Crazy Knits

For what it's worth, I am feeling ever so much better for having taken a day off to sit at home and snuffle in peace.  In fact, I was actually feeling much better yesterday morning after sleeping in just a bit later than is usual and not having to go into the classroom to face the desert-like, sinus-aggravating conditions created by our heating system.  Yup.  A day at home with the cough/cold medication was just the thing.

However, I still found it necessary to sleep on the couch last night.  Sleeping on the couch is one of those "sick behaviors" that probably doesn't help matters, but still seems like the thing to do when I'm under the weather.  It wasn't my intention, though.  I fully planned on snoozing the night away in the comfort of my own bed with a fluffy kitty and a box of tissues by my side.  

I failed to factor in the rules around the consumption of over-the-counter cold medications, though.  Apparently, it is a very bad idea to combine antihistamines from a bottle that says, "may cause drowsiness" with the reading of one's Zombie Survival Handbook before bed.  What can I say?  I goofed.  Under the best of circumstances, I find that cold medications give me the jitters when taken more than once per day but I figured that it was the weekend and sleep wasn't really all that important.  And I'm sort of addicted to the zombie book...

The combination of the two left me awake into the wee hours lamenting my lack of prowess with various firearms and wondering how I might destroy the stairs leading up to my condo in the event of an outbreak of walking dead.  I finally just gave up and hit the couch where I added to my overall sense of paranoia by falling asleep to some show on the travel channel featuring international ghost hunters.  

Common sense does not exactly abound here at Chez Sheepie.  But weird dreams most certainly do.

The hours spent in wakeful contemplation have been pretty good for the knitting, though.  I've been waving the pointy sticks around just like someone who knows what the heck she is doing.  You'd almost think a real, live knitter lives here or something...

For those of you who don't think you can stand the sight of another pair of Maine Morning Mitts, I'd advise you to cast your eyes away right now.  I'm hopelessly addicted to these things at the moment and there is no way to get past this compulsion other than knitting them like a madwoman.  This pair isn't completely my fault, though.  Noolie recently featured a pair that were knit from homespun yarn she gifted unto Patti.  I have handspun yarn.  How was I to resist such a challenge?

For what it's worth, I knit these as a gift.  That should redeem me on some level...

And then there were the Cute Widdle Baby Sox.  Yes, they are still too big for a newborn.  That hasn't changed although I had great hope for some sort of magical knitting intervention taking place when I wasn't looking.  However, they are still just about the cutest darned things I've ever laid eyes on and, considering I kind of made them up as I went along, I think they came out rather well.

Say it with me, people:  Awwwwwww!

These were knit using the leftovers from a pair of socks I finished up over the summer.  Trek sent me a skein of the most yummy Sunshine Yarns sock yarn and it was just too soft to not use completely.  I think I had about ten inches left when all was said and done.  I now feel that I have squeezed all the possible goodness out of it.  

Last, but certainly not least, we have the completed baby kimono:

And if you haven't just melted into a pile of goo from the unbearable cuteness at this point, you never will.  

This is the one piece baby kimono from Mason-Dixon knits and is just about the fastest baby sweater pattern ever created.  Of course, once I whipped through the knitting, it occurred to me that I am the worst seamer of garter stitch to ever stroll the planet.  You can talk to me about the mattress stitch until the cows come home and I still won't be able to do anything but make a mess of it.  What I saved in time by not having to purl on this, I lost trying to seam like a real knitter.  In the end, I became fearful that all the bad words I was saying might have a negative karmic effect on the baby who will be wearing this thing and just did a backstitch seam.  Yeah, it's bulky.  But babies are pretty helpless and have to wear what we tell them to wear even if it makes them look fat.  And it's not like diapers are all that flattering, right?

I also opted to not go with the pattern and use the suggested ribbons for the ties.  On something that will require washing, I felt that this might be something of a no-no.  Instead, I found some very cute cartoony shoelaces.  I didn't stitch them into place, either.  They were easily laced through the knitted fabric and can be removed for washing or changing out to better compliment baby's ensemble.  

