That's all I've got.

I need a new mouse. I keep deleting whole rafts of sentences, & frankly, I don't have the oomph to be witty & clever a second time. So instead, have some lolcat.

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PS: Updated to add:

This is an email from my best friend.

She’s becoming more & more of a knitter, & she works in a remote location for stretches of time. This is what she sent:

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From: S_______
Sent: March 2, 2009 3:55 PM
To: Kourtney
Subject: Unsuccessful

I left my size 8 circulars at home. Tried to make a substitute, but the yarn sticks to the duct tape too much.
Attempt #1: unsuccessful.
Will keep you advised on attempt #2...

I love that girl!

This made me laugh, & laugh, & laugh.

While I'm not quite sure if this is defined as "adult content", as someone who has worked as a part-time clown* making balloon animals, I find it freaking hilarious.
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It's a durex commercial. There are no people in this commercial; it's all balloon animals. I was going to upload it, but while I don't think it's obscene**, I suspect it does infringe on copyrighted blah blah... So, check it out here: Youtube Durex Balloon Animals .
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If you're the type of person who doesn't believe in condoms, or conversations about condoms, then I would really skip that link. Here! Instead look at this:

Aren't they lovely? No idea what they are, other than orange & pretty.

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*I guess I wasn't funny enough to be a full-time clown...
**I would explain it to small children as: "It's making a joke about something adults to do to feel closer to one another & your mother will explain it more LATER."

The Ugly Truth Comes Out

A strange thing happened while we were on holidays. It's never happened before, actually: I woke up before the man, got up, and put the coffee on for him..

(Maybe they grow coffee on the island off in the distance on the right? I think that's Lanai, & I know the coffee is for sure on Kona, but I digress. As usual.)

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It was astonishing, mostly because a) I am a sleeper, & b) I like the sleep. I don't know as I really identify myself as a coffee drinker, but I will make pots for others, & occasionally have a cup, if it's fortified by chocolate or Bailey's.

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Today, out running errands, the man mentioned that he thought he'd put on a pot of drip coffee once we got home. I remembered this as I was happily mashing avocadoes into guacamole, & offered to put on a pot for him.
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The man: "No thanks."
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Me: "You changed your mind?"
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The man: "Nope."
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Me: "Ah-hahhhh - you just don't like my coffee!"
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The man: "..." (while looking sheepish, trying to figure out what to say to bring it back to witty repartee from the potentially calamitous state of admitting he doesn't like my coffee.)

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Me: (Smugly. Because now, I never ever have to even think 'Maybe I should be nice & get up early & make him a coffee'.) "Here, taste the guacamole."
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Funny.

We Are Home.

And we're almost all unpacked.

(Amoryn's Bear was very glad to be unpacked. He's a little too big for carry-on - that's Rowr's job.)

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Also, be aware: although my blog & Maui became suddenly incompatible (the computer ate several posts of lovely pics), in order to cope with this:

(My view from the back door, and lovely, but COLD.) I am formally introducing a Maui Wowee policy. This is where I randomly insert cool Hawaii pics. Maui Wowee will carry on until summer, or I decide.

(Interestingly, similar color tones to the above pic - but this is a black sand beach, and the water is foaming surf, not snow & ice.)

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The carry-on with the dregs of the electronics and Big Pink* are the lone hold-outs for unpacking. Big Pink has been press-ganged into helping with a general clarification of the house, and I’ve collected all of my little projects, accessories, & books, drug them to my studio in the basement, and now I’m going to resort, re-prioritize, & replace them. Replacing them means that, depending on the hierarchy of my personal knitting desires & schedules, they’re either shelved, or re-bagged** & put back where they should be. (i.e.: Handbag, bedside table, coffee table, etc.) Considering that I have a house with cats, and thus try to limit the yarn that is left out, there is still a substantial supply of ongoing stuff. I may just leave it all in Big Pink, too.
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Clarification is my new concept for the house. I keep reading Architectural Digest, and being moved by the beautiful open spaces. Then I would look at my house, which is relatively large and open, and think “ACK! Why don’t I get that feeling from this?” I think part of the answer is the drifts of clutter, plants, & toys.*** And so, I’m trying to clarify the organization of the house, to increase the feeling of openness, but retain the base level of clutter****, plants, & toys that are necessary for life in our family.
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I did get some knitting projects done over the holiday – Liesl is one, more on another later. I’ve revised my opinion about Liesl’s need for serious blocking – it appears to be an optical illusion sweater; wearing it, I am hyper conscious of the garter row of the old-shale-y pattern, but looking at it, not so much. I’m finally knitting on the scarf that I started on the flight out – I looked at my ability to mindlessly knit repetitive theme/sanity, and revised my intentions slightly. By that, I mean a lot. I may still frog this & go back to the original concept, but… undecided. This state of a project is usually when it will get shelved, to let my subconscious muddle around with it for a while. I honestly can’t even say how many brilliant solutions come to me as I’m in bed, drifting off, or brushing my teeth in the morning.
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Turns out, in our absence, Suki had a knitting project too. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs, so I’m giving him credit for choosing such a lovely soft yarns out of my knitting bag (after he dug into it - apparently I have a cat that can work zippers, and is intoxicated by yarn fumes), and really sticking to it, even attempting to use the legs of chairs as needles to carry stitches on. It’s that, or I seriously consider the charm of a pair of Siamese cat-fur mittens.

