My Solution to not Knitting

So, recently I was shown this video through an author who was, at the time, writing about a wood-carver and how he made drop spindles.

He (the character) grew up in an area where it wasn’t strange to know how to use a drop spindle, and the author provided a link to show what a drop spindle looks like, as well as showing how to use one.

And I think it would be cool.

I have coloured wool from an abandoned arts project I was planning on doing, but couldn’t figure out what I would make a picture of (trust me, it sounds stupid but I don’t want to explain it, if you’re really that curious ask in comments and I’ll explain), and all I would need is a drop spindle.

These things can come cheap, and if it’s the kind of hobby that I want to continue doing but with a better drop spindle, then I can get a better, fancier, more expensive one if I want.

I’ve tried knitting, and don’t have the patience (or apparently the ability to keep the mental how-to in my head long enough to be able) to knit for more than one day.

I admire my friends and family who CAN knit, but it is not for me.

But…

But what if I could make wool?

Then… Then things would be different.

“Cool scarf sis, I believe that’s mine.”

“What? No, I made it, my scarf, I can make you one later.”

“Noooooo…. I got the wool, I made it into yarn, MY SCARF! BWAHAHA! And you thought I was being NICE letting you use my hours and hours of long work!”

So I decided to tell my Mom about this decision of mine, and I explained to her that I wasn’t much into knitting…

We talked about it a bit, and then, in my bid to make sure this sounds like a fantastic idea… I made a booboo. A tiny one.

“Besides, I really can’t take up knitting. If this house has any more yarn in it it’ll explode!”

Oh, the look Mom gave me…

Anyway, I’ll post pictures of what will undoubtedly be knotted and lumpy yarn, and live in hope that these pictures will soon be of regular, non-lumpy/knotted yarn.

Cheers!

(Lexy, If I make enough of it for you to use, I would like any possible future scarf to be mine, but in the time it would take you to make one, I would likely have enough practice and time to make you more, and in your colour of choice. Keep that in mind. :D)

Looked a bit like I had a Boner…

So, one thing that I’ve noticed bout when Lexy goes on Walks, is that she usually carries a bag with her. One to sling over her shoulder and hold onto a water botle, a fold-up dish, and the poop bags.

The other day when I went for a walk with Gwynn, I decided that it was hot, yes, but we were only going out for a half-hour for now, and another short walk later, so I decided to forgo grabbing a bag and just shove the bags in my pocket.

A few streets from my house, I looked down and noticed that the tube of bags I’d shoved into the pocket of my shorts was looking a bit odd.

A bit like I had a boner…

I’m sure no one thought that I, in my girly short shorts and floral shirt, was a man showing off my junk, but still, in the same way penis jokes have amused me when I was in middle school, I was still amused at the thought.

Makes me wonder if other people would have connected the bulge by my crotch was a roll of poop bags (lavender scented, even) and what else they could have thought it was.

Just thoughts.

In Your Pants

My sister reading this after November will read the title of this and think i am talking of the game “In your pants” where you add that to the end of book titles. This game doesn’t always work, for those of you who want to try it, but for many books it works. I learned of this game from the vlogbrothers, specifically from John Green. One of my friends is reading a rather religious sounding book for one of her classes… “The Hand of God”(in your pants). Other examples that I can think of are “The story of E. E. Cummings” in your pants. “Storm Warning” in your pants. “Thief of Time” in your pants.

Just walk around your house and look at book titles with this thought in mind, you will find some funny ones.

But no, this post is about a different matter.

I’ve mentioned in other posts that I dislike people thinking that they’re fat (as in disliking the thought, not the people though they can get irritating), but I recently had an experience that made me think a bit hypocritically.

I was going through my clothes, mainly my skinny jeans because I wanted to wear a particular pair of boots, and was noticing that one or two didn’t fit. That was okay, as they were rather small on me anyway.

I went for my light blue skinny jeans, and it was alright, I shimmied into them and used the belt loops to tug them a bit higher–

ZTCCHHHHHT

That is the sound that DOOM makes. Coincidentally, that is also the sound jeans make when they rip.

The back of my pants, thankfully, didn’t rip, but I just about ripped the belt loops off.

Not just the belt loops though. The fabric that they were attached to. There’s a square little bit that looks like I was trying to cut around it and gave up halfway through.

You can’t rip a pair of pants while trying to wiggle into them without having some unsavory thoughts.

Aside from a mantra of swear words, I was also thinking… other things.