I figured that giving some choices with regard to accessories was the least I could do after the whole fat-seaming/bad language karma thing...

So here we are.  It is Saturday night, I have knit myself into a coma and am ready to party my way into the weekend with a stiff belt of NyQuil.  We know how to do it up right here in Sheepland!

And tonight I'm going to reread the chapter on Living In An Undead World.  I need to balance off all the "cute" with something a little closer to the edgy side of things.

SA

Sheep At Work

Anyone wandering past my classroom today might have thought I was doing nothing.  That would be the best case scenario.  Truthfully, most people probably thought I had expired there.  Which is, of course, how any good teacher would want to go.  Seated at the big desk, surrounded by mounds of paperwork, bent paper clips littering the floor and random sticky notes clinging to every surface...that's a real grave for a real teacher!

I could see why passers-by might leap to the conclusion that I was either dead or slacking.  I was pretty much immobile for most of the morning.  When one's eyes are at half-mast from the pressure of the sinuses and one is experiencing the lack of oxygen that results from only being able to work with a quarter nostril, movement is not only inadvisable, it is downright dangerous.  But, there was a great deal going on in spite of all appearances.  A great deal, indeed.

Firstly, there were the weather checks.  Another storm is bearing down upon us and I wanted to see just what I was going to be dealing with tomorrow.  I normally get a few inklings when snowstorms head our way and I can usually predict when the weather is going to result in a Snow Day.  But, my inklings were very, very silent today.  Unsure of how much my Hideous, Horrible Worstest Ever In The Whole Wide World Cold was impacting my inkles, I decided to check the weather reports regularly.  

I'm going with my inklings.  I do not predict a Snow Day.  There will be school tomorrow.

Not that it matters to me.  The other little piece of business to which I was devoting my morning involved coming up with educational sorts of activities with which to keep my darling students busy tomorrow for the half day that school will be in session.  Like many schools systems, ours has gone to using early release days in lieu of full workshop days to get all the trainings and stuff taken care of so that we don't have to bill the taxpayers for our working year round.  And this sort of stuff is really very important.  

Just not so important that I am feeling like I can drag my eight hundred pound sinuses in for one more day.  By 10:00 this morning, I had successfully managed to create some pretty interesting packets for the kids to work on tomorrow while I lie abed and make lots of little whimpering noises and blow my nose like a trumpet.  I am taking a sick day.  The world of education will have to limp along without me for a brief period.  

Any thoughts I might have had regarding my indispensable nature were pretty much put to rest when I began to announce to teachers that I would not be in tomorrow.   Several people vigorously thanked their god and told me that I probably should have made this decision several days ago when the gooey-ness first started.  Point taken.

With tomorrow's schedule now decided and a holiday weekend to follow, I have a four day weekend with which to work.  As I do not anticipate suddenly deciding to scale a mountain or hike through the South of France, I'm guessing that I'll probably do a little knitting.  The gallons of cold medication purchased this afternoon are probably going to leave me fit to do little else.  I'm hoping to finish up the Cute Widdle Baby Sockies and get the ties secured to the front of the baby kimono.  I'm also hoping to start another pair of fingerless mitts.  

Or I'll nap.  It's anyone's guess at this point...

SA

Booger Bullets

The First Cold Of '08 rages on. Thank heavens for Wednesday and all its randomy goodness! Here's the day's highlights:

*I think we've covered the cold. We are all on board with my achy, sneezy, snuffly, hacking grossness, right?

*I'd like to think that the horrific behavior of my students today was due to some sort of atmospheric anomaly or the annual post-holiday letdown.

*But, I'm pretty sure that much of it was due to my utter lack of patience. Anyone who even breathed incorrectly in my presence today knew my wrath.

*Still, I made an effort. What follows is a somewhat altered but accurate in most ways conversation from my classroom this morning:

Ms. Sheep: Uh-oh...

Cheerful Teaching Assistant: What's wrong?

MS: I pulled The Student With Anger Issues out of art about fifteen minutes ago as I saw he was about to blow like a volcano after a burrito brunch. I figured we could finish the project in our classroom, but now I don't know what to do next and I have to go ask the teacher.

