Kaiser Mommy

The quilt and the chair

2010-01-04T22:39:46Z

There are two projects up there – One is the knitted quilt project using (mostly) yellow, purples and greens. I have several Phat Fiber samples in there too – the blue is the Princess Bride sample from Sept. The primarily white is … Snow White? from the Sept box. The yellow is … um. Also from September. A lot of the light purple you see is Maude and Me.

The seat of the chair is an accidental project. I’d knit a square out of some wool over a year ago and felted it. Then had no idea what to do with it, so it sat. Finally I took it out and stared at it long enough that I remembered this rocking chair from my dad’s that was out in the garage- I soaked the felt in hot water and shook out some water – this made it nice and stretchy. I nailed it down and then had to have the husband come and do some additional screws (hey, he got to use power tools, he was happy) to reattach the seat.

More fiber arts at Alpaca Farmgirl.

(Incidentally the photo was taken with my trial Virgin Mobile LG Rumor 2 phone. I like it. Which is totally not the purpose of me writing this post, but I thought I should share that last detail with you since they *did* give me the phone to tell you about.)

Cold and Gone

2009-12-07T08:27:35Z

Okay so technically not a person I saw today. It’s a name I saw today. I was working on genealogy and it’s only when I spin any kind of story that these people become remotely real. This is about the daughter of my great great (etc) grandmother – from her 2nd family after my great great (etc) grandfather’s father died.

I’m alive only because people died. Well loved mothers and fathers, wives and husbands. Dead. In the ground. Cold and gone. So that I may be warm and alive and writing to you.

I am the 21st child in my family. Yes, you read that correctly – Twenty. First. I have 20 siblings – some who were cold and gone long before I was born. I have a sister just about old enough to be my grandmother.

I hope you want to know about me first – before we get to the cold and gone people. I am nine years old – I will be ten in just two months. I hate sewing, I hate cooking – especially the feeling of cold, raw meat against my hands, I hate cleaning. I like school and my books. I like to walk on the paths under the trees. My favorite flowers are lilacs. My family has raised me to be Methodist, but I’m not sure that I am. Sometimes I believe I see God winking at me in the sun reflecting off the lake behind our house.

I’m an okay looking child. In the summer my cheeks are usually bright red because I get hot too easily. My hair frizzes around my forehead like a fuzzy little halo. I love fresh, new and pretty dresses. Not that I have ever owned a brand new dress. I’m the 21st remember? Someday I will work hard and earn some money and buy my own pretty dress. One that no one else has worn, that doesn’t have a faint ring of sweat under the arm that is worn down thinner than the rest of the fabric. Someday.

Oh. I forgot to tell you. My name is Kate. I forget things like that sometimes. Manners and whatever. So, Hello. My name is Kate.

My Da’ is Scottish. He was 68 years old when I was born. He’s almost 79 now. An old man – older than most men in the town. He was married for the first time before my mom was even born. Well almost. I shouldn’t exaggerate. His wife Mattie had 10 children before her parts gave up and died, taking her with them. That’s what I heard said once when no one knew I was around to listen.

My Ma’m was 15 when she married “her Bobby”. So when I say I have sisters who could be my grandmas, I’m not telling a story. It’s true. Or could be true. Ma’m had four children and then “her Bobby” died. Seven weeks later she had her fifth child. Thirty-five days after that she married my Da’.

She was twenty-six. He was fifty-five. Without Mattie and Bobby cold and gone, they never would have gotten married and I never would have been here to tell you about it all.

I’d like to stay and tell you more. But I have to go. I think they must be done putting Ma’m in her best dress. The new one she’d just finished last week. Out of fresh new fabric with nothing worn out of it. Ma’m in her new best dress is going into a box to go in the ground to be cold and gone like the others. She made me warm and alive, but now all I feel is cold and gone myself.

Sometimes, the posts, they just write themselves.

2009-12-09T02:41:33Z

Last night at damn dinner time there’s a knock on the door. I think it’s my sweetie mailman bringing me a package. It’s not. It’s some little blonde. New carpet cleaning place opening up, they are looking for peeps with some carpet to munch clean so customers can tell their friends about it and the rug munching carpet cleaning company can get some word of mouth advertising.

I think, “Hey, local business using social media methods for advertising. Building a relationship. And my stairs are fuckin’ gross dirty, so YEAH.”

I do tell her she has to come back the next day though – I’m not dealing with one more thing at night. I tell her 11 this morning.

On the dot, she arrives with some dude in Ed Hardy jeans and a blazer and diamondoid studs in each ear.

I think, “Huh, kinda dressed up for carpet cleaning.” as he carries in two boxes.

Did I just spy the word, “Kirby”?

Mutha effa. All I can think of is a facebook status update a few weeks ago about, “It’s 9pm, I think these people can leave now.”

