I’ve been crocheting. A lot.

This is the one I’m most proud of, it took me a year to finish because I was learning as I went.
This was the prayer shawl that I poured my heart into.

With these to match:

This one, that I made to bring Ducky home from the hospital in, was a total disaster. It was WAY too small for my 7 lb 13 oz baby.
I got the pattern from Bella Bambina’s website. It’s really easy, and it only took me three hours to make.
I’m too ashamed to post the picture of him wearing his going-home outfit. The only thing that fit him were his socks. I’ll laugh about it later. Maybe.

I’m working on the last few rows of “Kelly’s Sweater.” I increased the size by 50 percent, I’ll post a picture when I’m done.

Last night, I kidnapped a girlfriend and ran off to USC to hear Frank Warren talk about Post Secret.

That Guy I married was going to go to the first night of a new bible study in town, but ended up having to work late into the night.

It was nice to get out and do something for “Me” last night. Being married is great, but we spend a lot of time doing stuff that “We” like, or stuff that “We” have to get done. Going to a Post Secret lecture is the kind of thing that I would have run off and done by myself while I was single in college.

The audience was half USC students, and half public. Mostly female. Warren commented that many of the postcards sent to him are secrets about body image and suicidal thoughts. Part of me wonders if that has to do with the largely female demographic.

Walking back to the parking lot, I got to listen to the USC students taking to their friends about the lecture. One (graduate?) student was telling her friend that she was now much more aware and concerned about her students “who sit in the back of the class and never say anything.” Like those are the only students who have secrets.

In the USC parking garage, there are two vending machines. One filled with Odwalla bars and the other filled with Rock Star energy drinks. USC is definately not like the public university that I attended.

Ok, so WHO is the bigger geek now, huh buddy?

I’ve got a few minutes between switching laundry loads. I’m sitting at the computer reading blogs and crocheting the last sleeve for the sweater I’m working on. I’m getting itchy because I can see that the sweater is almost done. I look at my work a lot, so I started dumping paragraphs from Google Reader into Career Builder’s Monk-e-Mail (cuz it’s free, and I’m lazy and cheap). Dana’s post sounds HILARIOUS when beeing read by an electronic chimp!

“For awhile, Doug was kicking my tail, but then I practiced after he relinquished the DS and now I’m beating the snot out of him. It’s quite silly for two adults to be so involved in a video game, and”

Not terribly effective, since Monk-e-mail reads 200 characters at a time. I’d get 2 stitches done before it was time to paste another paragraph.

That Geek I Married is in the livingroom (one room away) watching a movie. He picked up his laptop and logged into instant messenger to ask me “What are you listening to in there?” and then offered to find a text reader for me.

Do you think I can log into instant messenger to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer?

Finally.
A safe place to store my favoritest things.
These guys have been in a box for over a decade. This is earthquake county, and I’ve never had strudy enough furniture to set these guys out.

The first crochet project I ever did took me a full YEAR to finish. I had started a layette when we decided to go off The Pill. The layette is beautiful, but it has become something of a prayer shawl, reminding me of a lot of pain and hours spent bargaining with God. I learned to read the pattern as I read it, and undid as many stitches as I completed. I would pick it up when I needed something to do other than obsess over my basal body temperature chart, and I would put it away when I got too depressed to look at anything baby related. I finally finished it and put it away. That layette was more for me than for a Someday baby.

This baby, the one that is here with me, has a name and a heartbeat full of hope and promise. This baby is real, and wakes up in the middle of the night when I have to go to the bathroom. I felt that this baby deserved a few fresh stitches. Stitches untouched by angst and depression. I picked up the easiest sweater pattern and chunkiest yarn I could find, since I don’t have all year to make another layette. This sweater took me a week to finish. I even made the buttons out of Shrinky Dink paper. How’s that for nesting?

That Guy I Married is getting the nesting bug too. This week I looked up the dimensions of the high-chair we bought, then measured the kitchen, the kitchen table, the microwave stand, the trash can and the dog food storage container. I couldn’t figure out how to make it all fit in the space meant for a kitchen table. That Guy decided “Oh, that’s easy” and went about measuring and redrawing. He ended up opening the box and setting up the high chair. Everything just barely kinda sorta fits. But that’s the way we like it.

Alert! Alert! ALERT! I say! Danger Wil Robinson! Danger! Woman, can you hear me? No, I won’t be quiet until you tell me that you heard me sound the alert. Ok, you heard me, now I’ll stop barking. Now WHO IS IT? Can I go out and see? Can they come inside and play? Please? Let me go see, PLEASE?

Oh GOODIE! Someone’s coming inside!

Hi, I’m The Dog. I answer to Dakota, Babba-Dog, Babbas, Bob, Puppy-Girl, Super-Dog, and Parvo-Dog, you can call me anytime! I know I’m in trouble when they call me DOG!