CTA: So? Just go ask.

MS: I sort of didn't get permission to take him. She might be kinda mad...

Student With Anger Issues: Yeah. And I took one of her pencils, too.

MS and CTA: Oh God!!!!!!

MS: Wait! I have an idea! (goes to knitting bag, rummages around and triumphantly holds aloft a recently completed FO) I'll distract her with a baby sock!

CTA: Good plan. She's a new grandmother and all.

SWAI: (looks confused)

*This was, indeed, a good plan. New grandmothers who are art teachers and who also knit are easily lured to the soft 'n squishy side once exposed to wee, little knitted thingies.

And, honestly...who could blame her?

*The downside to this brilliant plan was that she immediately wanted the pattern.

*This was sort of complicated since I wasn't actually using one.  But, I fudged it.

*I don't write patterns all that well...

*There are two obvious issues with this sock in spite of its unbearable cuteness.  The first being that it is really rather large for a newborn.  I don't know much about babies, but I'm pretty sure they grow so it'll come in handy later on down the line.

*The other is that it is shaped kind of funny.  However, it seems to me that babies are, too.  

*Don't hate me.  I'm just making an observation.

*The Big Fluffy Kitty happened to notice that I was snacking on Reduced Fat Wheat Crackers.  The BFK loves Reduced Fat Wheat Crackers.

*However, once I succumb to that sweet little face and give her a cracker, she has no earthly idea what to do with it.  

*Which would be fine except that she usually ends up licking it then sitting on it and that means I can't eat it.  Or at least I shouldn't eat it...

*It's looking more and more like Friday's storm is going to be something along the lines of sleet and freezing rain.  And, given the timing as well as the fact that it is a half day of school anyway, I don't see a snow day in my future.

*I am starting to see a sick day, though.  I may have mentioned that I have a cold...

*And I'm all out of Reduced Fat Wheat Crackers.

Happy Wednesday, you guys!  Enjoy the day and celebrate the middle of the week in any way you feel is appropriate.  I shall be raising a tiny, plastic cup and toasting the little glimpse of the weekend ahead with some NyQuil of a rather recent vintage.

It sure would've gone nicely with those crackers...

SA

The Haves And The Have Nots

My cold and I were up bright and early today.  With yesterday's snowstorm now but a memory, it was time to get it in gear and head into work.  Those kids aren't going to teach themselves, after all.  (although I'd be willing to experiment with that educational strategy given the least, little chance.)  

And my cold was feeling a little housebound after being stuck at home all day yesterday.  It wanted to go out and show everyone in the world the renovations it has done to my nose.  It is rather pleased with the work it has done taking my normal nose color and changing it to bright red.  It is also doing some rather innovative things with my eyes.  The puffiness adds quite the nice touch to the whole presentation.  Who am I to deny an artist his audience?

So I went to work.  There is a little phenomenon that can be observed the day after a big snowstorm in these parts.  Society breaks itself down into two distinct groups.  We all can be easily categorized and there is nothing we can do to change our status no matter how hard we might try.  You can spot who belongs where in a second.  All you have to do is look.

Some people are Garage People.  Some are No Garage People.  The Garage People drive very clean cars.  It is safe to ride behind them on the highway because there is nothing flying from the roofs of their vehicles.  No sheets of ice suddenly lose their grip on the luggage rack and try to decapitate you at 70 mph.  The Garage People look happy and warm.  They haven't a care in the world.  

The No Garage People are trying to see the road through the six inch diameter circle they were able to carve from the ice on their windshield before the scraper broke.  They somehow managed to clear the mirror on the passenger side of the car, but forgot the one on the driver's side.  They have no earthly idea what is coming at them from the rear.  This is good because then they would be able to see the giant snow clot that flew from their roof onto the Mercedes behind them.  This would only increase the stress, after all.  The No Garage People are also the ones who tend to forget to put in window washer fluid and have to stop every few miles to throw snow at their own vehicle in order to give the wipers something with which to work.

