is this thing on?

I think I need to get more sleep.

I caught myself gigglesnorting at this during evidence this evening.

No really. It's funny.

When I sat down in business associations this morning, (aka: bus ass, emphasis on the ass) I accidentally pulled a half-finished hat out of my bag along with my laptop. This lovely orange shell of a hat (no veggie-connoting appendages were yet attached) sat perkily on the desk as I got my stuff organized. I watched the eyes of the guy sitting behind me light up and I eagerly awaited his comment...Curiosity perhaps? Appreciation?

He said, and I quote, "Is that a condom?!"

Law school, people. Law school.

I took an interesting application at the clinic this afternoon. Did you know that there's a criminal charge called "prowl by night"? There is. Section 177 of the Canadian Criminal Code. Go ahead. Go look it up.

I find myself craving the zaniest things these days. Today's cravings include orange (and only orange) starburst, banana-chocolate-chip muffins, and diet coke (not pepsi).

I'm hoping to have more knitterly things to show you at the end of this week, but in the meantime, I'll allow y'all a brief glimpse into my musings of late:

Lately, I'm really questioning my decision to be in law school. Every time I think I've got something figured out, I get knocked flat on my ass again. I've never felt so smart and so stupid at the same time. I've never worked so hard and been so lazy simultaneously. I've never before been faced with the necessity of choosing only two of the three hallmarks of student life: homework, sleep, and fun. I hate having to choose between my friends and my reading. I hate having to choose between groceries beyond the basics (ie bananas and bread) and yarn, or a supplementary book. And all these sacrifices would be made without question or qualms if I just had some reassurance that this is where I'm supposed to be. I just want some feeling of assured, quiet calm. Maybe just something less than clammy panic alternated with sheer terror? A (law) job interview would certainly help.

This would be the point in my conversation with myself at which I would throw up my hands in frustration and walk away...only I can't walk away from myself.

Oy.

numbers

In no particular order:

• 2 -- cups of coffee consumed today


• 3 -- number of time I felt like I actually knew what I was talking about in class (note the drastic improvement over the usual 0)


• 0 -- number of people I throttled


• 1 -- number of people I felt like throttling


• 4 -- number of times I looked in the mirror


• 6258462016 -- number of job postings posted


• 9000 -- temperature in my office this afternoon, degrees


• 15 -- number of pages read


• 2 -- number of blogs checked


• 0 -- number of self-deprecating/negative thoughts thunk ;)

I need a shower. And more coffee, it seems. Things are starting to make sense again.

this is a test of the emergency broadcast system...

This is only a test...for now.

I am in a massive funk. I haven't left the house in what amounts to two days.

The apartment is beginning to look like a frat house.

I don't want to put on pants.

...If nobody has heard from me by tomorrow afternoon, you might wanna make sure I've made it out of the fetal position in the middle of my floor.

Just sayin...

the word is odious, daaaahling...

I awoke this morning to a sumo wrestler sitting atop my head. Okay, maybe it just feels that way. Also, my body is currently in the process of trying to calculate the exact physics involved in the hacking up of at least one of my lungs. Perhaps I will be permitted to keep one and thus continue to live. We are still in negotiations on that one. I do so hate when my biological processes join together to stage a coup. It's so inconvenient. Don't they know that I have things to do?

In other news, Backhome Vet v.1, (Not Backhome Vet v.2; the one who caused this) was consulted on Thursday afternoon. As far as he's concerned, the giant lump on Backhome Cat's face that responded to antibiotics is an absess. However, he would like to see the old man in ten days. At which point we may finally be granted an x-ray to give us some clarity on the "cancer/no-cancer?" issue. Needless to say, I am feeling somewhat less than patient, but markedly more hopeful. Thanks to everyone for their postive thoughts/prayers/other beseechings of various deities. There is light at the end of the tunnel. We just have to get him through the next 10 days or so, so I appreciate y'all hangin in.