Who are you? I’m sure I’ve never met YOU before. You smell good. No, really, really good! Can I lick you? What – You want to come all the way inside? Oh, OKAY! Great! This place is really boring until people come visit. Let me lead you to the livingroom.

Pet me? Oh, right, you have two legs, that means I have to keep all four paws on the ground. See!? Four paws on the ground. Now pet me, pet me, pet me, PET MEEEEEEE!

Here, let me show you where the couch is!

Come on in, have a seat, where are you going to sit? There? There? In that seat? That’s my seat! Don’t tell The Boss and The Woman Who Walks Me that I sleep on that couch cushion when they’re not home.

You have a dog, no, two dogs! And a squirrel… no, a cat! And a baby!? Why didn’t you bring the baby with you? WHERE is the baby? I’d love to lick your baby! I’m really gentle, I swear! Come on, show me the baby!? Can I come over to your house and play with your dogs? I love everybody!

Wait? You’ve stopped petting me? Why are you just sitting there? Hello!? Helloooo!?
Aren’t you gonna pet me? How bout some more? I love you! Pet me! Ooooooooo thank you, do it again!

Ok, fine, I’ll go lay down on my mat, for a minute. But no one’s gonna notice if I army crawl across the room to come back and say hello to you! SHOOT! I got caught again. Fine, I’ll stay on my mat, but there had better be a cookie involved.

See look, I’m quiet and I’ve pretended to calm down. I’m allowed to stay in the room. Really!

Why are you just sitting there? Hello!? Helloooo!?
Aren’t you gonna pet me? How bout some more? I love you! Pet me! PET MEEEE! You know, it’s been really hot out, you smell like you need a bath. Mmmmmm, you taste so good. Wait, I missed a spot. Come back here, I’m not done with your bath yet. COME BACK HERE!

Where are you going? The bathroom? Yes, the bathroom is right over here, let me escort you. No! Don’t go in that bathroom, I’m not allowed in that bathroom! This one, over here, I’ll come with you to make sure you can find the TP. Wait? Why did you close the door!? Are you okay in there? I know how aweful it is to get stuck in that bathroom aaaaaaall alooooooone! Are you still there? What are you doing? I can hear you! Are you peeing? Aren’t you done yet? Come back! I miss you!

You’re back! Here, throw my rope toy! Please! Oh Goodie! Got it, do it again!!! Come on, throw it again!? Please, please! Pretty Please.

Now wait a minute, you’ve stopped looking at me!? Why would you be so rude? Look at me, see, I’m still here, feel my wet nose? LOOK AT ME!!! Rope!? Please?

Fine, I’ll get back on my mat. Where’s my cookie? Yum. Can I have another one?

See look, I’m quiet, can I get up now? Goodie!

You know, you look awfully cuddly. And I just love you so much. See how calm I am? I’m such a sweet little doggie, I only weigh 65 pounds. Can I climb up here and sit in your… ACK! Why is The Woman Who Walks Me yelling at me again? Fine, I’ll go sit on my mat, for a minute. Maybe.

I guess I may as well take a nap. Sigh!

Oh!? Are we going OUTSIDE? Let’s go, see, look, grab my leash. WAIT! You’re leaving without me and The Woman Who Walks Me. COME BACK!? Please?

Tomorrow maybe? Or the next day? How bout I come to your house? Dog Park? It really was a pleasure to meet you. DON’T FORGET THAT I LOVE YOU! Bye now!

Sheesh. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna sit down for just a… zzz ZZZ zzz ZZZZ zzz…

The last couple of months have been boring and kind of slow for me. On a *busy* day, I would get up, make some eggs, wash dishes, start a load of laundry, walk the dog, and then pass out on the couch for an afternoon nap.

I flipped the calendar to August today, and HELLO! This month I’ve got four childbirth classes, 3 prenatal appointments, another doctor’s appointment, a New Mom’s group meeting at the hospital, a New Mom’s group class at the Pumpstation, two appointments with a birthing coach, a hospital tour, and a baby shower. YIKES!! The kid isn’t due for two months, and has already taken over my life!

Fortunately, it’s only one appointment on almost every day.

I finally found a prep-countdown list. Google, why did you make this so hard to find? So, according to the countdown, now it’s time to look at stuff like, OH GEE, A BIRTH PLAN… or birth preferences as my hospital calls it. It’s also time to interview a pediatrician, which means it’s time to decide if we will accept the CDC vaccination shedule or fight for the Sears Schedule.

I need to do something OTHER than baby prep this month. Horseback riding is out, and I’ve yet to find a new hobby. Hmmm…..

This was the first day in two months where I had appointments and plans all day long.

Well, since doc said I gotta, I got up and dressed and went to the park for a Fit Mammas prenatal and postnatal exercise class. I put on my workout clothes and running shoes to go shake a leg. The Dog asked for a prescription for Prozac when I left without her. “You’re putting on sneakers and going for a walk without me!?”