I’m patient, the whole process entertains Alex, and hey, that’s worth something. I deal with the sales pitch, it’s fine. I get swayed by bright and shiny, and by gross and dirty.

I go for the reality check of the internet. Checking for prices on these things. Which, I’m not spending 2 grand on a vacuum cleaner. Not even if it came with a vibrator.

I think, “This vacuum would be too powerful for the only vacuum vibratorI know of.”

I come across this gem describing the full Kirby pitch. Which is all looking a whole lot like what I’m experiencing. I’m only about half way through this and we’re 40 minutes in. My stairs have foam shit on them. I’m done. The dude asks for a towel. Which is part of the pitch just described. I toss one down to him.

I say, “I have 5 minutes before it’s time to put toddler down for nap.”

What he doesn’t know is that I am now tossing all the filters of filth in the garbage and am taking his remaining bag downstairs. I open the door for him and wait there. Instructing Alex to say bye bye.

I kindly give him matches when he asks, as he calls his ride to come get him.

This is the last I saw of him.

Literally kicked to the curb. Sorry, dude, I’m not your girl.

(Incidentally the second photo was taken with my trial Virgin Mobile LG Rumor 2 phone. I like it. Which is totally not the purpose of me writing this post, but I thought I should share that last detail with you since they *did* give me the phone to tell you about.)

(Incidentally, Incidentally – it’s been an hour since that dry foam shit was put on my stairs and Alex is reporting, “still wet”. Fuckaz.)

Embarrasshitting Moment

2009-11-30T15:49:42Z

My most embarrassing moment . . . I had to think on it . . . I’m so prone to the awkward that I miss the embarrassing. I thought about the time I bled through my white shorts in the Walmarts and my mom made me walk around with her purse covering my ass . . . The time I put my lunch ticket in my awesome Kangaroo shoes and then couldn’t get it out . . . but these moments were so far in the past that they don’t really make me feel all squirmy anymore.

Then I realized it.

The room was dark – my body had been so constantly pulsing in pain that the change to pushing was an awesome relief. The midwife was at my feet, I was curled up the waist with my head pressed into Scout’s chest, his arms around me, my chin tucked to my chest. I pushed with the contraction and out it came. The first blissfully easy bowel movement in the last 24 weeks. I was sure it wasn’t a petite little leftover, nay, this was a good 8 inch, firm yet soft piece of shit I had just pushed out IN FRONT OF MY HUSBAND.

(Husband and I had, up to that point, a digestive tract disclosing free relationship – farts, poop, dutch ovens were NOT a feature of what we shared with each other. One of the best things about this man was that he would throw toilet paper in the toilet to muffle the sound of PEE. Love that.)

I kept my head down and my eyes closed, pretending this had not actually happened. I assumed the poo was cleared away by the time the midwife told me roll to my side. I paused, she didn’t move. “Uh, could you, uh . . .” (oh please I don’t want to say it out loud.) Then I felt the gauze pad reach up and pinch the remaining poo off my butt.

Where it was clinging to my hemorrhoid.

I’ve heard that the whole pooping on the table thing happens in delivery. I’ve also heard that by that point you don’t even care. Bull. I totally gave a shit about giving a shit on the table.

ZOMG Mommyblogger DRAMZ!!!!!

2009-11-14T01:33:29Z

I point fingers at people who go trolling through the internet looking for drama to blow up about. I do my best to keep my mouth shut.

Here comes the fancy but.

However.

I see this tweet

Had a company contact us asking us to pay $10 per item plus s/h to review them. “We do this to ensure that our bloggers have done homework”

I reply with a very mature totally amazed

you’re shitting me? someone expects you to PAY to work and link to their company?

Being that Twitter is not always the best way to share information. Friend and I took the conversation elsewhere.

Here are the facts.

CompanyRep approached Blogger about doing a review.

Blogger replied with question about product.

CompanyRep replied with answers and supplied product catalog.

Blogger replied with positive response, provided some relevant information, asked CompanyRep what they wanted reviewed.

CompanyRep replied that the company asks for 10 dollars plus shipping costs per item; not all items were available for review (no list provided)

Blogger replies in the negative regarding paying for item.

CompanyRep replies in the negative.

Email conversation ended.

Left at this, we would have pointed fingers and laughed about PR people who don’t “get it” in the same spirit that we laugh about getting emails addressed to “Dear Dawn Blog” or “Dear MommyBlogger” – and it would have been done.

However.

Right after the email exchanged ended, the Blogger began receiving anonymous “your blog makes me ill” comments via the contact form.

IP check verified these anonymous comments were from the CompanyRep same IP the CompanyRep had been using.

This my friends is where I call BULLSHIT.

I titled this “zomg mommyblogger dramz” because the title amused me. Nothing else from this point on does.

