Yeah, I swear every now and then. I guess that makes me a naughty little monkey. If you have a problem with that, more power to ya. Everyone needs a hobby.
WIPs
Gong Stampato
FOs
Hot Head x 2
Ribbed-for-Her-Pleasure-Scarf
'04
Hot Head x 1
Top Secret
Black Bag
Zeeby's Bag
Big Bad Baby Blanket
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Wednesday, December 01, 2004 |
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Monday, November 29, 2004 |
So, here are those pictures of the very first sweater that I've knit...ever.
 
~Cut me some slack. I'm still learning how to post pics on here.~
I love my sweater!! So adorable!! So comfy! So totally mine!! I'm not into winter and I hate cold weather clothes, but I love wearing this sweater. Guess it doesn't hurt that I'm damn proud.
Some people say they have a hard time knitting for themselves. They say they feel bad unless they're making gifts for other people. I think it's stressful to knit for someone else. I don't mind the little mistakes along the way, and if I sew a crappy seam, I can fix it later. But, you give someone a knit gift, and you can't control what happens after it leaves your hands. If it starts to come apart or something weird...I don't know. That scares me. Plus, people usually don't appreciate the amount of time and money goes into a handmade craft. I'd never make someone something knit unless I thought they would love it for all it's worth (and maybe even a little more!).
In other news, mom's sweater is going s l o w. I have 10 in. knit on the back and THAT'S IT. That's all I've got, ladies. I'll be able to pick up the pace this week because my last class is on Tuesday. Then, no more school 'till January. But the point is, I need to get my needles clicking because Christmas is fast approaching and I don't want my wonderful family to get their presents next year.
What's worse than getting slammed at work? Being the only girl in the middle of five punchy boy co-workers. Last night I got taped, teased, bombarded with paperclips and suckered into more than my share of manual labor. Plus, I got completely dissed on by a doctor in front of my co-worker who has an ego the size of Texas. I was bumming, but after I told the boys that they were going to send me to an early grave, they started being a *little* bit nicer. However, having a stool sample handed to me in a gift bag was not what I considered a peace offering.
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Friday, November 19, 2004 |
Things you should never say to an anorexic I'm still not used to people who say rude things to me...at work I mean. If I'm kickin' it with my friends and some jack-hole walks over and tells me that I'm ulgy, well, I rip their face off. They frown on that behavior at work. It's hard for me to smile pretty and do my job when a patient tells me something that I would have no tolerance for 10 steps outside the door.
For example...
I was about to draw blood on this 20 year old kid and he asked me, "Is that a picture of you on your badge?" I'm thinking, no genius, it's a picture of someone else on my badge but I tell him, yeah, that's me. He says, "Wow, it looks like it should be your mom." He follows that up with "Yeah, I'm kinda afraid of needles." A word to the wise, don't insult someone who is weilding a sharp, pointy object. I've had other people comment on my badge picture, which I think is so rude. I get it! It's a bad picture! That's the last damn thing that I want to be told in the middle of a 12 hour shift!
On the back of my badge, I have picture of my pets. I like having them there because it usually strikes up conversation with people. I remember one time this woman asked me about the picture of Nora.
"Is that a snake?" "Yep! That's my little Nora." "What do you feed her?" "Oh, she's just a baby right now, so I feed her newborn mice" Swear to god, the woman goes, "Shame on you." I was really offened by that. A'int no one gonna tell me to not feed my snake. But of course, I said nothing. Now, the whole point of this is to highlight the very worst thing you can say to a young female.
Last night...a woman asked me....if I was pregnant!!!
I'm not going to lie, I weigh about 140 and I'm 5'6''. I may not be Kate Moss, but I consider myself thin. And, granted, the scrubs make me look a little heavier, but, damn. My soul shead a tear when she asked that question. Course, it's pretty hard to yell at an 80 year old woman.
I told my co-worker and buddy Heather about it and she had an even worse story. Several years ago, when she was anorexic, a woman asked if she was pregnant. Heather weighed like 118 lbs. at the time, so it was a totally bogus question. When she told the woman she wasn't pregnant, the woman put her hand on Heather's tummy and said, "Are you sure?" Can you believe how rude people are?!
I used to be anorexic. I never got deathly skinny or anything, but it's still a hard mindset to break out of. I'm glad that I'm stable enough to be able to brush that question off because it could have cost me a significant amount of food in the past. I think that it would be a lot better for all of us if we gave people compliments instead of trying to insult them. And, above all else, never try to guess if a woman is pregnant. If you're not in a hospital, you might just get slapped in the face.
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Thursday, November 18, 2004 |
Knit-er-ific Christmas plans I started on my mom's Christmas sweater. It's already looking to be a bigger endevor than I originally planned.
The pattern is 3timesChic from knitty.com. I ended up using Lion Bran Chenille because I thought that it would look and feel really good (ew. Not how I ever expected to describe a present for my mother. heh). I'm using US 13's and it's not as easy to work with the Chenille as I expected because it has very little give. Damn acryllic. I knit two and a half inches last night and I have serious doubts about the way this pattern is going to roll out. I may switch to a smaller needle. We'll see.
I want to make a pair of socks for dad because I think he'd get a kick out of it, hah. No really, he's going to think it's great. It should be interesting because I've never made socks before and, oh yeah, my dad wears a size 14 shoe. The boys are getting beanies. Actually, I promised I'd make them Hot Head from Stitch 'n Bitch (did I already mention this?) over the summer but I've put it off long enough that a) they've kinda forgotten about it and b) it's going to make a great Christmas present. Jon, my brother, is getting nothing handknit. My bestest best friends are going to have to find out what I've got cookin for them on Christmas morning cuz I'm not going to give away secrets here. Muah!
Last night, I commandeered the computer from Jon so I could print out patterns and head to the yarn store. Two minutes later, we find out that we're totally out of printer paper. I'm frantically scurring around, trying to find scrap sheets of paper that have one blank side so I can get the whole pattern. Mom and Jon made a trip to the store to pick some up and I messed around on the computer for a bit. When they got back, my brother started to print out the report he was working on and I left for the LYS. Just as I was walking out the door my brother pops his head out of the computer room. "We're out of toner." Classic.
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Friday, November 12, 2004 |
The Worm, a poem about men I had to write a poem for my WRT 102 class. And I was in kinda a bad mood.
The Worm
By Leah
A worm came crawling to me once
Dressed in slime and crowned with mud
Revolting was his every feature
He did not earn the rank of creature
Before my eyes, his looks were changed
Every hint of ugly drained
Beauty came with passing time
And handsome was this worm of mine
With angles wings he wooed my eyes
The worm in clothes of butterflies
A lovely dancing entourage
Disguised his masterful facade
When dance was done, he looked to land
For him I offered up my hand
His graceful perch onto my finger
Made me beg for him to linger
Yet still, he left and travled down
Cast off his wings and met the ground
Every squirm back to his hole
Shed off something beautiful
Before the last segment of tail
Had disappeared into his lair
His trip above came clear to me
The touch of this worm was deadly
And I had by the worm been chosen
An easy target for his poison
Now I kill the butterflies
For they may be worms in disguise
I know it's painfully clear that I'm not a poet, but I've read some of my brother's stuff and I want to be able to write like him. It's a long way off, but better for me to put out something crappy than give the whole operation up.
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