Been a while since you've seen any knitting activity over here, eh? Yeah, check out the name of my blog now. So of course it's time for some knitting content, right?!
This was from One Skein. Tess saw me trying it on as a hat when I was about halfway through knitting it; naturally she had to give it a try. It fit her better once I felted it. Works out well except for those handles/holes over her ears.
Just as I predicted, it's looking like a Dead Raccoon bag (I used a skein left over from a sweater for Ben), so I've purchase some bright pink Lamb's Pride Bulky to try again. Not that I'm a Hot Pink kinda gal, but I'm more that than a Dead Raccoon kinda gal.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Motown Philly back again
Remind me not to drag E anywhere ever again. Remind me not to let my family dictate my travel plans. I wanted to leave Mr. Crabby at home with Little Crab, but Mom wanted the whole Famn Damily along for my brother's wedding. What a pain in the ass.
Things went okay until we tried to return home. Seems that even if you check in online the night before, and get your seat assignments, the airline can switch the flight to a smaller plane and "lose" 9 seats (including our 3). While there were a couple of kind folks willing to give up seats, we (a) were the last to check in at the airport, and thus last in line to get abandoned seats and (b) needed someone to give up 3 seats at once, which wasn't going to happen, even if we were first to the airport that day.
That said, Philadelphia is really a lovely city. One I wouldn't mind returning to when the kids are older (or, better yet, without the kids. Or Mr. Crabby).
E is just a terrible traveler. Up next: taking Mr. Crabby to Mackinac Island. Now, in addition to not liking airplanes, he claims to not like bicycles or horses. I think I'm screwed.
Things went okay until we tried to return home. Seems that even if you check in online the night before, and get your seat assignments, the airline can switch the flight to a smaller plane and "lose" 9 seats (including our 3). While there were a couple of kind folks willing to give up seats, we (a) were the last to check in at the airport, and thus last in line to get abandoned seats and (b) needed someone to give up 3 seats at once, which wasn't going to happen, even if we were first to the airport that day.
That said, Philadelphia is really a lovely city. One I wouldn't mind returning to when the kids are older (or, better yet, without the kids. Or Mr. Crabby).
E is just a terrible traveler. Up next: taking Mr. Crabby to Mackinac Island. Now, in addition to not liking airplanes, he claims to not like bicycles or horses. I think I'm screwed.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Mom Style
I begged E to stay home this morning so that I could sleep in (HA), or at least have some help with the kids ONE morning a week. So he is off on a bike ride with Tess, while I'm here at home scrapping while Ben naps.
I haven't been able to crop at home in a while; I'm always sitting down to do it and then finding a million things to do around the house. Laundry. Dusting. Vacuuming. Feeding kids.
Now that we have the house up for sale, it's pretty spotless. Well, that, and I'm out of boxes. Our first showing stated that we still show "a little clutter," holy crap, what more can I get rid of? Either that, or put up a sign, "beware when you open closets." Yeah, that'll sell it. "Wow, they have a million closets, but for God's sake, DON'T LOOK INSIDE OF THEM!"
The one cool find during all the packing was my tripod. I KNEW I had it, although for a brief moment I thought I might have loaned it to the evil ex-fiance, thus had no hope of seeing it again.
Now I can participate in Mrs Reed's awesome Flickr group, Mom Style. I've been wondering how to take pictures for it for a while now (prop the camera up on a plant stand?) but that issue is solved.
Look for my lame wardrobe to make its daily appearance over at Flickr. You'll feel superior, no doubt.
I haven't been able to crop at home in a while; I'm always sitting down to do it and then finding a million things to do around the house. Laundry. Dusting. Vacuuming. Feeding kids.
Now that we have the house up for sale, it's pretty spotless. Well, that, and I'm out of boxes. Our first showing stated that we still show "a little clutter," holy crap, what more can I get rid of? Either that, or put up a sign, "beware when you open closets." Yeah, that'll sell it. "Wow, they have a million closets, but for God's sake, DON'T LOOK INSIDE OF THEM!"
The one cool find during all the packing was my tripod. I KNEW I had it, although for a brief moment I thought I might have loaned it to the evil ex-fiance, thus had no hope of seeing it again.
Now I can participate in Mrs Reed's awesome Flickr group, Mom Style. I've been wondering how to take pictures for it for a while now (prop the camera up on a plant stand?) but that issue is solved.
Look for my lame wardrobe to make its daily appearance over at Flickr. You'll feel superior, no doubt.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Getting Ready
This is what I spent my weekend cleaning up. Seriously -- it took two days to get this mess straightened out.
I don't even recognize the interior of our home anymore. We have been living with clutter for so long that our home is now like new (but alas, not much bigger than I remember). Thus, we have it on the market.
I think we have it priced fairly -- there are lots of homes priced above us, and just a handful below. Two Realtors we spoke to suggested pricing it in the lower range just to move it, but since I'm not THAT interested in moving (actually, I wasn't that interested in cleaning and preparing our home for showing) I really fought taking at $15,000 hit on our place just to get it off our hands.
There are lots of things I love about our house, things I will miss. The peaceful backyard. Walking into the village. Neighbors.
But I do look forward to having room to entertain, and perhaps even a nice, warm, dry scrap room. Somewhere where the dryer buzzer doesn't scare the daylights out of me while I'm tuned in to my Ipod, scrapping late into the night.