This turned into harassment. Chicken, anonymous trolling. Not well done, mind you since it was so easily tracked.

Apparently I have found a guideline for when I will step in.

You anonymously troll my friends – I will call out your poor spelling on Twitter.

“… it is ‘taking’ not ‘takeing’”

Anyway – there it is – why I went into some drama – I swear I won’t make a habit of it – thanks for bearing with me when I spoke out.

For the Ravelry and Knitter peeps

2009-11-10T21:59:29Z

We’re doing a secret Santa (or whatever politically correct name) over in my Ravelry group and this is to help my partner out. And the local knitterati knows about the blog so they might like some info too.

1. How long have you been spinning? What skill level do you consider yourself?
Picked up the drop spindle for the first time in Dec 2008 but had no luck till Summer 09. I guess I’m intermediate – I can manage to get fiber to turn into yarn and now I’m learning how to control the outcome a little better.

2. What kinds of yarn do you create (singles/2-ply/3-ply/art yarn)?
2 ply, 3 ply. I can’t seem to get the hang of a single that I could leave as is. I’m sure reading some directions someplace would be a great idea.

3. What do you spin with (spindle/wheel/both)?
Spindle. Scout doesn’t deserve to have a wheel taking up space. Yet.

4. What are your favorite fibers to spin with? Anything you don’t like?
Well I’m an alpaca girl through and through. I’m having good luck with bamboo and silk. I don’t love BFL. I prefer natural fibers but there’s a ton of fun in firestar too

5. Who are your favorite fiber sources (etsy or otherwise)?
I’m all about the etsy yarns. Stash Up Yarns is where I get my bamboo/cotton blends. I love From Rebekah with Love (but haven’t bought anything there yet). My latest purchase was from Critter Ranch and I ADORE it.

6. What kind of fiber do you want to try?
Hm. Wow. I don’t think I have an answer. I don’t know what there is out there I haven’t tried … I do have an endless fascination with the artyarn skeins that are primarily the same color but made up of a billion different kinds of yarn and textures.

7. Are there any techniques you would like to learn?
Navajo plying, Chilean plying ….

8. Do you dye fiber? If not, would you like to learn?
I don’t dye fiber, I would LIKE to learn, however see the above comment on what Scout deserves. I’m holding off on dying along with spinning with a wheel.

9. Do you have fiber prep tools (and like to use them) or would you prefer ready to spin fiber?
I *do* want a Little Kitten drum carder. Come spring I’ll have the fleeces from my FIVE alpacas and I want to be able to card some of them.

10. What do you do with your handspun? What projects have you completed?
I have a patchwork quilt I’m doing using Phat Fiber samples and other yarns I’ve bought in a purple/yellow/green color scheme (with some pink and blue sneaking in).

11. Are you in need of any spinning gadgets (WPI Gauge, threading hook, etc)?
I could use a WPI gauge. I always need tapestry needles because I lose mine.

12. What colors “fall into your shopping basket”? Any colors you just can’t stand?
mmm. Fall colors. Then the purple/yellow/green for the project above. I don’t think I’ve ever purchased bright orange, anything neon …

13. What is on your wheel/spindle right now?
Just the leader, but I have a Frogs and Polliwogs from Critter Ranch I want to get some more work done on.

14. What other crafts/hobbies do you have?
Is trying to clean and organize my house a hobby? I like to say it is, because that makes it sound like a fun challenge. I blog. I read … Well I used to read, I’d like to take it up again. I do like scrapbooking.

15. Any books, yarns, needles or patterns out there you are dying to get your hands on? What magazine subscriptions do you have?

I like simple patterns that show off the yarn. The only thing I don’t ever plan to knit are socks. And fake poo.

16. When is your birthday?
2/24

17. What book or movie character do you most resemble in personality?
I get told I look like Kate Winslet. Personality … I’m coming up with Joan Cusack in Grosse Point Blank…

18. What is the climate like where you live around this time?
We’re having a late fall so it’s still no coat weather for me.

19. Tell us one weird fact about yourself!
I grew up in a funeral home.

Favorites

Candy:
Dark chocolate. Almonds. Some coconut.

Food:
Thai, Indian, mac n cheese.

Drink:
Coffee with gonna kill me fake creamer, Water, clear alcohols

Movie(s):
Love Actually, Serenity, Sweet Home Alabama, Down with Love

TV Show(s):
Greys, Bones, Buffy, Castle

Book(s):
anything involving the Sweet Potato Queens

Guilty Pleasure(s):
I’m pretty sure it involves food …

How to tell you are a mommy blogger -1

2009-11-06T21:38:30Z

You send your husband the following message from your ever open email to his ever charged blackberry:

bring bud ice cream. he just sat on the little potty long enough to poop there. i’m so thrilled you are lucky i’m not taking a photo and sending it to you.

