I should be cooking. I’ve already done one of my self-imposed two per day repeats on the secret lace project, and with any luck, will announce its completion later this weekend. However, the Knight SNOL’d and asked me to PLEASE confess my TRULY GROSS-ness, so I must oblige.
I love cooked cabbage. Fried, boiled, with corned beef and potatoes or all alone, I adore the stuff. Is that really so bad?! The Knight says it smells like nasty, never been washed feet…
I also keep forgetting to tell you that I’d rather poke myself in the eye than try to follow “words” instead of a chart when knitting lace. Of course, I had to muddle along with the words until I could enlarge the WEE chart FiberTrends enclosed in my secret project’s pattern. I am near-sighted as all get-out, and even I couldn’t follow the bitty bits. Geeze. If I buy a pattern, is it REALLY asking too much for it to be fully functional, right out of its little sheet protector thingee?! Once again, I am grateful for a job where my inlaws not only don’t mind, but think it’s simply delightful when I use the office equipment for my personal use, even if it does lead to MJ trying not to drool as she smiles sweetly and says YET AGAIN that gee, she sure would like one of the secret project thingees…
But back to the topic at hand. I slipped right through a Rite of Passage just now, and my EggNog tea isn’t soothing me. (No Cassababe, I haven’t added a splash of alcohol, but Dae’s bourbon is within reach…) See, I’m not vain enough to mind telling you that I’m 38, but somehow, having a man with a son ALMOST my age “M’am” me with sincerity just makes me want to… cry.
Well, there’s the rub. Normally, when I’m “m’am’ed” by a youngin’, I smile, chuckle, and say how much I appreciate their good manners, but please, call me Chan. Same when I’m called Mrs. Knight. I even laughed and told my new vet not to call and ask for Mrs. X, because she’d likely end up talking to my mother inlaw. By the way, MJ still tells folks who call her Mrs. X that her mil was Mrs. X, and she’s been dead for 15 years. So, imagine my surprise when I realized I’d had a whole, albeit brief, conversation with Fire Chief from the next station over (who knows me, by the way), and he M’am’d away and I never flinched.
So dear readers, at what point does one become a M’am?
Well, since he’s started receiving presents, I guess I’ll blog about it. Sunday is a rather significant day in the life of my Knitter’s Knight. (Shown here at another special party…) It will be his 40th birthday. However, because he’s a squirrel as we call very obsessed volunteer firefighters, he’ll be at the firehouse ALL weekend…
Of course, the post wouldn’t be complete without a bit about the woman behind the contest. (Not me. My grandmother.) My favorite pictures of her are in a scrapbook I need to get scanned, but here’s one that should make you laugh anyway. It’s from my college days, I believe… (No, we’re not surrounded by by fairies… it’s an old photo that was scanned a few years ago!) Always full of love and laughter, my Nannie was. She would delight in the charities named here, because she was a nurse, a wife, a mother, a sister, etc. She also lived on a farm most of her adult life, and loved animals, especially dogs.
Thanks for noting it; I am sure that being out in the leaves (blown on Saturday, not that you can tell it) isn’t a wise idea, nor is throwing the ball (he LOVES his glow in the dark balls), but obviously, you’re not familiar with Jack Russells. They do what they want, when they want, or as Pop says, “He’s like Burger King. He has to have it his way.” Note the heavy “tear” staining; it’s on both sides. Sure, some of it is indeed allergies, but there’s more. That’s why I now get to keep a cough notebook. No SNOLs. I’m serious. My kind father inlaw – Dae – has been counting coughs all day, and my blotter is filled with time, number of coughs, and what Mugsy was doing immediately prior to the event. As soon as I blog, I need to find a notebook for said purpose. If the broad-spectrum de-wormer doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what comes next, short of the wee camera into his throat…
I’m stuck on this pattern. 
Of course, just as the worn wedding band fit my aunt’s finger perfectly, this one slipped onto my ring finger and will stay there indefinitely. (Yep. Class of 1927, she was…) I didn’t inherit my mother’s coulda’ been a hand model hands, but this is important, so ignore my stubby fingers and just look at the ring. It’s well-worn too, and that just makes it feel better. It’s ironic how similar it is to my own class ring from high school, but trust me on that one, because I’m not inclined to go try to find it, and taking more ring photos is out of the question.
That ring will make the next week a little easier, as Nannie’s birthday slips by. I’m so grateful that my aunt is so kind and generous; she knows we need our tangible reminders too, and she’s willing to share. 
So, I require a sanity project, which I can pick up and clickity clack through after the lace has tested my patience. My new favorite easy-peasy is the Doily Cloth, and here’s the start of #2. Since I can’t find 10 inch, #5 or #6 dpns, I’m trying it on two circs this time.
Also, here are a couple of shots of the gorgeous Alpaca Sox yarn 
I’d not seen it in person before it became mine, but it’s so soft, so very soft. I’m really looking forward to picking a pattern and creating socks with this yarn. Thanks, Anne!
Chan Knits 