Oh my god I just ripped my pants… Seems like you did. Yes

I am so FAT! Yep. Fatso, fatty fatty fatso~! You aren’t fat.

Oh my god, I’m never going to be able to fit into any of my pants…. Nope! Never! And you’ll have to wear skirts all the time too! Shut up! You aren’t fat. Calm down. Think rationally.

I’m going to rip all of my pants when I try to get them on, I will never be able to wear my boots! NOOOOOO! No you won’t, but hey, a bright side is that a fatty like you will get big boobs! Quiet! You won’t, skinny jeans are the only things you have that are at that fits and is slightly too small stage.

I’m going to have to buy new pants… HAH! But you’re poor aren’t you? Buy more paint sets instead. We can paint on clothing instead. No one will notice! Just wear different pants. Calm down. 

I’m poor… I hate pants shopping… Don’t forget that you also have to buy really big bras too, since now that you’re turning into a fatty you’ll have bigger boobs! Go pants shopping now! You heard the other one, skinny jeans is all you have! I didn’t say that! You DO have other pairs of pants. Calm down already, you’re wasting time. You have to go meet friends.

Oh jeez, I DO have to meet them in–HOLY SH*T I’M LATE! Dooon’t wooorrry…. Your friends won’t care. Just bring out the paints and you’ll be ready to go I’m telling you, NO ONE will notice if you walk out with painted pants. Just do it.. Don’t paint yourself. It isn’t good for your body. Just put on that new pair you got last time we were at home. 

Oh right, I DO have those pants… Paint is cooler! Just get changed already…

That went on for a while, even as I was walking to the bus station. Insanity was certain that it would be fun to tell the friends that the pants were actually painted on, and Sanity was putting her foot down and it seemed as though she had pre-recorded a mantra of “Calm down, calm down already, calm down…” with random points of body self-esteem boosts throughout.

Occasionally I found myself wondering how cool it would be to paint one of my pants all whacked out colours, and Insanity suggested bleach as well, and I was well and truly distracted until I actually reached my friends and blurted out what Insanity suggested.

Hey guys, I just ripped my pants!

There was silence, and then they sort of leaned to one side and looked as if they were looking for me to have a huge split down my ass or something.

Sanity and I caught up on the conversation after our shock that I had actually started a conversation like that and hurried to assure than that no, I didn’t walk all the way here with ripped pants (Insanity giggled and told me that my friends thought I would do that. “They must have a GREAT impression of you!“), but had ripped the belt loops when I was getting changed.

Still, thoughts about fatness floated through my head even as I was thinking about how I know I’m not fat and am in fact very comfortable with my body in almost every situation… It was just this pants situation that threw me.

It was ridiculous in my pants.

Yet another WTF Moment

A group of people just walked by my building, singing “Row, Row, Row your boat” repeatedly.

If that weren’t odd enough, they were walking along the sidewalk in a conga line, most of them waddling a bit from crouching down to hold the hips of the person in front of them.

They were also all wearing t-shirts, which is kind of ridiculous since right about now it’s below 10 degrees Celsius outside. To those familiar with F degrees, it’s cold. it’s about 5 degrees above freezing.

It’s cold.

Well, perhaps their bout of crazy will keep them warm.

I’ve lost my drawers!

No, not lost underwear or anything, but My room in university has a distinct lack of drawers.

I’ve seen other dorm rooms, so I know that I’m not just complaining about something that everyone is complaining about.

I’m just complaining about what other people who have 4-room apartment residences are complaining about.

I have 2 drawers under my bed, a small 2 drawer hutch thing beside my desk, and that’s it for drawers.

I do not have any shelving.

I have one table, and it’s dangerously cluttered already.

I have all of my books in a box in a corner, with my class books on top.

Looking sad. Probably from lack of use, but also because I have them banished to a corner.

I only ever look at them in class, otherwise I rewrite my notes 😐

Poor books, I would say, if the cheapest book hadn’t been $50.

My art supplies were once with the books, but have since been put in a locker at my art building.

The rest of my storage is a closet-type thing, the kind you find in holes and motels that you only ever use to (maybe) hang up your coat, if you don’t hang it on a chair.

I am sad, and My shirts are still mostly in bins.

My only consolation is that at east I will have she kind of shelving thing soon, as my parents are bringing up some of the shelving and whatever furniture that Lexy had made use of in her University years.

I am mostly sad because I am, in general, a kind of messy person. If  don’t know where to put something, I pile it on the nearest flat surface, or put it into some other kind of storage-device thing to look through later. Here, that device thing would be bins, and that flat surface is the floor.

