurt myself during my Wednesday run through too much impact on the right ball of my foot. It's all speculation, but I can't imagine how else I might have done it. By midday Thursday I was limping around the office on what felt like a bruised ball of my right foot. Sports related injury! Since then I've been taking it easy and wearing comfier shoes. 25 minutes will be hard no matter what, and limping through it isn't likely to add to the fun factor. It's almost back to normal now, though. Midday Thursday I also got hit with a case of the super tireds and slightly achy. Because who doesn't want to come down with the sickness right before starting a new job? For the record, I don't do exercise when I'm not feeling well. I power walked to work this year right before I got the flu. I thought I was going to die thousand deaths.

I already talked about my sickness. Because following a logical time line is just absurd. It's Monday, after all.

Overall the weekend was good. I got in more relaxing time than anticipated, and spent my entire Saturday morning knitting and catching up on television. Part of that was planned because of the aforementioned birthday party Saturday afternoon. I opted out of buying presents and instead made a toque for the two year old birthday boy. Which, by the way, blows my mind. How have my friends gone from being pregnant to having two year olds? It isn't logical.

It turns out, giving two year olds clothes isn't as popular as giving new borns or even one year olds clothes. Who knew? I felt kind of like "that person" after everyone else gave Clark (two years old!) toys and I presented him with a questionably sized toque. I have no idea what toddlers heads' are shaped/sized like. Apparently I nailed it. (Answer: Wider than you'd think, but also kind of shallow.) Good thing, too, because I finished a ball of yarn I'd had hanging around for awhile.

Even though Clark ripped the toque off the second his mom put it on him, opting instead to play with his Thomas cake topper, apparently he likes it a lot and wore it today. No big thing. And you know what? I guess I don't mind being the person that gives clothes when what you really want is Thomas the Tank Engine everything. It just means I got to break the bank to buy some Superman wrapping paper. And by break the bank I mean spend $5 on a glorified bag. Totally justifiable. That and I get to watch an obscene amount of Once Upon a Time and Revolution on a Saturday morning. 

(Is anyone else totally blown away that Thomas the Tank Engine is still popular? I was never big into Thomas but apparently he's been around forever. Now that's what I call good marketing.)

I also had a decaf coffee today from Tim's. Decaf coffee is just as potent to the non-caffeinated as the real stuff used to be. Without the brain explosions. I have since crashed. Is it bed time yet?

Today is my last Monday of actually watching Douglas street. Let the countdown begin.

This is new and exciting.

Okay guys, this is it. Things are getting crazy up in here.

A lot of bloggers do giveaways. I don't consider myself a blogger so much as a person that blogs because her day job is way too freaking boring not to. And I have a lot of feelings and wit that need to be shared. I started this blog almost a year ago because I really wanted to. Plain and simple. I didn't do it because I wanted to be a part of the bigger blogging community, promote myself, or even make money off of it. That's all good, too, because my readership is low and I really don't mind.

I blog because I want to and I do it for me. I do what I want and that doesn't usually involve doing linkups or whatever else unless I want it to. That's not to say that I don't appreciate those of you that read my blog and, even better, comment. It gives me the warm fuzzies, especially since I've never even met you but you still seem to like me. Actually, that might be why you like me. It might also be why I like you.

The point is, I like you and you like me and we have come together here through this blog to share something special. Me, you, polka dots, and pictures of my bathroom.

So I want to do a giveaway. Think of it as an almost one year of blogging hurrah. Whether you've been with me from the awkward beginning or are brand spanking new and getting going in the awkward present, it's all good.

I don't care where you're from, if you live in the same town as me or in another country, I just want to give you something I've made. I've found that most giveaways ask you to share and promote them. I'm not going to ask you to do that unless you want to. All you have to do is leave a comment with your favourite colour (or a colour you'd like the prize in). Easy peasy. You should also say something nice while you're leaving that comment. Just because. My blog my rules. Please note, you can only enter once. Otherwise I'll just get annoyed.

