Moose Threads - custom crocheted clothing

Work, work, work

2011-09-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

Well hello there....

It's been a year of ups and downs and family crisis, but I'm still here.
I've been creating as a way to work through my grief and for the first time in a long while, have been able to add quite a few ready-to-wear applique hats to my etsy store.

I've also been working on some brand new items, which locally have gotten a great response - HAIR ACCESSORIES!!!!

I've managed to find a way to create my appliques in a format small enough to be affixed to hair clips, headbands, pony tail holders and pins. They have been a complete blast to make and hopefully I will be adding them to my shop in the next month or so.

As always the majority of my business comes from custom orders. You pick the color combos and the size. I work the yarn.

I'm looking forward to a productive holiday season so please let me know if you are looking at placing an order. Christmas will be here before you know it!

Restless Heart

2010-09-19T20:40:00.000-07:00

I haven't crocheted in days......

I haven't wanted to.......

I just got over a nearly 8 month long "I don't want to! (pout, pout , pout)" phase.

This is not good.....

As I type this I am surrounded by yarn.
An amazing smorgasbord of yummy goodness in every color and texture and fiber content imaginable.
It's as though a bag of skittles exploded in my office.

Why doesn't this make me happy?

Normally at this time of year I am happily working on custom orders for Moose Threads fans.
As soon as I got done with one project, another request would pop up. It was awesome.

But, times-they-are-a-changin'

Now instead. of working on custom orders, or items to list in my shop for that matter, I am paralyzed with fear.

I swear I can hear those unfinished projects whispering to me from the back of my supply closet, where I stuffed them oh so long ago.

The blanket that I abandoned 1/3 of the way through
The dress that needs just a few more inches
The yarn I purchased to make my dad a sweater.......2 years ago.....

Finish me.....love me......wear me......why don't you like me......why did you abandon me.....ME ME ME

It's a little hard to work with so many needy projects clamoring for attention.

Every time I look at that closet it's as though staring at a bunch of puppies that have been picked up, played with and then abandoned for the next cute thing that comes along.

I can only take so much abandoned crochet project guilt.

So here is what I plan to do.

I aim - custom orders permitting- to work on one unfinished item a month until I have them all completed.

Let's hope I don't collect anymore along the way.

Trying new things

2010-09-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

So I've finally decided to drag myself out of my pit of unmotivated despair.

I changed up the blog and hope this version is a lot cleaner than the last.

I also created some brand-new items at the request of some amazing friends.

Here are just a few of these creations.

Holy cow it's April!?

2010-04-05T14:34:00.000-07:00

Um yeah.....

Needless to say the past few months got away from me.

Hubby got home from five months at sea.
Fundraising gig started up again and so did my unfortunate bad habit of giving up regarding finding time for myself.
I gained all the weight and inches back that I lost - and then some.

And we embarked on a HUGE outdoor renovation, that was a long time coming.

And we're looking for shore duty orders. So far the options have been slim and unappealing. It's very scary not knowing where you'll be come next year.

Lots of stuff and not enough time to process it.

Moose Threads is dead in the water right now.
I've lost my desire to create and where once just looking at my yarn stash would get me inspired, it instead causes the creative part of my brain to freeze up like a nun in a whore house.

I just can't get inspired.

On a good note, I've been decrapping the house.

It still looks cluttered, but by making sure I take time out of each day to tidy up a little, it hasn't gotten overwhelming.
The closets are clean and organized. The office is clean and so is the downstairs bathroom.

The kitchen and living room are tidy and I am staying on top of laundry - as much as I can without discovering it's breeding habits and penchant for eating socks....

I'm not on top of the world right now, but I'm picking my way toward it one step at a time.

Becoming Me - Part 2

2009-08-30T12:25:00.001-07:00

Note: Due to my shunning of the camera this part will not have as many pictures of my progress.

Before I returned to the gym in March of this year where I met Janice and Deb, I should note that I did in fact originally enroll at a wonderful place called Silverdale/Kingston Fitness back in August of 2008

At the time I was about 190 and a size 14 and David was starting preschool two days a week at the Kingston Co-op.

My plan was simple: exercise at the Kingston location while David was in preschool and Silverdale (where there is childcare) once or twice a week.

Simple right?

Yeah not so much.

I had taken on the task of Fundraising Coordinator for KCP, which being a Co-Op, the school depends on to help cover the cost of day-to-day operations. I was a brand new parent and no clue what I was getting myself into.

What a lot of work!

Before I took the position I didn't factor in that Robert would at at sea for two of the bigger fundraisers during the year. Not having a second parent at home, I inevitably used the time David was in school to work on fundraising. Let's not even talk about finding time for Moose Threads.

Add in that I committed a HUGE no-no by forgetting to keep up with my medication for Hashimotos - 250 micrograms of synthroid - and I was a disaster waiting to happen.

I tried to hide how depressed I really was, but I know I wasn't 100 percent effective at it. This was right before I started seeing my therapist.

I was lucky to be surrounded by an amazing group of supportive women at KCP. They may not have all known about my battle with depression but they were sure as hell willing to help Cindy (my co-fundraising chair) and I with this fundraising gig.
But despite all their efforts, I couldn't help but feel I didn't fit in or that I was doing a very good job.

In September of 2008, for my 29th birthday, my husband purchased 10 personal training sessions for me.

Now before you whip out the duct tape and fire ants in horror of a husband purchasing such a gift for his wife - I need to clarify - that it had nothing to do with his opinion of how I looked.

During this entire weight-loss roller coaster my husband - who swims daily and remains a slim 160 pounds - has not once ever commented on my changing body. Even on my most frumpalicious days he always told me I was beautiful.

(Georgia, Tara, Shelley.... you trained him well)

The personal training sessions were his way of giving me support while he was at sea. Being a fellow swimmer he knew that the thought of free weights and fitness classes scared me more than seeing Joan Rivers in a bikini.

And so my journey to Janice and Deb began.

Originally I was paired with a trainer who I'll call Rebecca 1.

Rebecca 1 was someone who I felt understood what I was dealing with. She had lost 80 pounds herself and was a Navy Spouse.

Perfect right?

Not really.

We spoke on the phone and scheduled our first session, but faster than Lindsey Lohan can make a crap movie , she called and cancelled.

All she said was that she suddenly had to move back east and that someone at the front desk would reassign me a trainer. In fact I never really spoke to her - she left a message on my voicemail.

Strike one.

Well, I was assigned a trainer in the form of someone I'll call Rebecca 2 (yep both had the same name)

Rebecca 2 seemed promising. She seemed to get what I was going through emotionally and what I was looking for in terms of learning to exercise sans pool. This was early October of 2008.

Over the course of two months we met a total of 2 times. Making a training date with Rebecca 2 was worse than trying to teach Jessica Simpson how to read. No matter how far in advance we scheduled a session, inevitably she would call and cancel a mere half hour before I was to leave the house.

Not exactly motivating.

Feeling a bit lost I slowly started finding excused not to go to the gym.

However,I wanted to give her one last chance and so Rebecca 2 asked if we could meet outside of the gym to talk.

When I arrived at the mall (her choice) to meet her, Rebecca 2 had an older woman with her.

Warning bells softly ringing.

Well, over the course of an hour (what can I say I had too many manners drilled into me) Rebecca 2 and this woman - who happened to be a supplement direct sales person, tried to convince me that the only thing that will help my weight loss was by taking a $100 per month concoction of crap.

The woman even went as far as to claim that her own personal doctor used the supplements and that they'd cure my Hashimotos etc.

Warning bells definitely louder now...

The final straw was when Rebecca 2 pulled the I-know-how-busy-with-the-preschool-and Robert-gone-and-your-business-for-you-to-workout-consistently-so-this-is-your-ONLY-option card.

To which the supplement lady promptly adds "Wow you're really busy. What you don't know how to say no?"

By this time my alarm bells had turned into sirens louder that a Gorilla having his butt waxed.

I never saw Rebecca 2 again.

Strike 2

From November 2008 to Feb 2009 I didn't go to the gym at all. I felt guilty considering we were spending the money on the gym each month, I had an unused childcare card and 8 personal training session left to go, but my encounter with Rebecca 2 and the supplement nut left me confused and untrusting.

During this time I gained 30 pounds as I battled my depression (how I had reached 220), and it only seemed worse during the gloomy Western Washington weather.

But after my encounter with my "so very supportive relative" I decided to try and return to working out.

I have never been so nervouse as the day I went back to the gym that February.

I was scared as hell to run into Rebecca 2 and I was so self-conscious that for the first few weeks I wouldn't take off my huge bulky sweatshirt and baseball cap.

In the past, whenever I had joined a gym, the staff was either high and mighty or just plain rude.

Boy did I have nothing to worry about.

Gary at the front desk immediatly recognized me and asked how I'd been and how I was doing.
Melanie, who also worked the front desk, asked if my husband was back from sea and said it was great to see me.

Alissa and Tina in childcare were thrilled to see David and asked me how potty training was going.

It was like I'd been going there for years.

Finally after about a week of using the elliptical I got up the courage to appraoch Melanie about those remaning personal training sessions.
I had no idea if they were still good or if I had to continue with Rebecca 2 in order to use them.

Enter Janice.

Janice is the Personal Training Manager for Silverdale Fitness and though she's just a little thing I've never met someone with such an immense positive presence.

I stumbled through my question regarding my training sessions. I mean, it's not easy to tell someone basically "Hey your trainer sucks monkey butt and I want a do-over."

I then learned that Rebecca 2 no longer worked for the gym and my less than stellar impression of her wasn't just my depression influcing my feelings.

Janice offered to personally help match me with a new trainer, or, if I'd like she'd train me herself.

I'm not sure why, but there was an energy about Janice that was like finding that coveted onion ring amid an order of french fries - it felt meant to be and so I decided to attempt this personal trianing thing for the third and last time.

I didn't know what to expect my first session with Janice.
With Rebecca 2 it was a pretty mundane combination of free weights and the treadmill. Not really my style.

Well I was in for a treat.

The only way I can describe Janice during a training session is to have you imagine if Hello Kitty and Seargeant Slaughter had a child together. She is the perfect combination of sweet, sassy and brute strength.

She pushes me just hard enough to challenge myself, but never fails to crack a joke just at the point I am about to give up.

Her training style is more than just free weights and boring cardio and each session she appraoches me like you would a 1000 piece puzzle.

At first I was a big jumble of rough pieces and undefined shapes.
She first started with the simple edges, giving me an easy frame to work within.
Each session she added a more challenging piece until slowly a picture began to emerge and I could finally see myself again.

I've learned to look at paper plates in a whole new light, love the Bosu Ball and loathe wall pushups. Just when I think I've mastered something, she turns up the difficulty.

Home Run!

And then there was Deb....

Becoming Me - Part 1

2009-08-28T21:03:00.000-07:00

As I was attempting to blog about my weight loss journey I realized that I never have really talked about what life was like before I gained the equivalent of 12-year-old boy - 85 pounds

So many associate thinness with happiness - me included. But it's taken me falling so far down the health mountain to realize that even at my thinnest and healthiest I wasn't really that happy.

Growing up I had my chunky-going-through-puberty-freshman-15-moments, however, I always managed to lean out and stay fit.

I probably helped that I was a swimmer at heart who thrived on competition.

In college I hit the pool five days a week - two of those preceded by an hour of kickboxing.

I held down a full class load, two jobs and two internships. Sleep and food were rare if not always fast.

When I graduated college in 2001 I weighed approximately 135 pounds and wore a size 6-8, sometimes a 4.

I was in the best shape of my life, yet I didn't feel pretty or attractive at all - mainly because I didn't have a thick enough skin.

I always attracted those guys - you know the ones that if you don't put out after a few dates find a way to cut you loose by cutting you down.

Let's see.... One guy told me my boobs weren't big enough, another said I wasn't hot enough to impress his friends, and one said I was an 8 but the fact I didn't put out made me a 2.

Bad as those may have been it was a comment made by a very close relative of mine that to this day - 9 years later - still affects me the most.

We were perusing a local shopping center, having what I thought was a great time, when out of the blue said relative looked over at me in my t-shirt, jeans and flip flops and exclaimed (as though she had just witnessed Cloris Leachman and Bea Arthur sunbathing nude)

"My word Kristy! Look at that belly on you! That is not attractive. No man is going to want a women with a belly like that."

Please reference paragraph 7 of this blog.

I was 135 pounds and a size 6-8. I was primarily muscle.

The force of her words hit me so hard I felt as though I'd been hit in the chest by a Grizzly bear who'd just been waxed.

Wow! If this relative, whose opinion I always valued, who I looked up to, felt this way about me then now what?

It was around this time - college graduation - that I now recognize was my first encounter with depression and all that comes with it.

I lived in a town where I had no friends, had a job I hated, my closest relatives constantly criticized my weight and the ultimate breaking point - I was betrayed by one of the few people I knew in the area.

And so the cycle began. I ate because I was sad. I was sad because I ate. I slept because I hated to be alone and I was alone because I slept all the time and failed to get out and make friends.

By the time I snagged a new job near my hometown a year later I had gained 20 pounds and was a size 10. However, I didn't look unhealthy. In fact, given my Sicilian heritage the weight only made me a little more curvy and a lot more busty.

I eventually settled in at a comfortable 160 pounds, which I maintained for about two years.

In 2004 I married my husband and given that he worked crazy day hours and I worked crazy night hours, what little free time we had we spent not at the gym or outdoors but well...eating.

Both of us were usually too tired to cook and so we paid someone else to do it for us.

With a year I was pushing 175 and fitting into a comfortable size 14. Yet I still didn't feel unattractive - unless I was around that certain relative who felt the need to always point out my growing extremities. (She once asked my mother if I was going to fit into my wedding dress by the time the ceremony came around)

Upon our 1-year-anniversary I unexpectedly because pregnant with our son David.

Complications from a medication I'm on, helped push my weight up to 245 at it's highest during my pregnancy. I was so swollen I was literally unrecognizable.

(When I was 8 months pregnant a wife of a former coworker of my husbands once looked at our wedding photo and asked who was in the picture with Robert. Being the grumpy pregnant lady I was, I promptly said "Oh that's just Robert's first wife. I like to keep a picture of their wedding photo to remind him of how good he has it now")

Luckily, with a combination of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, walking and scattered eating I soon found myself back to 170 and a size 12/14 within just two months of David's birth.

It didn't last long.

Soon I found myself on a roller coaster of craziness where every time I thought things were slowing to a stop life would throw me another loop-de-loop.

A family emergency, expensive house repairs, two grandparent deaths 5 days apart and two 90 day patrols shocked me so hard they left me numb.

I felt like I was repeating that first year out of college, only this time I sank deep into this bout of depression faster than a toddler sinks into a pack of unattended oreos.

A new found embarrassment of my body - which was pushing into a tight 14 and tipping 190 on the scale- kept me from going to the gym (what would people think of my poor husband seeing his fat wife, workout clothing was uncomfortable, my knees hurts too much... my back)

When you are in that lonely place you will find any excuse to shelter yourself from the outside.

Food was my comfort and so was sleep. The bigger I got the more angry I got and more angry I got the more I pushed the people who truly cared about me away.

How Robert didn't leave me during this dark time is any one's guess. Work must have seemed like a four-star resort compared to the firing range he came home to. Forget nitpicking - I was full on hurling grenades. Nothing was good enough or made me happy enough. If he said the wrong thing the wrong way, watch out.

Depression had made me paranoid about who I could trust and to me trust is everything.

Finally things came to a head between us where for the first time in our 5-year marriage we found ourselves in a huge shouting match where I told him to leave.

Ummm What?

Luckily I still had some wonderful friends who recognized I was emotionally drowning and fought against my emotional tidal waves to help rescue me.

Deb,Beth and Melissa D listened and helped me keep focused on the one hobby I still had - crocheting - encouraging me to keep going with Moose Threads despite being uninspired.

Shannon W and Katie forced me to get out of the house by inviting me to the park, lunch, playdates - anything.

Jessica stayed up with me online through all hours of the night letting me vent and talk through a lot of the turmoil that was going on inside me.

And Karen - thank god for Karen - worked her schedule to allow me to start seeing a therapist every month.

I was so lucky I had this support system because right in the middle of my climb out of my dark emotional pit I almost lost my grip.

A trip home and another encounter with this particular relative -who I always want so badly to please- was like ramming head on into a Mac Truck.

With me tipping the scales at 220 pounds - my highest non-pregnancy weight - and busting out of a size 16 - I was a great target for a lot of jabs.

Although I had started therapy and was feeling better I wasn't prepared for comments like:

"Pull your pants up you look like a plumber. Why don't you find pants that fit?"
"Do you really think you should be eating that?"
"I thought you were losing weight, it doesn't look like it."

But the real kicker was aimed toward my parenting skills

"Do yourself a favor and don't have any more children. Focus on the one you have because he's obviously a child you have difficulty with."

1-2-3 TKO!

Later that night Robert - who could see I was in distress- tried to lighten my mood by asking if this relative was walking around here on earth who was running hell.

This was in February of 2009.

Now I don't want to give this relative credit for pushing me back into the gym but in a way they did.

I wanted so badly to prove them wrong. To show them that I was stronger than the heavy words they piled on me all the time.

Though I was embarrassed and my workout clothes consisted of my brother's old t-shirts and sweat pants by March I managed to return to the gym.

I didn't really know what to do and workouts consisted mainly of 30 minute sessions on the elliptical.

But this was BJAD - Before Janice and Deb.

It was meeting these two amazing women that truly changed the way I look at myself.

To be continued......

Ok....so I lied....

2009-08-12T23:27:00.000-07:00

Seeing that my last blog entry was oh in....MAY.... I'm not really as on top of things as I thought.

My idea to move toward applique or applique-only items in my store never happened. Why? Because finding time to be creative lately has been harder than Jessica Simpson attempting to do first grade math.

Here is an example of how crazy today was, which isn't much different than every other day it seems.

1 a.m - put crochet project down after the 50th sneak attack in less than 5 minutes by my not so subtle ninja-in-training kitty. Nothing makes you quit hooking faster than a quick stab in the thigh from needle sharp claws.

3 a.m.- dream I'm being attacked by vampire alligators wearing space suits. Wake up to find said ninja kitty attacking me through my down comforter.

3:05 a.m. - attempt to kick said kitty and her two big sisters out of the room only to discover they have not only enrolled in ninja training but an intense course of sending Morse code via a new door slapping technique.

