Here I thought today would be yarny heaven. While I did get some packages, it wasn't what I was expecting. Don't get me wrong - any yarn is better than no yarn. It's just that I'm expecting some club packages and other single things I ordered, and they should have been here by now. If YFIT has screwed this up for me, I'll rip off his balls and make them into earrings.
Here's the yarny goodness that arrived today.
From the left, we have Elliebelly Handpainted Yarn (BFL) in "Eire", Zen Yarn Garden in "Bliss" and "Blue Moon" (these two are going to be used together in stripes - I need to find a simple pattern that will showcase the yarn) and Yarnahoy in "Nuts to You" (another wild yarn that needs something very simple so the yarn won't compete with the pattern). I should also be getting some books from Amazon today and tomorrow. I have to cast on for Sunday's Stitch 'n Pitch, and I'd like to start something new (there's a surprise), so I have to decide which yarn I'm going to use, get that going, and stick it in a bag that fits within the ballpark's strict size guidelines. It would be a bummer to get to the park only to find out that my yarn bag is too big for their size restrictions.
I got quite a bit done on the Monkey socks last night. While I did doze for a while, I've long since taken the pills that knocked me on my ass just a few weeks ago They're not doing anything now. So here I sit, wide awake, with no sleep in sight.
Hubster pointed out last night that I need to begin practicing my flute for the upcoming concert so I don't embarrass myself. I realize that I need to do that, but first I have to find the flutes. I can see their boxes; I just can't get to them because of the yarn bins in the way. Hubster has agreed to help me with the room, but I fear it might turn into one of our famous home improvement projects.
I'm happy to report that SwissKnits' idea of covering the Monster has worked like a charm. Not only has it prevented the Monster from eating every notion I own, it has also covered every burn, every coffee stain, every everything that makes a brand-new piece of furniture ugly. I will never buy microfiber furniture again. You get heat near it and it turns into a big green torch. I also didn't spill any coffee last night. Something must be wrong with me.
Karma has a way of kicking you in the ass when you least expect it. Our new next-door neighbors have been parking their truck on their front lawn. As old as San Lorenzo is, it still looks really nice. The residents have kept their homes and yards in terrific shape, and the village was built around 1945. These houses don't need molly bolts to keep things hung on the walls; these walls are made with chicken-wire, so they're thick and strong as an ox. Anyway, this dude's truck makes the street look trashy, so I finked on him. This morning, I called the Homeowner's Association and told them that we had some dude parking his truck on his lawn, which is strictly against the CC&R's. I normally hate those things, but I decided that since we have to maintain our homes, this dude was going to comply, too. I no sooner got off the phone than:
I picked it up without thinking or checking the caller ID. I hadn't had my coffee yet, so my behavior can be excused.
"Hello?", I say.
"PAM??????", comes a panicked female voice on the other end.
"I CALLED YOUR HOUSE LAST NIGHT AND I GOT SOME SERVANT WHO DOESN'T SPEAK ENGLISH SHE MUST BE YOUR MAID OR COOK AND SHE WOULDN'T LET ME TALK TO YOU SHE HUNG UP BEFORE I COULD ASK FOR YOU IT'S WORSE THAN LAST NIGHT I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
A maid? A cook? No, she was talking to both of them yesterday. Where the hell does she think I live, Blackhawk?
Well, it's just as I thought. She didn't listen to a word of what I said last time, went ahead and used the forbidden yarn, and began rattling away again. I was a bad teacher. I couldn't take this again. So I said,
"Look. I don't mean to be a bitch, but I told you from the start which yarns were preferred for this project. I've explained everything to you more than three times. You have the book in front of you in case you need help. I've told you to not use that damned buffalo and what it would do if you kept frogging, and you plowed ahead and used it anyway. Now you have a $75 skein of felted yarn that won't frog at all, you still don't know what a lifeline is, and I'm not going to throw you one this time. You're on your own."
At which point, I hung up the phone and sat down at the table. I was actually shaking. I've never done that to a student before.
The phone rang immediately and I knew it was her, but I figured since I'd just ripped her a new one, I should at least talk to her to see what she thought. Sigh.
"I DON'T REMEMBER YOU TELLING ME ABOUT BUFFALO FELTING AND I DON'T REMEMBER ABOUT LIFELINES AND THE BOOK IS NO GOOD IT DOESN'T TELL ME HOW TO FIX THIS PROBLEM AND YOU'RE THE TEACHER SO YOU NEED TO TEACH ME INSTEAD OF YELLING AT ME."
Quite right. I do need to teach her instead of yelling at her. The problem is that she only showed up to the first class (again... this is her second time taking this class, and she did the same thing the last time), and even though I explained all this stuff to her, she isn't listening. She's too busy telling me how she knows how to do this. If she knows how to do this, why is she bothering me before I have my coffee?
So I said,
"Look. If you came to the class sessions, it might be easier for you to understand. As it is, I've explained and demonstrated every concept that you need to know to get to the point where you're supposed to be. I told you the last time you took this class that you can't use that yarn. It's too thick and not suitable for this project, and it's certainly not good for a beginner. I can tell you where to put the yarn, but I don't think you'll like it."
I'm sure she thought I was referring to shoving it up her ass, but I was actually going to tell her to put the yarn in the trash, because unless she's making a Santa with a brown beard, it isn't suitable for anything else. Well, maybe stuffing in a toy.
There was a horrified intake of breath on the other end of the phone, and then she said,
"IT SHOULDN'T MATTER IF I COME TO CLASS OR NOT IT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO TEACH ME NO MATTER WHAT I DO I PAID A LOT OF MONEY FOR THIS CLASS AND I WANT IT BACK AND I WANT IT BACK NOW YOU'RE A TERRIBLE TEACHER AND I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS AND IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT MY BEAUTIFUL YARN IS RUINED YOU SHOULD PAY FOR THAT TOO I WANT TO TALK TO THE OWNER AND GET ALL MY MONEY BACK SO I CAN TAKE A LACE CLASS WHO'S THE TEACHER FOR THAT?????????"
I said, in a much calmer voice than I felt like using,
"I'm the teacher for the lace class, and you're going to have to use even smaller needles and the yarn I tell you to use. You are NOT allowed to use buffalo. If you do take that class and bring the buffalo with you, I shall take it away from you and stuff it in the nether regions of my yarn bag, only to be removed when the class is over. By the way, you cannot get a refund for a class you've taken twice on the same dime, whether or not you've shown up. I don't mean to sound nasty, but do you understand? And I should mention that lifelines are an integral part of beginning lacework."
I should have known.
"WHAT'S A LIFELINE AND WHAT DO INTEGERS HAVE TO DO WITH A YARN CLASS?"
Well, I suppose they could be used to figure out the yardage for the shawl you're never going to learn how to do. But I didn't say that. Instead, I said,
"Have you considered taking up another hobby... perhaps something like paint-by-number?"
She slammed the phone down so hard that my earring fell out.