The giveaway will run for one week, and at the end I'll contact the winner to get their mailing information. It'll take me about a week (possibly two if life gets crazy town) to make the prize in the winner's chosen colour, then I'll send it off through the mail in an economical fashion. Sure, you'll be waiting a month to get your prize, but just think how excited you'll be when you get it in the mail and it's like Christmas all over again.

So what's the prize? I'm glad you asked! See what I'm wearing? You get that except better because it'll be yours.

For the record, I'm pretty sure a guy could look just as sassy in this scarf as I do. I'm also sorry for making that face at you.

Happy times and good luck!


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Yeah, you could look this darling, too. Minus the zombie mittens.

In which I might overreact.

We all have those stories about the time we went some place and the customer service was so bad we thought we were on Candid Camera. (Is that even still around?) Well, yesterday I had the worst customer service ever and it was all over a coupon.

I started a scarf for myself Thursday night and as I reached the halfway mark on Sunday it became clear that I wasn't going to have enough wool to complete the pattern so off I went to Michaels Monday evening to buy some supplies. Karl waited in the car.

I went in and asked for some help finding the wool I needed. It had moved since I was last there. The lady who helped me was awesome, and a couple years ago she actually gave me coupons to get a smoking good deal on our Christmas tree. As in... ridiculously awesome good deal. I should find out her name so I can name my first child after her or something.

When I went up to the till there were two open. One of them had about four people in line and the other was empty. I went up to the woman and asked if she was open, expecting a no. She said yes, sounded busy and frazzled, and I was surprised she didn't just send me to the other till. It looked like she was trying to make sense of a receipt.

I pulled up my 40% off coupon on my phone, she scanned it, and I looked at the screen. It said the wool was $4.99 so, surprised, I asked her how much it was originally, thinking that I didn't remember it being almost $10 a ball. She told me it was $4.99. I asked again if that was the original price and she said, again, that it was $4.99.

I paid with my debit card, sure that my 40% off coupon hadn't worked, and looked at my receipt. I didn't see my coupon on it. I asked her where it said how much money I saved. She informed me that I didn't save any money because my wool was on sale so my coupon wouldn't work. I told her the reason I kept asking before about the original price was because I also had the 25% off sale coupon, in case my wool was on sale. She stared at me, in a what do you want me to do about it? way. I told her I would have used to the 25% off coupon if I'd known the wool was on sale, but didn't see a sign at the wool that said it was and that's what I had been asking.

"You gave me the wrong coupon."

"But I had the other one, you just didn't answer my question."

She rolled her eyes at me and sighed like a fourteen year old. "So you want me to give you a refund?"

"Well that's why I was asking..."

"I can't give you a refund. You'll have to go to the other till." She nodded towards the other till that had 8 people in line.

There were four people in line behind me. "You know what? It's fine. I'll just go."

I stomped out to the car, got in, used some less than loving language, and started crying. Karl asked me if I wanted to go back in and complain but I told him it wasn't worth it. I really wanted to go back and throw a fit, but for $1.25 and my pride it wasn't worth it. I'm better than that. Instead I tweeted my rage. And cried a little bit more.

Dear Michaels employee, I'm sorry for asking you a question, that you rolled your eyes, ripped me off, and that I didn't complain. You suck.
— Anna Morton (@annaleemorton) November 13, 2012

Last night as I was sitting in front of The Walking Dead, knitting my sorrows away, I decided that I didn't really need that extra ball of wool. I'd just make the pattern an inch shorter and no one would be the wiser. When I go back to return that wool, which I will, I'm going to make a point of telling the person doing the return how rude the woman was that sold it to me. All with be a little bit righter in the world.

Seriously, who rolls their eyes? It's not like your company doesn't print coupons for people to use them. It's not like that $1.25 comes directly out of your paycheque. It's not like you get paid by commission or how many people come through your till. 

It's not like $1.25 is going to break the bank. With us consistently overspending on groceries right now, though, it feels like it might. There is just something so incomprehensibly frustrating about a grown, 40-something year old woman rolling her eyes at you.

We've all been there, but I really just wanted to headbutt her. You know, between the tears.

It's my blog and I'll self-portrait if I want to.

