Wooohoooo! Take that, angry Dream Nieceling!

I did some actual work today!

Granted, I wasn't writing the story itself, per se, but I was filling in some chunks in the plotting part. I'm at a point plot-wise, that's about...mmm, three quarters of the way through? Give or take a smidge? Hey, it's moving the story forward, and that's got to be worth something.

I am so pleased I could spit. Which would be rude, so I will refrain. I'm just going to hop off this computer, take up my for-fun reading and have an hour of peace and quiet to myself.

Ah, lovely.

And today's gratuitous picture of peace and harmony:

This is a picture of the inner courtyard

at The Cloisters, NYC.

Beautiful museum, worth the trip.

I have the impulse control of a toddler.

I went from this:

to this:

in record time. That's actually the second attempt at those three repeats of the pattern. But I don't care. The yarn is soft, pretty and makes me happy. I could be perfectly content to knit and knit and knit with it -- although I would like to eventually finish the scarf so I can wear my sweet little cuddly Crowley around my neck. Keeping me warm.

I think I will have this pseudo-professionally blocked when I'm done -- that means I give it to the member of my knit coven who enjoys blocking -- because I want it to be blocked out as blocked out as it can get.

Maybe I should invest in blocking wires, instead.

Friday, I'm in Love!

Look what was waiting when I got home!

That's the interior wrapping. Isn't it snazzy? It's like Christmas or my birthday, only it's not!

Let's open it up, see what's inside:

Ahhh, precious cargo! My new toy from Damselfly Yarns on Etsy. She's also a Raveler, which is how I found her. The yarn is from her line of Supernatural themed colors, called Crowley after the eponymous character. For those who are not fans of SPN, Crowley is currently king of Hell, having promoted himself from VP of the Crossroads (he called it "King of the Crossroads", but in business speak, he was a very senior VP of Sales) last season.

Well, if there's a power vacuum, someone's got to get sucked in, yes? Might as well wedge yourself into the vacuum hose in hopes you're there first. Crowley apparently was the first M & M sucked out of the diabolical couch cushions. Smart lad.

Crowley, by the way, is one of my favorite characters. Intriguingly enough, for a demon, he's one of the least dishonest characters on the show -- well, no, let me clarify. He lies, yes, he's a demon and a salesman, so he lies as easily as breathing. But never to himself. So when he lies to you in order to get your eternal soul, you at least know he's not deluding himself as to why he's doing it and -- more importantly -- if you know Crowley, you know what he's doing and why. He wants power, souls equal power, ergo he's going to try to get you backwards over a barrel if he can, in any way he can, because it serves his ultimate purpose: The aggrandizement of Crowley. He's vain, ego-maniacal and a complete and total git. But he knows it and owns it. And he's never tried to pretend he's any different, except as a sly tactic to get one over on some ignorant stool pigeon.

Me likey. Rowr.

Anyway, 

Sterling Sheep yarn contains superwash wool (as if I'm going to put this in a washing machine ever!), silk, a little nylon for thems as what likes sock-knitting and silver thread. Heh. Sparkly Crowley.

It really suits in some way.

Here's a slightly better view of the colors:

It's a very Crowley color-scheme. He's all pin-stripe bespoke suits with pocket squares and well-polished shoes*, and this yarn manages to convey that. I admit, I had a non-sparkly yarn base option, but seriously -- the sparkles make this yarn, don't they?

I can't wait to knit it up!

*Ok, ok, maybe this is part of why I love Crowley so -- he's a peacock. Not an overdone peacock, but very, very, very sharp dressed. Women everywhere will understand the strange urge I have to admire the suit then peel it off in a frenzy, even if men will be confused. 

Suits are magical. Catnip for chicks.

Medicinal chocolate.

Upon a day, people thought -- among other things* -- that chocolate was medicinal. Modern science bears this out in part; there are indeed flavanoids and anti-oxidants and whatnot in chocolate that are excellent for your health in the long term. But chocolate was once considered a nerve tonic.

Medical men have poo-poo'ed this notion (mostly because, I think, for a long time they were exclusively medical men) and even medical women nowadays would rather not be associated with such antiquated ideas.

However...

I can testify that quality, well-made chocolates (particularly those in which dark chocolate, partially sprinkled with sea salt, enrobes a chewy, gooey hand-made caramel) are quite beneficial to the nerves.

I am overwrought. Fred goes tomorrow to hospital and will be worked on by his diligent surgical team of one over the course of the weekend. My mother's cat, the one that went anorexic from her own fit of nerves and nearly starved herself into liver failure, went to the vet again today, this time for grooming to rid herself of the knots that formed when she stopped grooming (even for that short of time -- less than a week -- and suddenly we've got a rasta cat).

In the absence of a proper Victorian sea-side holiday, and since I'm feeling about as strong as a two day old kitten myself right now, I took the afternoon off my volunteer obligations and am cuddling up with some chocolate and a glass of milk and a good book. Then maybe I'll watch one of my favorite movies (a little Thor, anyone? Nothing like Tom Hiddleston to pull you out of a funk) and have the excellent spaghetti and meatballs my mother has been making all afternoon.

Yes, if you want to do them right, it takes all afternoon. She's been known to resist making them if she can't get a good start on them by three in the afternoon -- dinner wouldn't be ready until after 9, she says, and she doesn't eat that late.

And maybe some knitting, too. I have a new yarn in the mails, winging its way to me (and can't wait to show it to you!) but I also have my KAL squares to be working on and a shawl and the scarf for Nieceling that I'm procrastinating on (and have to stop procrastinating on, as she leaves in less than three months).