4 a.m. - wake up to toddler yelling for milk. Deliver said milk to toddler only to learn he is more awake than a guinea pig after a quad-shot espresso.

4:10 a.m. - after much insistence, irritation and finally begging and pleading on my part, toddler is still wide awake and mommy resorts to putting him in her bed and turning on the big screen tv. All hopes of mind-numbing, technicolor cartoons lulling toddler back to sleepy land are quickly forgotten faster than Britney Spears' underwear.

5:30 a.m. - drag tush downstairs to get said toddler refill on milk. Pass by office and realize you need to write up a custom listing, print out some fundraising stuff and of course search through the massive pile of clean, unfolded clothes for something to wear to the gym that won't frighten small children.

6:30 a.m. - snuggle back under covers only to have toddler attempt to pry your eyelids apart and shout "mama! mama! WAKE UP!"

7 a.m. - 8 a.m. - somewhat of a blur due to lack of sleep and coffee.

8:30 a.m. - attempt to dress a toddler who suddenly has formed an opinion about fashion. Nothing says Project Runway better than a stained monster truck green t-shirt, blue shorts and bright red lightning McQueen rubber boots.

8:45 a.m. - find two socks that can pass as matching and rush out to the car and wrestle toddler into car seat.

9 a.m. - discover that windshield wipers need replacing after finding they do more smearing than wiping.

9:25 a.m. - check toddler into child care at gym.

9:30 - 10:30 a.m. - proceed to get my ass kicked by Ms. Janice in kickboxing class. If anyone has found my lungs and stomach contents please return to the front desk at the gym.

10:35 a.m. - pick up toddler at child care and proceed to chase him around a wet parking lot. Apparently toddler has decided that mommy needs to get her heart rate back up by dodging moving vehicles.

11 a.m. - stop at coffee drive through for 24 oz drip for mom and 10 oz milk with straw for toddler.

11:01 a.m. - discover said toddler had decided that drinking from a straw is passe' and would rather dump said milk all over his clothes and seat belt.

11:10 a.m. - 2:30 p.m. - work on fundraising merchandise pricing at Karen's house amid three screaming boys and all their noisy messy toys.

2:35 p.m. - drag crying screaming toddler out the door and head home

3 p.m. - arrive home to discover ninja kitty and her accomplices have broken into the trash and dragged discarded food items all over the living room floor and stairs.

3:35 p.m. - finish cleaning up mess and convince toddler using a Popsicle bribe.

3:40 p.m. - hide in office and check e-mails and other items.

4 p.m. - discover said toddler has decided to take a nap - an occurrence more rare than finding a picture of Paris Hilton fully clothed.

4:01 p.m. - mom uses nap time to take a quick shower and search for more clean clothes that aren't as wrinkled as Joan Rivers without botox.

4:30 p.m. - escape to knitting circle for a breather. Complete two rows of dress.

6 p.m. - grab a quick salad and then head to preschool for board meeting.

7 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. - sit through board meeting discussing upcoming preschool year and everything that needs to be done.

10 p.m. - arrive home to hyper child and attempt to get brain to re solidify after being turned to mush from too much information.

10:45 p.m. - Finally convince toddler to snuggle up in my bed with cartoons.

11:15 p.m. - Toddler finally goes to sleep and mommy proceeds to attempt to check e-mails and finish other frustrating Moose Threads tasks amid ninja-kitties attacking from all sides.

11:30 p.m. - 12:30 a.m. - attempt to update blog.

Needless to say me time and creative time don't really exist right now. But hopefully they will make an appearance soon.....hopefully.

I'm alive.... really

2009-05-19T22:22:00.001-07:00

Hi everyone!

Well my poor shop on 1000 Markets and Etsy have sat for a while for a few reasons.

A) My husband is a submariner with the US Navy and recently just left on a patrol. Getting ready for a patrol is like trying to shove a hippo into a pair of technicolor tights. It's not fun and it just isn't a pretty process.
Trying to help your husband accumulate and pack the appropriate items for a long cruise amid what chaos a daddy-loving 3-year-old can produce is akin to poking my eyes out with twizzlers. It's slow and painful and not something I look forward to.

B) Amid all this craziness, my son - who has a severe speech delay - underwent a series of evaluations by both the Naval Hospital and the school district. Thank the Lord and his tie-dyed underpants because everything came out OK. It's a very scary feeling having your child evaluated for Autism and other issues.
He was deemed a bright yet quirky child and an appropriate preschool schedule and speech therapy plan was hatched.
I can't wait for the day my child does not turn the word Banana or Clap into something naughty. Nothing makes me want to run for cover more than my toddler screaming "PO-NANA!" in the middle of the grocery store. Add in a good "CRAP CRAP" instead of CLAP. Or "HOCKER" for HELICOPTER and you have yourself quite a good show.

C) Now this is a VERY good reason for having neglected my online store fronts. I've been filling custom applique orders for two different stores. One is based in Birmingham, AL and uses my designs as part of their clothing.
Another is a fellow friend and artisan who is redirecting her store to feature more custom pillows and shams.
While not millions of dollars both have kept me very busy and creatively challenged.

Amid all the craziness I have also decided to refocus Moose Threads toward strictly appliques or appliqued items. Over the past year or so I've begun to notice that the majority of my customers come to me for the applique itself and not necessarily the item it is on. This way my customers can choose the appliques purpose.
For example: One person commissioned 6 custom dragonflies based on a swatch of fabric. These dragonflies were then incoporated into a quilt design.
Another customer took an applique and sewed it onto a jean jacket, another a shirt and yet another a beach towel.

So after seeing where my customer base is I've begun stockpiling appliques and new designs with the plan of adding these items into my store over the next few weeks.

So stay tuned.....

Running away

2009-05-17T23:51:00.000-07:00

I noticed the past two weeks that my self confidence had started to wane and that I hadn't visited my usual twice-weekly step class or Tuesday morning weight routine. I even found myself lagging during my session with my amazing trainer Janice.

Now if I'm not enjoying a session with Janice then something's wrong. She may be all of 5-feet nothing, but Janice is solid muscle and with more energy than the Roadrunner after a hit off a crack pipe. Even if your entire body felt like jello and your insides wanted to make a run for it out your eye sockets from sheer pain - Janice would still make you wanting more.

I was not myself.

It's been a stresseful few weeks as I have mentioned and I think that now that I've had a chance to slow down and take it all in, that my mind can't handle everything at once. When this happens I tend to fold back into myself and eat the pain away.

I found myself going for high-carb, high-sugar items that left me burned out and dead tired. I was living off drip coffee and zero water. The scale was sticking at 212 although just the week before I had hit a 5-pound loss reachin 210. I REFUSE TO HEAD BACK DOWN THE SLIPPERY SLOPE.

When I felt myself start to panic after a near run in with some people who in the past made me doubt myself and feel like an outsider - something I thought I was WAY past - I new I needed to find a way to grab hold of something and climb back out of this wave of depression.

So I've decided to do two things.

Return to writing
And return to running

Writing has always been my refuge and the best way for me to express myself. I used this blog heavily as my own form of therapy when talking just made me feel worse. And I could care less if people think I'm lame, or people think I'm whiney or people just think I'm plain nuts. If they dont' like what I have to write about don't read it.

I think a lot of my newfound anxiety is being triggered by the fact that we are appraochign the 1-year mark of my first real anxiety attack and first real experience with feeling lost in this world. It is a very deperate feeling to not know who your friends are or who you can trust. It's like being dropped into a pool of crazy glue where you feel stuck and unable to free yourself from the pain.

I'm finding myself sticking my neck out there again and I'm waiting with eyes squeezed shut and breathe held for the axe to fall. The HAHA we got you SUCKER!

It was right after my first anxiety attack that my friend Karen pushed me to start running with her as a way to not only help me cope but as a way for her to train for triatholons. I found running difficult, but very freeing. Though I was a slow runner, I used that time to sort things out in my head. It gave me a goal to push for and something to look forward to. It was me and the clock and no one else.

The more I ran the better I began to feel and I even lost a few pounds along the way - until I injured my shins. Not being able to challenge myself left me a little lost. Over the next fall and winter I gained 25 pounds and hit my highest weight ever. I was busting out of a size 16 and teetering at 215 on my 5 foot 3 inch frame. My back hurt and all I wanted was to sleep all day.

A trip home to visit family only hammered a few extra nails into coffin for my slowly dying self esteem.

Enter Karen again.

Upon arriving home she whipped out the new race schedule and motivated me to get back to the gym. This time I hired a personal trainer who not only knew my struggles but really pushed me to better myself.

The first 5k I did was tough and I came in second from last at a measly 44:40. Little did I know I was running in the wrong pair of shoes and slowly destroying my heels and shins. The second 5k a few weeks later I came in even slower at 50 minutes. With shin pain so severe I was forced to walk the majority of the race, again coming in second from last. I felt a bit like a centipede who was born with all left feet.

Though devestated Karen and our friend Kristen reminded me that what mattered was I finished.

The next weekend after a pow-wow with Janice and Deb - my step instructor - Robert took me to Poulsbo Running to get properly fitted for a pair of running shoes. The difference was amazing and It was sheer torture to forgo running for a month while my shins healed. In the meantime Janice and Deb pushed me through thier own versions of cardio and resistance hell in an effort to repair my shot muscles and build up my strength.

I wasn't sure if any of it was working until tonight when after thinking too much about last year and starting to feel the hurt and sadness well up I found myself reaching for the junk food.

It was late, the kiddo was asleep but I couldn't turn off my brain.

So I decided to try an experiment.

I laced up my running shoes and hopped on the treadmill. It was awkward at first but I managed to pump out 2.3 miles in 35 mintues. I alternated walking with 1 minute sprints. It was tough but I felt more alive and that I was doing something with my grief.

Hopefully this time when I run away from stupid people and situations I'll hit my stride and leave them in the dust.

Life's lovely speed bumps

2009-05-14T18:37:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks or so I have felt my depression attempting to grasp for a firmer hold on my life.

The social awkwardness has begun to set in again - where I feel like I don't really fit in and am only along as a gesture of goodwill or someones inability to get rid of me.

I feel like my mouth and my brain aren't running at the same pace, thus putting me in some strange situations. Imagine my brain is Shamu attempting to run a marathon, while my mouth is the Roadrunner taking on a 5k race in a motorized scooter.

Not good.

We have officially gotten one week of patrol out of the way and it hasn't come without the typical Murphy aspects that usually latch on to me faster than a Laguna Beach reject latches onto a pseudo-reality show.

Day 1, my cat decided to have my record player take a nosedive from a very tall shelf. Since most of my collection is on vinyl, needless to say I wasn't too happy.

Day 2, I walked into an appt. with a pediatric developmental specialist for my son, under the guise it was for hyperactivity. Unfortunately, that was not the case. It was in fact a screening for Autism and Autism Spectrum.

Talk about feeling as though you went to the plastic surgeon asking to look like Angelina Jolie and woke up looking more like Brad Pitts ugly sister with the lazy eye.

Nothing can prepare you to hear the word Autism in reference to your child.

Thankfully, he is fine and there was no diagnosis, but it has left me questioning my faith in the care we have been receiving through the Navy.

Day 3, Robert's mom informed me that their beloved family dog died. Talk about losing a member of the family. Abby was not just a dog, but a wonderdog. Her best friend was the family cat and her ability to herd David around the house was in fact better than my own.

Thankfully there have been a few bright spots along the way.

David gave up the binky and we are successful done with that aspect of his life.
He also have begun to potty train again with some success.

Unfortunately, I can't seem to shake this cloud of doubt that is trying to swallow me up. I don't want to go down that road again.

Inspiration and motivation

2009-04-01T13:58:00.000-07:00

Every crafter has one.

For some it receives no more than a curious nod or casual glance.

For others it can draw an "Oh wow" or "Yikes" from those who see it.

But for the rare few - such as myself - a crafter's "STASH" can result in the following.....

"OMG! Do you think Jimmy Hoffa is buried in there?"
"What did you do, knock over a JoAnns?"

Or my favorite.

"If yarn were crack you'd never make it out of rehab."

As you can see from the pictures, I'm not hurting for supplies.

HOWEVER, what I am lacking is inspiration.

When it comes to crochet projects I'm often like a hyperactive hamster with short term memory loss.

At the store I have all these idea running through my head, thus resulting in purchasing enough yarn to provide King Tut with a new technicolor wrap job.
But once I get home and the yarn gets sorted into the correct color-coded bin it often gets lost or forgotten about.

I can not tell you the number of times I have bought the same skein of yarn because I forgot I had already purchased it.

So after some careful thought, some prodding from my husband ...and well.... nearly losing a cat amid the chaos... I made a promise to myself that unless it was a custom order for a client, I would only make projects from my stash.

And so far I can say it's better than Christmas. I'm discovering things I completely forgot I had -or even better - finding uses for yarn I purchased for no reason.

In February I was asked to donate a sweater to a local silent auction. As soon as the words left my friends mouth my eyes glazed over, I started to twitch and my friend realized she had just given the addict a reason to visit her local crack den "aka yarn store."

"WAIT!" she practically screamed while pulling my back from my yarntastic fantasy.

"I will only let you use what you already have."

Darn. I forgot I had friends actually committed to helping me stay fiber-free.

After some moping and some chocolate to dull the pain of a yarn store trip foiled, I began to dig amid the bins and boxes.

I discovered a bulk skein of chunky turquoise acrylic purchased on sale nearly two years ago. It was soft and cushy and slightly inspired I set it aside and began to dig further into the depths of my stash.

I found a bright hot pink skein bought during a brief flirtation with reliving my 80's glam days.
And then i discovered a piercing skein of purple.

Paired with the turquoise they somehow managed to tone each other down.

A small remnant of bright green and some sunflower buttons I found shoved in a forgotten bin and TADA! I was inspired.

Not only did I manage to use up most of the turquoise skein but it's texture prompted me to attempt a new cardigan design.

My next "stash" project initially started with my idea to make a blanket for my friend's daughter.

Being that she is a bright and fun little girl I started looking through my stash for anything that reminded me of the recipient.

Way in the back, behind some boxes I discovered BAGS of this TLC Wiggles yarn. It's an acrylic yarn that sports these crazy loops made from tightly wound colored thread.

I had multiple skeins of it in nearly every color of the rainbow and just new using the right stitch I could crochet up a fun blanket. As for why I had so much I have no idea.

After some thought I decided to pair it with some white worsted acrylic I again had in a 16oz skein.

The end result, which used a slanted shell stitch was not only cushy but one that I loved so much I'm ashamed to say I have yet to give to the intended person.

I'm debating on making a second one for my store, but that's only if I don't get distracted by yet another project inspired by my stash.

Awwwwww Toddlers.....

2009-03-27T13:41:00.000-07:00

Below you will see why it is NEVER ok to leave your 3 -year-old alone with your pets.

Not quite sure what that is?

Not it's not a gaping bleeding wound but something much worse in my opinion since ZZ is covered in fur.

It's Berry flavored gel toothpaste.

Yep.

Apparently David felt that ZZ's coat needed a bit of freshening up and thus attempted to style her hair for her.

Did I mention that she just sat there the entire time LETTING him do this?

I know my cats are pretty docile but I didn't realize they were so docile they made Rip Van Winkle look like a hyperactive hamster.

So far I attempted to use baby wipes to clean up the mess only to end up making ZZ look as though she decided to become a part of the punk scene.

I can't believe I'm about to google - toothpaste and cat fur.....

Proof that one should only run when chased....

2009-03-15T12:53:00.001-07:00

It's that time of year again when the 5K's start happening every weekend and I get it in my head that this will be THE YEAR that I will finally lose that weight and be healthy.

Well......my ever faithful friend Karen agreed to run the St. Patricks Day 5K located in one of the Naval housing communities, down by the water.

It was to be my first 5K in nearly 8 months and in those 8 months I had put on about 20 pounds thus topping 200. Though I'd been doing cardio in the form of step classes, I new that there was no way I was even going to come close to finishing in less than my slowest time of last year - 43 minutes.

Despite all this I was feeling pretty excited about our race.....until I woke up that morning to crazy winds and freezing rain.

I texted Karen at 7 a.m. asking her if she'd looked outside. I was secretly hoping she'd want to cancel.

NOPE

We'd paid our race fee - we were going.

Can you see why I picked her as my workout buddy? She's good at keeping me motivated.

We get out there and it's so cold that whatever nipply bits I did have received frostbite. It was all we could do to not flee to the car while we waited for them to start the race.

The 1 mile and the 5K started at the same time, with the milers veering off into a different direction at the half-mile point.

With my legs feeling like frozen blocks and my feet soaked from the rain, it was all I could do to keep moving. And it was all I could do to stay motivated after I realized a friggin 3 YEAR OLD - YES - 3 YEAR OLD had beaten me to the half-mile spot.

About halfway through I realized I was getting lapped..... then a little after that I realized that I was dead last...then it started to hail.

Did I mention that despite all this I was actually ahead of my normal pace?

Finally toward the end I hit a nice downhill section and realized that I might actually be able to come in under 43 minutes. The finish line was in site, I was hurting but also feeling hopeful......UNTIL.... I SAW..... THE HILL.

Yep, they had a friggin steep hill that I had to haul my chubtastic carcass up in order to complete the final .3 miles of the race.

Let's just say I hit the wall.

I felt a little defeated and it was all I could do to keep walking.

But then I heard someone running behind me and discovered Karen - who had already finished the race - had joined me to help push me through the last .2 miles.

She ran side by side with me, keeping me from giving up and pushing me almost to the point of hurling, across the finish line at a time of 44:40.

It was a humbling experience but also proved to me that I not only have the coolest friend ever but that I can do this and it will get better.

Hopefully a few pounds will come off betweent his race and the next one I'm training for.

Every Little Bit Counts

2009-02-26T23:34:00.000-08:00

I received an order for 8 appliques yesterday from the boutique place I have been working with.

It's only about a $30 order but I'm excited. When you think about it, a few of those a month really start to add up after a while. It's money to be saved later for emergencies or necessities.

Sometimes I get down on myself because my stats aren't in the 100's for sales, but I have to remind myself how much I sell locally as well. Word of mouth is an amazing thing.

And in today's economy a sale is a sale - no matter how big or small.