Bear with me here today. There may be spelling errors and misuse of words. I promise you I know my their/there/they're differences even if I do make a mistake today. I think I'm going into weekend mode a couple hours early.

I'm not going to tell you how tired I am today or how sick I am of walking my broken mother's dog. This is not one of those posts. I promise. We're all probably tired and don't want to get out of our warm beds in the morning to a freezing cold bedroom in order to pick up dog poop. Am I right? Feel free to use "dog poop" as a metaphor for going to work, showering, working out, or whatever it is your morning routine consists of. Let me tell you, I have a great deal of respect for anyone that can roll out of bed to shower or work out before heading to work/school at 8:30 in the morning. That is far beyond my happy scope.

Gosh, Anna, move on, why don't you?

I've started getting back into knitting. It is making my life so happy. I never really stopped knitting, I just slowed down and got bogged down in Eighties Sweater. Once that beast was put to bed (read: onto my mother's torso) I got back to the fun knitting. Yep, I started knitting for myself again.

It's funny, I can't think of anything I knit in 2012 before October that was for myself. Seriously, it was all for other people. Baby blankets, toques for Bolivian prisoners, baby toques, baby booties, and, of course, Eighties Sweater were all for other people. Maybe January saw some me knitting, but I can't honestly remember the last thing I made with myself in mind. Until last month.

Last month I made myself a super chunky cowl. I wanted something grey or black I could wear at work with an orange sweater. This didn't end up fitting the bill, being more casual that business, but whatever. I like it and it fits well under sweaters. 

How west coast do I look in this picture? And what do you think of my bathroom art? Van Gogh who, am I right?

I bought that sweater I'm wearing from Costco last year around this time for $20-$25. I liked it so much (even though I didn't really wear it) I got my mother in law one for Christmas. Her sweater's actually nicer because it's a gorgeous grey but they didn't have my size. I also don't think she wears it. Her loss! I have gotten SO many compliments on it since I resurrected it a couple weeks ago. 

That hat I'm wearing was the second toque I ever knit and the first thing I did with different colours. No big thing.

I should really start taking more photos of my finished products. Must catalog my awesomeness. And also ask Karl to take more photos of me.

For the record, I am an excellent model. Good lighting, good hair, and an only partly obstructed view of what I'm showing off. Where's my modelling contract?

After the cowl, which was actually a miniature break from Eighties Sweater, I moved onto what I had been dying to make since the beginning of the year: mittens, fools. (I don't actually think you're a fool, I just like to talk like a mean gangster sometimes. What's more gangster than mittens?) I have a couple pairs of mittens I've gotten from the major clearance rack at Reitmans the past couple years but they all have really big thumbs. Massive thumbs. Twice the size of my thumbs. I think my index finger would fit, for that matter. My thumbs feel very inadequate and look impotent. You know, if thumbs were... Nevermind. 

I decided that I would make myself mittens when I had the time. As it turned out, the time was now and the time was right. So I made myself some mittens. Standby for gleeful photos of myself in mittens hitting up the twitter in the next few days, but until then check out mitten number one in progress.

Knit during a zombie movie. Officially going to be zombie mittens.

Last night I put the finishing touches on my mittens. I followed the pattern exactly and my mittens fit perfectly. If perfectly were super snug with no wiggle room. Right now I'll take it but I can see myself making another pair of slightly roomier mittens in the future. They're a little short in the finger length, which is fine, but it makes the thumbs start a little bit above where my thumb actually sits. This is also okay because it means that my thumbs fit just fine. I'm not sure what kind of women this pattern was written for, but they must have lived in the 1920s because if my midget thumbs fit without adjusting the pattern (good thing I didn't, even though I was tempted) other people are going to be busting out of the mitten seems. At least their thumbs are.

Tonight I plan on catching up on this week's TV and knitting my latest me project. It's a scarf that I think should be done by the time I come back to work on Tuesday. I might be over estimating my knitting prowess and devotion, but we'll see. This, for sure, is something I can wear to work. Because it's awesome. It's also a pattern by Jane Richmond (who is local!) and the first (aka only) time I've ever bought a pattern. She had me at buy two get on free. 

