And We'll Keep Trying Until We Run Out of Cake*

So you know that little voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like you're mocking your mom by using all of her words and wisdom against you in your head in your voice? You know, the one that berates you for walking around the cold kitchen floor in bare feet? Leaving the apartment without a heavier coat? Giving you the big stink eye and a heavy sigh when you take a spoonful of ice cream directly out of the carton, even though its all yours and no one else will be having any? Same goes for when you eye the milk jug because really you only need one small sip to get an aspirin down?

Yeah, that one.

As I was taking my third dose of sudafed + ibuphrophen just a wee bit ago (hellllloooo sinus infection!) that voice just about screamed at me, letting me know that the caramel flavored popcorn I had while watching Out of Africa this evening with my work mates not only did NOT count as dinner, but was most definitely insufficient padding for putting that many chemicals in my tummy at 9PM...(let's not even touch the fact that I just took SUDAFED at 9PM),

So I may have added a piece of cornbread I had lying around, cuz yeah that is SUCH a well-planned and healthy meal...And where did all that come from? I mean, that whole, "we must eat real food and not the bag of chips we're eying." Is it really all guilt driven?

And by that I mean, I totally got it when I was a teacher that I was the adult in the classroom and I had to TAKE CHARGE (tm) and be a good example for my students and and not swear or use violence to get my way and show them that just cuz you grow up the world does not end and look! I even eat healthy lunches! See! Apples! And, you too can be a well-mannered fully functioning adult in the world and not get arrested! And it wasn't guilt, it was me feeling like I wanted to show...well, what did I want to show? That this is a good way to be living?

But when you're almost thirty-seven and you eat lunch alone in your cube and there are no little people in your house to which you have to show how awesome you are...what is it that compels me to cut up my apple and eat it with my yogurt and maybe a turkey sandwich when the avocados are on sale? What keeps me from eating the whole pint of ice cream for dinner (instead of that one spoonful for dessert)?

Why not bake a cake and eat it straight from the pan morning, noon, and night? Is it because of that voice? Because of the guilt I would feel if my mom found out about the fact that I had caramel popcorn and a piece of cornbread for dinner tonight? And even though my mom is going to live forever and ever and ever (shut up, let me live in my delusion), what would happen if she wasn't there for me to fear being discovered?

Gak! It's like my mom (or that voice-thing I've got going) is my morality, or some-such. This might be far too much to contemplate when my head is threatening to explode into a million pieces, but there you have it. "Right" and "wrong" as policed by fear and guilt. Oh, and maybe the little promise I made to myself that I would not "grow" out of my favorite pair of jeans...that might have a little be to do with it too...so add a little vanity as well.

Wow, not really where I expected this post to go. But if you get a chance? Watch Out of Africa...it's a bit long, but watching it as an adult in one-go instead of as a kid with your mom over two nights on teevee? Whole different take and whole lot of meaning. And Robert Redford is only a smidge less than a year younger than my mom...that kinda totally blows me away.

*My geekiness knows no bounds, especially not when cake is involved. A face-place friend recently became super addicted Portal, and seems to be passing the time until Portal 2 comes out by posting many Aperture Science related wares...most recently the end-song, which mentions cake, often. What's not to love?

Waiting Really Is the Hardest Part

As I was waiting for this to upload into blogger I was trying to remember if I've actually finished any sort of project in 2011 yet...

- I was 3/4s of the way done with a sweater....it's now back to being hand-wound cakes (WAY TOO BIG).

- I was 9/10s done with Andy's sweater...all of that yarn is currently wound around a notebook waiting for me to get it back into cake-form (way too not Andy).

- I am a toe away from finishing Lev's first sock (of two. But not a pair, he just wants two socks...makes this VERY easy for my failing enthusiasm for the knitting of a millllion stitches for his Mens size 10s (11s? Can no longer remember....ooops--which is why I stopped at where I think the toe might be...and started the second sock instead....)

So that would be um, no. Nada. Only by baby brother's xmas scarf....which I don't think I shared on here either....my thought was that it was an xmas gift and he might see it! (If he ever found my blog...which doesn't seem to be the case as yet, unless he's reading all stalker-style, which is okay too. I stalk his FB page all the time, hi mijo!)

But um, yeah, this was December 2010:

Cascade 220 superwash....size 7 or 8 needles (useless with the memories here) in purple, cuz that's the color he asked for. Good old basketweave stitch with a...um...what's that k1p1k1 edge/border called....moss stitch, maybe? One thing I can state as fact? It's possibly the fastest full-sized scarf I have EVER knit. It's 60" long, mas/menos. I was asked for this scarf after the first of December, and mailed it with everyone's xmas presents. Yes, it might have gone into the dryer after I realized that there was no way it would be ready to go in the box along with everything else. Yes, I did actually wonder if I could pack it in desiccant (no, not the wee little packets you find in nori, I'm talking about the cereal-box sized stuff they sell you at craft stores to dry out your flowers), but I trusted my never-hot-enough dryer to do the job. I chose superwash for a number of reasons, see.

Okay, guilt of not posting that is fading...

But the above? Secret project that I've been doing when not cranking out the itty bitty stitches required for Lev's socks. US 7 needles are a godsend to uncramp my fingers after an hour of size 1s. (Yes, I have not learned my lesson and keep using the itty bitty needles for men's socks...they just last longer that way, really.)

But now it's blocking/drying and I'm back to waiting....It's made from Regia Silk sock yarn. I bought the yarn five years ago when I went to Bellingham, WA to visit the "Santa Cruz of Washington State." I'd tried making socks with it (imagine, silky socks?) but the yarn is way too "halo"-y. It's the silk part, I'm guessing. So instead, I saved it...and now...it's almost ready. And I'm trying so very hard not to chuck it into the dryer (machine wash/tumble dry right on the yarn label!!!) so that it can be a my first fully-finished 2011 project...

Out of Sorts...

You know that adrenaline feeling you get when you are startled awake by earthquakes, sirens, gunshots, small crying children, ginormous diesel machinery breaking apart the street (or something similar) two blocks away from me? (Guess which one I had happen...)

So now you're all AWAKE and OMG is it really only 4AM!!!

And you know that thought you have? The one telling you maybe it'd be better to get up now? I mean you're so awake? And yet the bed is so warm, you are so comfy, there's at least a hour and twenty-five minutes yet before you need to worry about getting up/listening to the annoying deetdeetdeetdeet of the Community Transit bus and slowly but surely the heaviness in your eyelids makes the decision for you? And you know in your heart of hearts maybe this wasn't the best thing to do? Like that time you decided to "study" in bed, under the covers for that Biology final?

Because then? THEN! It's an hour after you were supposed to BE UP? Because you've slept through your alarm because you fell into such a coma-like sleep after the startled premature wake-up that your entire sleep-schedule now seems to be ruined?

Yep, that would be me this morning. I've pretty much finished my one cup of coffee and it had done nothing for me. This will be one very long Friday.