I need to stop beating myself up and be arrogant for once. I'm a pretty damn good crocheter and I'm not going to let anyone else make me feel as though I'm not.

Living the crazy life

2009-02-22T10:35:00.000-08:00

It's been a crazy week back since our trip to CA.

The house is slowing coming back together and I think I'm winning the fight against the ever encroaching army of laundry.

I started back at the gym and was crazy enough to subject myself to the extreme embarrassment and insane intensity of an advanced step class.

Did I mention that I barely have rhythm?

Toss in a plastic step, fast music and difficult choreography and you'll find I resemble a hyperactive hamster with four left feet.

I'm determined to lose weight this time. I need to find some part of my former self that I know is in there somewhere.

I still have a lot of down days and I still am trying to find a place where I fit in socially, but I'm learning who my true friends are and that's what counts. To me friends of the heart are way better than friends of the face. Basically, people who truly care about you vs. those who just put on a mask and pretend to like you in public.

On the Moose Threads front I haven't really been working on any new designs. I'm a little burnt out.

I'm finishing up a sub hat and scarf set for a friend and I received notice that I'm to expect a large applique order sometime next week from the boutique place.

In the meantime I've been attempting to organize and catalog my insane yarn stash. Every few months I have to basically do what any business does - inventory.

I have to note what I've used up, what new yarns I've received - and arrange them in storage bins that make it easy for me to find what I need.

Since I haven't done this in a long time, all the closets in my house look as though Sully from Monsters Inc. lost his cookies in them. It's a technicolor, yarntastic mess.

On a more exciting note the trip to CA made me realize how dependant I am on good the Internet to run my business.

With a shop on ETSY, one on 1000 markets and a lot of e-mail interaction with customers I was shocked at how much I missed when I didn't check up on things for just two days.

Now that I'm working with other businesses in terms of my appliques etc, I really needed to be on the ball.

So I sucked it up and used a portion of the Moose Threads profits I'd been stashing away for the past 6 months and bought a 3G iPhone.

I needed something that had wi-fi and true Internet access. Something I could take, edit and e-mail photos with. Something I could use to answer e-mails and convos.

I've only had it for two days and already I'm in love. I'm finding I'm more efficient with things and I'm not holed up in the office chained to the desktop. It even came in handy entertaining my husband during our 30 minute wait for dinner last night. ESPN at your fingertips!

It was more money than I would have liked to spend on a phone and accessories but I think it was well worth it.

What a difference a dosage change makes

2009-02-18T07:09:00.000-08:00

For almost a month I had been so lethargic I could literally sleep the entire day and not feel rested.

My depression felt like it was back in full force. I was hot. I was cold and I just overall felt worse than a diver on the receiving end of a massive whale fart.

It wasn't until my mom reminded me that all my symptoms always show up when my thyroid meds are off that decided to get them checked.

Turns out my levels were so out of whack that my doctor had to raise me up to 250 micrograms. This was the dose I was on while pregnant and landed me in complicated OB due to the high dosage.

I started taking the meds two weeks ago and I'm religious about them. My husband has also been great about reminding me since I have to take them on an empty stomach.

All I can say is I can feel a change. I'm not tired, I'm feeling a bit brighter about things and my hot flashes have settled down.

Now all I have to do is get some of this 210 pounds I'm carrying around off my heiney.

Rockets, requests and randomness

2009-02-12T08:37:00.000-08:00

We've been on vacation in California for the past two weeks.

When your husband is in the military your vacations tend to consist of trekking to visit family during random times of the year.

This time we decided on making a 15-hour drive with toddler in tow, across mountain passes and busy freeways. Crazily enough we made the trip in one day without any complaints from our toddler and without a DVD player. A few new toy planes and cars were plenty of bribery it turns out.

After our first stop to visit family I was reminded of just exactly why we moved two states away.

Constant snide comments about my weight and about my parenting skills - or lack there of- were too much to take.

When a certain loved one told me to "Do myself a favor and not have anymore children for I'm ruining the one I already have" I felt like I'd been decked by a Jenny Craig dropout going through cupcake withdrawals.

In the meantime, though Moose Threads was technically on vacation I was deftly attempting to fill some custom orders out of courtesy despite having limited access to the yarn supplies I needed. At what point does one draw the line on customer service?

I'm surprised my head hasn't spun off my neck and landed in the pile of donkey dung that apparently I'm constantly stepping in in terms of my life.

Needless to say I'm looking forward to returning to WA.

On a good note, I did manage to finish a new sweater design that at the moment is intended for my soon-to-be-three-year-old toddler. He's obsessed with rockets at the moment.

This pullover is made from Cascade 220, a hand wash Peruvian wool I had in my stash. I created a rocket applique and tried something new in terms of my flight trail trademark. A matching hat created the ensemble.

I'd love to hear what you think of this new item.

On another note, I was given the challenge of creating a Thomas the Train applique by a dear fellow Homefronter. This is my best attempt. My husband was impressed... my toddler was screaming "Thomas, Thomas" and tried to run off with it... but my picky self doesn't know what to think.

Thoughts?

Applique Extravaganza!

2009-01-30T08:58:00.000-08:00

So the children's boutique clothing business that commissioned the other appliques put in an order for some more, only mini versions.

I was excited to attempt to shrink some of my designs and was more than pleased with the results.

The initial order was for three starfish - shrunk to 4 inches wide. And a submarine of the same dimensions.

As I was completing this order they came to me with a challenge.

They were having some issues getting what they needed from another vendor, and would it be possible for me to mimic a sailboat that was depicted on a fabric sample. They needed the sailboat to be within a 3 -3 1/2 inch range. They apologized for the short notice, but said they were thrilled with my work and my quick turnaround.

I was more than thrilled to take up this challenge and within an hour came up with a sailboat applique.

They loved the prototype and immediately ordered three.

Barely 24 hours after this order they again came to me with another situation. Yet another vendor was unable to fill their request for a princess crown applique and could I work on a prototype.

All I can say is I'm having a blast and I hope this keeps up!

Sweating a New Sweater Design

2009-01-25T09:08:00.000-08:00

So a very good friend of mine asked if I would make a cardigan for a school auction fundraiser.

Being that her daughter is not only my model and that my friend takes a lot of my pictures I was more than happy to return the favor.

She told me to use yarn from my "crack" stash and so after hunting around I found this chunky turquoise yarn that comes by the pound. I loved the color and was quickly inspired.

BUT....

The yarn texture was just not working with my typical cardigan pattern. After frogging the thing about 5 times, I decided to try something new. I took my basic pullover pattern and split the front. I decreased earlier to create a v-neck and prayed that once all my finishing was complete the final product would be ok. It was a lot of trial and error to get it right.

It was a lot of work - a lot more hours than I ever intended to spend on a sweater I was literally donating - but I am giddy with excitement over this new design. Though I do need to find a way to streamline the seaming.

The stitch pattern worked great for the bulky yarn, The edging turned out wonderful and I was able to make button holes rather than have to sew on snaps. I was finally able to break out these sunflower buttons I'd been hoarding for the past two years.

The downside was this sweater not only required a lot of finishing but it also used A LOT of yarn. The skein was over 600 yards and I used almost all of it. I have just enough left over for a matching beanie.

What do you think?

Is it worth offering as a custom-made-upon-order item in my shop?

Feeling a bit better

2009-01-24T11:05:00.000-08:00

I got a few hours of sleep after taking a very hot shower around 4:30 a.m.

My wonderful husband not only did all the dishes but cleaned up the living room and took our toddler out for the day.

I am in comfy jammies. Took some sudafed for my congestion and now am drinking hot tea.

I'm not feeling so bad about life anymore at this moment. Lets hope I can make this feeling last at least for a little while.

Turned around and upsidedown

2009-01-24T02:59:00.001-08:00

So this messed up sleep schedule is driving me nuts.

I fell asleep this morning while the kiddo was watching a movie. I was on the couch and he was happily rolling hotwheels up and down my legs and shoving pretzels into my nose and mouth. It was about as comfortable as using hedge clippers to shave my armpits.

I then managed to get myself together long enough for us to go run some errands as a family and attempt to eat at our favorite Friday night spot Tizley's Europub.

It figured that as soon as we got there David started saying he wanted to go "Nigh Nigh"

He was a bit wiggly, a little loud and a lot frustrating, but we managed to wolf down our food. The hubby then took the kicking and screaming alien pod child to the car while I paid the check.

As I was sitting there all alone waiting for my receipt, I found myself having a tough time holding it together. Lately, I've felt more defeated in the parenting department than a dog whose discovered he can no longer lick his own beans.

It didn't help that upon arriving home, my husband put the kiddo to bed only to find me passed out on the couch with all three cats. This was at 6 p.m. I woke up at midnight and I have yet to go back to sleep - 3:30 a.m.

The past few months I have not been able to get a hold on any form of a normal schedule.

Exercise is a figment of the imagination.

Recent blood tests have revealed not only my cholesterol is high but that my Hashimotos is rearing it's ugly head again to the point they need to raise my dosage back up to where I was when I was pregnant. I'm falling apart.

Take this and add it to the fact that I'm currently searching for other preschool options for the kiddo just in case is making me nuttier than a bunch of drag queens in a thong competition. I'm starting to come to the scary realization that perhaps I will never find anywhere that I feel comfortable or not socialy inept. I think I might have to go join a nunnary.

I just want to be able to buy a ticket back to the land of normal, only I'm out of cash and out of fight.

What goes up....

2009-01-22T20:40:00.000-08:00

Must come down.

I've noticed I've had a major setback in terms of getting a handle on my depression lately.
I'm getting that anxious feeling again.
The kind where I feel like I don't belong and that all I do is get in everyone's way.
I'm crying a lot more and I'm not sleeping again. I'm unmotivated and it's killing me.

It leaves me feeling socially inept and as though I'm talked down to or seen as an overemotional idiot.

It leave me feeling like an outsider and it tears me up inside.

I can not tell you how horrible a feeling it is to think something is wrong with you to the point you feel as though you will never fit in. That you ARE the problem.

I do have to admit that I've been lucky to find some really great friends during this journey who no matter what they are people I can hang out with and talk to. They don't exclude me and they most of all just really get me.

But I also don't want to be a burden to them.

You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing.....

2009-01-21T15:43:00.000-08:00

Holy Howler Monkeys!

I don't know what side of the bed I woke up on today but it wasn't the right one.

I am just in one of those moods, as though PMS roared her ugly head and stuffed my sweet personality in the back of the closet along with the rest of my once healthy body.

I am a pod person at it's worst.

Even the triple-shot vanilla carmel latte my adorable husband surprised me with hasn't helped.

Got any ideas?

And I'm doing this because......

2009-01-19T12:38:00.000-08:00

It's been a frustrating few days.

All weekend the hubby and I have been attempting to decrap, sweep, mop, vaccuum, straighten etc the house.

Partialy because it needs some tidying after being negelected during the holiday season, but also because I was dumb enough to host a lunch thingymajiggy for a group that I'm really not a part of nor am sure if I want to remain a part of.
I'm not exactly number one on the popularity and invitation list anyway.

Don't get me wrong, the people who have RSVP'd I am excited to see and thankfully are people who know I am not a domestic goddess.
If I had to choose between mopping the floors or poking out my eyeballs with one of my son's hot wheels I'd say Vroom Vroom.
Cleaning with a toddler in tow is even worse. I liken it to attempting to put a diaper on a wolverine. Dumb idea to begin with that leaves you worse than where you started.

It's the unknowns (non rsvp-ers) however, who I find I'm cleaning like such a madwoman for. You know, those that you don't really know and aren't really sure if they are going to come, much less be as laid back as you are about the state of your bathtub or kitchen sink.

Scarliy enough I know people in real life who think that if a person's baseboards or refrigerator seal are not pristine then they are a lousy housekeeper. They even get an ego-inflating high from this.

Looks like I need to fill up that helium tank because as far as I'm concerned the cleaning lady has just been given a fully paid vacation to Mexico - indefinitely.

A little bit of why

2009-01-15T10:05:00.001-08:00

As an Etsian (Etsy)who moonlights as a Hyena (Hyena Cart) I've begun to realize that I'm pretty lax when it comes to promoting my business.

For example right now I have about 10 new items to list, but have yet to take decent pictures. It's not that I don't have time to do it, it's more that I just am not in any hurry.

I can use Twitter to my hearts content to post and new items or promotions. I can chat it up in the forums or chat rooms until I'm blue in the face. But honestly the idea of doing these things, just in the "hopes" of getting a sale makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a pack of twizzlers.

Yes, the more people that see you can then notice your products, but honestly, people either like what you do or move on past. I get enough business to keep me busy and content. But most of all I don't want to become the type of business that I personally hate.

The biggest way to turn me off is to shout SALE SALE SALE.... LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME. It reminds me of the little attention hog know-it-all kid from elementary school. I want to be a business that makes you feel at home and well-listened too. Posting and running is not my thing.

I don't intend to insult anyone who takes this approach because it can very well work for them. I just want to explain why it doesn't work for me.

You probably will never find my blog page filled with listings or treasuries, promo spots or anything to really do with pushing traffic to my shop. That's just not me.

Yes, I do occassionally write about new designs I've fiddled with or new ideas, but for the most part my blog is more a way to keep me sane. It lets me get my odd sense of humor out in the open. It lets me blow off steam so that I'm not so agitated I can't create.

I always promised myself when I started Moose Threads that I would keep it fun and as long as I can keep it that way I'm happy.

When "Good" Ideas Go Bad

2009-01-14T02:14:00.000-08:00

Confessions of an insomniac crocheter

Though my toddler has resumed a normal sleep schedule I have not.

For some reason willing my body to sleep before 4 a.m. has become a bit like trying to shove a squirrel into a beer bottle - if it actually happened it would be a miracle - and quite funny to boot.

So to bide my time during my unfortunate sleep situation I've been messing around with different hat ideas.

Unfortunatly, tonight I decided to take inspiration from The Real Housewives of Orange County. Why oh why did I end up watching an episode featuring cooking and big, floppy and loud hats? Not a good combination.

Because somewhere in the middle of watching catfights, sloppy drunk blondes and 40-year-old plus women pretending that fake boobs and botox was hotter than a redhead mistaking liquid heat for lube, I came up with this hideaous hat design.

Oh wait it gets better. Take a look at the side view.

All I can think of when I see this is the result of what would happen if Tim Gunn decided to make over the Swedish Chef.

Amazing Appliques

2009-01-12T21:29:00.000-08:00

Well, at least I think they are.

So here is that custom order I've been working on. I must admit - apart from the dragonflies - these are perhaps the best I've ever done them.

The reason I'm not happy with the dragonflies is that the only medium pink acrylic yarn I could find at the time was Vanna White's Choice. Yeah - it sucks.

So onto the show and tell.

Here are all eight items

Now here are the dragonflies up close. See how the yarn just doesn't have the pizazz that my other ones had?

The butterflies on the other hand, I decided to try sewing the wings to the back of the belly to create a bit of a two-dimensional effect. I think they turned out great.

The starfish I was so happy with. They remind me of the Carl's Jr. logo from when I was a kid.

And lastly my good ol' submarines.

Granted I have made my own fleet over the past year with custom orders but with this request I think I finally perfected the shape.

Crochet Conundrum

2009-01-12T01:03:00.000-08:00

Ok well, I wouldn't really call my situation a conundrum as much as a "Holy Chicken Tenders! I have Moose Threads orders!" celebration.

After a disasterous holiday season paired with the idiocracy of the CPSIA's new standards for lead testing and children's items, I was contemplating putting the Moose to bed.

I was even more discouraged knowing that a "J" month was fast approachging and ask anyone on ETSY... "J" months are the worst for sales. I'm not sure what it is about that letter that causes people to snap their wallets closed faster than Britney Spears can open....um ...hers... but it's a real confidence killer.

Only once 2009 officially arrived so did the sales.

It started with a request from an amazing friend of mine - Ms. Jessica - who asked me to created 6 dragonfly appliques around a piece of fabric.

I'll leave it up to her to let you know what she did with them, but you can bet the end result will knock your socks off! If anyone knows how to use color it's her.

Below is a pic of the little buggers.

The next order was from probably the best publicist a girl can have. Not only did my friend Christine help get Moose Threads off the ground, but she is awesome in terms of advertising my products. Why?

Well besides having the skill to sell ice to a snowman, Christine is my photographer, model booker and advertiser. She just rocks!

So after garnering quite a few items for her daughters closet from Moose Threads, Christine place an order for a scarf and hat set complete with submarine details for her son.

She also ordered a butterfly sweater and hat set for an auction fundraiser.

Next came a beanie order from a parent at my son's preschool. This one was unexpected but made me realize that wearing my own designs IS a good idea. I was having a bad hair day, so I shoved a new beanie design on my head that at the time I hadn't decided if I wanted to list. Within two minutes of walking up the school steps I was being asked:

1: If I made the hat
2: Did I have more of those colors
3: Could she pay me to make her one.

It only got better.

I arrived home that day to an Etsy convo from someone interested in my appliques.
They wanted to order 8 applique samples for a Trunk Show they were having for thier children's boutique.
The appliques were going to be affixed to different products and if people liked what they saw, I would potentially be receiving as many as 70- plus applique orders at a time.

At first I thought it was a joke or from someone looking for free items. But after a bit of convoing back and forth and a purchase of all 8 appliques at full price, I finally allowed myself to be excited.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed things will continue like this.

Why toddlers don't make good sleep aids

2009-01-05T01:08:00.000-08:00

It's 1 fricking A.M. and I'm still awake.

Why?

Because my adorable toddler has somehow in the past month decided that naptimes are best suited for 7:30 - 10 p.m with partytime slated for 10 p.m. to sometimes 3 a.m.

WTH!!!!!!

That coupled with the fact he's OBSESSED with WALL-E I just may pack my bags and run away.

When Moose can't get Loose

2009-01-01T16:23:00.000-08:00

WARNING:

This is going to be a very long post with a lot of horrible pictures featuring my best impression of Cindy Crawford in her lost bon bon years.

Note the circles under my eyes from lack of sleep and the fact I'm looking a bit crosseyed in an attempt to not flip out on my husband and toddler who were "assisting" me with what I've deemed the "Chipmunk Couture" photo session.

Though the pictures aren't great, I wanted to at least show everyone what I'd been working on during our wonderful snowed-in adventure.