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(This image may be too graphic for those sensitive to images of violence – I’d already unwound the stuff from the chair. The image doesn’t convey the quality of his work, either – there’s about 400 yards of a silk/mohair blend wound up with some fine orange alpaca, all in a knot the size of my head. Liberally dosed with cat slobber, of course.)

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In the spirit of yarn puke, I’ve spent a deal of the morning winding yarns. I had a realization about my Taiyo cardi, & how I wanted it to be, so I wound the yarn into a neat ball, ready to go, and I wound the lovely sock yarn I got in Maui, and then I started in on That D@mn Skein. It’s actually Those; four skeins that I’d purchased, dyed, and am now trying to reskein, which means wind them into a ball, then wind them back to a skein. This is what I do with yarn that I’m planning on selling. This yarn is no longer going to the store though; anything that has been cursed at & flung in rage would surely doom any projects. Also, I’ve had to cut it in multiple places so that I could continue to try & unknot it. The problem isn’t the organic user interface*****; it is that the skeins came from the company completely screwed up. Twisted, snarled. Looked okay on a brief initial inspection, which is why I just tied them in a couple more spots & dyed them, but really; they are a mess. And I feel safe in saying that it’s not me. The first one, I thought, ‘is this me’? The second one, I thought ‘this can’t be me’, the third one, I thought ‘what is this crap?’, and the fourth one, I hurled with rage. And curses. Although I’m charmed by the yarn, & its qualities, the complete arsed disaster that its skein is makes me think I am Never, Ever, Buying anymore. I will not be defeated by this yarn, but by gum, once I get this thing wound, I may just douse it in gasoline & light it on fire.

Speaking of lighting things on fire, I should go & flip the laundry. Although, I don’t put much through the dryer (which makes me think of fire), we hang more, which results in cold clammy fingers. Bah. Laundry is for the birds!

(The birds are at the Garden Of Eden Botanical Garden, on the way to Hana. I look a little tense, because all I could think was "Has the bird man trained his birds not to poo on heads?")
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*Big Pink – A Big Pink suitcase I got in Philly, at the same place where this went on… http://outstandingastonishment.blogspot.com/2006/09/millinery-heart-philly.html . The man mocks me mercilessly, but I love that I watch bags being loaded onto a plane, and know that that one is mine.
**I’ve moved form storing projects exclusively in Ziploc bags to using little cotton drawstring bags that I’ve made. I love them, and they keep my yarn from leaping free to its doom.
***Guess which belongs to whom?
****Clutter is typically compiled of reading material & mail. Books & mages are okay – but I’m starting to look at the mail pile as an active, hostile enemy. I’m serious. Torch & burn, or at least file & recycle.*****Organic User-Interface – Geek Speak for the idiot running the computer, or in this case, ball-winder.

Hey Look! Vol. 1.; updated to Crap on A Crap Cracker, Vol. 1

It's not here anymore. But there were some pictures, with brief yet charming descriptions, and a couple footnotes.
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And now it is gone, & I am out of ambition. So, sadly, no photos for you!
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And rework for me.

I'm so money.

That's all. I'm feeling fabulous.

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Love, K.

Chock full of aloha!

Yes indeed, everyone is in the spirit of things now. Amoryn is no longer looking at this place as an awful jail, and has (thankfully) reconciled herself with sand, and the relaxed people who have taken the place of her hectic parents.

(Trapped in awful beach side jail. Sunset added for extra torture.)

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She seems to be expressing he happiness by dancing & by covering her face with stuff. She likes bombing around in a diaper, and today, she helped put sunscreen on herself! With no screaming!

