Angry Spoons

I've been in default gloomy mode this week.

Some difficult stuff going on for close friends is weighing heavy on my heart. 

I've felt cynical and jaded.

The babe has been favouring night-feeds.

My eldest has been sick and whiny.

My middlest has been constantly contrarian, rough and ear-splittingly loud. 

I'm told I have symphysis pubis dysfunction which a right-royal pain in the... pelvis.

I can't get back to running for at least six months.

We've watched too much television.

There is a vague but persistent poo smell in the living room which we can't locate.

Someone ate all the chocolate.

(Oh wait, that was me. Great, now I'm fat too).

I think my 2-year-old really managed to capture my mood in yesterday's defiant graffito: 

Angry Spoons (2011) 

by Charlie

Permanent marker on stainless steel

HOLD IT!

If I take the gloom-filters off, there has been so much good in our week this week.  I just need to go back through it, to see it all again without the storm cloud.

The arrival of awesomely retro hand-knits from Great Great Aunty Audrey:

Glorious sunshine and a burgeoning veggie patch:

Our first radish harvest:

And a new favourite, rocket-radish-carrot-apple-mint-parsley-lemon salad:

A finished knitting project in deliciously soft, saturated yarn:

Finally being able to dress the girl in the sweetest of cardigans:

Nudists and slave labour:

A few hours of fun with coloured rice (inspired by Emma):

Leaf tea enjoyed in my beautiful birthday cup (c/o Melski):

Some baking and yarning (both kinds) with a good pal:

And a lovely project that's spanking along:

So many enjoyable moments. So much to be grateful for. I guess it wasn't all Angry Spoons over here. 

How has your week been? 

Can't blog. Knitting.

Can't blog... can't take photos... can't finish sewing projects... can't cook decent meals... can't pay attention to the kids...

Must. Knit.

Oh yes, I've been whacked with knit-fever. I know, I'm so five years ago. Apparently the whole world has been on ravelry forever. And yes, I've read about this around the craft blog traps, but have always had my sewing, baking, home-making blinkers on and have largely avoided all yarn-speak.

Now the filters have changed. It was my birthday on the weekend, and to celebrate I was granted a boy-free day. I spent the morning at the Craft & Quilt Fair, walking disinterestedly past stalls of fabric and sewing tools and making a beeline for anything smelling vaguely of lanolin. I barely glanced at the spectacular quilts on display, yet I chatted at length to the lovely women at the handknitters' guild table. Not quite sated, I then spent the afternoon in Morris & Sons stocking up on needles.

Meanwhile the clutterpunk boys, having somehow clued into my new obsession, were off arguing over which knitting books their nutty mother/wife might appreciate for her birthday. Apparently consensus could not be reached:

Interestingly, the children were insistent on the more practical knitting guides, while the husband clearly has more subversive intentions for my newfound passion.

Of course there is no spectacular finished object to show for all my knitty obsession. I have taken the unusual (for me) approach of tackling things appropriate to skill level and not taking shortcuts. I've made washcloth which is lovely but not photogenic. And I've almost finished a two-tone ribbed scarflet for myself. In doing so I've discovered the joy of knitting with beautiful yarn and needles, even with large amounts of ripping out and re-knitting involved.

(Note to self, work on joggless joining!)

I have also been coming to terms with the infuriating aspects of knitting. For example, the beautiful yarn that looks perfect for a little girl's vest but feels like knitting with chalk:

And the three attempts to obtain correct gauge with said yarn before giving up and finding a different yarn...

which happens to be a hank... 

which happens to get in a terrible tangle... 

which requires a long-suffering husband and a frustrating hour to get sorted out...

Nonetheless, I'm all in. Knitting, I know its going to be a lifelong affair. 

Although I suspect that life may be shortened somewhat by a tragic knitting-needle-related 'accident' if I continue to infuriate my family with the refrain "just let me finish this row".