I am a No Garage Person.  I am good at heart.  I give to charity.  I think kindly of my fellow man.  I would give up my claim to the last parsnip in the grocery store if it meant that another might have a vegetable.  (that one might be a bad example...it's not like I buy a lot of parsnips.) I like to think that I am basically a moral and upstanding sort of person.  But, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to having harbored hatred in my heart for The Garage People on snowy mornings.  They strolled out to their vehicles today in enclosed comfort.  They didn't have to blast their way out of a snowbank in the early dawn's lack of light.  They didn't have to invest in an extra long snow brush so that they might reach the roof of their truck.  The Garage People have it made.  They are the "haves" to my "have not-ness."  By tomorrow, I'll be over it.  I'll go back to my usually sunny and people-loving ways.  It won't matter that I don't have a garage in which to park my car.  My commute will not be spent glaring at the cleaner modes of transport and muttering vile things.

I may not have a garage, but I do have it pretty good, though.  Imagine, if you will, a certain stuffy, sneezy Sheepie blundering her way out of the house this morning.  She climbs through a snowbank to clear off her truck, manages to start it and get a foot of snow off it.  Mostly.  She pilots her way through the mountain of white stuff deposited by the plows and manages to not hit her neighbor's car in the process.  She then decides to stop at the mailbox because there are probably a million or so bills in there which cannot be ignored for too much longer.  But there is a package!  She uses great restraint and promises herself that she can open it when she gets home this afternoon.  She works a full day, blows her nose four thousand times, makes it home and even does her Tuesday afternoon workout in spite of not feeling like it.  She blows her nose twenty more times.  Then she opens her package.

And lookee what was in it!

Not long after The Horrible Holiday of '07,  I found a message waiting for me on Ravelry.  Anne had read of my loss and wanted to know if it might be all right to send a little Missing Our Furry Friends package along to me.  I was just so incredibly touched.  I think we've all had that moment where we identify with another's pain and for her to reach out like that was moving beyond words.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think that the day I decided to start up a little blog would be the day I connected to a world of caring people who just want to help ease the burden a bit.  And how the heck she knew I'd have a cold by the time this package arrived is beyond me, but there is some vitamin C drink mix in there!  There was also some chocolate, but you can't see that because I sort of ate it.  It was good.  You'll just have to take my word for that...

Thank you so very, very much, Anne.  You made my day.  And the Big, Fluffy Kitty is quite taken with the little wind-up toys.  She says, "thank you," too!

I do believe that tonight I shall drink a little of the vitamin drink, giggle over my new sock blocker key chain (a little something I have been coveting for a while now) and enjoy the warm feelings.  The temperatures continue to drop and the next snow storm is but a few days away.  And I still don't have a garage in which to park my car.

But, I'm feeling pretty warm and cozy right now in spite of it all.

SA

Blowing And Drifting

My inklings regarding today's Snow Day potential were correct in many ways.  I did, in fact, get to stay home today.  And it was one of those very rare days where almost every school made the decision before a single flake hit the ground.  That should have been some indication.  My school district's name and number were merrily scrolling along the bottom of the television screen at 5:00 this morning and many, many others were soon to follow.  I inkled true!

I was waaaaaay off on snow totals, though.  The flakes began falling in my area fairly early, but the winds have been whipping it about so much that it is hard to tell how much we have.  My nearest guess at this point is somewhere between eight and four thousand inches.  Or a foot.  Whatever...

But it is the nice, light fluffy snow that is easy to remove from one's vehicle, sort of like Hollywood snow.  Hopefully, this means that the wall of white which the plows built around my truck throughout this day is one that can be driven through easily come tomorrow morning.  The snow advisory is staying up until later tonight, so there is really no point in returning the chariot to its usual parking place.  This will just make the plows angry and heaven only knows what they might do to my helpless truck should  it be found parked flagrantly and blatantly in its own parking space.

The day was a productive one for me as I was able to finish and seam up the little baby kimono and now it only awaits a certain Sheep and her willingness to stitch on the ties.  I also started a pair of widdle baby socks just to see how those might look.  And, if what I've got on the needles right now is any indication, there is a great deal of sockie cuteness that is soon to land in my lap.  I'm not normally one to think that something is cute just 'cuz it's little.  But these are better than little.  They are "widdle."  I might just die from the sheer sweetness of it all...

