Fluid Pudding

It has been brought to my attention that I haven’t made enough handknit socks for myself.

It’s Sunday evening and I’m within inches of crashing for the night, and I know I promised to write at Fluid Pudding every day this month. Today is the first day that I came horribly close to breaking that promise. Hrm. I promised quantity. Not quality.

So here.

These are the socks I’ve made for myself. (Other socks I’ve knit appear over here. Do you remember when I paid for my trip to BlogHer by knitting socks for people? That was tricky.)

I finished these ghost socks two years ago, and get this: The yarn is actually dyed so that if you make gauge, you get ghosts. Seriously.

These are my Conjoined Twins. (They were knit two at a time on one super long circular needle. I know you’re thinking that knitting two socks at a time sounds like fun. (I KNOW you are!) Anyway. It wasn’t.)

These are my Embossed Leaves, and they get a lot of wear during this time of the year. So comfy.

My Spiraling Coriolis socks are big and thick and they’re best worn with a robe and a plan to nap.

My Jaywalkers were the first pair of socks I made. They’ve been going strong for nearly six years.

My Red Robin Monkeys are my very favorites. I love every single colorway the dyer created, and I find that I save her yarn for special projects. Sadly, this particular pair of socks are getting VERY thin on the bottom. I may need to find some sort of decorative prosthetic leg so I can keep them on display forever.

My Radioactive Sex Monkeys died last year.

My Go With the Flows died in 2010.

Looking ahead, I believe I’m going to put some time aside during the holidays to knit up one of the following pairs. (I know. So many of you are rolling your eyes and falling asleep right now. I’m better than Ambien and chamomile tea!)

The Tea Time socks are part of Around the World in Knitted Socks, and I think they’ll be fairly quick.

The Green Isles, also from Around the World in Knitted Socks, look to be time consuming and lovely and perfect.

Thank you for your patience. Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk about underpants. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

This morning I stomped out some freelance work while Jeff and the girls rode on a homecoming float.

This afternoon we took Henry to the vet for his annual check-up and vaccinations. While there, it was discovered that he has a yeast infection. They did tests, they prescribed medications, and we’re now $240 poorer. (He has yeast on his FEET! Please know that the next time I bake bread for you, I will no longer be asking Henry to knead the dough with his toes. Lesson learned.)

This evening I made aloo gobi and as soon as everyone finishes up, we’ll be heading out for frozen yogurt.

(Do I sound a little down in the dumps today? Maybe it’s because Avon has discontinued my favorite mascara. Yep. That’s probably it.)

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If you decide to learn how to knit, you will suddenly run into a gaggle of fiber enthusiasts.

If you give up meat, 25 vegetarians will squash their way into your circle.

If your “thing” includes dressing up in a college mascot uniform and making out with other people wearing big furry suits, well, there’s a tribe out there waiting for you!

I know I’m not telling you anything new when I mention that the world is a big place, yet it’s also wonderfully (and sometimes alarmingly) small.

This morning I had my annual physical exam. I fasted for 14 hours before the exam. (I slept for 7 of those 14 hours, so I realize that I sound sort of ridiculous when confessing that the fast was tricky.)

This was the trickiest part of the fast:

Me: AUGH! I can’t eat!
Jeff: What’s wrong? Do you want a bowl of Blueberry Morning?
Me: I’M FASTING AND YES I WOULD LOVE A BOWL OF BLUEBERRY MORNING!!! INTENTIONAL DRAMATIC ARM FLOURISH!!!

During the appointment, my doctor asked what I do for exercise, and for the first time EVER, I didn’t have to lie and tell him that I’m thinking about signing up for some sort of class at the J.

Me: I’ve been running two or three times each week!

Doctor: Excellent.

Come to find out, he’s a runner, too. (Not a knitter. Not a vegetarian. Not a furry make-out weirdo.) ((Wait. I’m not a furry make-out weirdo, either. Sometimes I just type and type and the next thing I know? I’m no longer representing myself very well.)) (((My doctor just might be a knitter, a vegetarian, and/or a furry make-out weirdo. We did not cover those things during my appointment. There’s never enough time to touch on all topics when you’re having your blood pressure taken (106/60!) and your heart rate checked (60!)))) I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that a doctor runs. Practicing what you preach and all that. (Wait. Did you notice that I sort of referred to myself as a runner at the beginning of this paragraph? My next run is my “graduation” run, during which I’ll run for 30 minutes without stopping.)