Clothes in bins**, books on floor.

**SOME clothes on floor.

😦

Gone, Gone, Going…? Now? No. … Now?

I am currently waiting for laundry to be done, and feeling alternating feelings (no duh) of chest constricting stress and  fluttery anxiety, and chest constricting anticipation and fluttery excitement.

I leave for Grundy Park tomorrow, probably at the crack of dawn should I ask Dad now, and I am starting and finishing my packing today.

Yes I’m late, but I’m a procrastinator almost by nature. I’m procrastinating waiting for laundry to be done, because a while ago, I had my laundry waiting for me to bring it upstairs, and it was sitting in front of our freezer, which was left open, and it leaked.

I moved my stuff after it got wet, and left it down there to be done again when the washer was next free.

Mold grew.

I washed it twice.

I am washing it again, to get the sour-ish smell from it before I go.

I am not packing my stuff into a suitcase, because my Mom says that it’d be easier to pack in the car if it were in these huge, 3fx1fx2f ish plastic bins, so I have a plastic bin in my room, in the hall outside of my room, one downstairs by my nearly-done laundry, and one in the front room of my house.

Scratch that, I have TWO (Three) in the front room, because I need one separate for sleeping things such as sheets and pj’s.

It feels very much so as if I should be going right now, but then the chest crushing gets tighter with the feeling of Holy-I’m-Not-DONE-PACKING! untill I reassure myself and my insane part that no, we aren’t leaving right yet.

And then the sane part of me thinks of something.

What if I forget something!!!

Insane hears this as well, and slaps Sane on the head.

It’s because we’re not done PACKING! Get to work we’ve got like an hour to get everything together and in the car!

 Sane runs into a wall.

DOOM!

No, we aren’t leaving untill tomorrow, I reassure myself. And Laundry cannot be rushed.

And so I stand in front of the Door of Panic with my trusty Gandalf Wizard Staff solidly blocking the way.

From myself.

*sigh* Am I sure that there is actually an insane side, and it’s not just me?

Yes. I just happen to be strongly influenced by myInsane side when writing. Every writer has this part of them, it just so happens that mine feels the need to talk to me occassionally.

Insane people are in Sane people, and neither part are going past me to the Panic Room, because a)nothing gets done there, and b) NONE SHALL PASS!

All LOTR Gandalf the Grey jokes and references aside, I shall finish the Laundry of Impending Doom, cut it down to be hidden away in the Boxes of Plastic Containment, sealed away untill they are needed to fight the foe called Nakedness.

Shoot I gotta find myself some nail clippers, and perhaps a few more pairs of wool work socks.

Did you know that Costco has awesome underwear on sale? You wouldn’t think so, but they are comfortable.

A while ago, how many days ago matters not, Mum brought me to Costco to stock up on food items that will help in my quest of survival for the coming 2 months.

Working at a park is different from working as a Ranger in many ways, and one of which is that we don’t have chefs to cook and buy our food.

 For the last couple of weeks Dad has been storing away chili and stew and hamburger patties in the freezer, either in sealed plastic bags or in Tupperware , so that for at least the first two weeks of no-trips-into-town-to-buy-food I might be able to survive. I am extremely thankful that we get a lot of freezer space at Grundy (everyone, not just me, though I’d like to believe I AM that special).

I will also be leaving with print out and digital recipes of such things as stew, easy stroganoff (which is not a loose, sexually active Swedish general), salsa-couscous chicken, and many-layered salads.

We bought juice, meat, some veggies, cookies (the important things), underwear (they’re nice 😀 Sane: Don’t SAY that! Insane: BWAHAHA!) , and a whole slew of bread for me to make my main source of sustenance for during the day: Sandwiches.

To the sound of Pocahontas’ “Savages”:

Sandwiches! Sandwiches! Hardly ever Eaten! Sandwiches! Sandwiches! Where is my Mayonnaise?!

Credited to my friends (from rangers) sister. Google Map Delta. It’s a place. They live there.      😀

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!

No.

Food is packed away, and I think that I’ll go through the plastic bins tha I have already and sort out the mixes of shirts, sweaters, pants, and shorts from in them.

I will probably have way more than I need, but…

Rather have more than I need than not enough.

Right.

 BUT WHAT IF SOMETHING IS FORGOTTEN???!!!

No. Grundy is 4 hours or so away, and the Parents will be visiting fairly regularly! Back!!! Back from the gates of Panic!

YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

 So tomorrow I’m gone, or going, or whatever, and I’ll probably be freaking out.

By the end of the first week I’ll likely be fine, but then I’ll start being paranoid about what, exactly I’ll have forgotten.

Because I will have forgotten SOMETHING.

But that is edging around my Gandalf staff, (BWAHA!), so we shall move on.

I was procrastinating a bit earlier, reading one of the books I liberated from my Mom’s school (they have a better library, and because she’s a teacher there, she can take them out over the summer), called “The Book of Lost Things” by John Connolly. The link will bring you to his site on it.

It’s good.

Like, Really good.

Most times I can predict what will happen at the end of the book by the time I get through the first 3-5 chapters, and I had a bit of a feeling about what would happen, but so many things happened that promised a slightly different outcome, I couldn’t put it down.

Of course, since Lexy probably won’t be reading this untill I’m long gone, I can freely admit that instead of folding laundry a bit earlier, i was reading this. I put it away any time someone came down to the basement, and started fiddling with laundry.

I still got a lot done, even while reading it.

…Weird.

The dryer just made it’s “I’m-done” jingle noise (sounds a bit like a small part of an ice-cream truck’s jingle), and this is getting kind of long, so I’ll bid you all goodbye for now. Whether I post small segments about my work for the next 2 months depends on if the claim to internet access is true or not.

Ciao!

~Doodled93~

Insane: THERE’S NO MORE TIME!

P.S. Afterthought: It is now about 10:28 pm, and I pretty much have everything packed, but I look at my 2 bins of clothing, my 1/4 bin of work clothes, and my slightly bursting bin of sleeping stuff (it has a sleeping bag and pillow in it), and I feel I am missing a lot. Clothing-wise. I know I am not anywhere done my toiletries packing, as i currently have only JUST put the all-important nail clippers in my tinier toiletries bin, and I have no swim towel, no shower towel, and all of my electronics (including an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT digital alarm clock) are scattered around my house. Mostly uncharged too. Anyone else finish packing and look at your stuff and thing “nope. Not done.”? Also, pj’s is underlined in red, as well as bin. That is rediculous!

Preparing for Parkage: Getting it all Clean to get Dirty

I hate laundry.

I really and truly do.

It takes little snippets of time that add up.

It isn’t so much the actual doing of it, though it is a pain to have to set timers and get everything down there (especially if you put off laundry and have more than one basket load to do), but it’s the fact that it needs to be done, and that you have to put everything away afterwards.

It makes me sound like a lazy slob, but it’s the truth, and I’m sure that everyone at least has some days where the thought of doing laundry prompts a groan.

Laundry is a bit of a must at the moment, making sure that my work clothing is all packed and ready to go for on the 26th.

I must have at least five work shirts and 5 work pants, paired with at least three tank tops and three t-shirts. I must have a couple of sweaters and a few long-sleeved shirts as well, just in case the weather goes Wonky.

The weather network says that it’s supposed to be a warm summer, but Lexy worked at Sleeping Giant Park, and it started snowing partway through a canoe trip.

So that’s adding Long Johns to the list as well.

That’s just work clothing.

Pants from the side... most times they aren't as obvious as this, and just have the same colour as the pants material for patches. I go to TNT for my pants.

To clarify, work shirts are pretty much tan/other coloured button-up shirts that have sleeves. The buttons can be undone, and the sleeves can be rolled up when it’s hot. But it also means that you have the option of protecting your arms from bug bites, or from unexpected coldness. 😀

Work Pants have very simple requirement for me, and it’s something that a couple of the other girls at Rangers found out about after the unfortunate sound.

Work pants must have reinforcement patches on both the knees, and, as uncomfortable as it must sound, the crotch.

The unfortunate sound is the sound of ripped pants.

It’s really not great  when one of your work shirts is borrowed so that your buddy can cover the rip in her pants, and it’s not all that great having your bug spray/bug wipes used up because people spray it down the rips in their knees to attack bugs that have crawled in there.

So Laundry is the next part of Summer Parkage Prep.

Fun…

Why am I doing this again?

Oh, right, money, experience, and muscle buildup, as well as being paid for a camping trip…

Ciao and Zzzzz for now.

~Doodled93~

P.S. Props for this girl for going on a four-day camping trip when life was a bit too much, and for publicly apologizing when she gets back because she didn’t tell anyone and everyone thought she’d gone missing, sans id and wallet.