It had been a long time since I've really felt inspired to dig through my stash and let the yarn "speak" to me per se.

I'd started putting everyone and everything else first the past few months that I'd stop creating.

Lack of Moose Threads sales this winter season had not only hurt my wallet, but my heart. I really contemplated just giving it all up.
I was tired of people assuming I'd let them pay either nothing or next to nothing for my designs.
Or saying they wanted to order something (every time they saw me) only for it to never happen.
Or my favorite - being told my items would best be suited for the consignment/thrift store - just because they were crocheted.

Yeah, my creative side has really taken some hits the past few months.

But then a conversation with my Sicilian, tell-it-like-it is grandma - one of the women who taught me to crochet - helped me recover.

"You need to start making things for yourself again," she said.
"You've been so caught up in making things for other people or with the hope that other people will like or buy them, that you've stopped putting yourself into them. You've forgotten why you started making things in the first place."

That was it.
I was forgot how fun crochet can be.
I forgot how exciting it is to put odd colors together or to manipulate the yarn to make an impossible shape.
I forgot to just be me.

So on with the fashion show

This first picture is one of two scarf and hat sets that I created by taking two completely different colorways of Noro Sock Yarn and doubling them up. I used an offset shell pattern to add texture to the yarn, which I found self-striped in very unexpected and exciting way.

Each skein of yarn held about 400 yards and cost around $22 each. They had been sitting in my closet for nearly a year.

Next is the second set I made. This set I've opted to keep for myself and have had many a stranger walk up to me, grab it and marvel over the colors and pattern. Some were even shocked to find out it was crocheted.

This scarf is made of just basic acrylic yarn that I had been hoarding for YEARS. Though not the biggest fan of acrylic I've found it's can often yeild unexpected and wonderful surprises if the right pattern is used.

I first started with the varigated skein featuring colors of a fall harvest. I rooted around in my stash until I found a bright orange left over from another project, a random skein of white and lastly I chose the brick red to help bring out some of the deeper colors of the variagted yarn.

At first I wasn't sure how well they'd play out when looking at the skeins all lined up.
I grew even more frustrated with my choices after trying everything from a basic striped pattern to a complicated checkered pattern.

Somehow they just didn't work.

Then I remembered this diamond stitch I had used for an afgan over a year ago.
I made up a swatch and loved it. The colors popped to me and even my husband said it was great.

It's hard to tell from these pictures, but I guarantee that once you see a photo of this scarf taken in natural light you'll love it.

This next scarf was my first attempt at felting.
I had done an interview for a freelance assignment with a local spinner and yarn maker Heidi Parra. She had these wonderful skeins of yarn all dyed by a friend of hers.

They were a bit scratchy but was assured they'd felt up nice and soft.

The turquoise and green were a fingering weight while the grey and purple were worsted.

I made a basic stripe pattern, deciding to leave the ends out to provide a wacky all-over fringe.

The result was better than I could have imagined.

Upon felting, the turquoise and green yarns pulled in tight,creating a wonderful wavy pattern. The ends I thought added a fun texture and overall the scarf was nice and soft.

I still haven't decided if I want to keep this one for myself or not. I have enough yarn left over to make a second one.

During my snowy confinement I decided to create something for my adorable nephew Xavier. He is in love with dinosaurs, so I wanted to make something special.

After rooting around in my stash again, I came up with some skeins of Red Heart Super Saver yarn a friend had given me a while back. Though not a fan of the Red Heart, I knew it at least would wash up well and hold up to most toddler escapades.

I wanted a stitch that would provide a bit of texture without being too bulky. I discovered a simple single crochet - chain one combination worked quite well.

I made the dino as an applique and sewed it onto the front of the sweater before assembling all the pieces. The result was something Xavier loved and refused to take off.

Finally, my last new design was this beanie.

Using the leftover brown from the dino sweater and discovering some Red Heart Super Saver in a light turquoise buried in the closet, I combined the two in such a way that would not only highlight the crossover stitch I had used, but also each color.

See I told you this would be long.

If you made this far I applaud you and thank you. I'd love to hear what you think. Good or bad.

Introducing....

2008-12-29T13:47:00.000-08:00

The newest member of the Gumpert household.

Eva Gabor - age 8 weeks.

Eva was my Christmas present per se. We adopted her through a rescue group out of Bremerton. She was part of a litter that was born to an outside-only cat and with the snowy conditions they were taken in by Collar of Hope.

She was the only Tortie of the bunch.

Considering the fact that we already have two Torties - Magda and Zsa Zsa - and know how quirky they can be and the various medical problems they can possess -we decided "what the hell" and brought the little furball home on Christmas Eve.

It was perhaps one of the best decisions we could have made. Both Zsa Zsa and Magda took to her within a day. She is the perfect combination of both their personalities and can hold her own.

Zsa Zsa has not eaten plastic since Eva has been here. She's too busy following her around like a mother hen.

We even caught Zsa Zsa and Eva snuggling last night on the bed.

And unlike when we adopted the older girls 3 years ago, we are very happy with the rescue group Collar of Hope.
The director Theresa was great to deal with and even drove through crazy snow to hand-deliver Eva to us.
Eva came to us happy and healthy unlike Zsa Zsa and Magda who were not only kept in disgusting conditions but came so ill that we found ourselves with nearly $500 in medical bills for them within the first week.

All I can say is I am relieved the place we got Zsa Zsa and Magda from is no longer part of Pet Finder.

And while you may hear my husband grumbling about the fact we have another kitten, when no one is watching he's cuddling, baby talking and playing with her.

Whose Christmas present was she again?

When the weather outside is frightful.....

2008-12-28T10:22:00.001-08:00

Let me just say it.

Snow blows more than hooker playing the trumpet.

It's cold.
It's wet.
It's slippery.
And most of all it has the capabilities of making me willingly commit myself to an institution after a matter of days.

This past week we received nearly a foot and a half- if not more- of snow at our house.

Being that we live on a gravel road outside the city limits, plows are only a figment of the imagination. They do not exist for those who choose to shun cookie cutter subdivisions and say no to paying the city for utilities.

With so much snow and ice I was literally stuck in the house with a stir-crazy toddler for ONE WEEK. Add my husband into the mix for five of those days and I seriously was ready to flee to Mexico.

Despite my best cleaning efforts, my house is now trashier than a trailer park on the Fourth of July.

I mop the floors, my husband walks over it with is muddy boots.
I do the dishes, my husband leaves his all over the counter.
I pick up toys, my toddler dumps them as soon as I leave the room.
I fold laundry, my toddler dumps it and my husband tosses it back into the baskets for ME to re-fold.

Yeah snow just doesn't work for me.

Letting myself go.....

2008-12-17T05:23:00.000-08:00

Things have been a bit nuts here in the Moose household for the past few weeks.

An unexpected visit from my husband at Thanksgiving was great but threw our toddler's schedule into a such a tizzy it's left mommy a sleep-deprived shrieking shrew the past few weeks.

Nothing says Suzy Homemaker like two hours of sleep with a side of night terrors for two weeks straight.

So what do I do with myself during these sleepless hours?

Clean - NO
Crochet - NO
Compose symphonies in sync with my toddler's tantrums - NO

Instead, I read useless celebrity gossip on the computer.
Why?
Because it makes me feel somewhat better about my pathetic existence. Nothing makes me better to be a chubby housewife than reading about Madonna's 76 million dollar divorce or what Nick Lachey and his family ate for dinner at a restaurant

But there are times when I come across something that just makes my chubtastic butt madder than a neutered Charlie Sheen.

A few days ago I came across a People Magazine article about Michael Phelps. Being a former competitive swimmer plus the fact that well.... hell.... he's just plain HOT, I of course couldn't resist reading it.

Unfortunately, instead of leaving me feeling giddier than Nicole Richie eating a cheeseburger, this article made me feel like poo.

According to People, Michael Phelps is "Letting himself go."

Why?

Because the fat ass is apparently tipping the scales at 205 pounds and taking "a break" from his training schedule.

WTH?!!

If Michael Phelps, a 6 ft plus swimmer is letting himself go at 205 pounds than I - a 5-ft-3-inch 203-pounds SAHM - have not only let myself go, I've hailed a cab and found myself sipping Mai Tais and scarfing down pizza in Blubberville.

It's bad enough I feel like the wart on the underside of a Monkey's ding dong most days when I look in the mirror. It's even worse when I read things like this, condemning someone for actually looking NORMAL.

Weight is only a number.
Just because Phelps isn't at the peak of Olympic fitness right now doesn't mean he's an overweight lazybutt.

He's probably in better shape at 205 pounds than I ever was at 135 pounds. I could only dream to have that kind of physical fitness.

I'm slowly working on getting in better shape. It's going to be a long haul and filled with frustration and probably a few french fries, but I'm not going to let articles like this eat at my confidence anymore.

I'm fat.
I know it.
I'm dealing with it.
Get over it.

Bravery in a glass.....

2008-11-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

It's 7 p.m. and a Saturday.
The kiddo is asleep.
Hubby is at sea.
The house is a mess.

So what am I doing?

Drinking a glass of wine.

I never drink. I think aside from a few sips of wine while visiting my parents in July this is my first glass in a long time. I'm maybe only a third in and wow am I feeling all warm and fuzzy.

I also consider it liquid bravery with a shot of reality.

Given that I've been having baby fever lately, a ton of people I know including several friends are pregnant and the fact that my mom dropped the "I want another granddaughter card" tonight, I feel it's time to get my arse in gear.

Realistically I know I need to lose around 20-30 pounds to have a safer and healthier "baking" time. And given that baby-planning also depends on the hubby's sub schedule, that means I don't have a whole lot of leeway in terms of turning my blubber butt into something resembling Beyonce's backside.
And considering the fact that my toddler son can outrun me better than Al Roker chasing a spare rib, getting pregnant now is just asking for trouble.

So as a way to motivate myself I"m posting these pics I took just after the first of the year. I've since gained four pounds since this oh-so-chubtastic photo shoot.

Granted I won't be drinking after tonight so don't expect progress pics in the same state of undress, but I figure gym clothes will have to do for future sessions.

What was your rock-bottom moment in terms of getting it together?

Moose Musings......Again

2008-11-07T22:15:00.000-08:00

Coordinating a group of adults is like trying to herd a group of Rollie Pollie's. There are those that cooperate, those that fail to pay attention - thus getting stepped on or over, and then those that curl into a protective ball with the hopes that noone will notice them.

It's amazing how much grown adults revert to the behavoir of their children when it comes to living up to their responsibilites. To me, ignoring e-mails and phone calls is akin to covering your ears and shouting "LA LALALALALALALLA" at the top of your lungs. It only makes you looks stupid and it sure doesn't take the focus off of you.

After many headaches, heartaches and just plain drama I have determined that belonging to a group of women is like attempting to shove 20 cats into a pickle jar. The claws come out, hissing insues and it just gets plain ugly. And besides, some are already so full of piss and vinegar that a pickle jar would just seem like a trip to the spa.

I am officially changing my name to Murphy.
It never fails that every patrol period crazy things happen to me in three's. After the teeth incident I was just waiting for the other two to mozy on through. And of course they arrived this past Wednesday.

No. 2 was my discovery that somewhere during my errands in my husband's brand new truck another car decided it couldn't resist it's lust for my ruby-red hunk of a man-mobile and "hugged and kissed" it.
The drivers side wheel well is scratched up, the headlight scraped and dinged and of course dented. And would you know it..... the estimates were $936.... and our deductable (set by my lovely husband) is 1K.
Finding that out was like taking the bandages off after a boob job to discover you now have pieces of pepperoni instead of nipples.

No. 3 was just a few hours later on Wednesday when my million-dollar kitty decided to get off her cute butt and earn her name.
Ms. Zsa Zsa Gabor starting tossing her cookies all over the house (namely the kiddo's bedroom) Along with said cookies she also produced pieces of vinyl as well as plastic bags.
Off to the vet we went where my little darling racked up a $700 bill complete with near surgery and lots of x-rays from the load of plastic and other junk she's eaten. She also required an overnight stay, where they pumped her full of fluids to move this junk through her system. All the while her sister Magda tried to smother me in my sleep from neediness.
How do I get it through her furry brain that she's a cat NOT a garbage disposal.
All I can say it she's lucky she's cute and she's lucky she can cuddle better than the rest of them.

Moose Musings

2008-11-05T07:13:00.000-08:00

Why is it when you want to sleep in the kiddos wake up at the butt crack of dawn?

Binkies aren't just meant for chewing or sucking on, they are in fact the latest in James Bond-esque technology. A binkie can be used as a baseball, shotput, to knock an unattainable object off the top of a shelf, to blind your opponent with a poke in the eye and if strategically placed on a stair step - cause your foes to take a tumble.

Why is is that trying to go pee at 3 a.m is harder to do alone than going pee during regular daylight hours? I walk into the bathroom in the afternoon, no one in my household cares. I make the same trip in the wee - no pun intended - hours of the morning and it's like performing for a pair of acrobatic groupies at an AC/DC concert.
Being the curious kitties they are, ZZ and Maggie feel the need to jump on my lap, climb on my shoulders, stick their noses in my ears, or just play a game of flying monkey grab ass while attacking the toilet paper. All while I'm trying to do my business.
Then after being such an attentive audience they will then proceed to race me up or down the stairs, attack my ankles or meow worse than Jessica Simpson during a suppossed love song.
Why? - because good kitties deserve good rewards .........canned food with a side of treats.

The secrets of a stress eater

2008-11-04T14:05:00.001-08:00

How I reached 200 pounds.

Growing up I never really had a weight problem that I could remember. I fluctuated but I was always pretty athletic and lean. I was a competitive swimmer who dabbled in other sports. And loved anything that involved activity or exercise.

Basically I liked showing up my male friends/athletes.

I was a size 10 at my largest. A 4 at my slimmest - depending on my activities and schedule. My relationship with food was a healthy one. I stopped when I was full. I never deprived myself or thought I was fat.

Life was good.

But then things went very very wrong. What you will read has taken me a LONG time to come to terms with. And I must say that for those that urged me to go to therapy, I thank you.

When I graduated college in 2001. I was at a point where I was happy, I was self-confident and I felt the most beautiful than I ever had in my life. I had friends in all social circles - athletes, geeks, jocks, etc. There was never a place on campus I didn't feel I fit in. I even had dated a few well-known guys on campus who always treated with me respect and one in particular who never let me doubt my self-confidence or ability to achieve my dreams.

I had a degree in communications witih a focus on sports journalism. I wasn't afraid to tackle a "man's world." I was excited about life.

But then I moved to start my first job - as a copy editor at a newspaper near another college town that was halfway between my alama mater and my parents home.

Perfect I thought. Only an hour drive either way to see family or friends and a foot in the door for my industry.

But then I moved and started working.

Within a few weeks of working at the paper, I got a bit homesick, but some coworkers my age befriended me and started to introduce me to some other local journalist types.

I became fast friends with one, a sports writer for a dinky publication in the area. He was funny and reminded me of a few of my best guy friends from college.

I felt a bit better knowing some people in the area.

But the more we started to hang out - always in groups, the more I started to be around this guy the more I started to get the feeling that something wasn't quite the same.

My comfort level was starting to mimic that of Shaquille O'Neil in stripper heels and a tutu.

You're not a fan of it, but you can't look away either.

He first started by putting my writing skills down. He would look at my articles from college and pick then to pieces, telling me it was crappy writing and that I was kidding myself.

Then he would poke fun at my body, offering to go jogging with me to get the chub I guess I was developing off.....

And did I mention we WERE'NT dating. But for some odd reason I didn't stop hanging out with him either.

Then it happened. Me being the idiot who always lives by a three-strikes and your out rule - went over to his house one night to hang out and watch movies.

I was under the impression his roomates would be there as well - only they weren't

When I walked in he seemed "off" His eyes were dialted and he seemed like he was on something. I was sitting next to him on the couch, when he basically jumped on me and started groping and trying to kiss me. He called me a tease and knowing I was a virgin tried attacking my values as well. He was determined.

I still have a hard time acknowloding it happened.

Thankfully I managed to get out of the situation before anything worse happened, though when I think back, I'm not sure how I did.

All I remember is getting home and calling my best friend Paul. A friend I've had since we were 13, who was a groomsmen in my eventual wedding to my husband, and someone I knew who would listen to me. I was hysterical.

He immediatly drove up to stay with me, because the guy kept calling me and knew where I lived. T his went on for a week.

It was then that I stopped exercising,I was afraid to leave the house, I started eating for comfort and from stress and the pounds just kept on coming. I withdrew from friends and stopped going out. I eventually decided to get a new job and move back home -though no one new it wasn't so I could write sports, but to just get away.

In my mind I thought I had brought this on myself. That I wasn't smart enough to listen to my gut instincts. And when I discovered he was bad-mouthing me to the small college community where we lived and to my coworkers all I wanted to do was get away.

I didn't think to defend myself. I didn't think to tell anyone what he did. All I knew was I didn't want to be attatcked again - even verbally.

My self-confidence was gone and I started sinking into a depression that until a few months ago, I had become an expert at covering up from those around me. I lost value in myself and found myself in either dating relationships or friendships where I was a giver and never a taker.

I have found that since that incident I turn to food in times of high stress. I tend to hole up in my house and just eat crap. I don't crave it, I don't want it but for some reason I think it will make me feel better.

Today I ate cereal, homemade pizza, chicken nuggets... and it's not even 3 p.m. yet. I'm not hungry but I'm typing here in an effort to acknowledge my problem and keep my from shoving food into my mouth.

I hate myself and the way I look for eating like this, but then I eat like this because I hate myself and the way I look.

I'm like a goldfish swimming in circles, everytime I think I have it figured out I'm back at where I started.

Toddlers, Teeth and Me.....

2008-11-02T21:08:00.000-08:00

Having a toddler is like playing Russion Roulette. It's riskier than a blind man trimming his nether regions.

The hubby has offically been gone a month "playing in the water" as I sometimes tell our two-year-old. Of course being an Electrician's Mate aka Nuke, us Navy gals know that explanation is about as far-off as saying Ashlee Simpson is the next Virgin Mary.

It never fails that as soon as patrol starts the drama begins. My friend Christine says that the stuff that happens to me during patrols is so crazy that I can't make this stuff up.

