Did I Say That Life is a Celebration?

I must have been higher than a kite when I typed that.

We're living at Mom's now - have been since shortly after my birthday - and I can't wait to get the hell out of here. I had forgotten just how loudly and often my mother screams (and I mean SCREAMS) at everything she doesn't like - my grandmother, the kids, my TV programs, the very air we all breathe. Grandma seems to have become a nudist in her old age and takes off her diaper (and whatever clothing she happens to have on) several times during the night. She cries, she sees things, she thinks she has to get up and clean/cook/whatever, she yells, she falls out of bed (and looks like she's been beaten because of all the bruises on her face from smacking into the dresser), and exposes herself to Hubster every chance she gets. He, of course, is totally grossed out by that old wrinkled thing. I'm not sure how to feel. I know she's not my grandma anymore and can't really help herself, but it still bothers me that she's essentially hitting on my old man. Mostly though, I've got to get away from the screaming and the stupid Hallmark channel movies (and Lifetime movies, and tennis, and soon to be football, and tennis, and any movie older than the hills which Mom watches nonstop). It's gotten to the point where I don't care if we live in a studio apartment - just somewhere I can call our own. I'm going to start looking in a couple of weeks and hope that Hubster gives me the green light to go see some. Right now, Mom is sleeping on the couch with some stupid dance show blaring on the TV (but don't dare tell her that she sleeps during her TV time - she yells that she isn't and then won't talk to you). I'm telling you, she's an old woman with the attitude of a very nasty child. How did I ever manage to live here for the first 25 years of my life?

On the brighter side of things, we're going to some huge outdoor festival in Fremont tomorrow. Even though we're saving as much money as possible so we can get a nice apartment, Hubster senses that I need to get out of here and buy something totally useless. I'm thinking I'll get a nice piece of sculputure or wood carving (or anything to do with knitting) for our new place. There are about 650 juried vendors at this thing and tons of food (bless the Bay Area - I can get a linguisa sandwich from the Knights of Columbus). He's sticking me in the wheelchair since I'll never make it walking, and I'd like to see as much as possible. We were going to go today, but he was so exhausted that I thought it was better for him to sleep I was right. Now he's in a wonderful mood, is well-rested, and ready to go. I know he doesn't particularly like festivals like this, but he's doing it for me. Between his job and my grandmother, he's up pretty much all night. I'm sure glad he still has plenty of stamina, but he's going to wind down pretty soon.

I also bought this online sock knitting course from Crafty (advertised by Vogue Knitting). It looks really interesting. The teacher shows you how to do all kinds of heels, toes, cast-ons and -offs, etc. I like having things like that handy, especially with my shitty memory. There are also a lot of things to be learned from the course, and once you buy it, you can watch it as many times as you want. I've also gotten some new books - "Sock Knitting Master Class" and "Knitting Socks From Around The World". There are several others which haven't been released yet - that huge book on knitting (I have the original, which is in a white dust jacket) has been updated and filled with new information, Clara Parkes' book on socks, and about four others which are coming out at various times during the rest of the year. Oh... I also got Cookie A's newest book, "eat. knit. sock" (or something like that). All of them are really good. I just finished reading a book on the history of knitting (No Idle Hands?) and am reading "The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook". Between that, working on socks, and smoking as much dope as is humanly possible, I'm managing to stay sane. And (happy day!) the old head shop in Livermore is still there, so I can buy any supplies which I might need. Oh fuck... I just lit a cancer stick and now have my mother on my ass about how many ciggies I'm smoking. SAVE ME.

One of my old swap partners dropped me a note last week saying that she's knit me a few things and also picked up some goodies which she thought I might enjoy. She's thinking she'll mail the package sometime this week. I can't wait! She couldn't have timed it any better had she tried. It gives me something to look forward to. I had knit her a sheep and worked with Tom Golding to design her a custom drop spindle (among other things) for the swap we were in, and she's become a good friend. I certainly didn't expect this, though.

Well, now that I've bitched, moaned, and complained, I'll bring this entry to a close. I think I'm going to have to start blogging more regularly instead of waiting months between entries. At least with all the shit going on, I actually have something to say.

I have to look for the silver lining, or I'll be eating the barrel of a gun.