Come and gone

Since my last post...
Christmas has come and gone.
New Year has come and gone.
Valentine's Day has come and gone.
February has just about come and gone.
And what do I have to show for all this time that has passed? I'm ashamed to admit it, but not a whole lot.

However, I do have some cool photos taken of ice formations along the south shore of Lake Superior. We visited my sister and her family in Marquette, Michigan over the holidays. The only reason I can think of why people would live so far north is simply poor life choices. The snow and ice was pretty...for a week.

Presque Isle Park, Upper Harbor

It was a fun visit full of eating, playing cards, taking silly photos, snowshoeing, sledding, drilling random holes in the ice on the lake, playing with the dogs, snowball fights, shoveling snow. Yes, shoveling. I add that only because Zack had never really shoveled snow before. He was pretty jazzed about being able to shovel 6 inches of fresh snow off the deck in totally random patterns that would make a seasoned northerner cringe. (Only those who shovel/have shoveled on a daily basis will understand.)

Zack and me

Super yummy yeast rolls

Christmas morning

Pepper (sister's dog)

Amy (niece) and part of Mike's (her fiance) head

(See that dark red stocking in the upper left? http://www.ravelry.com/projects/knittybits/scotts-christmas-stocking)

Zack (wearing shorts!?) and Grandma 

Zack and Pepper

Sears Tower drive-by

Remnants of Giordano's Pizza

Selfie of Ruby (sister's other dog) and me

 

The drive home

I'll update everyone on my fiber escapades soon! Teaser: finished projects and upcoming adventures....

About when the jeans won't zip

Over the past few months I've made an effort to eat foods that are healthier. My clothes were starting to pinch in uncomfortable ways and places and I figured that eating better would be a lot cheaper than purchasing a new wardrobe...and it would be better for me in the long run...and I wouldn't have to look at my reflection in a dressing room mirror under the unflattering flicker of fluorescent lighting. So I started eliminating the bad food. I've lost a little over 15 pounds since I started. I'd like to lose more, but I'm taking my time. Heck, the weight didn't come on overnight so I'm not expecting to lose it quickly. This isn't any special diet, I'm just paying attention to what and how much is on my plate, along with a little exercise.

But I have a confession. I have kind of slipped off the "good choices" bandwagon since Thanksgiving. The lure of holiday sweets and carbs has gotten the best of me, and I've indulged in a little extra here and there. I haven't stepped on the scale since the Monday after Thanksgiving. Not a great reading, but not unexpected either. I read somewhere that the average adult gains seven pounds over the holidays. I gained one, but my jeans are still loose, I'm still on the same belt buckle, no uncomfortable pinching, things are ok.

That is, things were ok until I took a pair of jeans out of the dryer this morning. There was a time when I was air-drying my jeans because I couldn't get into them after they tumble dried. It was a huge leap to be able to unflinchingly toss them in the dryer and walk away without worrying about how I would get them buttoned and zipped. I went through my normal morning routine--shower, dry hair, brush teeth, pluck anything that needs plucking, make up, style hair, iron shirt, look for matching socks, put on jeans.

Holy mother of God! 

Actually, my exact words were "what the F---??" I noticed the legs were a bit snug on the way up, but that would be to my advantage later in the morning after the jeans stretched out a bit. As I pulled the jeans over my butt I knew I had a problem. I glanced toward the scale on the bathroom floor. Was it mocking me? "Seven pounds? Ha! I'll see your seven and raise you ten! Tell me again how you enjoyed that cheesecake." I tried to estimate the gap between button and button hole. About 2 inches. The gap has never been that bad. Jeez Louise! I pulled again, sucked in, wiggled a bit. Nope. That stinking cheesecake! That stinking piece of fudge!

I looked down at skin pooching out of gap and flowing up over the waist band. This time I saw something different. I noticed my feet. Or, to be more specific, I didn't notice my feet. They were covered in denim. Well, Chris, you idiot, you haven't pulled them all the way up yet. So I pulled again. Still a gap. Oh. Sweet. Jesus. Zack's jeans.

I peeled them off, pitched them back in the dryer. He'll never know.

I had nachos for lunch.

6' 2 15/16" x 200-207lb (pre or post meal) 

What the Fugly? A Christmas gerbil

Because everyone needs a Christmas gerbil...or three. Really? Maybe these little guys don't qualify as "fugly" but the question still remains--why?

These are advertised on Etsy as follows:

I love making knitted gerbils. I try to make as close to real colors as possible. Every gerbil is hand knitted and unique. No two are exactly alike.

Is someone smoking a candy cane? I have never seen a gerbil in these real colors, but then I've also never dropped acid. Ok, ok...I'll back off. They are kind of cute in an I've-had-too-much-eggnog kind of way.

 

About a forgotten knitting bag

This past weekend, as I was going through a stack of stuff in the room that was formerly known as the guest room (I would abbreviate that but TRTWFKATGR seems even more cumbersome) I came across the most adorable little project bag. I wonder what's inside!

Knitters have multiple project bags. It's because knitters have multiple projects. Sometimes I stuff more than one project in a project bag, but I try to keep my projects monogamous. Too much tangling of yarn, confusion of needles, patterns in disarray. It's best to keep things separate.

This practice is all well and good until I forget about a project. That's what happened with the Point Reyes Mitts stuffed in the most adorable little project bag that I uncovered last weekend.

Ta da!

Project background:  My mom gave me some Knitpicks Swish DK--1 ball of cream and 2 balls of teal. She shipped the package to me with no explanation, just 3 balls of yarn. I remember her ordering the yarn for mittens, so why send it to me? Of course, I had to call her and ask. Swish DK is 100% wool, but it's superwash. Mom was expecting to get good, old fashioned DK weight wool. In other words, scratchy. Superwash is not scratchy, and when she felt the yarn it was too soft and didn't conform to her Scandinavian expectations of what wool should be. She gave it to me. No complaints!

I decided to make the Point Reyes fingerless mitts. It's a fun little pattern with an enjoyable lace design on the back of the hands. I finished one and nearly finished the other. Then, I chucked my project bag into the room that was formerly known as the guest room, and the project fell off the radar. When I found the project again, I only had two rows left on the thumb. I plunked my butt on the sofa, knit those last two rows, bound off and wove in all the ends. In less than 30 minutes I had a finished project! Talk about instant gratification (that took about 8 months.) I wonder what else is lurking in TRTWFKATGR....

Project notes: knit with size 5 DPNs. I'd go up to a 6 if I knit these again, or I'd add a couple more stitches somehow. I think 2 stitches added in the palm would be just enough. I used a knitted bindoff so it would be nice and stretchy. The twisted rib really draws in the size. I'd also like to lengthen the cuff about an inch so my wrists are a little less exposed.

What the Fugly? Let's face it...

...this is really fugly crochet.

 

Even if it was freezing cold, I don't think I'd want to wrap myself up in someone's face. That almost sounds like a Monty Python song. But what makes the afghan what-the-fugly-worthy and even more extra special is the staging of the photo. I love the all crap on the floor and the bare pink mattress. Sometimes the best stuff in a photo is the junk around the edges. Never be afraid to use the crop tool.

Just what is that beside the bed? Ick.

Danny Zuko (Grease) and Cornelius (Planet of the Apes)....separated at birth.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

 

And how 'bout that pun?