I'm also excited to finish it so I can wear it to impress one of my friend who also made it. It was like a nerdy knitting moment when I saw her wearing the same scarf I had a pattern for. Then, well, I found some purdy green wool (for reals, it's not acrylic at all) at Michaels on sale and it was like, dang, make some knitting magic happen, yo! (still a gangster)

If it turns out this pattern is as quick as I think it will be I'll probably make some as Christmas gifts this year. And mittens. Because who wouldn't want cute mittens? I like to make things for myself to make sure they turn out well before doing them for other people.

The beginning of November is probably a little late to start thinking of all the lovely things I'd like to make people for Christmas, particularly if I want to get fancy (which I won't this year, that's for sure), but it's doable. I like to make my sister in law things and hope to actually make her something nice this year. Same with my mom.

You know, I should probably just start my Christmas knitting in January and stop giving people things throughout the year (aka my mom) just because. I could have a whole pile of mittens, scarves, toques, baby whatnots, and even socks (that's thus far uncharted territory) ready for whatever happens. Okay now I'm excited. Then I would be able to technically make everything for myself and give away what I didn't want/need.  BAM.

I win at life.

I've been working on this baby for seven months already.

Seven months might be a bit of an exaggeration. It might have been six, or maybe even eight? I'll explain.

Several months ago, my mom asked me if I wouldn't mind knitting her a sweater. It was a pattern that she had made when she was pregnant with me (so in the eighties), only her version was bright blue and now looks kind of like a bright blue afro. It's made from cheap acrylic yarn and is now in its mid-twenties.

I was a little hesitant at first because the sweater is, as I've already mentioned, very eighties. The pattern gives you both a snowflake version (with matching knitted floor length skirt) and a contrast band version. The contrast band version is shown on the back cover with a magenta body and sleeves complimented nicely by a black collar, waist band, and cuffs. There are also feathered mullets. I kid you not.

It was my first sweater, though, so I figured I'd give it a go. Mom spent about $40 on yarn (which was cheap, all things considered) and I put in the same amount of time lots of women do gestating babies. Seriously, it was a process. I wasn't excited about the outcome because I knew what it would be. It'd be a brown version of the giant blue afro sweater sitting on my living room couch giving me the stink eye. Because that's what happens when you're rocking the eighties' yarn with the eighties' pattern.

It was a long process for several reasons. First of all, I wasn't overly excited about the amount of time I'd be spending with that cheap acrylic yarn. I'm not a big acrylic fan; I like to keep things at least a little natural. It didn't matter, though, because I'd told Mom going into it that the results would eventually be like here other sweater, and if she wanted a nice sweater then maybe we should have used a different pattern. But she was ready for it, and I was down with having my first sweater project funded by someone else.

So I knit. And knit and knit and knit. It wasn't a particularly exciting sweater, just lots of knitting.

The second reason it took me so long to finish had to do with babies. While I was gestating my sweater baby, a couple of my friends were doing the same with their human babies. That's when I decided to do something a little more exciting than work on the sweater that it was quickly getting too warm for, and make baby blankets. Remember my battle with Calvin's blanket? I'll come back to that pattern someday and make it my own. And by that I meant do it perfectly and then shove it in its own face. Bam! Because that's totally logical.

I also made another blanket this summer. This time I just adapted a cowl pattern I really liked and made it bigger and flatter. And awesomer. Here's a picture:

Try to ignore Ethan and focus on the awesome blanket in the background.

Here's another picture so you can really grasp the hugeness of my fantastic blanket making skills:

Dang, look at that gorgeous blanket!

Again, try not to look at Ethan. He isn't what's important here.

I didn't take any of those pictures, for the record. I just "borrowed" them off Facebook. Apparently I didn't take any pictures of my blanket, and if I did they're sitting on my computer at home somewhere, completely useless, instead of being on my phone like they should be.

Between making blankets for the people that were making babies, and actually knitting less because I was spending less time in front of the television, that eighties' sweater took forever. I always told Mom what I was putting her on hold for so that she wouldn't wonder if I still loved her. I did, I just figured the cold weather wasn't coming for a while and the babies were. 