Here are a few examples of patrols past:

* 1 week before they are slated to leave, the hubby flies home and sees his grandma just 15 minutes before she passes. Five days later, my grandfather passes. The next day the hubby leave on a 90-day patrol.
* While driving down for the funerals, the splash guard of my car comes off. We 9brother and I) proceed to drive with it crammed in the back through two states with an overloaded car and screming toddler
* The kiddo develops a double ear and eye infection the day before the funerals. He has such a bad reaction to the meds that I miss both funerals.....

Yeah, I know..... there's more.....

The house repairs we started before the hubby left, overlaps into the patrol. 7K worth of work turns into nearly 16K due to uncovered rot and other damage.

That's just ONE patrol folks.

This is now patrol No. 5 and just three-weeks into it the drama began.

I've come to the conclusion that the U.S. military should start using toddlers as secret weapons. If anyone has ever seen a toddler in full on tantrum mode then you know what I mean.

BAD THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOWN.

There is nothing more scary or dangerous than a hungry, tired, pissed off toddler. And trying to gain control of one during this state is like trying to put a diaper on a doberman.... you just don't do it.

After three hours of wonderful bliss spent at a local pumpkin farm, some friends and I decided to push our luck and go eat. My son's eyes were a bit droopy, his face a bit pouty, but I was hungry darnit.

And nothing comes between a PMSing mom than a burger and fries....nothing but a tantruming toddler that is.

Right outside the restaurant my son starts having a fit. He throws himself on the ground, he arches his back. He kicks his legs. He was giving the best performance of this short little life.

And by short little life, I mean short..... he's lucky I didn't decide right then and there to sell him on the black market.

I bent down to pick him up and BAM! His huge noggin connected with my chin. There was a moment of shock, then a moment of.....WHAT THE.....

Yep, in one second my son managed to turn my smile from pretty and pearly to gnarly and gapped.

My front top teeth were chipped, a premolar was half gone and two of my eye teeth were dinged. He sure doesn't do anything halfway.

This was a Sunday afternoon.

A few phone calls later and I found myself making three differnt trips to the dentist over the next few days. Thank god the hubby got his bonus. I know he wanted to marry a women like his mother... but I'm not sure he was referring to her dentures.

I love you Georgia!

*If it wasn't for my mother-in-law's uncanny wit and ability to make me laugh at such a situation (heck she raised my husband after all) I would be in in a dark closet rocking back and forth harder than a cat doing a calculus problem.

Did I mention we were only a MONTH into patrol.......

Moose Musings

2008-11-01T15:43:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when it comes to volunteering I have this horrible habit of saying yes, faster than Angelina Jolie collects children.

Whoever said that "it's all worth it in the end" is the person who does about as much work as a babboon scratching his butt.

Why is it that a basket of folded laundry is much more appealing to a toddler than a basket of unfolded laundry?
Leave the kid alone for two seconds and he can unfold, scatter and destroy four loads of neatly folded clothing while somehow managing to turn the basket into a a device used to obtain the one dangerous object in the room. 007 ain't got nothing on the Moose.

Ignore your dirty couch and nothing happens to it. Wash your couch cushions and within the hour they will be either peed on, become the next Picasso painting in highlighter hues, or torn apart for the sole purpose of toddler couch surfing.
(picture crowd surfing, only with a toddler teetering on the edge of the couch, launching him self up and out several feet with the hopes that the pile of cushions he has assembled will break his fall ---- without breaking his arm)

He's only 2 1/2 folks..... come the teenaged years I'll be in a nice padded room with CLEAN white walls.....

Why is it that when you need to get a hold of a person they don't respond. But the minute you give up and do the project yourself they call right in the middle of it?

Binkies are harder to get rid of than cockroaches. My son has this uncannny ability to pull a binky out of thin air better than a dog can lick his own beans. You don't know how they do it, but they do.

Why is it when you get a spark of creative genius (aka come up with a great new pattern for Moose Threads) all your free time gets tied up worse than a dominatrix in a duct tape dibacle.

Moose MADNESS!!!

2008-09-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

People should be thankful I'm a writer.

Why?

Because when I'm really really pissed I choose to usually write about it rather than start something in public. My mom just raised me with too many manners....

Here are the few things that make me REALLY mad - they kind that burns a scar into my brain where a once favorable impression of something once was.

1. If you attack my child verbally or physically.
2. If you attack any member of my family verbally or physically.
3. If you go after something I worked hard for.

In the past few months I've dealt with all three of these situations.

I've had my 2 1/2 year old child called a bully
I've had people close to me bad mouthed by other people I thought were close to me.
And just recently I've had someone blatently say they were stealing one of my Moose Threads designs.

Yep, you read that correctly.

This person posted a pic of one of my skorts, noted how beautiful it was and the proceeded to state that they were going to make it for thier "daughter".

IN A PUBLIC CHAT ROOM

This lady was more bold than Rosie O'Donnell sporting a string bikini in a wind storm.

First off lady....

That's great you find inspiration in my work, but don't come out and tell me to my face that you are just going to steal the design.

Secondly...
If you like it so much just buy it.

Third.....
You sell items in the same genre. I'm not stupid.

At first when I read that I thought my boiling anger was a result of having PMS without an accessible chocolate source nearby. When I have a chocolate craving I'm like Janice Dickenson looking for a shot of Botox. I need my fix or else I'll start to fall apart.

But then... after scarfing down a bowl of Coco Puffs.... the blood and sugar began to return to my brain.

I started to think I was overreacting. I started to wonder if my eyes has deceived me, that in fact I didn't read what I thought I did.

But after I checked with a few of my fellow Homefronters they confirmed I wasn't nuttier than a bunch of drag queens in a thong competition.

It just goes to show you that you never know what type of characters you'll meet in life....

Moose Musings

2008-09-08T07:48:00.000-07:00

It's time for another random list of things that plague my mind.....

Mexican food and two-year-olds don't mix.
Not only does David go nuts and try to cram chips into the salsa bowl faster than a chubby kid eating cheetos, he only likes one thing.

Chicken.

He loves loves loves the marinated chicken that goes inside all the items that call for it. I've finally learned to just order him some on the side instead of participating in the tortilla frisbee Olympics.

The only problem is, this type of chicken causes my son to have more gas than the Hindenburg.

The rest of the day the poor kid sounded like I shoved bubble wrap up his ass.

Now that I've fully entered the toddler wars I've decided who I want to be my general.

My friend Jessica is amazing. Not only did this woman manage to wade through JoAnn's fabrics with me on a day when it was more crowded than Pamela Anderson's bra cups, she did so with two toddlers in tow.

Imagine David times two.
Yep, she is super woman. Not once did she have to raise her voice, threaten bodily harm or drag them out of the store. Instead, she showed me what type of mom I would like to be - especially in public.

Daddy adoration is cute at first when you have a toddler. But when that adoration turns into "cant-sleep-unless-I'm -snuggling-with-daddy-in-mommy-and-daddy's-bed" it becomes more annoying than Jessica Simpson.

The past few nights David has been unable to go to sleep unless he is snuggled up on his daddy. Unfortunatly, this means mommy has been banished to a tiny sliver of bed, that my my pinkie toe barely fits on, much less my ginormous tush.

I woke up this morning unable to feel my arms (since I was sleeping on them) and needing to pee like a racehorse whose weiner's been taped to his leg.

I swear my husband must have thought I was having a seizure as I sat there trying to get my pants off to do my business.

They all filter through

2008-09-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I have noticed during the past few months of this emotional roller coaster ride, it is that true friends float to the surface during times of turmoil, while others just sink, never to be heard from again.

I am by no means perfect or easy to deal with in general - especially right now.

When you look at the past two years of my life, mentally I have dealt with more drama than an episode of 90210.

I'm tired of rearranging my life for other people because "it's the right thing to do."
I'm tired of listening and supporting other people, only to not have the sentiment returned.
I'm tired of holding in my feelings.
I'm tired being dammed for holding those feeling in and then dammed for letting those feelings out.

All in all I'm just plain tired.

Thankfully what has kept me going recently have been little things.

A phone call from a person I admire and respect. Someone who I feel really listens to me instead of pumps me for gossip.

A playdate with another person who always knows how to make me feel normal and squash my fears of being a bad parent.

A lunch date with an amazing person who not only gets me, but truly makes me feel better about myself.

An e-mail from a person who understands my craving for yarn and my passion for finding a balance between sanity and social acceptance.

And then of course there were the unexpected get-togethers with the one person who gets my situation - being a submariner's wife. This person I can not only talk to, but can depend on for a swift kick in my expanding rear when times get tough.

These things are what made me realize that I don't need to be part of a "social" posse" that can rival Mariah Carey's makeup crew. Instead, all I need are a small group of friends I can connect with in whatever way we choose.

Friendship is about being there for someone, not being with someone.

Now if only I can remember to remind myself of that when times get tough....

Spinning around and around....

2008-09-03T08:47:00.000-07:00

It's a wonder how I made it through school with honors because I have not been doing very well with my therapy homework this week.

My homework was to try and write everyday..... and almost a week later and I've written squat.

Oh trust me I've had PLENTY to write about. I just haven't found the time or had the brain power to do so.

Over the last two weeks I have had a lot of high and low points in terms of my self-esteem and my overall opinion of myself as a mother. I've second-guessed my tiny desire to have a second child, questioned my commitment to losing weight, and contemplated saying goodbye to Moose Threads.

For those of you that know me the last one was my wake-up call.

For me to want to give up on Moose Threads is like Dolly Parton going in for a breast reduction - somethings not right if you want to say goodbye to the one thing you're known for.

Nothing bad happened to make me feel this way. In fact, I had one of the BEST weeks I've ever had with Moose Threads. Three custom hat orders, a sold applique, two applique inquiries had put me on cloud nine.

It was everything else in my life that was made that cloud evaporate. When I'm stressed the last thing I want to do is crochet and be creative and when your business thrives on that it's not good.

Robert is in what we term refit hell right now at work. It's that lovely month-long turnover period on the sub where long hours are rampant and days off are nonexistent. This in turn has caused a domino effect in our household.

Long hours and no days off = daddy not being home = daddy-obsessed toddler acting out = stressed out mom = rude people = low self esteem and confidence.

Let me break it down for you.

David's finally at an age where he KNOWS when daddy is gone. He KNOWS when he wants daddy and he WILL act out if I can't suddenly produce him like P. Diddy produces bad albums.

This in turn has resulted in my child showing his stubborn streak in the worst way - IN PUBLIC.

During a get-together with his future preschool class, David threw a temper tantrum better than Mariah Carey backstage at the MTV movie awards. He was throwing things, rolling on the floor, pointing, yelling NO! and STOP! When he got into a tiff over a toy and pushed another child I about died.

Where did my cute baby go?

Fast forward a week to yesterday. There we are sitting in one of our favorite coffee places. I think we visit them two to three times a week. Why? Because they have always been kid friendly.

Well.... someone should have told the owner (who is never there) she's viewed as kid-friendly. There I was sitting a a table with a few other moms and their kids. David is in his stroller. He belts out what I deem a "dino roar" I address the problem and he calms down. Five minutes later..... ROAR.

And then it happened.

Faster than Lindsey Lohan on a first date the owner was right next to me and in my face. With her nose just inches from mine she told me that I need to calm my kid down and perhaps leave because she had people working there and he was a distraction.

I was mortified. The place was packed. People were either on computers, cell phones, chatting loudly. Blenders were going. And I was kicked out of a place I've been a steady customer at for a dino ROAR.

I then went next door to perhaps calm myself down with a little yarn therapy.

Forget it. David was not interested in sitting in the stroller. Instead he was throwing a fit because he wanted to push the stroller himself. I then again found myself in a situation where my parenting skills were questioned and a backhanded comment was "mentioned" regarding toddler discipline. Let's just say I didn't stay long enough to take part in that discussion.

If I had I think I would have cried worse than Perez Hilton after a computer crash.

I don't know what's worse, comments made directly to you, or comments made "at" you by way of "topic discussion"

Our day continued with a successful trip to Ms. Liz for a big-boy haircut, but it was only the eye of the storm.

Not even 10 minutes after the haircut I found myself dragging David out of UPS, Moose Threads orders still in hand, because he was not only talking back, but kicking screaming and just downright being defiant.

I promptly got in my car, drove him home and proceeded to just cry. How the heck could I even think about having another child when I couldn't even control the one I did have? How did I become one of THOSE parents. The ones that people smirk at in stores and think "my child would never do that" or "her brat is so spoiled etc."

I've even had someone say once "It's called a spanking lady."

Umm yeah. Live with my child for a while and you'll soon learn that he is very much his father's little boy.

According to my mother in law, Robert was not only curious, strong, indignant and fearless, he also was impossible to dicipline normally.

Timeouts he used to plot his next attack. Spankings he laughed at. If you took a toy away he found some other way to have fun....

Now I know why she said she cried almost her entire pregnancy with my brother-in-law. She was terrified. She could barely handle one Robert, much less another version.

How my husband grew up to be a very well-mannered adult I will never know.

I think call to his mom may be in order....

Introducing Clyde the Camel

2008-08-31T13:06:00.001-07:00

It's been an insane week in life and in the land of Moose Threads.

Considering that in the year I have been selling on ETSY most of my sales have been locally word-of-mouth and not always translated to online.

If I sold one thing a month I was happy.

Well this week I ran a Monday Madness Special of 20% off and free shipping. To some it would seem a bit extreme but in reality I was still making money off each item, just not as much as I normally would.

To my surprise I ended up with four custom hat orders, some inquiries about custom applique's and then I also sold an applique.

I was in shock and my husband thrilled because he is not only supportive of what I do but he knows how giddy I get when it comes to custom orders. I LOVE THEM.

One such order was from someone wanting a brimmed beanie for her camel-obsessed toddler.

He calls them "Clyde" and it had to have one hump - not two.

I was excited for the challenge and this weekend went about creating "Clyde."

Getting the overall shape was pretty simple, thanks to a rough sketch from my husband. I tried adding blue hair to the hump and it just didn't work. I tried to add hair to his head and he morphed into a deformed horse.

Finally I settled for a blue tuft of hair on his tail.

Let me know what you think. A for right now I'm starting to like the little bugger.

Moose Musings

2008-08-25T23:10:00.000-07:00

Here are silly annoying things that keep the hamster from calling it quits at night.

Cups

Yep... Cups.

Any cup without a lid or sippy attachment would drive me to drink if alcohol didn't make my face resemble that of a puffer fish.

My son is 2 1/2 and can use a fork better than George Hamilton uses self-tanner.
He can run faster than a crowd fleeing a Jessica Simpson concert and climb higher than the Snoop Dogg after a three-day bender.

Yet how is it that I can't get him to drink out of a cup without dumping it down the front of him, or drink out of a straw without deciding it serves a better purpose as a chew toy?

Laundry

Yep... Laundry is the bane of my existence.

I swear it breeds at night. I swear the socks all line up like little soldiers and decide who will sacrifice themselves in the dryer for the sake of all laundry piles everywhere.

I believe that if I did not do laundry everyday that it would eventually smother me in my sleep.

Feet

Yep....feet

Forget weapons development by the government. Just find a way to bottle up the stench that my husband and son's feet emit after a day of shoe wearing and we'll have one of the deadliest weapons known to man.
I swear I've seen flies just up and kill themselves versus coming near a pair of my husband's socks.

He once lovingly forgot his gym clothes in the car for two weeks. When he delivered them to me I thought for sure they'd taken on a life of their own. I swear that gym bag smelled worse than a monkey's butt after an all-day rotten banana binge.

That's just wrong.....

One step forward

2008-08-24T23:34:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it is but I feel like I've been on the go the past few weeks.

I don't think there has been one day where I haven't had to be somewhere or was doing something.

In a way it feels pretty good. It tells me that I don't need so-called social groups to make me feel worthy or popular. But in other ways it's just dang exhausting! I can not get enough sleep!

But what's been the best part about all of this is that I'm finding myself less self-critical during this time and more socially outgoing. I'm not so afraid anymore of meeting new people, though you can bet your bum that I'm not going to stick myself right into the fire.

Though I like the warmth that a good friendship can provide... I'm not too fond of getting burned.

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.....

2008-08-22T10:48:00.000-07:00

Well actually the one project that gave me a run for my money is.

My dear friend Fray aka Liz ordered a helicopter sweater for her son. It was an applique sweater - my specialty - no problem right?

WRONG

I don't know if it's because of how I've been feeling emotionally lately, or that I hadn't had a sweater commissioned in nearly 10 months, but darnit to Pete this sweater took me forever to get it right.

I had to do the hood three times, undo the trim once. Redo most of the sweater's body once. (please exuse my gross double chin in this picture..... I've hit th bon bons more than the barbells lately)

Why? Because it wasn't perfect and well when it comes to my craft, my friends who respect my craft and well all of my customers in general I refuse to send something out with my Moose Threads name on it unless it's PERFECT

I just hope Fray thinks it's perfect as well.

So please leave your comments and let me know what you think. I'm sending it off to her in Germany later today.

I finally did it

2008-08-18T19:12:00.000-07:00

I actually dialed the phone and scheduled an appointment with a therapist.

Why?

Because I was tired of feeling like I was riding a rollercoaster 24/7.

After so many highs and lows you find that either want to hurl or just get off the ride in general. Well since I hate throwing up - spewing my bad moods on all my friends- I figured a therapist was my best bet.

I've chosen to look at the therapist as a ride operator. Sometimes you just have to hand over the controls to someone else for a while in order to help things come to a stop.

I had a bit of an epiphany this weekend in terms of realizing that I couldn't get through this alone.

I found myself miles from home, camping with people I barely knew and a child who was testing my mental capacity with the upmost effort.

The moment came when David threw the biggest tantrum of his short life. Someone needed to move my car. With David standing next to me, watching the car inch away, the flip out began.

"Daddy?"
"Truck"
"Daddy...Bye?"
"Daddy"
"Daddy"
"DADDY"
DADDY!!!!!!"
"DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!!!"

For ONE HOUR he sat by the side of the car not wanting me to touch or talk to him. His body was rigid and kicking. He was screaming and crying. Nothing I could do or say made it better. And I didn't have anyone to help me through it.

I wanted to break down and cry. I felt like I couldn't breathe and I realized there was nothing I could do about it. He needed to WANT my help in order to feel better.

Though I've recognized I've been depressed I never really acknowledged that I had to really WANT help for it. To me, WANTING help was somehow acknowleding that I was a failure and somehow damaged.