And perhaps, a room as clean as this, all the time.
I don't even recognize the interior of our home anymore. We have been living with clutter for so long that our home is now like new (but alas, not much bigger than I remember). Thus, we have it on the market.
I think we have it priced fairly -- there are lots of homes priced above us, and just a handful below. Two Realtors we spoke to suggested pricing it in the lower range just to move it, but since I'm not THAT interested in moving (actually, I wasn't that interested in cleaning and preparing our home for showing) I really fought taking at $15,000 hit on our place just to get it off our hands.
There are lots of things I love about our house, things I will miss. The peaceful backyard. Walking into the village. Neighbors.
But I do look forward to having room to entertain, and perhaps even a nice, warm, dry scrap room. Somewhere where the dryer buzzer doesn't scare the daylights out of me while I'm tuned in to my Ipod, scrapping late into the night.
And perhaps, a room as clean as this, all the time.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Looks easy, right?
Just prop up your baby next to the same stuffed animal every month and get a nice tally of his growth over the first year. Easy, right?
Not so very...
First, you have to involve Big Sister.
Get her to hide behind the couch (arm) and keep baby there by distracting him with funny voices.
Only Big Sister -- FOR ONCE -- does not understand the concept of "hide."
You know, so you CAN'T BE SEEN.
Then, of course, baby takes note of MOM. Taking the PICTURE (or, trying to...)
And he has to do one of those classic "Hi Mom!" TV shots...or perhaps a "could I drool on your lens a sec, Ma?" question is being posed.
Suddenly Big Sister realizes her help is no longer needed.
She is being asked to GET OUT OF THE PICTURE.
Zut, alors!
THEN Mom realizes he crawled all the way across the couch for...
...the remote.
So, let him play with it!
Now he has no interest in anything else.
Including the large, green Ugly Doll put there expressly for his amusement.
FINALLY, the Money Shot.
Sister no where in sight.
Remote firmly in grasp.
(see first photo, above).
Not so very...
First, you have to involve Big Sister.
Get her to hide behind the couch (arm) and keep baby there by distracting him with funny voices.
Only Big Sister -- FOR ONCE -- does not understand the concept of "hide."
You know, so you CAN'T BE SEEN.
Then, of course, baby takes note of MOM. Taking the PICTURE (or, trying to...)
And he has to do one of those classic "Hi Mom!" TV shots...or perhaps a "could I drool on your lens a sec, Ma?" question is being posed.
Suddenly Big Sister realizes her help is no longer needed.
She is being asked to GET OUT OF THE PICTURE.
Zut, alors!
THEN Mom realizes he crawled all the way across the couch for...
...the remote.
So, let him play with it!
Now he has no interest in anything else.
Including the large, green Ugly Doll put there expressly for his amusement.
FINALLY, the Money Shot.
Sister no where in sight.
Remote firmly in grasp.
(see first photo, above).
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Notice anything?
Definitely NOT a scrapable moment. My MIL noticed yesterday that one side of Tess's hair was shorter than the other...just enough that I didn't notice it.
I looked Tess in the eye and asked her -- quite calmly, I must say, and with genuine curiosity -- whether the hairstylist Grandma took her to up north had done that on purpose. I got two lies in a row, then, when I promised not to get mad, she admitted to cutting it herself.
"And where did you put the hair you cut off?"
"In a bucket. In my room."
Henceforth the scissors have been relinquished and she must do all crafts in my presence. Her hair is still long in back, so she's got a kind of modified (gack) mullet. Which will look just GREAT when she is flower girl at my brother's wedding next month. SIGH.
I gave my MIL a chance to even it up, and she hacked off too much on the other side. She usually does a great job with Tess's bangs and I've even had her cut some off the back in the past; Tess must have wiggled this time. Grr.
All right, people, it's got to be said. It was cute (and I loved everyone's reaction) when he was 4 months old and 19 pounds. I was even okay when he hit 22 pounds at 6 months. But if one more person comments on how much they love fat babies, I'm gonna start takin' names. Because I have constant back pain and he can understand more than you realize.
Oh my God, I've got to go munch those bread dough thighs. Later 'gators.
I looked Tess in the eye and asked her -- quite calmly, I must say, and with genuine curiosity -- whether the hairstylist Grandma took her to up north had done that on purpose. I got two lies in a row, then, when I promised not to get mad, she admitted to cutting it herself.
"And where did you put the hair you cut off?"
"In a bucket. In my room."
Henceforth the scissors have been relinquished and she must do all crafts in my presence. Her hair is still long in back, so she's got a kind of modified (gack) mullet. Which will look just GREAT when she is flower girl at my brother's wedding next month. SIGH.
I gave my MIL a chance to even it up, and she hacked off too much on the other side. She usually does a great job with Tess's bangs and I've even had her cut some off the back in the past; Tess must have wiggled this time. Grr.
All right, people, it's got to be said. It was cute (and I loved everyone's reaction) when he was 4 months old and 19 pounds. I was even okay when he hit 22 pounds at 6 months. But if one more person comments on how much they love fat babies, I'm gonna start takin' names. Because I have constant back pain and he can understand more than you realize.
Oh my God, I've got to go munch those bread dough thighs. Later 'gators.
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