The bright spot of my very long Thursday was arriving home to the telltale Canada Post delivery slip, meaning I have a package present waiting for me at the post office. Em and I walked our friend/coworker A to the subway and picked up the box on the way back to my apartment. I opened it to find......












THIS!

Ah, glorious yarn booty. How I love thee, let me count the ways. I can finally make all the backordered hats.

And see those three hanks at the back there? Those...THOSE are sock yarn. Of the undyed variety. Fabulous fall socks v.2 will be mine!! This will be my very first venture into the world of DIY yarn dying, but I've always been a big Kool-Aid fan. It can't be that hard, right? (Feel free to remind me of this foolhardy statement should disaster strike somewhere down the road.)

Not much has been happening in my creative world lately. An inordinate amount of my time seems to be consumed in the daily machinations of being a law student. More and more I wonder why I'm here. And did I mention that Ignorant Young Man (see here, below the single close-up) is on my duty counsel shift? Of all the shifts and all the people at that clinic, he had to end up on mine. And he can't let it go either. He brought it up again at our behind the desk training. I think I'm gonna need more tea....

However, I am on the lookout for a lyricist; a collaborator; a partner-in-crime. This song of mine is beginning to cast far too long a shadow in my apartment. It aches to be written. I have a chorus. I know what it's about. I just can't find the right words, and I refuse to be cliche. I'll have to see where intuition will take me, I suppose. Feel free to interject if y'all have some magical exercise/process/trick that might help...

My childhood pet; my bud; my first ever kitty might have cancer.

We'll have to wait a week or more for results.

That is all.

more tah-dah!

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm very excited to announce; in her first appearance here on One Red Sock; alllllll the way from Small Town, Ontario....


My Sister

Note that she is pictured here in the fabulous garment I knit just for her. Here, have another look..



Isn't she cute?

Forgive the mediocre lighting, folks. She didn't show up until well after dark, and there's only so much one can do with a 40-watt bulb...

Since my sister is currently here with us..."in the building" if you will, today's post will be, as should be apparent, mostly show and tell. Much to say, but so little time. Many things will be written in the near future...as soon as I figure out how to say them. In the meantime:

Also up for show and tell is my sweet pea hat:


Cute huh?

Want a better look at the curlyque detail? Why, no trouble at all....



Finally, remember my fabulous roving? Y'know, the the happiest roving on earth? Here it is:



It's like springtime in a mountain-top meadow all rolled up and channelled into a giant bag o' fluff! Here, look closer...



I'm so happy with it all, I'm positively tickled. Also coming down the pipe is a picture of my very first skein (soon, I promise), the finishing of the beige sweater that I started in May (about time too!) and some other cute hats, a pair of sox (or twelve) and my very first attempt at dying yarn (with Kool-Aid), provided that my KnitPicks* order arrives sometime within the next millenium.

Until next time...

* I strongly encourage you to stay away from this site if you like your bank account. Your wallet will thank you.

tah-dah!

Today is a post about progress. You see, when you have a to-do list that's hovering somewhere near forty items, (40 -- I'm not kidding) you have to celebrate the small successes.

First of all, I finally have a picture to show you of my fabulous fall socks.



Okay, I have a few....

First, this one that shows how perfectly they fit me...



And this one that shows beautiful stitch detail...



And of course there has to be the gratuitous and mildly exploitative close-up...



I am in love with these socks. I am in LUUUUV nay besotted with this sock yarn. I even composed a love letter:

My Darling Trekking (XXL) Colour 105,

Will you marry me? Say you'll be mine or my feet shall never be warm again! In return for your continued subtley marled, soft and cozy warmth, Dear Trekking, I promise to handwash you dutifully and wear you daily. Can't you see we're made for each other? Say the word, darling, and I'm yours.

Pining eternally,
Me

Trekking has yet to get back to me on that one. I'm beginning to become hopeless.

Since we're on a picture-roll, why don't you take a look at my very first singles?



Can you tell which one I did first? I can. Kinda like Where's Waldo, isn't it?