It's funny that it took my two year old to help put things into perspective for me.

Hopefully this therapist will help me realize that I'm not as pathetic as I think I am.

Moose Musings

2008-08-13T07:26:00.001-07:00

How do you know you've had TOO MUCH sleep?

When you wake up from a dream that was a wierd combination of Psycho meets, Grandma's Boy, meets Hot Fuzz.

My dream was very disturbing to say the least, but I actually woke up laughing. Partially from the absurdity of the whole situation, and partially because in some odd way I could see how my little spitfire of a Sicilian grandmother would be perfect for a role like this.

What was the dream?

Well, my dad and I were visiting my grandmother and her neighbors mysteriously start dissapearing.

The annoying teenager playing his drums in the garage across the street = stabbed to death with a fork in his ear.
The jerk with the junk cars and other assorted mess in his front yard = found run over by his lawnmower (it's amazing the details you remember when you aren't tired)
And lastly, the extremely overweight man next door found choked to death on a plate of meatballs.

Yeah trust me I was scratching my head too.

The kicker was that somehow I found myself the next target from my grandmother and woke up to her chasing me with a wrench because ....well I can't remember.

How absurd is that?

Note to self: do not drink or eat anything odd or new before going to bed.

Potty training and smart ass are not words you want to put together.
Why?
Because it makes you realize that you've been outsmarted by a 2 1/2 year old and well....that's not really a confidence booster.

David's shown some interest in the potty lately. Mainly because his cousin who is the same age and nearly potty trained have been spending a lot of time together.
Nothing in a two year old's mind is cooler than having more stickers up your arm than Tommy Lee has tattoos - for doing your business.

The other day he picked out Lightning McQueen underwear. He was so excited and couldn't wait to wear them, shouting "YEAH YEAH YEAH"
I proceeded to put the undies on him with the explanation that we couldn't get McQueen dirty. I said that if he had to go pee pee or poo poo we had to do it on the potty.

(it's amazing how basic a college-educated woman's vocabulary gets when she has a toddler)

He yells out "OK" and proceeds to go play. Ten minutes later he says he has to pee pee. The hubby puts him on the toilet and after 15 minutes............. nothing.
David shouts "ALL DONE" and proceeds to put his undies back on and return to playing. HOWEVER, 5 minutes later, he decides he really needs to go, and rather than taking a break from his playing he goes into the kitchen, PULLS DOWN HIS UNDERWEAR, and proceeds to pee all over the floor.

The kicker is, as soon as he was done. He PULLS HIS UNDIES BACK UP, runs over to me and shouts "MAMA, PEE PEE, MACKEEN ALL CLEAN"

If he keeps this up he'll be heading to college pampers in tow.

What do you get when you take two cranky toddlers, two very hungry and tired moms and lack of sleep?
Two large cocktails from Red Robin.

My friend Beth and I have wonderful adventures together. The things Timothy and David can get into are boundless. David is notorious for being fine and then throwing a meltdown that can make the devil seem more frigid then Donna Martin.

Yesterday, was no exception as we found ourselves on the losing end of what I deemed Toddler Wars.

After David, threw, rolled, kicked, screamed, arched and climbed his way into the tantrum record books we found ourselves on the muggy back patio of Red Robin, with crappy service playing the "do not touch, throw, hit" Olympics.

I was starting to seriously contimplate handing David over to the Army Recruiter at the next table after my son managed to wack the guy twice in a row with various objects. (my Navy recruiter husband would have been proud).

Finally, about mid meal, Beth and I are exhausted and we haven't even gotton to the errands we needed to run that day. Our nerves are frazzles, the kids are covered in macaroni and cheese and well..... it's just plain hot.

You know it's bad when two women who NEVER drink order a round at 1 in the afternoon.

Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I wonder if that's why my parents have such an extensive wine collection.........?

I can't let it get to me

2008-08-13T00:26:00.000-07:00

So I finally got my referral to make an appointment with a counselor.

I've been staring at if for the past week and wavering back and forth as to when to call.

While I want to talk to someone who is a professional and unbiased I also am very cynical. Several fake friendships and a few trust betrayals have left me a bit lacking in the "openess" department.

A lot of why I'm hesistating is fear. I don't want to be made to think that what I'm feeling is trivial, all in my head, or just deemed anxiety and given Prozac as a quick-fix bandaid.

After having some good weeks I had a bit of a backslide in the confidence and depression department.

I stopped exercising. I starting sleeping a lot and I found myself dwelling on my failed friendships and the feeling of abandoment that comes along with those type of situations.

That, coupled with having Moose Threads subtly dissed by a few people, left me a little shaken and sad.

My husband has actually been a huge help in making sure I don't slide as far back into depression as I was a few months ago. He's been a good sounding board for when I'm feeling a bit lost and confused. He's backed up my decisions regarding taking stock in my relationships with people and helping me figure out what I need and how not to let myself get hurt again.

My big problem is that I came from a family where I was taught to be open and welcoming. I try to be there for people and show them the kind of support and treatment I would want out of life.

Unfortunatly, what tends to happen is I get used. People take take take and then ditch me once they get what they need.

But while my husband has helped me realize this, he's not a therapist and I shouldn't expect him to be.

One thing I did do the other day is make a point in deleting e-mails from people I no longer want anything to do with. I have to say, when once these mere simple little messages would have made me feel sad and a bit anxious, they now have no impact on me because I refuse to let them.

I cleaned out my Myspace page which I now think is pretty dumb to have at my age. I went through and deleted people I 1) don't talk to, 2) Don't care to talk to 3) Don't relate to. It was quite a liberating feeling.

I need to stop being angry and take charge of my own life and feelings. However, it's going to take a few falls before I learn how to ride that bike again.

Helicopter Help

2008-08-11T00:41:00.000-07:00

Ok so I have a TON of stuff to blog about but that will have to wait as I promised and promised I'd post pics of my friend Fray's sweater.

Yet for some reason this sweater has been the biggest obstacle. I've never had trouble designing, sizing or creating but this sucker is testing my confidence and sanity.

I've had to rip and redo the hood three times. This is attempt NO.3 and I am scared it's too small when it used to be too big. I'll find out when my little guy can model it for everyone. He's about the same size at Fray's handsome man.

THEN I'm afraid the rest of the sweater is too big. It's longer than the measurements she gave me in the arms and the length, but I did that on purpose to attribute for crazy toddler growth spurts. And I made it a little roomier around just to account for layering.

UGGGGGGGGGGGG

NOTE: I have yet to tuck in my ends and to apply the applique design or add the rest of the snaps.

Dinosaur Jr

2008-07-29T23:21:00.000-07:00

So I went ahead and attempted a brimmed beanie again.

Considering that my Homefront girls Twoseasidebabes and Beth rock at them, but don't do appliques I figured I wasn't stepping on any toes.

Well the beanie came out ok, not perfect, but hell is works right?

BUT.... when I went to put the blue dinosaur applique on it I discovered it was way too big. Trying to position this applique on the hat to where it didn't resemble some sort of alien foot was impossible.

Thus a miniaturized version of this new applique design was born. I think it turned out ok, but I'm going to have to figure out what to do with it's big brother version.

Oh crap

2008-07-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

Yep.

That's pretty much sums up what I think about my house right now. I can't figure out how it got like this or even where to start the whole decrapping process.

I'm one of those people who can't focus, think, or much less distinguish my ass from my elbow when I'm surrounded by a sea of clutter.

And considering that Moose Threads is dependant upon my sense of creativity, staring at a mess that looks like Geoffry the Giraffe from Toys R Us went on a three-day bender and used my house as his toilet is a bit counterproductive.

(can we say run-on sentence?)

Anyone else ever feel like this?

Attack of the applique's

2008-07-27T00:07:00.000-07:00

So I had some time finally to sit down and figure out some new boy designs. I have so many girly hats and not too many boy ones. I figure it's about time I even everything out.

Here are the two designs I came up with. A dinosaur and a snake. I decided to add the eyeballs to give them a more cartoony look.

I still think I need a few more designs. If you have any suggestions for what I can try to make let me know. I love challenges

Moose Musings

2008-07-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

When crocheting with Navy Blue wool yarn it it probably best to not do so with a cat in your lap. This yarn attracts cat hair better than Britney Spears' crotch attracts the paparazzi. It's everywhere.

WARNING CRUDE COMMENT AHEAD

Nothing is more hysterical than watching your husband get....ahem...."cock-blocked" by a "pussy" aka Zsa Zsa Gabor.
All my poor husband tried to do was put his arm around me when ZOOM!!!! ZZ - with her super hearing - was up the stairs, through our door and on our bed in what seemed like 10 seconds. She then proceeded to plant herself directly between us, with her nose pressed to mine and her butt shoved in my husband's face.

"Kiss my ass Mr. she's MINE" I could almost hear her saying.

Laundry is not meant to be folded for the purpose of being put away neatly into drawers. Instead it is meant for toddlers to lay, roll, throw, dump and scatter, thus allowing the now empty laundry basket to be used as a fort, step stool, race car..... you get the picture.

Technology is a wonderful thing. Cell phones I believe were made for one purpose - to warn people of your impending arrival upon their doorstep.
If you wish to pay me a visit please call first. Otherwise I can't guarantee that you won't find me sans pants, chasing David while attempting to find my car keys and shoes.
With my child's recent facination with laundry, getting dressed in the morning, especially if I don't want to look like I'm color-blind and cross-eyed, is more like reenacting a scene out of an Indiana Jones movie.
Obstables abound if I want to find the perfect outfit.
The other day I actually found one shoe in the bathtub, with the other hidden under the office bed.

My husband made a comment last night that made me feel so proud that my head grew larger than J Lo's booty after a five-day brownie-fest. I was sitting in the recliner, attempting to create a helicopter. My first attempt sucked, my second just looked like I put it together after an all-night bender. My third, however, I think looked pretty cool.
Upon looking at my third attempt my husband proceeded to look at his parents and say "Isn't she freaking talented! She can make anything. It's amazing!"

Poor guy, breaks out a comment like that only to be "cocked-blocked by a pussy" that night.

Sorry it's so funny I had to say it again.

Can you tell me what this is?

2008-07-24T17:55:00.000-07:00

If you think it's a helicopter WHEW!

This was one request that was driving me nuts.

I need opinions on this design. What do you like? Suggestions?

Ahoy Matey!

2008-07-23T23:16:00.000-07:00

So I had the wonderful request from my dear girl Tulip to make her daughter a sub hat. Yet the coolest part was that she wanted the sub to be black and the rest to be hot pink.

I think this turned out amazing!

What do you think?

How do I love thee.....

2008-07-19T06:55:00.000-07:00

Let me NOT count the ways.....

Ok so I picked up this sock yarn about two months ago at my local LYS (little yarn store). It was being clearanced out and was the same company as who made that crazy artist yarn my sister-in-law picked out. A nice wool from Germany.

I thought the color-way might be interesting etc and I have two huge 400 yard + skeins of this.

Well and let's face it... it was discounted crack.

Last night I didn't even use half a skein (dispite losing some yarn from a failed frogging) and I whipped out these pair of socks.

The yarn isn't as giving as the merino wool and I found that while it worked great when I made the adult socks for some reason when I shrunk the pattern down it was a pretty snug fit. There isn't a lot of room for stretch.

I then decided to try a different cuff and added 6 rows of a shell stitching at the top, which I then folded down into a cuff.

Needless to say I'm not thrilled and am not sure where to go from here.

Do I list it on Etsy? Do I ask a friend to have their child test-drive it? I'd hate to sell it only for the person not to be able to get it over their foot.

Plus I'm not sure the socks are even cute. The colors just don't "do" it for me.

The pen is mightier then the sword?

2008-07-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

I must say that although I have always been one of those annoying talkers -- you know the ones that tell you their life story within 2 seconds of meeting them. The ones that talk to much you want to staple their lips together -- that I am NOT someone who can verbally explain my feelings.

My mother always said that on paper I had a way with words that was incomparable to anything or anyone she's ever encountered. My sense of humor and perspective on the world are so different from the norm that if I were to express some of the thoughts that come to my mind out loud I'd either be labeled a geek, freak or sent in for a psychiatric evaluation.

I mean come on, who else (other than Two) uses the phrase Monkey Butt as much as I do?

I write this now because while I have an appointment next week to receive a referral to a counselor, I wonder if "talking" about my feeling is going to really help me.

In the past month or so I've been writing on this blog, I have had more relief, laughter, tears and support than I think I ever had in my life.

The people who read my crazy ramblings "get" me.

There aren't any fake smiles with blank eyes. Smug looks meant to say "she is such a loser" There aren't the people who claim to be here for you only to be the first to gossip.

But the one thing I love most about writing is there is an edit button. I can go over my thoughts before letting the world know them. Thus saving me from some pretty embarrassing moments.

Have you ever witnessed someone erupt in a display of verbal sewage?
It's quite a site.

It's like pulling the cork out of a farting elephant's rear. You're not quite sure why you did it, but all of your attempts to correct the situation either leave you stinking so bad even the flies won't touch you, or backpedaling so fast you find yourself in another zip code.

That's perhaps why I've never felt "at home" with any type of women's group. Despite claiming they are here to support and accept you I feel they are a lot of times a front for those who have nothing better to do than label, manipulate or ostracize anyone who isn't part of the "norm." The people who never left high school behind.

One wrong move, one awkward pause after an awkward sentence and the damage is done.

So in the end I DO think the pen is mightier than the sword.
Why? Because while I may in person sounds like Gomer Pyle's "special" cousin, on paper I'm kicking monkey butt and taking names.

On a lighter note, David decided to pursue his dream of becoming the next Picasso/Miami Ink protegee.

Luckily it wasn't permanent.

Just a few new pics

2008-07-16T22:18:00.000-07:00

Ok so I really don't have a post but since I needed a quick way to show people what David's new socks look like in action I decided to throw them on here.

For a child I can't keep regular socks or slippers on he just loves these. Notice how he's "posing" for the camera.

Moose Musings

2008-07-14T23:22:00.001-07:00

Here's another round of stupid thoughts that run through my head.

Strep Throat and air travel don't mix - unless you want to feel like your head is going to pop worse than a zit on Britni Spears bikini line - just don't do it.

How is it that days worth of 2-mile hikes and drinking tons of water makes me gain weight, when mindless junk-food induced eating causes me to lose a few? Maybe I should write a book titled "The iced tea and chocolate covered gummy bears diet - lose 10 pounds in 10 days" Well duh! With that amount of sugar I'd be more wired than a fly drowning in a sea of Red Bull.

Who needs a guard dog when I have the ultimate guard cat.
Kathy Bates character in Misery had nothing on my cat ZZ. I was gone for two weeks and since we've been home, not only does the booger practically try to smother me every second she's sadistically subtle about it.

1. At night she buries her head in the crook of my neck, purring adoringly, only with her little paws on either shoulder- claws out - just barely digging into my skin (Just enough pain to provide a silent warning)

2. If I try to get up and go to the bathroom, she's right there with me, even going as far as getting onto my lap while I'm attempting to do my business. I don't pee well with an audience, especially one that meows during the entire production.

3. If I'm walking down the stairs she's right at my heels. I secretly think she's trying to trip me as payback for being gone so long.

4. A stranger comes to the door she's growling, fur on end before they even reach the front steps

5. If I try to type of check my e-mail she gets either on the keyboard so I can't type. In my face so I can't see or lays on my hand and then gets in my face so I can't do either.

If I go missing interrogate the cat.

Somehow my son had developed more fashion sense than Paris Hilton in a dark closet.
Not only is he obsessed with picking out his own shoes and clothes, half the time he ends up resembling a color-blind Picasso. It sure doesn't match but hey it works right? Or at least that's what I tell myself amid the odd looks.

When I die forget burying me in a coffin. Just wrap me up mummy style in all the yarn I own. Now wouldn't that be a site? Not only would I be recycling but let's face it..... I'm Sicilian and married to a Jew...... CHEAP

Sometimes the best products come from the oddest color choices. The picture I've included is the pair of socks I made for my sister-in-law Tara. She picked this wacky colorway of a nice wool sock yarn from Germany. The company dyes its yarn based on the color patterns of famous painters. This one was an abstract artist. Looking at the skein wound you would never have known they'd much such fun socks.

The other is of my little guy sitting on my parents front porch in the foothills of Amador County. He's watching a group of deer eat on the front lawn as well as a pack of wild turkeys.

When all you can do is wait

2008-07-06T09:21:00.001-07:00

Last night was one of the most frustrating and worrisome experiences of my life.

We spent nearly 4 hours in a small ER in a small hospital in a small town on one of the busiest weekends of the year.

I'm not sure what it is about the 4th of July but it tends to bring out the people who don't know their brain from their bum. Independance Day does not mean "act like a moron and expect people to understand you were 'just having fun'"

At 3 a.m. July 5 David woke up screaming and crying. He was warm with a slight temperature. We've been here before and so we gave a bit of tylenol and he went back to sleep.

However, throughout the day his temperature never broke. Instead it just rose. He was hotter than Angelina Jolie in a string bikini (or so my husband says) and very lethargic.

At 9 p.m. his temperature was over 101. It was at that point we realized that a "Trip to Tylenol Land" was not going to help this situation.

It took nearly a half hour to reach the ER and it was a zoo. The tiny room was packed with what looked like the remnants (and I apologize for writing this) of a home-tattoo and dentistry convention.

The poor nurse behind the desk was appreciative of three things when I approached her to sign in.

1. Even though I was out of state I had been there before, thus making the admittance process easier, including having all my insurance info just in case.
2. I spoke english not profanity
3. Though I was worried I was kind and respectful, knowing that me acting like I had a bug up my ass would no sooner get my son help then if he had the bug up his ass himself.

While we waited here is what we witnessed.

A very dirty, very young couple with a a one year old girl dressed in just a dirty diaper and no clothes. The dad was drunk and the girlfriend started yelling at him to just go sit in the "f-ing" car. The girl's mom was no better since she managed to have enough forethought to pack 6 cans of soda in her purse and a pack of cigarettes but not bring any diapers or clothes for the little one. It made my heart hurt for that little girl as her mom just sat there shoving magazines at her daughter in an attempt to not deal with her.

There was the group of dumb teen and twenty-somthings who thought it was an amazing idea to drink and then go "cliff diving" in the dark. How the heck were they to know there were rocks down there?