Well, I wanted to have the sweater done by the end of September. Then I guess life happened and it was not done. But it was close. I actually finished all the pieces a week or two ago and was just putting on the dreaded seaming of everything together. I hate sewing. I hate seaming. That's probably why I like toques so much.

I also ran out of yarn. I had about half the collar left when it happened. I was a little nervous that we might have bought a discontinued colour, and when I came back from Michaels my worst fears were realized. 

There was, in fact, a very slight difference in the shades of the browns. I did what every professional knitter does in this situation and just kept going. The collar folds, it's not a big deal, and in the light of our living room you couldn't even tell.

You can't even tell, right? This picture actually does a really good job of making it look 100x worse than it actually is. It also makes everything look green for some reason.

Since I'm a trooper, and was not about to go back and spend any more time than needed on Eighties Sweater (I am now personifying it),  I did the next logical thing: I persevered. Who says I don't have character?

I laid everything out in the middle of our living room floor (in case you're wondering, that really is all the space our living room floor has to offer between the furniture) and psyched myself up for the incredibly fun task of sewing that bad boy together. Because Eighties Sweater is a bad boy, even if it is dated. It's an eighties bad boy that rocks a mullet and neon high tops. (In other words, it thinks it's cool but it really isn't.)

 Thursday night the process began with not one but two instructional phone calls to a friend. Until you're sitting there with a darning needle in hand you don't really realize how intimidating sewing a sweater together can be. What if you you put the arms on crooked or too low or things end up wonky? There's a science to it, and I needed guidance.

Friday night I spent more time on the phone with TELUS trying to get our PVR to behave than I wanted to (read: TWO HOURS) so I didn't get as relaxing a night as I'd have liked in front of the TV to watch Grimm and finish Eighties Sweater. Saturday was also a write off because I had too much going on.

Sunday morning I had to take the dog out at seven so I decided not to go back to bed and work on that bad boy. It was time to get it done. After church I came home and finished Eighties Sweater. I'd woken up tired and taught the second most draining Sunday School class of my life, and by the time the final end was sewn in I was exhausted. I lay down in the middle of the living room floor, which at that point was covered in yarn scraps, and fell asleep as Karl watched NASCAR. I just lay back and slept in the pile of my success. It was actually a very poetic moment, even though I probably looked like a hobo.

After a half hour or so I stripped off my cardigan and donned Eighties Sweater. Mission accomplished. It didn't actually fit me that well, and the sleeves were a little tight, but it was real. I was sweater victorious. And that sucker was nice and warm.

 I demanded that Karl take photos of me wearing it so that I could document this moment. I'm way past my first steps and first day of school, but I can celebrate my first sweater. And how fitting that it should be reminiscent of the decade I was born in and have no recollection of.

Woo! Eighties Sweater!

Then I made Mom try it on and model it for me. It actually fits her better than it does me, since I have the torso of a snake (in that it's really long, not because it's particularly bendy or thin) and she was really happy. I was a little horrified that I'd created such an eighties monster (the sweater, not my mom). At least the eighties are in right now.

This reminds me of a toilet paper commercial. "Hurray! Two-ply!"

I informed Karl that if I were to sell it, my sweater would retail for $300. He told me no one would ever pay that much, to which I have to agree, but I kind of doubt anyone aside from my mom would even pay the $40 it cost for the materials. And that's without factoring in labour or the average consumer's lack of patience needed to wait over half a year for a sweater. I'd also be selling my labour short if I only charged that much, but since it's my first sweater I'd be willing to take the cut.

Now toques, those I could turn a profit off of.

Challenging.

It's a beautiful sunny afternoon. It's not as warm as it has been, though, and the wind is certainly picking up. Work has been painfully slow this week and I haven't walked to work once. I had a good workout at yoga last night, but I still have a lot of pent up energy that I think I might be able to direct creatively.