(Sand moustache.)
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(Nacho cheese eyebrows! Let's hear it for new food! Although Annie, you are totally right.)

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And she was wandering around on her own, too!
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How relaxed are the big people? Well. Yesterday was the first day the man got himself a paper, to catch up on the bad news in the world, & I've been positively dormant on the knitting front. I finished Liesl, and have been picking away knitting on the beach, but I'm processing ideas more than anything else, so I knit some mysterious blob for a while, then rip it all out. And it doesn't make me twitch.

(Liesl. Pretty cute; I am pleased, although it needs closures & a good blocking.)

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Not as cute as this though! (This is a size 6. The size 8 from Canada was a little bit big. ANd much more expensive.)

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I've been thinking a lot today; three years ago, we were having our first dance as a Mr. & Mrs. (I think, the time change + time zones are a little tricky.) If I had any digital pics of us from the wedding, I’d totally post one, but they’re all in my other pants.
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And man, what a fantastic three years. Three years ago, I had no butterflies; I had no last-minute “What-if’s” or “but-maybes”. I knew, going into marriage with the man, that I had no worries. I had found a solid man, someone to stick with me, and love me, and roll his eyes at most of my awful jokes.
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He does laugh at the odd one, just to humor me. (Or maybe he’s laughing at me? Doesn’t matter. It’s coming from a place of love.) And best of all, now we have Amoryn to laugh at too! (Come one. She is darn funny. Please see above nacho cheese pics.)
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And show her things - we're working on a book loving plant person.

Who likes to ham for the camera in the mornings.
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Happy anniversary, family. It totally rocks. And yes, I know that anniversary days are for the man & I - that's why we're headed out for dinner tonite. I have minimal pics of the two of us though... they all must be in my other pants!

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Gotta go get ready for my date! Scrape off the sunscreen, & slap on some warpaint!

Hi there. Aloha, even.

There’s a reason that I’m not emailing much*, you know. It’s because it would feel like I’m gloating. And really, I kind of would be.

(Ha-hah!)

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It's nice here. It's maybe the nicest place I've ever been, particularly because everyone is operating from close to the same "has" level. Most places I travel to, I mull what it would be like to be a homeless person 'here'** and it wouldn't be so rough here, I think. A) Sleeping outside wouldn’t be fatal, apart from falling coconuts, b) the naturally occurring fruits (see (A)) offset the lack of soup kitchens, & c) there's no real influx of homelessness (a la Vancouver or Victoria) because reeeally, if you can afford the flight here, things aren't so bad. (One homeless person will be looked after by the community, or caring individuals. An entire population becomes invisible.)

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(Tough life, eh?)

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Also, the weather. Loving the sheltered side of the islands, yes. And the sun. We were at 10,000' above sea level today (Haleakala - gesundheit!), & it was still nice in a tank top. Like June in Saskatchewan, really. (I realize clouds & more wind would change that dramatically.) However, unlike Saskatchewan, it was very alien, with strange & exotic residents. (Maybe that’s just my opinion because I’m from there, though.*** And it was high up – we were above the clouds. And man, it was some kind of view of the island, I must say.

(We're staying *point* over there.)

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Amoryn is not so enamored with Hawaii – or maybe she’s in a growth spurt, or she’s short on sleep, or it’s her temper, or she’s... um, teething? I don’t know. One nice old couple asked if she was teething. I said no. And then blinked. We’ve become “those people” – the ones with the squalling – no, SQUEEing offspring tucked under one arm, blithely ignoring them, snapping photos or drinking margaritas. That seems the fastest way to get her to snap out of it; not talking, not time outs, not threats (you won’t get that back if you throw it One More Time). Lack of reaction is not the most appealing option when we’re out in public, but now that I think of it, it does seem like she’s trying to provoke us. Would an almost 2-year old have that motive? I didn’t think she was short on positive feedback, but maybe I’ll try increasing that tomorrow. Something’s gotta give, & I just hope it’s not my sanity.

(SQUEE! Give me hugs! SQUEE! Snuggle. SQUEE! Repeat. I love her, but that grimace I am making, I am not so fond of.)

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She’s still adorable though. And she was quite good at the luau the other night. I think she was more taken by the special lighting than the hula, but whatever.

(Daddy, you floss like this.)

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I declined the poi, but did partake healthily of the pit roasted pig. As did the man & his brother. L____ (sister-in-law) is a 'no land animals' vegetarian, so she had the poi.