And here's another vaguely exploitative close-up of one of my singles in its native habitate. Like it's creator, it likes to preserve a little of the mystique and mystery by hanging out in shadows and brooding....



Another thing to celebrate is the very great feat I managed earlier today wherein I refrained from throttling a young man with my bare hands. The interlude went something like this:

Ignorant Young Man (IYM): "But why don't we represent men charged with domestic abuse/violence? It makes no sense."

Me: "Well, about ten years ago, we named women as a priority group at this legal clinic; most especially women survivors of domestic abuse."

IYM: "It seems sortof arbitrary. Why can't we represent both?"

Me: "Well, first of all, we don't want to create a conflict of interest because we can't represent both parties in a dispute. Also, the Downtown Legal Clinic will represent men, so we can refer them there. Most importantly, don't you think it might undermine the priority position of women survivors of domestic abuse to have to come in to our office to take advantage of our services and find.... the physical embodiment of the reason she's currently involved in legal proceedings; a man who beats his wife, allegedly or otherwise, sitting in the waiting room or coming out of an office? Don't you think she's terrified enough?

IYM: (huffily) "It's still totally arbitrary and ridiculous. I just don't get it."

Me: (archly) "Clearly."

Totally impressive self-control, if I do say so myself. Definitely a reason for celebration!

Today was also a day in which I plyed my singles into a lovely two-ply, which shall be framed and hung (or something equally impressive) forthwith and purchased the happiest roving on earth. I had a crush on the marmalade as well, but my finances and self-discipline only allow me one spinning project at a time, and I'm already sortof breaking the rules, as I haven't yet finished spinning the lovely red/pink/orange roving I purchase last week.

See? Totally celebration-worthy day.

Now, if you all are very, very good, you may just get some pictures of the above mentioned new yarn and roving, as well as (gasp) a pic of the illusive twin tomorrow!

Do you see what happens when I inhale too many bleach fumes, people??

I'd best get started. I'm off to:

• clean my apartment


• make 3 litres of meat sauce


• scrub the bathroom


• build a website


• read about 200 pages


• swatch for upcoming projects


• do laundry


• ...notice how sleep hasn't come up there yet...?

Wish me luck, guys. I'll need it.

detention

Apparently, I will never learn.

In the height of my furor, I hatched an evil plot involving women from around the world mailing me photographs of themselves in tshirts that said, "I Hate Tyler." across the chest, and "I will not be nice to stupid boys. I will not be nice to stupid boys..." down the back. C'mon, can't you picture it? Boxes and boxes of pictures arriving at his (parents' - he still lives with mommy and daddy) doorstep. It was a good, if somewhat unfeasible, plan.

I must learn to stop letting people use me. I know that's what M is doing. I know that he only contacts me when he needs/wants something from an upper year student. I know that I deserve SO much better than that.

I. will. not. be. nice. to. stupid. boys. ANYMORE!

am i the only one...?

Am I the only one who finds this just a little bit disturbing?

Here, let me be more specific.

I mean, kudos to them for doing everything they can to help a girl out. Truly. A1 effort. But seriously, that's not really the first place I'd look for advice on safer sex. Hell, it's not even in the top ten. And if I did look, and I did store said condom in aforementioned handy compartment, would I really want to haul out my baby pills to get it?

I dunno. Maybe I date losers... Okay, okay... Certainly I date losers, but one glimpse of this oh-so-subtle green packet and not only would the mood have been completely destroyed, they'd be huddled in a corner, rocking, repeating "Angelina Jolie, Angelina Jolie..." It's not the condom that kills the mood. Nono, it's the idea that a baby could be the result of this mood. That'll end it pretty quick, no doubt about it.

Perhaps I'm overthinking this. It wouldn't be the first time. Perhaps my brain requires greater stimulation in order to keep me out of trouble. After all, it was my sheer boredom that drove me to read the packet in the first place, (certainly the first sign that I am, in fact, in no danger of needing the contents of said packet) but you know somebody had to ask.

It might as well be me.