Not a good day, again (sigh)

So it's a work at home day and I'm all jazzed because I think I've finished something and then it occurs to me, Gee, Bunny, the judge mentions all this stuff that wasn't on the tape and so I dig through the file and discover that THERE ARE SIX MORE TAPES and I am nowhere near finished. Also, it is cold and there are no cookies to go with my latte and Juve is late in posting the call sheet for tomorrow and no one seems to think that ADP will be called up to the Azzurri for next week's world cup qualifier against Montenegro.

Yesterday also had its problems. I had to do some travel stuff I DID NOT WANT TO DO and I got all worked up about it for no good reason. But I finished it, and then I cheered myself up by buying new glasses (more later when they are ready) and a new rug. However, in the process of melting my credit card on these enjoyable pursuits, I tromped all around the Golden Triangle in the WRONG SHOES and my poor Bunny toes are still suffering.

But Ima knittin'. So it's all good. (See how hip I am?)

Two weeks ago, I finished the crimson sweater. I have had a devil of a time getting a decent photo of it, so I haven't bothered to share, although I've worn the sweater a bunch already. At work, they are all probably already thinking "There goes that crazy bitch Dirtbunny in her red sweater again." I don't care. I love it.

So here's the best photo of me in the sweater:

The Man took this. I asked him to take my picture and he did. He didn't understand that the point was to show off the sweater and not the Dirtbunny. No need to notice the liquor bottles on the counter with the onions. (The creme de cassis has been deemed potable and so I'm poting it.) And, hey, I guess the white stripe on Kirby's e-collar is reflective.

Here's the best picture I have of the actual sweater:

My hair looks pretty good! And I'm sure if you disregard the glare from the flash, you can see the lovely cables. Bonus points if you can see the surprise guest over to my right.

That's right. Kirby. His motto: Whither thou goest, I will go. What a good boy. His birthday is coming up, so I hope you got him something nice that won't make him itchy.

My biggest accomplishment of the week is that I finished the September sock club socks, without running out of yarn. It was touch and go. I finished with about three inches to spare. Three inches, and that is all. Whew! Here they are sharing the sunshine with our little urinary monster and a pair of minis made from the leftover July yarn.

I'm pretty sure that my next big project is the Decimal cardigan from the current issue of Knitty. I already have a sweater's worth of pink cotton blend in DK weight that I bought for my birthday when there was no blue to be had and I've already knit and washed my gauge swatch.

I have ten repeats to go on the Flower Basket shawl--I mean potholder. I told The Man I was making a Flower Basket shawl and his brain managed to process that as "Dirtbunny is knitting a potholder" so now I call it the "potholder." You would not believe how smart and competent he is in the non-knitting aspects of life but "potholder" geez. I despair. Oh: the last repeat on the potholder took me about 2 hours to do, and it gets 20 stitches wider with every repeat, and it requires concentration so no TV knitting and no social time knitting unless I want to rip it back and weep a lot, so this is going to take a while. It's bigger than the last time you saw it, which means

~all together now~

IT LOOKS LIKE [MORE] ASS!

The March sock club sock is due any time. Wait! There goes the postman. Please hold while I go check.

[cue the girl from ipanema]

[Your call is important to us. Please continue to hold.]

[more the girl from ipanema]

Nope. Not today. Still, there is no chance I will finish November and January before March gets here. November is wound and ready to go, however.

Aaaaaannnnnnnnddd, it's been more than two weeks since I've been to the vet which must mean it's time to go to the vet, because they were so busy looking at Kirby's itchy feet that they forgot his biennial bordatella vaccination so I get to make another trip! Hooray! Kirby looooooves the vet. Off we go.

Killing time

The Man is not home from work yet, so I can't watch any of my Champions League recordings. Plus, I went to the eye doctor after work and got my eyes dilated, so I can't read. If I jack up the magnification on my laptop, take off my glasses, and lean in reeeeeeeel close, I can see well enough to blog. So here is what we have on the needles:




This would be the September sock club sock. These colors are Not for Dirtbunny, so I'm giving them to the Old Man when they are finished. The first one turned out all jacked up--cuff too short, foot too long--so the plan is to get the second sock right, then rip back the first one and knit it to match.





This is the Flower Basket shawl in lovely merino lace weight from Blue Moon Fiber Arts. It is lace and therefore it


(all together now)

LOOKS LIKE ASS!

But it is coming along nicely and will block out beautifully, I'm sure. I'm on repeat number six, and there are a total of seventeen, and it grows by 20 stitches per repeat so that's, that's ummmm a buttload more to go.

[Spellcheck thinks "buttload" should be two words, but clearly it is only one word.]





That should look familiar, because it is exactly like the grey stripey sock I did last summer because that's what you get when you have a leftover yarn compulsion-slash-fetish and you bought too much yarn. And next to it is a minisock from leftover July yarn.

And this, my friends, is the felted dog bed, which is not yet felted. The pattern calls for bulky weight and a finished diameter of 17 inches, but I'm using worsted weight Manos in green and scraps and I want a finished diameter of about, gee I don't know, beagle-sized or so. And of course it has to be bigger than that so there's room for it to shrink when I felt it. And then I'm going to edge it with the blue and green eyelashey stuff.

OK, I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing with the dog bed. But it's a DOG BED. Who cares if I fuck it up?

Guess what? I don't know how to felt either. Well, there was that one time, but it was an accident so it doesn't count.