I got to the park, and found a group of men and women setting up yoga mats. No strollers, no pregnant women. Fit Mammas was a flop. Soooooooooo I did a lap around the parking lot and drove home. The Dog forgave me when I walked back in the door and grabbed her leash.

After a quick walk, I picked up That Guy I Married and we went to my prenatal appointment. We took the elevator up to the fourth floor and met with the midwife. We were discussing sleep discomfort and nausea remedies when the whole building began to rattle and sway. We laughed it off, and kept talking, when the midwife remembered that “Hey, maybe there’s some evacuation procedure we should be following.”

Now normally, I’m not such a wimp. But it’s getting uncomfortable to sleep and I wake up with sore joints every morning. Four flights of stairs, sore hips, FUN.

The earthquake was a LONG one. Morning sickness+building shaking=Party In Mah Belly. Raise the roof, or something.

I had an appointment to meet with a doula who teaches childbirth classes. She sent me an email from her PDA saying that another client had gone into labor, so we rolled the appointment over to tomorrow.

The best laid plans…

I ended up going home and making a pot of chicken soup.

This is a blog hiatus. Happy New Years Eve Eve, or whatever “Eve Eve” means?

I’m not sure if and when Dink(y) will be resurected.

I’m not sure how long a newlywed blog is supposed to be dragged out anyway. We’ve been married two good years, and I haven’t killed him yet! Maybe I’ll revamp later. I haven’t decided if I’m just going to start a new blog somewhere else.

I love reading blogs because they are a cross between a diary and a newsletter. That sick cross between voyeristic and the Sunday phone call.

I should have the ability to elaborate on that paragraph but I just don’t have the words.

I’m tired of second-guessing the words I type. People read here. People who know me. A college friend’s exboyfriend’s former roommate reads here. I’ve had one too many college boyfriends “stumble upon” my blog.

I’m tired of only having the perspective to write every sentence beginning with “I.” It’s time to leave this glorified meme fest behind.

Frankly there are a few things I’m afraid to admit in public, and then I find my wriitng stiffled because I can’t say on my blog what I wouldn’t say out loud.

Good bye old!

This morning, before the alarm went off, Dinky woke up from a very strange dream. Lots of sleep has lead to lots of bizzare dreams.  She has been sleeping a lot lately, which is unusual for her. Dinky shook her head to clear away the dream, and looked at the clock. It’s 5:15, and of course, Dinky woke up at 5:15 on the day when she didn’t have to wake up until 6:15. Dinky sighed, as this was typical.

Her feet hit the floor, and she shuffled across the bedroom through the unfolded laundry. She was careful to open the door quietly, as to not wake up That Guy She Married.

As she pulled the door open, she heard three magnetic snaps as the dogdoor flapped shut, open, shut. Dinky was greeted with a wagging tale and an ankle bath. Dinky bent down to pet the dog only twice, as it was dark, and the excited dog was dancing around outside the reach of the light shining from the CPU. Wanting more attention, That Darn Dog barked three times, and three times Dinky told That Darn Dog to be quiet. It was not yet dawn and the dog was already bothering the neighbors. Dinky sighed, as this was also typical.

That Darn Dog followed Dinky into the bathroom, and settled on the bathmat, just like every morning. Dinky showered with her usual ritual. Face soap, body soap, girl-part soap, and foot soap. Seperate bottles of soap for seperate parts of the body. Never bar soap, and never never soaping a part of her body with soap that was not made for that part of her body. “You don’t wash your dishes with face soap, and you don’t wash your face with dish soap,” she recited to herself.

The shower water was hot, cold, hot. Dinky could hear the neighbor upstairs drawing water for his shower. Dinky had given up fighting for hot water months ago, and turned the faucet off. She reached around for her green towel and dripped some water on the dog for sport. The dog gave Dinky a sidelong glance and continued with her nap on the mat.

While standing inside the shower, Dinky dried off, wrang the water out of her hair, and then stepped around the dog onto the last remaining corner of the mat. Standing on one foot, as to not disturb the dog, Dinky dried off her other foot and then the rest of her body.

The same pair of slacks as she wore last Monday, waited with the same sweater she wears when there’s a chance of rain. From her handmade jewlery rack, she pulled the same necklace she always wears with the rainy-day sweater. Her only pink necklace with her only pink sweater. Should she wear, say, a blue necklace today? But then when else would she wear the pink one?

Dinky sat down to check her RSS feed, and read the blogs she’s used to reading.
Dinky had gotten tired of typical. So tired, infact, that she had allowed her daily blogging habbit to lapse. She had started to worry that she was too boring, too dull to have anything to say on her blog. On a lark, she stumbled upon Bossy, and this nonsense of the third person.

“What the heck,” she thought. It might release some writer’s block.