I’ve been trying to find a good pair of jeans lately, and you know how that goes. The ones that I loved last year are no longer made, the ones that I loved this year are out of stock, and I am evidently of such Amazonian proportions, that there are no plans to either make or restock any jeans that might fit. I’ve found that you can be tall, or you can be fat, but you can’t be both. To the world of clothing manufacturers, all overweight women are exactly 5’7” tall. (And have huge boobs, but that’s another story.) I’m 5’10” – not extremely tall, but long-legged enough that most pants are about an inch too short. I can get away with that in the summer, but not in the winter. No matter how cute my socks, no one wants to see three inches worth of them. The search continues. I should just make my own – you know, because I have absolutely nothing else to do.
Although, I am restless lately, between projects, not really sure what to start next, but not that excited about finishing any of the projects I have in various states of done-ness, either. I’m working on a hat for Mason, knitting in the round on circular needles. I never thought I would say this, but knitting on double pointed needles might actually be easier. The cable holding the needles together is so stiff, it’s always in the way. Now that I have three inches or so done, I’m finally getting used to it. I tried it on Mason’s head, since I cast on for an adult sized hat, and it fits great – although now, of course, he’d rather just wear it as-is, knitting needles and all. He seems rather worried that I will actually finish it, and he’ll have to wear a complete hat, not just a strange ear warmer.
Assorted family members will be here next week to partake in the Thanksgiving festivities, as well as Toby’s birthday. Every time I even think about what needs to be done before they all get here, I sort of wilt. But there’s no point in doing it early, since nothing will stay clean unless I make the kids (and dogs, and husband) live out in the garage for the next week. Tempting….
Mason actually enjoys cleaning if it involves a bucket full of soapy water. Toby, however, sees cleaning as a special kind of torture designed specifically for him by Mean Mom. “It’s soooo hard!” he says, “I don’t know what to do!!!!”. It’s painful just to listen to him. I have tried explaining to him that if he would stop whining and start cleaning, he would have been done already, but that sort of logic is lost on a 6 (almost 7) year old. I told him that if he didn’t help me clean up this weekend, I was going to cancel his birthday, but I don’t think he believed me.
Next month is my next karate belt test, and I need a tutor. Really, I have some sort of karate learning disability. I’m supposed to know four different fighting moves – blocks and punches that I would retaliate with, should someone be crazy enough to take a swing at me. (Not crazy because I am a muscle-bound, threatening Amazon, but crazy because I’m a slow, lumpy, non-threatening Amazon (see above).) Regardless of how insistent I am that no one will ever try to punch me, the instructor is equally as insistent that I have to know the moves anyway. The thing is, it’s hard to practice the moves without someone there to tell me whether I’ve done them correctly or not. I’m going to have to organize a study session, or something. Wonder how that works? We can’t exactly meet at the library. Unless we were Ninjas……
Although posting about it isn’t very Ninja-like.