And either blue sweet potatoes, taro root, or… something else. Not bad though! (It's seafood - get it? See food! Hahahaha! Another mai tai, please...)****
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There were hula dancers – and I loved the hula men. I’d call them hula boys, as the counterpoint to hula girls, but my goodness. With pelvic thrusts like that, men for sure. The hula girls were fantastic; the only reason that the men won out in my opinion was that the girls had these fixed awful smiles on their faces. Eesh. I get it for the “Hollywood Hula”, but for the more traditional dances? Why smile like that? (The girl on the left is an example. Although maybe I would smile like that if I were shaking my coconuts for cash. Who cacn say.)

Amazing. And on that note, I'm taking my coconuts to bed. More updates from paradise to follow!

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*I mean, assuming that I email you to begin with. Otherwise, I guess I’m just like that.

** It all started when I saw a man napping under a date palm in Jordan.

***Transplant a vegan from BC, & she might feel differently, right M____?

****L____, I told you I was going to blog that photo.

Aloha!

First things first: I picked the trashy red. It's proving to be a good choice; it looks well in the light here & it coordinates nicely with the sand.

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I have to say, I am having a hard time turning off my "fromage indicator"* every time I hear someone say aloha. Because dude, we're totally in Maui. We're at Honoapilani (I think), just up from Ka'anapali. No, Honoapilani is our road, we're in... um. I don't know. Honokowai? For a language that uses just 11 of our letters, it is confusing as all get out. I'm starting to stutter in English, just from trying to read the road map & say "turn onto ummmmmmmm Honowokowikimactavish Road"**.

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We're at the Hale Kai, see? There's the man reading on our lanai.

We look out across this little park, which I thought I had taken a photo of. Sadly, you'll have to make do with a view from the little park's beach. I literally took the photo above, then turned around, & took this photo.

Awful, isn't it?

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I am loving it here. It's been beautiful; gorgeous; fantastic; and serene. It's hot enough that I'm never cold enough to put on a sweater, but cool enough that the man & the girl aren't melting & irritable. I think it's perfect, at least, apart from the high pitched SQUEEE noises that Am was making about sand and showers. I think she's over the hump for sand - she'll walk in it, play with it, & pretend*** to eat it now. Showers, well. It's a vacation, and who said she really needs to be clean anyways? With another couple days worth of sunscreen, we can totally make her hair into a mohawk. Or maybe one of those tar ponytails that sailors used to have.

(The background is Uncle M___, & Uncle M___'s shoe. Aunty L___ had the wisdom to move upwind of Am's sand extravaganza. The man was in the ocean.)
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We've got a little one bedroom condo (you've already seen the lanai), and there's a fabulous company here that rents baby stuff. Better yet, they set it up at your place, then bring your carseat to the airport for you, so that you don't have to get 'home' from a 6 hour flight (12 hours total travel time, counting connecting flight & layover & stuff), and then try to sort out how the MF crib goes together. It's a smaller room, so if Am is already awake when I open my eyes, this is what I see:

We reach our fingers through the bars to each other, & it makes me giggle. It also made me reflect on the fact that I'm convinced most mothers are victims of Stockholm syndrome.

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But such happy victims, no?

All right, time to go wake my sleephead up. She was Up Most Of The Night, convinced she wanted to party. I was like "Duuuuude, it's 11:30 (12:30, 1:20, 2:10, 3:05). Go To Sleep." And in an attempt to limit the SQUEEEs of rage****, I'm letting her sleep in. It's only 10:20 here.
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*Related to a bs indicator.

**Please note: this is me making fun of myself; not me making fun of the Hawaiin language or culture. How could I? It's so nice here.

***I took the same approach to sand that I did to garden dirt. I let her eat some, then explained that no, it doesn't taste very good, here's a drink, don't do it again, okay? Seems to work well. And she's had a her Hep shots.

****SQUEEEs of rage are related to, intensified by, or caused by lack of sleep, I think. Also, she was sick for a couple weeks, & got used to the entire universe revolving around her, & bringing her apple juice whenever she wanted. While I still bring her juice, we're coming back to the "rules" & "cooperation" world again, and oi.

Wowee! Maui?

So! In the continuing saga of "The Robinson Family Try To Go On Vacation", we now have flights booked to take us to Maui & back, with a nice number of days in between.

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We also have a condo to stay in - and it was only the fifth palce we called. They were the first people not to laugh at us. Did you know February is high HIGH season there?

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We don't have a car yet, but I have faith.

