Monday, April 23, 2007

Getting stuff done.

Today I was going to keep track of what I did, and then post it tomorrow for all of you who boggle over how I get things done. You know... "8:30AM: Baby wakes me up, I change her, then stare blankly at Bloglines while she eats breakfast and I desperately suck down caffeine and anti-inflammatories." But that kind of thing doesn't really communicate what's going on, because I multi-task a lot. (This is mostly due to being twitchy from pain - if I stay busy, I don't think about how my arm hurts.)

But I decided some pictures are more worthwhile than a couple paragraphs of explanation.

This is what my kitchen table looks like:

There is, just barely, enough room for the husbeast and me to eat dinner. The table is meant to serve SIX.

My kitchen looks like this:

I was going to include a few photos of the rest of the house, but it's just too depressing. It looks like a toy store threw up in here.

This weekend I dyed yarn most of the weekend, and the husbeast, being helpful, installed a rack of hooks I'd bought, so that I've got somewhere to hang these skeins while they're damp. It was full, but this morning I've wound up all but a couple skeins of coffee yearn. I can't face the coffee yarn.

We do have Cherry Sorbet laceweight:

Lace often gets lost when bright variegations of color are used, so I try to stick with - mostly - tonal variations of one color (occasionally I go bonkers, but it's a rule of thumb). This one turned out particularly well, running from a dark purply red through red-red and orangey red to an almost pink. Pretty sure I remember how to do it.

A mistake in the dye pot turned into Kiwi sock yarn:

And I did some more Tribble, this time in sock weight. I'm trying to get motivated to wind out some long skeins for self-striping yarns... over the weekend I wound out a thirty-foot skein (it should make a stripe pattern about three inches wide on a sock), but I haven't decided what colors to dye it yet, so it's hanging over the back of my office door. I'm leaning toward baby colors.

Oh, and speaking of The Baby. She's taken to lounging in her rocker, just like her old man lounges in his recliner.

I'm sure there's something genetic going on there. I'm not gonna think about it.

The Baby is supposed to be napping. I hear jumping and laughing noises coming from the nursery. Hmmmm.


Amy Lane said...

Okay...I don't feel so bad now... apparently toy stores get sick all over....

Emma said...

Pretty dye jobs! I love the Kiwi sock yarn.

deirdre said...

First, I find the loungers' resemblance startling, in a cute kind of way -

second, your house looks so much like mine, pile-wise, it's uncanny - and I'm not operating a dyeing business from home! But your yarns are so pretty, the piles are worth it!

Bells said...

Still giggling over the toy store vomit line. he he

That's what my dining table looks like! And what my kitchen looks like (minus the dye stuff -it's just got other stuff all over it).

The cherry and the kiwi dye jobs are beautiful!

Janelle said...

LOL at baby and daddy in their lounge chairs! I love the strawberry yarn.

And I'll chime in to say that my house is also the scene of toy store vomitus. Kids live here. Does anyone expect any different?

Sheepish Annie said...

Multi-tasking rules! Once you figure out which things can get done by "setting" (like yarn in the dye pot)there is hope for those things that require attention (like fair isle and babies)

Alwen said...

I just got the library email that Eric Abrahamson's A perfect mess came in for me. There are 10 holds on the first copy returned of this book, and I've waited since 25 February for my turn to come up.

That ought to tell us all something.

Our household term for that is "toy-splosion" or that the toy grenade went off. A pet rake for dog hair also works really well for clearing a path through the spiky Lego bits, I tell you.

Barb outside Boston said...

Interesting expression on the Husbeast--kind of a "what are you doing for the blog now?" look

amy said...

I love the Kiwi, too.

We have a train table in the middle of our living room, so I can't help on the toy-splosion. (Alwen, I love that term.) A couple of weeks ago I got so fed up I went through the house with a big bin and tossed in everything on the floor. I found a place for much of it, and the rest went in the basement. Of course, I left a knitting pattern on the floor the other day and the kids put it into a paper bag--"We're being like you, Mama, getting rid of everything on the floor." Little suckers.

Bells said...

meant to say, at least the baby isn't standing too close to the telly if she's lounging like daddy!

Dana said...

We tempted the kiddos at the toy store with a bigass plastic kitchen last week, and while in the car on the way home, broke the news to them that they would have to EXCHANGE the rest of the tiny, noisy, wheely, crap toys that end up all over the house for the kitchen. It worked. They can't tote it all over the house. Nice! My kitchen table looks similar at the moment. Signs of a great creative mind.

Mistress of the Stash said...

My kids fear the "big black trash bag". If the toy-splosion gets too bad, all I do is take out the trash bag and give it a few loud "fluffs" to open it up. They know the sound and they have a healthy respect for it. lol Any toys that do make it into the bag are not really chunked, but put in a secret place for a while. But, the illusion is good enough, that they try really hard to make sure nothing makes into "the bag".

Oh, and I'm glad to know that I'm not alone with the kitchen piles, and table piles and toy-splosions. Makes you feel more normal when you're not alone!

Catie said...

we have kitty toy-splosion here sometimes... most of the time. Every room has at least one toy - and that doesn't include the stuff that is for the humans but that they think is for them.

Deana said...

OOOOOh, the cherry sorbet is lovely!!

The Spawn and The Procreator... yeah, definitely something genetic happening there. ha!

Rae said...

Getting our DD to give up her "chair" (same as your DD) was almost as difficult as her giving up the bottle. She loved that chair, but when she got so long that her head was almost off the back, we knew it had to go. Poor girl.