Oddly enough I've been looking at a fashion related blog and it's not drawing me into the depths of low self esteem and despair. I'll admit I'm a little disappointed that only model thin women are represented in it but I recognize that high fashion is targeted to the skinny. I'm curious, though, as to what a woman closer to my size might wear to be a contender in the high fashion realm. I have no interest in high pants or oddly placed zippers, I'm just genuinely curious. I'm also contemplating how odd I would look in some of those shoes combined my selection of work clothes. They seem to bridge the gap between sloppy and stylish. I'm seeing fashion as a creative outlet and halfheartedly wandered through the mall on my lunch break seeking realistic inspiration.

Last night I found that my knitting vigour was renewed. After a few weeks of no motivation I finally started getting excited to do new things last night. New, colourful things. Everything I'm working on right now is brown and I think it's bringing me down. I feel like my creative juices are flowing and, much as I want to create hot pink toques, I need to find a balance with my knitting and other creative outlets. Well, this blog is about as creative as my other outlets get and I think it's time to reach out just a little bit farther.

Maybe I'm still experiencing the high from reading a good book, but I have a desire to write. When I was younger I always thought that I was going to be a writer. Books were my truest friends and I wanted nothing more than to write my own. I do have quite the imagination, you know. My problem is a lack of motivation, a truly scattered brain, and the occasional starting point but nowhere to finish. I get an idea and think that it'd be fun to run with but I don't go much farther. I haven't written in many years but when I did I would only get so far before running out of steam.

Not counting the garbage I produced in elementary school, I've only ever finished one short story and that was for in grade nine. I remember being rather proud of it. I feel like I should try and dig it out to see if it really was as excellent as I thought. I think, though, that my real pride came from finishing something in a way that I found satisfactory. It's hard to find a satisfying ending and in school everything tended to peter off once the page limit was in place.

I feel like being creative leaves you open to more criticism. It's not just what you're physically presenting but what your brain is pouring out as its best. People actually get to see inside your brain and that makes you pretty vulnerable. At least that's how I've always perceived it. I think I need to let go of that and just give writing a try. I am not optimistic about the results but I think it will be a fun experiment. I'm hoping so anyway. You're probably thinking that blogging makes me vulnerable just as much as writing does, but I don't know. Have a conversation with me and you're bound to see some overlap in what I write and what I say because, I'll be honest, I am an expert at repeating myself, especially if what I'm saying I find interesting.

Even writing this I feel so absurdly open for criticism but, I think, it's time for a little audience interaction. I need some ideas. I want to try getting an outside idea and seeing how it grows into, hopefully, something a little bigger and a little better. We'll see if I can follow through with something like I never could before. I am, after all, a university graduate with countless papers to my name whether the subject matter interested me or not.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Everest is acrylic.

I'm not a big goal setter. It's not that I don't get things done, I'm just not the kind of person who formally sets a lot of goals, written or otherwise, in order to get things done. I'm much more casual. With our impending Disneyland trip on the horizon I felt like I needed to start making some hard and fast goals for myself before we left.

The first goal was relatively simple. After a solid week or two of eating like teenagers with deep pockets and fast metabolisms I vowed that Karl and I would eat a home cooked meal every night this week in the lead up to our road trip. So far so good, although my meals have had varying degrees of success. Tuesday I ended up eating nachos home alone while Karl got taken out by his boss for a burger and beer. Since we didn't pay for it I guess it'll. Last night was grilled cheese with green peppers to make it more balanced. I was still a little off my game from my migraine nausea so I let it slide. Tonight is vegetable crazy stir-fry. We have a lot of broccoli, carrots, and peppers that won't survive our absence so tonight I say, challenge accepted! I will use all the veggies in our fridge to make something both delicious and nutritious.

My other goal has been a bit of a frustrating one and what I made you wait for on Wednesday. My dinner plans are not top secret. You'll probably remember that nearly two weeks ago I held a baby shower for a friend of mine. Well, about three or four weeks before that I decided that I was going to knit her a baby blanket. It was going to be awesome. She's a very neutral coloured person, so I picked out a fantastic bright greeny-blue yarn that was vibrant and gender neutral all at once. I totally feel in love with the colour. I had struggled for a while with what pattern I was going to do and finally settled for the one that I loved the most but knew would be the biggest challenge. I figured I would buckle down and get it done.