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We do have almost everything packed - I'm just going to thin things out some, & we're good to go.

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Yes, it's not NZ for a month, but it's someplace away & sunny, and it's a (much) shorter flight, and it's going to be just fine. Sure, the USD is a lot stronger than our dollar (as opposed to the NZD), sure there isn't a huge industry devoted to wool & yarn (there are two shops, both small, and one hand-dyer). But. I don't care. It will be fine. It will be lovely. It will be grand. It's actually quite funny - we're crashing the BIL & SIL's vacatino - they're in a condo just up the road for a week or so while we're there! We get to meet up for afternoon cocktails on the lanai! Huzzah! (Or, aloha, or hoolawakamui-yay, which seems a likely Hawaiian cheer, after reading what they name places.)

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Now, the only decision left is... what color do I paint my toes? I have a serious collection of OPI polish (do you know OPI polish? Best. Nail polish. Ever.), and I've narrowed the selection down to the following - I think of them as true red, trashy red (shiny, and that almost pinky color that I associate in my memory with the cheap Revlon my cousin D___ & I bought as kids), melon, Vietnam Pink (because that's the color I wore to Vietnam), Jewel of India (because that's what it's actually named, & it's stuck in my head), & electric blue.

(The suspects: Thrill of Brazil; You Rock-Apulco Red!; Bright Lights, Big Color; Ladies & Magenta-Men; Jewel of India, & Blue My Mind)
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(See? That's really their names.) (And Cold FX in the background.)

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I feel, despite the fact that this could be regarded as a trite thing, that it's a big decision. The appropriate color can set the tone for the entire vacation! And OPI polishes will, in fact, get a girl through three or four weeks of hard wear, provided you base & top coat appropriately. Really! (I have a thing about painting my toes. I like them painted, & I hate them chipped. I have arrived at OPI after some research & experimentation. (Base coat + two - three layers of color + top coat + maybe rapid-dry. Awesome wear. No chipping. It'll grow off before it chips. Also, swipe your nails with polish remover before you base coat - it removes any oils & gets a wicked finish!)

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I'm leaning towards the trashy red - although Acapulco is in Mexico - or the melon. Or maybe the blue. The red went to Napa last fall, & the pink & the purple aren't right. Also, the red will match Liesl - see?

Isn't she lovely? (ignore the needles sticking out of my armpit, & the bits of white cotton waste thread.) I was having a heck of a time this morning trying to take a pic; rest assured, it actually is a sweater with two sleeves, not a cape, as it appears. I'm currently aiming for long sleeves & a cropped body. Hopefully the end result won't be too 80's. Or too afghan - the stitch is closely based around the Old Shale / Feather & Fan pattern, & we all have a gramma who has a big ole' acrylic throw on her couch. Maybe my cardi will be good camo for my alternate life in an alternate universe, where I'm a superspy, intent on overthrowing the evil empire of Grannies.

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Maybe I'm still a little short on sleep. That seems more likely. On that note.... zzzz.

It's Almost Like Decenber

A couple years ago, I had the funniest winter. My brain was quite convinced that there should be an "n" in December. I rode out that spasm of dyslexia, and have since been fine.
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Until today.
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Today, I thought I would work on the crossword over lunch. I filled in three words before I realized that I'd transposed the horizontal & vertical, & completely disregarded the number cues. (In other words, put the word wherever you want it.) I stopped, erased everything, and put the words into the right places. I'd filled in all the words I could, & was doing the re-read of the missing word's clues, and I found myself wishing that the following existed:

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1) Leomard Cohen - famous Camadian singer & poet, noted for his angst-ridden work and his incredible resemblance to Ross Geller from Friends.

(Tell me I'm wrong.)

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2) Omarthic - a subset of mathematics, which correlates equations to love poetry in an attempt to name the stars.
"Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas." ~Albert Einstein
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3) Abroggle - a messy, complicated situation. No negative connotation attached. Occasionally, a mandatory stage on the way to enlightenment or a finished project.

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That's when I realized that my brain was all abroggle, and decided to put Am down for her nap, start some laundry, & continue the bookkeeping. Almost done - huzzah! Then I shall commence issuing slips & compiling government remittances and such. I know how to rock it, yeah.

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*Please note -the absence of any H's in this post are not related to my brain & its function; tey're due to the new keyboard tat I need to re-box & exchange. But first I need to find the receipt. I like the keyboard, it's just tat the H & te space bar stick. Why is it that the exchange is my responsibility, anyways? Souldn't it be te man's? Oh well.