It is time for our biannual trip to Southern California next month and for the first time we’re bringing Misterpants with us. Himself’s Grandmum turns 90 on September 11th and with her failing health, rising age, and living in another state we decided to make an appearance in Malibu and surprise her. This means a two and a half hour flight with a five year old in tow and ruining the day of the five other people seated in first class on out flight. I apologize now folks but you should all be glad he has grown out of the colic. Just sayin’.
This also means missed days of school since the kidlet starts kinder at the start of September. He is beyond looking forward to it, every day around here starts with, “So, Mum. When will the school bus pick me up?” The answer to that is Unholy:30 kiddo. Make sure you’re dressed and your underpants are on, k.
I’m not in disbelief that he is starting school, but still rather in disbelief that someone is still allowing me to raise a child to begin with. I’ve seen more than one person lament about how they are going to be lost or without something to centre their day around. I secretly want to rack my head against the wall when I see this. I am positive it has something to do with refusing to lose my identity the day I lost the placenta. Get a hobby, get a job, get an education. Shit, get a puppy. But stop your whining, you’re making those of us who click our heels and squeal as the bus pulls away look bad.
Behold. For it is plied and it is good.
This skein comes in at 4.5 ounces and 390 yards. I will not divulge exactly how many days it took to ply it (several), how much was left on the bobbins (a lot), and what I told Myles D. Kitty I would do to him if I caught him playing with it (a noose may of been mentioned).
That is eight ounces of lace weight singles waiting to be plied into sock yarn. Which I will do as soon as I can lock the cats and the child into a room for eight hours. And since I can’t do that you can now expect it to be done around the time Misterpants leaves for university.
This morning I was woken up by a chilly Misterpants and a demanding grey asshole. After both were done clambering into bed the kid turned around, gave me a kiss, and said “I love you Mom.” My heart swelled, for my child is not liberal with oral declarations of love and affection. And while I reveled in the moment, he sneezed and proceeded to wipe snot all over my sheets.
It just goes to prove that a five year old can ruin any moment, not just the ones between two consenting adults.
Its uh, been a while eh. Perhaps I should work on updating more often.
In the past month I have finished school until September, had five hands in my mouth while sitting in three different dental chairs, looked for a job with zero results, and I am now at home with a five year old who picked up the chicken pox while at Pacific Science Center. Seems we got a little something extra while taking in Kung Fun Panda at the IMAX theater. At least this means I won’t have to fight with the school district over exactly why my child has not been immunized against a generic childhood illness.
Meanwhile I’ve been working on my Mum’s socks, spinning a three-ply sock yarn for myself, and rescued a Baby Surprise Jacket from the clutches of Captain Evil the Cat, the little fucker. Adventures in oral health continue into next month and I have to say, thanks Mum and Dad for the shit genetics and juvenile disease. In the meantime I’ll be on the back patio sipping something fruity and rimmed with Xanax to get through Misterpant’s case of the pox.
When I grow older, I want to be just like Judith McKenzie-McCuin.
She is a wealth of knowledge, a walking fibre encyclopedia. I feel smarter just sitting next to her at a meal. Spinning in the same room as her I feel like a rock star. Give me a batt she’s blended and I am a rock star.
That is superfine merino top and dyed flax top. The merino is from Ashland Bay, the flax from Louet. Judith and her husband Nick build the most awesome drum carders ever, before they’re shipped out Judith blends about five pounds (yes, pounds) of fibre to break them in. The results are “happy accident” batts like the one above, the odds and ends from previous classes or colours she has multiple pounds of.
My little one ounce piece of batt gave me about 30 yards of two-ply sport weight yarn. My inability to finish a sample in a class in legendary, I am still working on samples I took in classes over a year ago. To say I was warm and fuzzy after wacking the shit out of the skein would be an understatement. However I was downright giddy to hear Judith planned on blending more of her “happy accident.” I can’t way to see what she produces with it and lay my hands on more of it.
I spent the day in class with Judith McKenzie-McCuin, spinning to my hearts content. So now, three hours since I stopped I can still feel my feet and legs treadling. With another seven hours of class tomorrow my legs will be spinning for the next week, even though I physically stopped around 5pm.
I spent six hours cleaning Misterpants’ bedroom yesterday. To say that it was an unholy pit is a bit of an understatement. His floor was a covering of books, old clothes, and paper instead of the wool carpet I know is in there. Even the fish tank got a cleaning, good because the fish that was in it got flushed so long ago I don’t want to admit when it happened. Even now I still have a box of assorted toys and crap that need to find their rightful homes. As I sit here writing I can hear him in there tearing through the trundle of wood train parts and I want to cry.
In the middle of it all I had a sudden appreciation for my Mum, the woman who would wait till we were at school and then tear our rooms apart. I’d arrive home and everything would be in its proper place. Then I’d spend the next week bitching about the invasion of privacy and how I couldn’t find anything (yes, even at six years old). But now I know why she did it. Thanks Mum, for all the hard work. I may not of understood your need to do it when but I do now.