Note:  Those of you who consider yourselves to be connie-sewers of fine whine, get those palates ready.  Here it comes.

It is more likely, though, that I shall expire from a cold.  I thought I felt a little snuffy last night.  And I've had the whole bad-mood-I-hate-everyone-why-not-cut-off-all-my-hair-and-see-if-that-helps-matters thing going on.  Then there was all the tiredness...  And yet, none of this registered as being possibly related to my coming down with something.  Apparently I only get weather related inklings and not anything concerning my own well-being.

Hence, I was rather nonplussed this morning when the aches started.  The sneezes quite took me by surprise.  And the runny nose?  I almost needed smelling salts to recover from the   shock.  Not that they would have worked.  My nose is all stuffed up and there is nothing short of a high powered drill that could get past whatever is causing that little roadblock.  

I am sickly.  Long time readers will know that this is the time where they can get a glimpse into the true nature of The Sheep.  As much as I would like to think of myself as one of those people who suffers quietly or, at the very least, with a little bit of grace, I am not.  I am needy.  Expect some changes in climate and perhaps a bit more or less time exposed to sunlight depending upon where you live.  The world is about to start revolving around me and this could cause any number of planetary quirks.  I am sorry about that, especially if it means you have a longer work day or if your kids won't go to sleep because they think it is noon.  But, it is beyond my power to control.  These things have to run their course.  

And it's supposed to snow again on Friday.  Pass the tissues.  I'll just sit over here and whimper quietly until everyone finally says, "awwww" in a desperate effort to placate me.

SA

If You See Smoke...

Don't panic.  There's no reason to be alarmed.  Unless, of course, there is.  And then I suggest you panic with wild abandon.  I wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone not taking appropriate action in the face of an actual, honest-to-goodness crisis.  I'm assuming that the number of people who are really seeing smoke right now are in the minority, but I hate to take chances...

For the rest of you, though, the cause is a simple one.  Any smoke you see right now is a direct result of my being on fire.  Totally blazin' right now, baby!

The little receptors in my brain that respond to potential weather events and cause me to have the inklings have been firing off randomly all day.  As a result, I have inkled a great deal since late this morning.  I do believe that I am going to have a Snow Day tomorrow!  I'm wrong on this sort of thing as often as I'm right, but weather reports are starting to bear out my inkles.  All indications are that the snow should start falling later tonight and, once settled in, really get going tomorrow.  We're looking at about six inches.  As I said, I could be wrong.  But I don't think I am.  I'm thinking I'll be home tomorrow with all the other little boys and girls who spent the early morning hours with their noses pressed up against the window and waiting for the morning news to tell us that we shall be free to watch cartoons.  

And then there's the knitting.  Yesterday when I mentioned that I was planning on knitting up some sort of baby related thingie I may have misspoken.  What I should have said was:

 "I've already cast on for The Heartbreakingly Cute Baby Kimono from Mason-Dixon Knits and am almost finished with it because I am so totally and amazingly on fire that no one can touch me.  That's right, you heard me.  I. Am. Untouchable!!!!!!!!!"  

Toy-Doo is impressed with it, anyway.

Yeah sure...I limped along rather pathetically through the last year with the knitting.  But no one can say I haven't kicked it up a notch in '08.  For anyone who is keeping track, I have thus far completed two pairs of Maine Morning Mitts, almost a whole baby sweater and a pair of socks.  To be fair, the socks were languishing through the better part of November and December then finished up in a fit of socky-type knitting in January.  But, I'm counting them since it's my knitting and I am on fire so no one is going to mess with me right now lest they be consumed by the flames which fuel my delusions of grandeur.

Why are you backing away like that?  I'm OK...really!

I honestly have no idea why I am suddenly so inspired to wield the needles like someone who actually knows what the heck she's doing.  Maybe it's the wildly cycling weather with its unpredictable high pressure/low pressure swings.  Maybe it's the promise of a whole new year.  Perhaps I was just feeling a bit suffocated by the ever-growing yarn stash and overwhelmed by the need to knit it into submission.  Or maybe all it took was the removal of two inches of hair to lighten up my brain enough for me to see the possibilities.  I'm really not sure...