Anyway, we talked about the minimalist running movement and how it’s okay to sit in the middle of the spectrum between running barefoot and running in ridiculously supportive shoes. (He likened it all to politics, and I cringed, and suddenly my blood pressure shot up and I started bleeding out of my ears because I’m really getting nervous about this election, People. (By the way, thanks for your comments yesterday. If you didn’t comment? Please do. I’m loving the comments. Wait. Let me type the word comment one more time. Comment.))

To improve my crazy town sleep issues, which I haven’t really discussed here because I bore you enough with the headache thing, he told me that I need to get between three and five hours of exercise each week. (I’m about 2/3 of the way to three hours.)

To reduce my risk of running injuries, he told me that I should try to increase my steps per minute, which will force a shorter stride and will eliminate the jarring that occurs when one strikes with the heel.

He keeps his stride at 80 steps per minute.

I asked how he keeps track of this.

He said that he counts his steps for 15 seconds, multiplies it by four, and then maintains the pace.

I told him that I’m very slow and inconsistent, but that I was interested in this idea. I then pictured myself running with a metronome attached to the top of my head.

(I often picture myself running with only one leg and a bunch of half-fingers.)

Luckily, I remembered that my-mia-mie suggested Cadence many moons ago. This will save me a trip to the hardware store. Thank you once again, my-mia-mie!

This has nothing to do with anything, but look what I found today:

I can’t remember the last time we had alcohol in the house.

We currently have alcohol in the house.

Honeycrisp alcohol. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

At this point in time, I like to think that everyone knows who they’ll be voting for in the presidential election next month. (If someone out there is still undecided, I would love to know! Don’t worry—I’m not going to preach or judge!) We all watch the debates (at least some of us do), and we all cheer for our guy and sneer at the other guy and then Facebook explodes and Big Bird photos start showing up in unexpected places and Facts! and Lies! and so on.

Here’s my challenge for you. Without telling me WHO you’re voting for in the upcoming presidential election, and without saying anything negative about The Other Guy, introduce your presidential candidate to me the way you would introduce him to your grandmother. In fifty words or less, because Grandma doesn’t have time for long-winded intros. (Remember. No names, and no feather-ruffling comments about the guy who isn’t getting your vote.)

I’ll go first.

“Grandma, this is my candidate. He’s a good man who cares about children’s health, stem cell research, and the Violence Against Women Act. These three things are very important to me.”

(I’m definitely not saying that the other guy DOESN’T care about kids, science, and women! I’m not! Stop it.)

Full Disclosure: If either of my grandmothers were alive, I don’t believe they would be voting for the person who will be getting my vote in November. (No hard feelings, Grandmas.)

Your turn. Be kind. (I still dig you regardless of the box you’ll be punching.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

My head  is stomping on me (with razor blade socks and flare-shooting slippers) this evening, so I need to keep this short.

I bet I’m the only person in the entire world who spent some time today knitting a sweater for a lobster.

Also, the beard is a moustache away from being finished, and if I were to establish an appreciation society for Black Hockey Jesus, this would be the recommended uniform, only because when I tried the beard on for a photo last night, my very first thought was, “Yes. Black Hockey Jesus.”

I had dinner with Tempe this evening, and as I drove home, Firewood shuffled onto my iPod and I rolled my windows down and let the cold air blast me in the face and everything was absolutely perfect for four minutes and fifty four seconds.

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First of all, as much as I despise it when someone says “been there, done that”, I must admit that I love just how many people have been right there and have done just that in regard to my post from yesterday. We are a messy bunch, are we not?

So, I’m knitting a beard for a toddler.

When I’m done knitting the beard for the toddler, I’m going to knit one for myself. And then I’m going to sew my beard onto a knitted wool hat and incorporate it into my winter running gear.

You think I’m kidding. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I did my 28 minute run this morning, and it went really well until the very last minute.

When my little man told me that I had two minutes to go, I looked down and saw that I had barely passed the four kilometer mark. (The circumference of the lake is 5.7 kilometers.) In an attempt to get as close as possible to reaching five kilometers, I decided to break loose and run like an animal until it was time for my five minute cool-down. The conditions were perfect. All Alright had just started playing (I think the whole “I’ve got nothing left inside of my chest” line is hauntingly appropriate when I’m running!), I was at my favorite part of the lake (trees on both sides of me!), the temperatures were cool (I was wearing my new long-sleeved running shirt!), and I couldn’t see any other humans (no need to make awkward eye contact and/or offer up a goofy smile!). Run. RUN! Around a minute into my sprint, I started coughing. And then something absolutely dreadful happened and I kept running, but not quite as quickly, and then I began walking Very Calculatedly and I made some sort of joke in my app journal about land sharks attacking me on the way back to my car which seems really funny until it’s not so funny anymore.