The young teenaged girl (and I feel horrible for her), who was with her father and sister at a remote campsite for a bbq. She bent down to pet the pitbull someone had brought and it proceeded to rip a huge chunk out of her upper lip and chin.
Not only did it take them an hour to reach the ER but unfortunatly, because of how slammed they were she was also not high on the priority list.
To watch her sit there for three hours with an icepack to her face, tears in her eyes was heartbreaking.

I do have to give credit to her father for his quick thinking as well as cool head. As his daughter apologized to him he said with tears in his eyes "This is not the time to be sorry. That's not important. What's important is making sure you are ok."

There was the teenager who was so hungover she needed an IV, the twenty-something who as she walked out of the ER, bragging about how she convinced them to give her pain meds, which she only wanted for a high. Her friend then shouted "awesome whoo hoo as she lit up a cigarette before they even made it out the door."

The pregnant teen wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt saying "I'm not fat, just knocked up."

Do I need to go on?

I never realized how much a trip to the ER can really open your eyes to what's going on around you. We too often tend to gloss over the things we don't understand or don't want to see. We don't want to acknowledge the poverty, the ill education, the heartbreak around us. But when you are in a situation where all you can do is wait... and wait.. and wait. It makes you really look around you and pay attention.

Finally we eventually were called back to an exam room where we discovered David's temp had skyrocketed to 104. A huge dose of Motrin helped bring it down, but we were still left waiting in the room for over an hour.

In the meantime they had placed this contraption over his wee-wee to get a urine sample. It hurt me and I don't even have the same plumbing.

When he finally did go pee and the nurse ripped the thing (which was adhered to his beans and the area just below his belly button) off, I thought my husband was going to pass out. Thankfully David took it like a champ.

As were waiting we heard a horrible retching noise coming from the next room. A nurse started yelling to a doctor...."Room 4 is vomiting uncontrollably." only for the doc to yell back "So.... turn her on her side. What do you want from me?"

Lo and behold he said his as he was walking into OUR room.

He took one look at David, said "it's probably viral but I guess I can check his ears."

What do you know he had an ear infection.

The doc then said he doesn't understand why parents bring thier kids in for stuff like this. He had three of his own and if they get like that he doesn't even take thier temp he instead "gives them a trip to Tylenol Land."

He then wrote a prescription for an antibiotic and before we were even out of the exam room they were arguing over who they would shove in behind us.

It was one of the oddest moments of my life.

David still had a temp this morning but after taking a dose of his medicine - which I can only akin to being somewhat similar to wrestling a spitting, greased pig - is feeling better.

Thank God.

When life hands you stress....make socks!

2008-07-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

Every since I discovered you can crochet socks I've become that lady.

You know the one you see either on the bus, the subway, the local little league game...driving down the road....holding knitting needles with a ball of yarn trailing behind her.

I'm hooked literally on this new discovery and I can't stop.

If I didn't have enough other types of yarn already I am now collecting sock yarn faster than my belly button collects lint.

Luckily, my family and friends aren't annoyed with this latest obsession. Instead, they love it. Because instead of the boring socks everyone hates getting for Christmas, these socks are what my sister-in-law Tara deemed "funky and fun."

It's amazing how many textures, colors and color combos true sock yarn comes in. My friend Kim received a pair featuring calming shades of greens and browns. My friend Beth picked out some funky yarns in bright hues of orange, green and blue complete with odd squiggly appendages woven into the yarn.

I just completed a pair for my mom that she is in love with. Bright pinks with a smattering of white, lavender, light green and yellow adorn these tootsie toasters.

And the list goes on.
I have so many people who have asked me to make them socks I'm not sure when I'm going to have time to make some for me.

Luckily though I still have a sensible (scrooge) side. I realized that I can't afford to "foot" the bill for all of this sock yarn and instead have agreed to make socks in exchange for the purchase of sock yarn.

It's amazing what we yarn-a-holics will do for a little taste of what we like.

It's not going away overnight

2008-07-04T09:49:00.001-07:00

One thing I'm realizing with depression is that it's not something that just magically goes away.
You can't just wipe the slate clean or erase the things that hurt you or make you upset.
Though there have been events and people who I have met or encountered in the recent years that have left me bruised and wounded I would never choose to erase these events.
The scarring left behind is part of me. It's who I am. These experiences have become a reminder of what I want and don't want out of life.

I have also realized that I do not want to be someone who blames everyone else for my problems or miserable moods.
Relationships are two-fold.
My inability to handle stress or to stand up for myself have played just as much a part in my recent moods as the people I have failed to defend myself against.

When did I become such a people-pleaser? Why do I care how people view me as a mother - a friend? When did I become a giver and never a taker?

If you give everything away without taking anything in return eventually you have nothing.

In reality the only person who really matters in terms of me caring what they think is my son.
If he grows up to be a well-adjusted respectful adult, who knows he is loved unconditionally by his parents, then I have done my job.

There are going to be mistakes made along the way. I'm not going to do everything by the book and I don't care if you think my child is a bully or a baby.
So what if you do things this way or that. Who cares if you hover more than a UFO in a cornfield over your child's every move.

I am my child's mother and will do what's best for him.

That includes getting healthy both mentally and physically.

And I'd like to think that by acknowlodging that I need to fix these things in my life, is a HUGE step in the right direction.

Moose Musings

2008-07-03T18:24:00.000-07:00

Just random thoughts.....

I can find a yarn store in the middle of nowhere better than a dog can find his own beans. Thank god my sister in law was with me, otherwise I would still be there.

Nothing makes a chubby girl run faster than coming face to face with a coyote at 7 a.m. I think the glare of the morning sun off my white legs scared it off.

The best dog training for a hyperactive terrier is a visit from my son David. Just one hour of my Moose chasing that yapper around the house screaming "PUPPY!!!! PUPPY!!!" was enough to quiet the poor beast for three days. I don't think he crawled out from under the couch the entire time we were there.
Well yeah he did, but as soon as David woke up, he booked it across the house faster than me running after a bag of chocolate covered gummy bears.

David can walk farther than David Carridine's character in Kung Fu. My poor sister-in-law got sucked in by his baby blues and thus got the workout of her life. The image of the two hand in hand walking into the sunset is still fresh in my mind.
Although this sunset wasn't so romantic given it was set against the icky backdrop of Tracy, CA in the summer, rundown houses, cracked sidewalks and dead lawns.

Sexy!

Two 20 oz Creme' Brulee iced lattes in the span of 4 hours is NOT a good idea.

How is it that my son can sleep like the dead while visiting relatives, but wake up 10 times a night at home?

If the Binky Shotput was an event at the Olympics David would hold the world record. I must take this time to apologize to the poor man on the other side of the coffee shop who received a Bink to the back of the head during one of David's "episodes"

Lastly, getting away does wonders for helping you realize just who you want in your life and who you can live without. Amazing.

Flight of the "Nag-a-gator"

2008-06-28T20:48:00.000-07:00

Today was one for the history books.

My husband and I took a flight together
With a 2-year-old.

It's bad enough that my husband and I, after 6 years of coupledom have never taken on the challenge of aiport travel (a good possibility why we're still happily married). But the fact that we took on this challenge by tossing our cranky two-year-old into the mix on an early flight stands to prove that despite everything Robert is the guy for me.

We made it to CA and I'm still alive right?

Yesterday was the start of my poor husband's decent into hell aka Kristin is stressed.

Not only was I trying to pack our toddler, myself and clean the house. I also had to make sure the cats were taken care of, the fridge was empty etc etc.

I was possessed.

Laundry was flying faster than Lighting McQueen on jet fuel. Clothes were being sorted, brooms were being weilded and my poor husband was being ordered around like a POW in a prison camp.

Imagine a very shrill voice shrieking "Robert! Can you sweep the kitchen?" "Robert! Can you put this in the garbage?" "Robert! Can you....." Robert! Robert! Robert?...."

I'm surprised he didn't take off for Mexico by that point.

At one point we took a break and took David to the park. It was wonderful. We went to eat, because, well, we didn't want to clean the kitchen.

And then all was lost.

As soon as I walk in the door it hit me. The smell of kitty pee.
After so many problems with ZZ in the past I can smell cat pee better than a bloodhound can sniff out a bag of doobie shoved up the butt of a monkey in Africa.
(ok I have an issue with Monkey's and butts don't I?)

I JUST KNOW

And lo and behold.... She peed alright... IN MY FRIGGING JUST WASHED AND FOLDED LAUNDRY!!!!!

Ohhhhhhh she was so lucky she's cute... that and we have more money invested in her than the real Zsa Zsa does in her shoe wardrobe.

Enter the return of the "Nag-a-gator"

By the time everything was said and done it was past midnight. The kiddo was asleep on the couch, my husband was watching Sports Center and I was wrapping up all the packing.

Unfortunatly, we had to get up at 4:30 a.m., leave by 5:30 a.m. to catch a 6 a.m. shuttle that takes 2 hours to get to the airport.

We were zombies.

David was not happy with being disturbed so early and went into full raging temper-tantrum mode. Why? He didn't want to change out of the dirty shirt he was wearing. (he's become so particular about his clothing lately)

So we gave up the good fight and off we went, dirty shirt and all to the airport.

David was great and slept the entire way, but as per the actual flight HA HA HA.

He was so hyper and animated about all the planes and trucks in sight, you would have thought we fed him 100 pixie sticks.

We took precautions and put him in an overnight diaper. The flight was just over and hour. I had two new Thomas engines, coloring supplies, goldfish, Nilla Wafers, juice, water.... we were set.

Expect for the fact he didn't want to be buckled in.

Note that this entire time the "Nag-a-gator" was in full swing.

"Robert can you...Robert do....Robert... Robert....Robert."

But I was issued some payback.

At one point as I was picking up one of the trains David had dropped the snot discovered the tray.

CLUNK! as it came crashing down on my head. SMASH!!! as he then grabbed it and slammed it back down on my head laughing hysterically.

I had barely recovered from that attack when I received a diecast (metal and heavy) train in my face.

I was shocked my nose wasn't bleeding or broken.

David then proceeded to go YEAH YEAH YEAH and chuck his binkie into the lap of the person sitting two rows in front of us....

Should I go on?

Well I know I should because it gets better.

Really.

The plane finally landed and we waited until almost all the passengers had deboarded to get our little guy and carryons off the plane. He was finally doing good.

And then I picked him up.

All I can say is that how the hell can an overnight diaper hold enough pee for 8 hours, when a kid is sleeping, yet fail after only an 1 1/2 hours when he's awake.

I apologize to whoever had David's seat on the next flight..... That dampness is from sweat.... honest.

If yarn were crack.....

2008-06-27T08:46:00.000-07:00

I'd be in serious trouble.

Ok this post is in honor of Beth again.

I promised that I would take pictures of my insane yarn stash and post them so that she would have ammo if her husband ever got upset with her over her recent habit of buying yarn.

I imagine a conversation going like this"

Beth's hubby: Geez how much yarn do you need?
Beth: Well, you don't understand. There are just so many textures and colors and every time I see a new type of yarn I think of all the great things I can make....
Beth's hubby: This is getting a little out of hand (as he stares as her two little tubs of yarn)
Beth: Don't even start to say anything. If you want to see a true yarn stash check out Moose's closet(s) This is how you know you're a true addict (shows hubby pictures of yarn engulfing our house)
Beth's hubby: THUD!!! (as he hits the floor)

You get the picture. Whenever my friends talk about their yarn stashes and their husbands irritation with it I just invite them and their husband over... problem solved.

Thankfully my husband is wonderful about my addiction to yarn. In fact he supports and encourages it. Why? Because crocheting has been the one thing that has helped me during these dark times of depression. He sees how happy I am when I'm working with a new yarn, laughs when I struggle and cuss at one.
There is nothing more exhilarating than seeing the look of amazement on my hubby's face when I whip out a new design or project.
Here is a man who works on nuclear reactors. A nuclear electrician who flew through one of the hardest schools in the navy without a problem telling me he's in awe of my abilities. ME.

Nothing beats that feeling.

He did, however, have a sort of intervention with me, when we realized we were losing things (ahem the cats) behind my massive yarn piles.

"Hey" I protested "The cats aren't complaining right... where's the problem"
"The problem?" my hubby replied "The problem is that somewhere in that black hole of a closet we have some wine. By the time we dig ourselves out enough to reach it, it will be vinegar."

Not much of a drinker it took a few seconds for the little light bulb to go on.

Ding! wine = relaxed wife = affectionate wife = lucky husband. AHA!

So for the sake of our marriage and my husband sanity last weekend I went through my stash and pulled out as much yarn that I knew I would never use.

AKA crummy Red Heart Super Saver that was given to me by someone else trying to get rid of it. Note: the three boxes of yarn on the porch are what I got rid of. It was a lot of yarn.

Also note: How much I still have left.

As for the pictures, the closet is of my office. There is yarn in every nook and cranny, color-coded, project divided and sorted by type etc.
The closet under the stairs holds my yarn bag with current projects and the bins containing the yarn for three sweaters.

Do you think they have a yarn-a-holics anonymous?

When something stinks....and it's you

2008-06-26T21:14:00.000-07:00

Today was a pretty down day.

Well actually forget down, I was so far under I broke the earth's surface and found myself in China.

I became immersed with what I believe was my first full blown anxiety attack.

My ears were ringing (although in the end it helped block out the bs I was listening to.
My heart was racing
I wanted to throw up
And I wanted to run.

I wanted to run so far away so fast, that I would have made the Flash look like a turtle.
I wanted to be Waldo in a Where's Waldo competition for the blind.

You get the picture.

The only way I can describe what triggered this episode is that I somehow felt like I was a stinky pair of bowling shoes.

You know you don't like them, but you're going to pretend you do because that's how you play the game.

If you think you're better than me, don't pretend to be nice to me.
If you want my respect don't stand next to me and look right through me.
And lastly, watch what you say because someone is always listening.

I must have looked like a spastic monkey trying to leave the situation. I had hit that hyperactive cheerleader energy level - that level you hit when you are trying not to cry in public.

My husband was home when I walked through the door and the poor guy, after all he's had to deal with had to listen to me cry about how stupid I felt. How I wasn't sure if I fit in and how did I get to this point?

To top it off the freaking phone kept ringing... and ringing....and RINGING. With a broken caller ID there was no possible way I was playing the Russian Roulette phone game. Then my cell started ringing.

All I wanted was to be left alone.

I didn't want to talk about how I felt....well I did, but I've learned from horrible experiences that often those who jump to let you vent to them are the first to spread it around.

Listen to me. I've become so cynical I make Ebenezer Scrooge look like Santa Claus.

This California vacation can't come soon enough. I need a break - fast.

Never Give Up!

2008-06-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

Ok.

I've come to realize that I've NEVER made my husband anything in terms of crochet.
I think because of his picky nature I didn't want to risk spending money (with me being a yarn snob and all) on something that would sit in his closet.

But then I found a pattern that just screamed ROBERT CAN WEAR ME GOLFING!!!!!

It was this awesome zip up sweater vest in the Stitch N Bitch for men book.

The vest was a navy blue with orange in the book.

At the time Robert was out to sea and nearing his 30th birthday.

"Great!" I thought. "I can make this as a birthday surprise. He'll love it"

HA!

I went out and bought some Cascade 220 superwash in his favorite color (forest green)
I bought some quatro army green to replace the orange in the pattern.

The colors were smashing. Or at least that's what my knitting circle gals said.

And then I heard that voice. A little squeak coming from the back of my brain that I like to call the "It's Robert remember" voice.

So after a good few weeks of attempting to start this vest, only to hear this voice every time I picked up my hook, I decided I'd better wait until he got home.

And yet again the voice was right.

Yeah my husband loved the vest... BUT

Could I add sleeves to it.

Does it have to be green? Well yeah it's my favorite color but..... Ummmmmmm can I have you make it in CAL colors (as in CAL Berkeley football)

Oh! And can you ummmm make my brother Matt one too.

The kicker here is the yarn for just one sweater totalled about $100.

So add this up.

I had already bought the green yarn totalling about $110

I then go buy CAl colored yarn, factor in I need extra for sleeves :$130

Because I bought all of Caroline's stash of the navy blue at Wild N Wooly she had to order more

Factor in that Robert's brother is a size larger :$140

This is starting to become one expensive project.

So I sit down to start Robert's sweater two night ago. I've already discovered that the Stitch N Bitch books are unfortunatly very poorly edited and not very clear when it comes to direction. I usually find myself going to www.ravelry.com to look for corrections or tips from other people who have struggled through the patterns.

I chain the correct number - that's easy, no problem

Then I attempt to start Row 1. First of all it's a linked stitch which I've always heard about but never had actually attempted. Second of all, the description on how to do this stitch, sucked monkey butt.

Not to toot my own horn, but I don't fancy myself as a novice crocheter. I can usually figure things out. What I ended up with was reminicant of what I would have produced back when I was five.

My stitches were gnarles and wonky. The yarn was tangled up to the point I couldn't "frog" it.

I was so ticked off.

I was just about to give up on the project all together ($300 plus in yarn and all) when the voice of a fellow Homefronter popped into my head.

Bethjt: Hey youtube has the coolest videos showing you how to do crochet stuff!

This was when she was learning how to add a brim to a beanie, which I might add she does an AMAZING job at.

So I took a chance and what do you know! There was a video showing me how to do the stitch. And it was DUH simple.

So needless to say, the lesson learned here is don't give up. And don't buy yarn before you've talked to the person who are making the project for.

When life seems out of control

2008-06-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

So I'm finally going to admit something that I've been keeping inside for a long time.

Yep a serious post folks.

I really don't like myself. It's to the point I'm not sure I would be even friends with me if I were someone else.

I hate how I care too much about what other people think of me.
I hate how I'm too quick to rush into new friendships or relationships only to realize that perhaps I'm only riding that rush the newness these friendships give you, rather than really getting to know people and how true they really are.

I hate how angry I am all the time and how emotionally up and down I am. I've become a bitch. The very type of person I never wanted to be.

I hate how I'm always depressed and struggle just to get out of bed in the morning and put on a happy face.

I hate how when I finally do try to talk to people about it, they blow me off or talk about me behind my back.

I hate how I can never find a group of women friends without at some point feeling like I've stepped back into high school, where everyone talks about everyone else and the "popular" crowd merely tolerates the "wannabees" How people bounce from one group to the other fueling the fire - me included.