But I will not think of that right now. I will merely finish downloading the new trance cds I borrowed from the library (I like to listen to trance while I work: it's got a steady, slightly faster-than-resting-heart-rate beat which keeps me awake and alert, the music is repetitive and the lyrics simple so it doesn't distract intellectually from the data I am entering) and put them on my iPod. Then I will get about my afternoon of rest in a serious way.

*Mainly, that chocolate was the poop of the gods. Sort of like those plastic reindeer toys you get in your stocking at Christmas that are supposed to be hilarious.

Were I the said gods, I might be offended at the comparison.

Solenoids.

Solenoids.

Apparently, they are the hemorrhoids on the backside of my car's transmission. Once Fred's nurse* replaces one or the other (whichever one is malfunctioning), he's going to be back up and on all four wheels again.

I hope and pray they are right! Even if the expensive solenoid ($250) is the one that's malfunctioning instead of the cheaper one ($70), that's way, way, way the heck better than a new transmission ($4000). Way. I can actually pay to have that replaced. Unlike the whole transmission.

My brother wanted to know why I'm so paranoid about my transmission going out. I replied, Because I haven't got the money to repair it. And he conceded that that is when they do, indeed, go out.

Because, seriously, have you ever heard anyone say, Oh, it's just the transmission, a minor fix and I'll be back on the road! or Good thing I had that spare five large lying around; getting my transmission repaired was a pain, but I could deal in cash! ?

No, I haven't, either.

*Our tame auto mechanic, Fred's nurse practitioner, is actually a nurse. He used to do auto repair on his days off, but found it far more profitable than nursing -- and his patients less a pain in the patuckus. Can't say as I blame him, I know Fred is very stoic when he gets injured, can't say the same for myself.

Horrific dreams, and I think I broke my car.

A calming picture, because one is oh, so needed right now!

This whole day has just been off and terrible, and it started with a particularly horrific nightmare I had last night. I dreamed my niece was missing -- I'd started walking her to school through the big, scary woods behind her house (which isn't really her house, and a forest which did have, in my defense, well-lit paths and other people on them at the time) and let her go the rest of the way on her own. She never got to school.

There was great consternation all around, and we were all afraid she was dead. I was sure, though, that she was alive and in the forest, so I girded my loins and went in (by the way, my brother had a much nicer home in my dream -- the main room was huge, with massive picture windows looking out over the wooded hills behind the house; if I hadn't been so verklempt, I'd have set a spell and just watched the wind in the trees). I found a massive fortress or castle, all in ruins, and I saw her walking across the battlements, looking down at me. At the time, I was merely concerned with getting up there to her, helping her escape whatever had captured and put her there, but now...I have an impression that she was annoyed with me.

Of course, at that point I awoke. In my dreams, my niece has always symbolized my writing. I get the feeling that my writing self is resentful of the time I'm spending working in Desklandia, because for the past two weeks (as I've adjusted to a full schedule again) I've not done anything. I've barely even blogged, and that does count toward my daily writing totals (hey, every little bit counts when you're trying to maintain a writing habit.)

And there was a little part of me worrying that the fact that the niece went missing meant my writerliness has gone missing, too. I'm always afraid that one day I'll find out I'm not really a writer after all, I'm just a poser, avoiding the real thing I am, which is most likely demented cat lady (or dog lady, really) or perhaps a postal worker -- and we all know the job prospects for postal workers right now.

So I'm blogging. Toes in first, then we'll ease the rest of the leg over the side, yes?

In other news, I think I've broken my car. Seriously broken it, this time. I was on the highway and it suddenly slipped into second. I made it to a non-highway road and it just as suddenly went back into regular drive gear. Criminy. It was shifting hard into and out of second as I accelerated all the way home, too.

I still think, no matter what the brother says, that my transmission is going. Shot to hell from that badly done transmission fluid change (don't ever, ever, ever get your transmission fluid changed at the places that specialize in oil changes -- they don't put the right stuff in). But brother thought my fluid might just have been low, so I added some in. Now I think I might have added too much.

Sigh.

At least I have some nice, new sparkly yarn in the mail (as of tomorrow). I bought it as a special treat, for having got the temp work, and I couldn't, in all good conscience, tell the dyer who specially hand-dyed it for me, to keep it because I'm having car trouble. It's not her fault, and she started working on it before I sent the payment because I was so certain I'd be ok for a while.

In any case, $29 is a drop in the bucket compared to what new transmissions cost. So I might as well fiddle as this Rome burns, at least when it comes to my yarn.

Perhaps I'll feel better tomorrow, if I don't have another creepy dream where Nieceling runs away to castles in dark forests to spite me.

I've really learned my lesson this time.

For sure. I mean, how silly could I get to forget this one?

There's the square I'm hosting for the blanket KAL. Finished, if not done and dusted (look at those yarn ends!) The actual knitting took maybe...um, two or three hours? The finishing took nearly an entire 24 hour day. I had to keep stopping and starting and weaving the damn thing over again.

Sorta sucked the joy out of it for me, you know?

Here's a shot in progress, so you can get an understanding of what went into the making of the square:

Those pins? There to keep the square at the proper dimensions while I worked.

I saw this "stitch" pattern in a tea cozy pattern once and was instantly enamored. I had to try it out, and you can see that I have now, indeed tried it out.

I believe it will be the last time I ever use it. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely, and it might work better if I used the bulky yarn the original pattern used, but sheesh. So complicated!

And, just so you can see how secretly lazy and lame it is, here's a close-up:

I still kinda like it, though.