Actual text sent to Jeff: I may have just peed myself, but I also may have forcefully expelled my entire uterine lining. If I peed myself, my running career is officially over. If I *didn’t* pee myself, well, I don’t want to talk about it.

I reached the car, started it, and was warmly greeted by the Check Engine light. (My life is sort of fun like that. And by fun, I mean fun.)

Anyway. I made it home, which is highly preferred over NOT making it home.

I took my first migraine pill of the week exactly four hours ago. Here’s hoping it’s also the last. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

This afternoon I went to Sephora and grabbed my Buxom reward.

I then scored two super-cheap long-sleeved running shirts (super cheap = $8.96). I would have bought the super expensive shirts with their fancy-pants swooshy logo, but come on. I run so stinking fast that no one is ever going to SEE that logo. (Honestly, have you ever noticed the logo on a gazelle? I didn’t think so.)

Finally, I returned home, scooped out the litter box, ate Indian nachos, and signed us up for a free 30-day trial of Veggie Meal-Maker. (As of tomorrow, Jeff has been meat free for one month. We need options.)

Do you remember when I was doing a lot of knitting and watching a lot of Cary Grant movies? Do you remember the amazing yarn bowl that Gina made? Well, because I’m terrible with self-imposed deadlines, I’m *just now* starting to finish up on the handspun mitts I’m making for her.

The first mitt needs a thumb, and the second needs ten rows and a thumb. I’m nearing the finish line, and I’m finally enjoying knitting with my own handspun! (The thought of it was terrifying when I was first getting started on the mitts.) ((Wait! I feel the need to point out that my very favorite go-to fingerless mitten pattern is Maine Morning Mitts by Clara Parkes.)) Gina, you will have mitts soon. Hopefully before Halloween.

Later this evening, after the girls go to bed, I’m going to see what Jillian Michaels can do for me.

I’m all dressed up and ready to go.

(I know.)

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Do you remember how I bought this dress to wear to today’s wedding?

And then do you remember how I bought shapewear to help shoehorn myself into that dress? (By the way, Shapewear. SHAPEWEAR. Just hearing those two words smooshed together into one is starting to burn me up on the inside.)

Anyway, this morning I got up, drank coffee, didn’t eat breakfast, took a shower, put on my tights and my SHAPEWEAR (and a robe, because I’m modest), ironed my dress, sausaged it on, and did the whole hair/makeup thing.

I looked terrible. The dress was entirely too confining and was sticking to my tights, the shapewear was making my colon rub a little too closely to my pancreas, I couldn’t find a sweater that pulled everything together, and various other complaints about my hair, earrings, complexion, and so forth. With fifteen minutes to go before we had to leave, I threw on a dress that my mom gave me several years ago along with my Swallowtail shawl and pearl earrings.

AND, the wedding was lovely. The groom, who was just released from the hospital earlier this week, was the perfect blend of nervous and dapper. The bride was glowing and confident. A harpist accompanied the ceremony. Photos were taken. Cupcakes were eaten.

During the break between the ceremony and the lunch, we came home and let the dogs out. (I realize that isn’t vital information, but while I have you here, I thought I would share EVERYTHING.)

We then left and ate salad and spaghetti and spumoni and cake before returning home, where I went to my room to “read for a bit” which is code for “fall dead asleep for two hours.”

And here I sit in my Jackson Hole hoodie, my old black sleeping pants, and my new issue of Whole Living.

When I’m done with the magazine, I’m going to pull out some yarn that looks like hair and knit a beard for a toddler.

Life? Good. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s 9:54 at night, and I just finished individually wrapping 25 cake balls for tomorrow morning’s DCAWS bake sale at the Lafayette Square location of Four Muddy Paws.

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to come up with a price for the balls, so I checked online for a few ideas. Do you know that some people charge $42 for one dozen cake balls? It’s true. (The money made at this particular bake sale will pay for medical treatment for a few of DCAWS’s needier animals. I’m thinking two dollars per cake ball.) ((I’m actually thinking FIVE dollars per cake ball, because IT’S FOR THE ANIMALS!))

A good friend of mine sent this link to me a few months ago, and I *still* can’t get through it without choking up.

Tomorrow morning we’re attending the nuptials of a couple who traveled a long and rocky road to make it to their wedding day. This is going to be a good one.

Also, I have 250 points accrued at Sephora, and this weekend they’re offering a Buxom lip set for 250 points! Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.

(I promise to actually write something next week. This every day thing is tricky, no? No?) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>