I hate how I make my husband feel. His once happy wife is now a depressed nagger who would rather let the house collapse around her than deal with anything. If he only knew how much it breaks my heart to watch him try to hold it all together.

Basically I'm full of hate and I don't know why.

I honestly thought it was my birth control and I do think the extra hormones had a factor in everything. But lets face it...it's more than that.

But when I went to the doctor to get help, I was basically told I was wasting their time, given a renewal for said BC and shoved out the door in 10 minutes.

It left me feeling even more emotionally bruised. It's left me unwilling to talk to anyone about how I feel. Because if the doctor didn't think there was a problem then it must be all in my head right?

I have two very good friends that I know I can talk to. One of which understands me completely for she's been here before. Yet, it only makes me feel guilty when I vent to her.

There comes a point where I realize that all I do is complain and bitch about my life or the situations the upset me. I'm a downer to be around. And for those I've bitched or vented to I apologize.

It took me a long time to not care what people thought of me. To actually like myself and somehow I've slid back down the hill of self-confidence.

As I've rolled back down that hill I've gained weight, I've stopped writing. I no longer find crocheting or Moose Threads as exciting as it once was. I don't care about what I look like.

Yesterday, I realized I'd hit the bottom of the hill, when for the first time in our six years of being together my husband and I had a real fight.

Not a tiff, spat, argument, or disagreement -- a FIGHT.

Cruel words were said, screaming ensued. Things were thrown, the F-word was tossed around like it was the latest catch-phrase.

And I told him to leave.

I actually told the love of my life to leave.

When all was said and done my husband and I just looked at each other stunned. How did it get to this? What happened? It ended with him holding me as I sobbed and sobbed.
I never really even cry so for me to be sobbing to the point I couldn't catch my breath and my entire body was shaking you know there is a problem.

And I realized it was time to admit what was really going on, hence this post.

So here it is. It's out in the open and either you can be there for me and help me or use this to talk crap behind my back. The choice is yours. I'm no longer going to sit back and let myself go.

It's time to Merge or get run over because starting right now I'm climbing back up that hill of self-confidence, even if I have to get bruised and bloody emotionally to do so.

When Toddlers Attack

2008-06-24T08:32:00.001-07:00

Let me start by saying that I love my son. LOVE him LOVE him LOVE him.

But if a pharmaceutical company found some way to bottle his energy, they would have the No.1 birth control product in the world.

After hearing stories of how my husband and our siblings were as children I have now concluded that the only reason our parents had us two or less years apart is that that they didn't know what was to come.

They hadn't yet experienced THE TODDLER YEARS (imagine these words being said in a booming movie voice with the Twilight Zone sound track in the background)

David turned 2 in March and I'm still looking for the little switch on his body that was flipped on, turning him into a little hellion.

Nothing is safe.
If he can't reach it, he'll find something that will help him do so.

If he can't get in it, he'll find a way to bust it open, including tossing is wrestler style onto the hardwood floor.

His favorite phrases are stop or no, usually said red-faced and at full volume, his finger pointing at you in defiance.

(It probably doesn't help that I always bust out laughing during one of these episodes, making him more upset. Yes it's not the best way to parent but I can't help it. It's funny.)

The cats are now his wrestling buddies - things he tries to chase and body slam. Their tails are handles for pulling not petting.

Mommy's knees aren't meant to help hold her up or walk. Didn't you know they are there for football practice. Forget using those silly football sleds to practice tackling when an unsuspecting mommy will do.

Besides, she provides a much more exciting reaction upon hitting the floor with a thud.

Above you will find pictures of David's latest sneak attack, and alas there was irreversible damage. One was maimed for life, the other stomped to death.

Why he felt the need to take a bite out of the forehead of my Styrofoam hat model I will never know, but thankfully it's in a spot where I can cover it up.

Can you imagine me trying to sell hats on ETSY with this?
"Yes folks, this hat is the perfect way to emphasize those bite marks left behind from your latest night out...."

Yeah don't think so.

The other picture is of what were the hamburger buns I was going to use for dinner that night.

Apparently David felt that eating them was just too tame. Instead he decided to have a stomp and shred fest in the middle of the living room.

And people wonder why he is an only child....

Monday Crockpot Madness

2008-06-23T19:45:00.000-07:00

Crockpot Pot Roast

This is one of my husband favorites.

He's super picky so the fact that he likes this is great.

What you need:

1 pot roast
1 packet onion soup mix
1 can condensed cream of mushroom or celery soup
2 tsp chopped garlic
1/2 cup red wine
3/4 cup beef broth
Carrots
Red potatoes

Salt and pepper and brown your pot roast on both sides

Place in crock pot.
Toss in garlic, soup and onion soup mix
Pour in broth and wine

Place carrots around pot roast

Cook on low 2-3 hours

Add potatoes about 2 hours before serving.

Enjoy!

Not so Project Wonderful

2008-06-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

Ok so I have snobby yarn tastes.

With the amount of money I have spent on my yarn addiction I could send David to college and he's not even 3 yet.

There is one yarn brand that I love called Noro. It's a Japanese product and comes in a variety of insane colorways and a very natural texture (aka skinny, fat, skinny fat)

So with my recent sock obsession I purchased two skeins that were totally different colorways. One that from the outside appeared to be purples, blacks and greens.
The other yellows, greens and pinks.

There was a ton of yardage on each skein (400 +) and it was $21 a skein.

Great! I thought. I can make myself some awesome socks.

Turns out that while the yarn is great for KNITTING socks. It sucks monkey butt (as my husband would say) to CROCHET socks with.

It didn't allow enough give to get the socks on and it was not easy to "frog" aka "ripout" when I messed up.

But this is me and I am cheap and stubborn. I refused to let this expensive yarn defeat me.

So I decided I was going to make a blanket with this yarn, which later turned into a scarf because I was lazy and got tired of fighting with it.

Because the yarn was of such a fine weight, I doubled up the skeins. Note how different I mentioned the colorways were.

This yarn self stripes so as I was progressing through this project I found myself crocheting with navy and peach, pink and puke green etc etc.

It was the oddest combination of colors ever.

My husband said it looked like someone ate a bunch of skittles and then got sick.

And thus the "Barf Scarf" had it's name.

I hated this scarf. It was a project that the more I worked on it, the more I hated it.

Yet for some reason, wherever I took this hideous project people loved it.

At knitting circle they raved about the unique colorwork, the textures, the stripes.

A friend called it "Bohemian"and "Inviting" Another deemed it "Explosive and Energetic"

I personally called it "Hippy Hurl Chic"

But sadly I must admit that my love for this scarf only came about for one reason -- money.

Yep, before I could even post it on Etsy I sold it. One of those friends bought it from me.

I guess it is true, one woman's trash is another one's treasure.

5K FEVER!

2008-06-15T20:33:00.000-07:00

Ok so I ran another 5K and it was, I must admit, a fantastic self-esteem booster.

It was 3.5 instead of 3.1 miles and I finished in 45:45. Improving my overall mile time.

My ego has needed a good swift kick in the rear for quite a while now. Lately my self-worth has been in the gutter with thoughts of:

I'm too fat
I'm not "popular" enough
I'm not a wonderful mom
I'm not a good friend
AKA I'm not PERFECT

Etc Etc.

Basically, I've been at the lowest I think I've ever been in my life in terms of valuing me as a person.

But thankfully I do have Karen.

A friend who not only has become a workout buddy at a time when Poptarts preceded pushups in my vocabulary, but who has become a support.

Not a support to lean and rest on, but one to push off and gain strength from.

She never tries to one-up me, or rub her successes in my face.

She encourages me to challenge myself, no matter how large or small the goal.

She's help me find something in me that I thought I lost long ago - the healthy athlete.

Well, I've chisled enough of the gloom away to see the athlete. Keep your fingers crossed I can uncover the healthy part over the next few months as well.

Here's so all my wonderful friends and family who keep me going!

Yummy Crock pot Chicken

2008-06-09T11:39:00.000-07:00

Growing up with a Sicilian father and a mother whose family hails from Oklahoma, I never really learned how to cook using exact measurements. I tend to instead cook by taste and feel. Note my measurements are guesstimates on how much I use.

So here is my recipe for crock pot chicken. It's been a huge hit with my picky husband. He LOVES it and I hope you do too!

1 whole Fryer chicken 3-5 pounds
2 cloves of garlic minced (if you have the kind in the jar that's about two heaping spoonfuls)
1 small yellow onion - diced
2 cups of baby carrots
1 cup peas
2 celery ribs -chopped
1/4 cup chicken broth
1/4 cup white wine

Clean the chicken and toss out any innards.
Salt and pepper every inch of your chicken (generously)

Place chicken breast-side up in crock pot

Toss in garlic (spread is over top of chicken and around sides)

Toss in onion.

Arrange veggies around chicken (it may seem like a tight fit but everything will cook down)

Pour in white wine and chicken broth.

Cover and cook on low for 6 hours

or

Cook on high for 3-4 hours, depending on size of your chicken.

When done, remove chicken and strain veggies and place in bowl. Whisk in corn starch to make a gravy with juices.

Serve with either rice of mashed potatoes.

So BAAAAAAAD

2008-06-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

Well actually I think my little lamb looks pretty good.

I was recently given the challenge -- ok well I was begging for creative inspiration -- from a wonderful Homefronter wwww.sygnetcreations.etsy.com

I must confess I had a blast making this little guy. However, I did decide to add a little face to him after careful examination made me realize that instead of looking cute and cuddly, his lack of face instead made him look a little scary.

I pictured myself having nightmares filled with BAAAAAing sheep that somehow were reenacting scenes from Children of the Corn IV or something of equally B-quality.

I'm almost done with the red hat upon which this little guy will graze. Its being constructed out of a wickedly soft washable wool and will feature a brim. (yeah I admit it now. I'm not so bad at them after all)

Let me know what you think.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

2008-06-03T20:45:00.000-07:00

Holy Cow!

Talk about shocked.

I mean I knew I had gained a ton of weight but man does my face look like a chipmunks.

Well ok, using a cookie as an accessory combined with a slightly cross-eyed dorky smile probably wasn't the best choice....but still.

Oh and do you like my hat? I was again attempting to make a brim. I guess I just look odd with brimmed hats on. My son looked cute in it, despite the fact it looked like Strawberry Shortcake threw up on his head.

So what I want to know is what do you think of this hat.... if you picture it on a very cute toddler girl and not the female version of the StayPuff Marshmallow Man. Do I have a future as a brimmed hat-maker-upper?

Cookie? What Cookie?

2008-06-03T15:45:00.000-07:00

I've come to a realization.

Who needs government spies when all you have to do is send a bunch of toddlers to do the dirty work.

Not only are they small, but they are great when it comes to stealing things right under people's noses.

David is a very large and very loud 2-year-old. However, when it comes to getting to where and to what he wants, he instantly transforms into James Bond (He may be two but he knows how to use those baby blues when it comes to fooling people into helping him in his conquests)

We recently forked over $225 to have a double-lock deadbolt installed. Why? Because in the amount of time it took my husband to take a leak, David managed to climb off the couch, unlock the door, run across the deck, down the steps and all the way down the street to the neighbors.

Did I mention we live on a gravel road.

On the Hood Canal.

Off a major two-lane Highway.

A few days before his great escape I caught the bugger shoving one of our indoor-only cats out the front door. She was so scared she took off into the raccoon, possum-filled woods behind our house, that butt up against the highway.

I was in a quandary.

Either chase after Maggie and risk David shoving ZZ out the door - or even worse - locking me out of the house. Or stick my head out the window and yell for Maggie like crazy in the hopes that she, who has never been outside, will have enough common sense to run back toward the house.

Luckily she's the smart Gabor sister and within a few minutes she came running back.

All snack food in our house has also had to be put under lock and key. David has this special talent of making noisy, crinkly plastic bags magically go silent upon laying his hands on them.

These pictures are from a few days ago.

Note the COSTCO-size bag of Nilla Wafers. Also note his smirky grin as he proceeds to shove several cookies in his mouth, despite having just been caught. Talk about not cracking under interrogation.

Like I said.

Who needs Mr. and Mrs. Smith, with Agents Pampers and Huggies on your side.

They aren't all picture perfect

2008-06-03T07:19:00.000-07:00

In terms of crochet success I haven't had much of it in the past week.

A baby blanket I attempted to make for a friend got away from me to the point it was beyond frogging and starting over. An attempt at a new hat design didn't pan out and then of course there is my absolute favorite:

Adding a brim to a beanie.

Yep I can freehand anything it seems but for some reason I can not for the life me of make a brimmed beanie without making the wearer look like a sad 12-year-old boy - AKA me.

However, this is also probably where I should admit that all of my attempts were between 1 and 2 a.m. while watching Eddie and the Cruisers II. All I can say is I can now conclude that drinking Red Bull at 8 p.m. isn't perhaps the best idea I've ever had.

What bums me out is I did, however, make another very cute skull and cross bones applique, complete with little heart eyes. Yet, by sewing it onto my pathetic brimmed beanie attempt I somehow turned my badass skull into "cutsy" accessory.

But Rome wasn't built in a day and neither was my crocheting abilities. I've never let a pattern or design defeat me yet.

I will conquer this brimmed beanie. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but hell I'll figure it out someday.

Let's just hope it's before I'm 90.

I did it!

2008-06-01T17:21:00.001-07:00

Whoo hoo!

Me. Yes me, who thinks you should only run when chased finished a 5K.

I must say aside from labor it was perhaps the hardest thing I've ever physically had to do.

This wasn't your flat-coursed type of 5K either. Nor did I have months to prepare.

Instead, this was a hilly, sandy, muddy and even pine-cone trail-filled 5K and I had 1 - yes 1- week to prepare.

I finished in 43 minutes on the nose. Not the most glamorous time, but hey I'll take it. I will hang that number proudly above my treadmill as a reminder of where I started.

Because although I wanted to cry, throw up and even quit during today's adventure, when it was all said in done I wanted more.

Right now, despite my sore thighs, aching arms and screaming feet I am signing myself up for a few more races over the next few months.

I don't care if I come in first, nor do I care if I come in last. All that matters is that I challenge myself and come out stronger than I was before.

Thank you Karen for giving me a shove in the right direction!

Reason 493 why I started Moose Threads

2008-05-30T19:02:00.000-07:00

What can I say I love my pets.

Even if they cost me an insane amount of money.

No, they aren't prize-winning, pure-bred felines, but instead, your typical house cats plucked from a nearby "rescue facility"

One of my darlings (the one on the right) is aptly named Zsa Zsa Gabor. She is extremely affectionate but also an extreme dumb blond.

This is the cat who falls off counters, finds a way to pee on the floor despite standing in the litter box, sucks on people's earlobes and lastly - eats plastic. Yes eats,not chews, licks or sniffs, but EATS.

Her sister Magda (to the left)on the other hand (Ava was already adopted) has no quirks or health issues at all.

Well today, I forked over nearly $400 to my local vet (who I'm sure has paid off her car with the amount of money I've spent on ZZ there over the last two years) for yet another ZZ health crisis.

Not only did my poor little kitty have bladder crystals, a bacterial infection and some type of other infection, but she also was put on meds to help control her insane affection for ingesting plastic bags.

This lovely habit cost me about $400 as well a few months ago, when she developed a blockage as well as an ulcer.

She has had three bladder infections, two plastic bag adventures and not to mention he obvious yearly exams in the past two years.

Did I mention that she's not even three yet?

So enter Moose Threads. Not only does Moose Threads provide a creative outlet for me, but it's become my way to pay for my cat.

Why pay so much money for such a kitty? Why not put her to sleep -- some have asked?

Well, to me she is more than a cat. She is my cuddle bug on those long nights while my husband is on a sea patrol. She doesn't withhold affection or talk back, when I need a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to vent to.

And to me that's priceless.

When toddlers go bad

2008-05-29T09:47:00.000-07:00

I have a two-year-old.

Do I need to say more?

Though he's as cute as can be, if you look closely you can see the tiny pair of horns that are holding up his halo.

When I started Moose Threads, he was just over 1. I would work on items after his bedtime. I would use my knitting circle time as me time - otherwise known as caramel nonfat mocha and girl talk time. All was right with the world and I was happy.

Now, however, it's a different story.

No matter how hard we try there is no bedtime. Bedtime is when he stops screaming, ,kicking and escaping from his room. Naptimes are a thing of the past - apparently I didn't know they were now considered uncool amid the two-year-old social scene.

My once highly organized, color-coded yarn collection has now become the Death Star with David as Luke Skywalker.

Every chance he gets he's attempting to seek and destroy. Toss in our two tortie cats to act as Yoda and Hans Solo and you have one heck of a battle.

Here are a few pictures of what my workspace ...aka.... house/office have looked like in recent weeks as a result of David's sneak attacks.

Who knew?

2008-05-27T13:05:00.001-07:00

Wow! I actually figured out how to set up a blog.

Though I must admit it's not as snazzy as some others that I have seen. But hey it works right?I have to admit it was tough trying to figure out a way to decribe what exactly Moose Threads is.

Yes I sell custom crocheted clothing.

Yes I make hats and sweaters.

But that's just the surface.

In actuality Moose Threads is who I am. It's my emotional and creative outlet. It was a salvation of sorts at a time when I wasn't sure who I was anymore.

Here I was, a happy, energetic sports reporter at a family-owned newspaper near my hometown. Yes it was stressful but I loved my job. It was a step in the right direction on the path to becoming a great writer.

But then fate happened.

Throw in a swim meet assignment, a handsome blue-eyed, black-haired Navy recruiter and what do you get?

A whirlwind courtship, a big Catholic wedding and an unexpected 1-year anniversary pregnancy surprise. Toss in transfer orders from CA to WA, a complicated pregnancy and you get a now unemployed, emotional former writer with few friends and self-esteem that's non-existant.

I was a mess.

Yet, somewhere in the middle of all this, I managed to pick up an old hobby - crocheting.

Soon I was drowning in yarns of all colors and textures. I was whipping out hats, sweaters, anything I could imagine.

I made my unborn son a "coming home" outfit. I made him hats to wear in the winter - beanies, stocking hats, applique hats -- you name it.

Soon people were asking me where I bought these items. And eventually this led to custom orders and eventually the creation of my ETSY store. http://www.moosethreads.etsy.com/It's been an unusual adventure and I can' t wait to see what's around the next corner.