Then you blog about it.

Fiber Arts Friday – 11/6/09

2009-11-06T15:05:21Z

Hallo!

My spinning is improving!

I bought this

from Maude and Me

And spun half of it into this

For more Fiber Arts Friday see Alpaca Farmgirl.

End of the Innocence

2009-10-07T05:13:28Z

I grew up in the funeral business. Quite used to death being around me, but not affecting me. I was eight years old the first time I remember being afraid of death. I found out that after we die, our nicely embalmed bodies still decay. That we too can be like dinosaur bones. That a spirit is not necessarily in the shape of our body. It was YEARS before I could deal with that information.

I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled it. I went to college and drove used cars from the financial gain of it.

I’ve seen people of all ages after they die. People I have never met. People I would never have known about, had they not been laying in, essentially, the downstairs of my house.

I’ve seen my great-grandmother, both grandfathers, a grandmother, and my father all after they died. Most before they were all “prettified” for viewing. I’ve watched the ashes of a friend’s father be poured into the ground – held my breath because I was terrified of inhaling a puff of Richard. I’ve seen clients I’d grown to love – age 9 and age 79. The wooden urn holding a sorority sister being carried out of the church.

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Three of my closest friends were plowed into by a drunk driver* – -broken bones, faces, shouldn’t have survived, and they did. That was the first time I truly realized I was not immortal. Innocence was lost that morning when I heard the news.

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Anniversary dates are rough. The span of March 29 through April 6 was just designated ‘teh suck’ because that whole stretch of time marked a collection of days that stole pieces of innocence.

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Six months ago – exactly six months ago right now, I sat on Skype with my girls and we celebrated April 7. Celebrated the end of the suck and the beginning of a new year.

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Shortly after nine am on April 8th, I learned that April 7th was in no way the end of the suck.

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It was the end of innocence. The beginning of the rest of my life with the blinders off. The beginning of me watching Alex a little more closely – Praying a little more often for his safety … because I’ve seen it up close – I’ve seen … I see …

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In the last six months, I’ve noticed my temper flaring less often. Because srsly? Perspective? I can haz it.

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The loss of innocence brought a loss of fear as well. A balance of “you wanna mess with me punk? do ya?” and “doesn’t matter if I worry, sometimes I’m just helpless”.

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The loss of innocence brought the beginning of me learning to love my friends out loud. Partially because we’ve tightened our arms around each other these last few months. Partially because DAMN sisters – I want you on MY side. (You know who you are – I’m not naming names.)

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I turned my blog purple on April 7th. I’ve gradually faded the purple out to a less in your face kind of purple. It’s still in the header – but it’s letting new colors in. Over on the sidebar – that’s my Maddie place. It links to my Maddie posts. I’m keeping her here, I’m just making room at the table for the little girl who is coming into our community

###

As an aside – to my troll – you aren’t wanted or welcome here. Go away. You don’t belong here.

*Jennifer – this was the wreck in Sep 1995 in Springfield out on Battlefield by the theater

Fiber Arts Friday 9/18/9

2009-09-18T04:53:12Z

A while ago, I spun my first yarn:

I finally realized I needed to, uh, ply? it with another strand so it could puff out and be the soft awesome that I knew it really wanted to be.

I used some cashmere from Jags Funky Fibers (August Phat Fiber Box) to improve what I had spun.

[disclosure. i have a book on spinning. i can't find it. and i'm stubborn. it's like i'm tormenting myself for not being able to find the book by making myself learn without it.]

I had also won a bag of angora fiber from Wool and Wings Farm. Now, keep in mind my disclaimer. Now combine that disclaimer with the only actual spinning equipment I have is the drop spindle.

I am so impatient.

Kinda.

I used a fine tooth comb and gently teased the fluffy angora into a long snake of fiber. I spun it and then combined it with a sample of pink English Angora handspun from Blumzie Luxury Yarns.

I had played and played with this sample of Blumzie’s from the August Phat Fiber box and I could NOT figure out what to do with it. Other than bury my face in the puff of it while it sat by my computer.

I decided to knit up this strange yarn concoction in a washcloth pattern. Not that I plan to use it for a washcloth, but I find that washcloth patterns make nice little samplers. I don’t really know what this is going to become, but for now I’m happy to have my first attempts of hand spinning on the needles for me to pet.

The full experiment.

Closeup – the fawn is from MY alpaca Hope (She lives at Katy’s.) and the rose grey is from Pink Cyclone who was another of Katy’s alpacas. Both are spun with the cashmere from Jags.

The part actually on the needle is the angora I spun with the angora from Blumzie’s.

I’m pretty sure this is one of those projects only the creator could love – but just in case, if you click the photos they should enlarge nicely so you can get a feel for the fuzzy fuzzy awesome.

Want more? Check out Fiber Arts Friday.