Then the problems started. I got sick, grossly sick, and didn't have the energy to do anything on the blanket. I had already started but ended up losing a full weekend of potential knitting as well as a few evenings because of my germs. They were beating me down. A week or so after I had pretty much recovered and a week and a half before the shower I found some huge, glaring errors in what I had done so far. Massive ones. I had to take a serious step back and ask myself if I would be happy giving that to someone. The answer was no. So I undid in less than an hour what it had taken me two weeks of on and off work to get done.

Pre-rip

It was time to get serious. I started that blanket with renewed zeal. I could do it! I could! Well, I couldn't, and I didn't. I knit a last minute baby toque to give to the future mother to be at the shower. I didn't feel like I was shortchanging her; aside from the shower I had also given her a Jars of Clay newborn sleeper that said "Lift me up!" I was confident that she didn't know I had something else up my sleeve gift-wise. I will surprise!

After the shower I realized something else amiss with the blanket. Yet another mistake in the pattern. This one was only 15 or so rows deep, not the whole thing, so I diligently knit backwards, unwilling to rip it out and hope that I could fit it back on my needles. I had come too far to give up now and I knew that ripping it out would be just that. So more hours than I'd care to admit were spent backtracking and, one panicked visit to a fellow knitter later for guidance and second opinion, I was back on track to success. All this with only a week and a half until Disneyland departure.

The blanket is way too complex to do in a car and the baby's due two days after we come back. That blanket needed to be finished before Disneyland, or so help me I would not be able to enjoy my trip. It was my Everest. That mountain kicked me back down and a I climbed back up, time and time again. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that I spent at least 50% of my time fixing mistakes and knitting backwards than making forward progress. I'd almost be willing to wager that it was an even split between what is in the finished product and what was taken out, corrected, etc.

I was bringing it to work to do during my lunch hours. Ten minutes of eating, fifty of knitting, and the occasional commentaries by my coworkers. I persevered! I was plagued by added stitches, dropped stitches, miscounting in my pattern. It was terrible. Sometimes every row would be done wrong. Eventually I had to take a step back and be reasonable with myself. One or two stitches here and there were not going to make or break the pattern. It was looking the way it was supposed to and that's all that matters.

My new, post baby shower, goal was to finish the blanket Wednesday night, clean it, and deliver it Thursday right after work. So it wouldn't be the square dimensions the pattern recommended? Big deal! That baby already had a giant blanket made for it, it could use a small one. I wanted to finish the whole thing before I started to hate it, and I was getting dangerously close to that point. This was no longer just a blanket for some unborn fetus, this was a personal challenge that needed to be completed. Failure was not an option. Tuesday I decided that I would finish my pattern rep and do one more before calling it a day. Then Wednesday night happened and, try as I might, I couldn't knit more than a row or two during the movie. My brain just couldn't handle it and I kept making bigger and bigger mistakes.

Yesterday I decided to nix the final pattern repetition and call it. I still hadn't packed, or going beyond the mental planning stage of what I wanted to bring to California. It was time to stop the madness.

Last night I came home from work and finish the blanket. Shortly after 7 we ate dinner; food was second to blanket completion. I rinsed the blanket in the tub to rid it of all he germs, dog hair, and cuss words, hung it in the laundry room then, after dinner, dried it almost successfully before depositing outside the front door of its new home.

Smells like victory.

Looks like victory.

A weight was lifted. I climbed Everest. I almost gave up in the process as snow storm after snow storm tried to beat me down, but I succeeded and emerged victorious. The best part of the whole experience was that I was fully prepared to be disappointed with the finished product. And I wasn't. It's not perfect by any means, and I can offer a 100% guarantee that there is not, nor will there ever be, another blanket quite like that one. I'm still happy with the result. And I hope I just didn't give some friends something they don't actually like. I'm hoping that I'm not suffering from the classic parental case of thinking your children are the most attractive ones ever. Yeah, I've seen some hideous babies with delusional parents before but people still tell them their kids are cute. Either way, I climbed that mountain and whether they like it or not I brought them back a memento from the trip.