here in the hall of heads
My weeks just keep getting busier. On Wednesday I was thinking about staying home from Knit Night because - get this - I had too much knitting to do. But I went anyway. "I have to haul ass on this hedgehog," I announced grimly. "That's not a sentence you get to say every day," the ladies observed. It's about as often as I consider avoiding craft night because my crafting schedule has become too intense to allow for the commute.
I went home early, as the next day was Parent-Teacher Night, a.k.a. the day I spend 13 hours in the school. In fancy clothes, no less. I was slightly consoled by the fact that we had a huge standardized test scheduled for the morning, during which I hauled ass on the aforementioned hedgehog. Mason & I went out for dinner to get a break from the building, and we managed to squeeze in a few wee adventures simply by strolling the plaza. I tried to get my engagement ring appraised at Cash Converters, but the line up was too long, so we ended up buying female sword and sorcery complilations from the 1980's. A grand total of 2 interviews in 2 hours rounded out my night. At least I got tonnes of time to play with yarn. And Blake, the poor little guy, wet the bed and had to come in with me at 4. Good times.
By Friday morning I was exhausted. Blake was sick and I wasn't doing too well in that department myself. I staggered though my day, teaching the worst, most inept lesson to my 12's I have ever perpetrated upon them, supervised a test for another two periods, and got home in time to watch Blake fall asleep on the couch 15 minutes before his father's arrival. Nice. Once Blake was carried, protesting, off to spend his weekend with my babydaddy, I quickly devolved into a state of inertia: reading blogs, drinking beer and unwinding a tangled skein of sock yarn.
My Saturday was spent in similar idleness. I don't actually enjoy prolonged periods of sloth and social isolation; but after my last two weekends I really needed to re-introduce my bum to my couch and let the two of them catch up. I also have tonnes and tonnes of knitting deadlines this week and I needed some quiet time to get them in line. In a stroke of brilliant serendipity, the DNTO program was focussed on idleness as a creative act, as a political protest, and as a lifestyle. Beautiful. It reminded me of what I already knew: when I spend an afternoon knitting or crocheting or whatever and I'm not using a teevee to keep my eyes occupied, my brain starts to fire off new and creative ideas through simple relaxation. I got to the point where I needed to keep a notebook on the arm of the sofa to record my inspirations.
I did some laundry and the dishes, but because I wanted to, so it didn't really make a dent in my contemplation. At dinner time my parents came by to pick me up and take me to a church dinner to fund raise for land mine removal. I {heart} church dinners, I really do. My love affair with the church affair began in Wolfvegas and I've never truly lost my desire for the simple potluck.
They dropped me off 20 minutes into Earth Hour, so I found my candelabra by touch, loaded it with new candles, and set up for an even more peaceful hour of candlelit embroidery. (Thanks, Nadia: I haven't had a housewarming gift come in so handy since Sophie's yarn became my fabulous winter hat.)
Sunday was napping, church and more embroidery, punctuated by the making of chicken soup and the joyous arrival of my the Blake. "Mommy, can I have a beautiful cookie?" he beamed. Man, he's happy to be back. Me too.
Today was another slog, as Blake wet the bed at 1 a.m. (he's 2 for 2, considering that he was away for the weekend). Tomorrow is the Harlot's latest book launch, and I don't expect to get near a computer until well into Wednesday. To tide you over, here is the severed head I finished yesterday:
(Yes, it is based on the Boy. He was pretty cool to let me take this picture after he dropped off the separation papers. I gave him a slightly-expired yoghurt for his trouble.)
Labels: bat masterson, blake, knit
The contents of this site, unless
otherwise noted, are copyright Rocketbride 1997-2009.
Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*