Voodoo Socks and Tramp Gloves

I am convinced that someone clubbed me over the head and locked me in a trunk because I don't remember a whole couple of days this week. Trust me, I am painfully sober so it wasn't that. More that the days all seemed to melt into each other while I sat viciously knitting every chance I got. This happens alot when I've had to work much on the more grown-up and less gratuitous aspects of the farm and fiber thing. It's like all the energy that I longed to put into knitting whilst I was dyeing, skeining, taking care of business, planting, welcoming two piggies home, making way for 34 chicks and 6 turkeys to peep all through my days (only 10 days and they go down to the barn still, how long do you want to hear 30+ peep, peep, peeps in a squeaky, high voice?), kid care and all manner of doldrums house-queen duties went into a super capsule that was time released for Sunday evening. I began to savagely knit. The Things, when coming near each other, even whispered, "she's knitting" like it was a sure sign of life. Sunday night, I knit these sari silk fingerless mitts with hungry eyes and (apparently) a look on my face that indicated I might not be the person to approach for conflict resolution. Now, I have already lied to you because I realize, now, that the crazed knitting began on Saturday morning. Many weird things happened and I am beginning to wonder if it will always be so challenging to get myself, things 1,2, and 3, hubster and a few animals and lots o' fiber out of the house without someone crying or someone else (okay, it is always me) threatening EVERYONE. Somehow, we managed to avert the crying but when I realized I'd forgotten both my wheel AND my knitting bag - major threats were mumbled in between hissing and spitting. That tension helped me zoom through my setup with enough time to roll a ball, find some sock needles in my purse, and knit in the corner until the gates opened. It was like a cup of coffee would have been - a lifesaver. Thing 3's fiesta sock (if his crazed mum can make another before his birthday in August) is sidling up to work up a spell with the crocheted wool doll that Thing 1 made. She made up her own pattern, stuffed the dolls with wool, and is making lots more for our July show. I gush with pride but will keep an eye on sock and doll because they look like they're up to something.


Monday, I skeined up this yarn that I was working on in the evenings and such on the weekend. I know I already showed it to you but what you have to know is that I sometimes get violent when people give me pink. It's really iffy, but it has happened. I won't go into my 'pink' complex, again, but will show you that the disease likely set in a few weeks ago when I dyed this roving. It kinda went downhill from here. I skeined the 'buttercup' yarn up and, I don't know, it was so softly spun and the white and yellow as a highlight just made it feel like a pearl and I held it for a while like a flower. Was there sappy romance music playing in the background? I will never tell. Anyway, that got me to thinking about one of my many screw-ups at the show - like the fact that I accidentally put the tote of batts back under the table without taking any out so they kinda went along for a ride and then, when packing up and leaving, I found them....urgh. I am ordering a plastic smile today! So, right then and there, I inherited the batts that I so lovingly and secretly named 'barbi* fart' but labelled 'candy'. Once I thought about them, I pulled some out and starting spinning. After all, I do have a still unanswered request for some beaded yarn and I have that mohair superfine lace to string beads onto and, (what the hell happened) before I knew it, I had two skeins of beaded pink boucle stuff and purple of the same on the bobbin. So what, I'm not sleeping much. It's the good kind of exhaustion, I think. But, I must confess that if this beaded foofly color obsession goes on much longer, I may have to ask someone to slap me.


Oh, and a note on last post....thanks for being sweet enough to not laugh too hard when I said my animals were abstinent. I mean, for now, with the ram in separate quarters, it is virtually true but, at the time, I was trying to type with a straight jacket on and it was their obstinancy I was speaking of. I am blessed to not have to work at being amusing.