But chopping off the hair probably didn't hurt.

SA

Sheep Sheared

Two or three times in any given year, I suddenly decide that I hate me.  It seems early, but it appears that I have entered into this most dangerous state of mind right off the bat in January.  Maybe it's all that New Year's resolving that everyone is doing all over the place while I steadfastly continue to maintain that I will only make a resolution to avoid all resolutions.  We've had some difficulties remembering these resolutions over the last four decades and, despite being a bit slow on the uptake, have finally just decided to give up on them.  Maybe a resolution or two would have slowed down the whole, "hating me" thing, though...

OK.  Perhaps, "hate" is a strong word.  It's probably more along the lines of boredom.  But, this boredom tends to manifest itself as me saying lots of things like, " I hate everybody, everything, and those things which don't yet exist but someday might.  And stop looking at me!  Why is everyone looking at me???  Go away before I punch you in the head!  No one ever listens to me!  Why won't anyone listen to me????"

It's really no wonder I think of it as hating me...

I arrived at the designated time and place for my appointment with The World's Greatest Stylist And Life Coach in this rather precarious state of mind.  We began our time together with the customary embraces and wishes for a good '08.  As it was rather early, I answered her questions regarding the plan for my tresses with the usual blather about just needing a trim.  But, deep down, I knew that was the wrong answer.  I mulled this over during the shampooing phase of the process.  By the time I'd gotten to the chair and was asked to confirm my decision regarding what path the scissors should take, I had determined that it was high time to start feeling a little of the love for my hair.  And thus I spake the sacred words which have worked magic over the years:

Do whatever you want.  Hack it.  I don't care.

The World's Greatest Stylist And Life Coach loves these words.  She loves them quite a bit.  She brightens and her heavily accented English, the kind that makes you wish you were Chinese because it is just so cool, gets even more wonderfully Asian.  She'll tell you that she is only going to take an inch off at that point.  And maybe she means it at the time.  But this is not what is going to happen.  She is going to go mad with the power so casually handed her.  She will begin to demand that you contort yourself into a variety of uncomfortable positions and even hang upside down for a short, but terrifying, period of time.  You will do it.  Just when you think she is done, she will think of something else that needs doing.  She will use words like, "funky" and "wild."  She will pull out an arsenal of very sharp objects and suggest that you sit very, very still.  She will call you, "baby" for the duration.

I love her.  

The Sheep is now shorn and the hate is gone.  I am aware that there will be any number of comments demanding pictures but there shall be none today, I fear.  Like most stylists gone mad with power, there is a tendency for The World's Greatest Stylist to lean towards 8th grade prom hair when it comes to styling.  But, I know that underneath this helmet lies the cut I've been needing.  It is much shorter, much more layered and it is safe to say that a great deal of the hate was swept away and now resides in the dumpster behind the salon.  

Ahhh...that's better!

With eight pounds of hate-filled hair gone from my noggin, I was able to scamper home and finish up a little of the knitting.  Apparently, I have also managed to bust out of the crusty coating of knitting boredom that has encased me for the last few months.  Behold:

More Maine Morning Mitts!!!

These were sort of cobbled together with the last remaining strands of Noro from the first pair.  While MMM 2.0 were better rendered in the technical sense, the striping got a bit dicey as I was using leftovers and all.  But, they are still a mighty fine pair of mitts, if I do say so myself.  It has taken the strength of Hercules to not simply cast on another pair today.  This is the very definition of instant gratification and my only regret is that I did not discover this pattern before the holidays.  I might have actually had some knitted stuff to give away.  Oh well.  Maybe next year...

However, with the outlook somewhat improved, I have decided to try something a bit different.  I am in need of some baby type gifts right now and it is my understanding that babies do not wait for people to get their knitting mojo fired up before being born or growing up and stuff.  If the spirit is willing, then it is probably best to cast on for some little thing while it lasts.

If history is any indication, I have about three months before the next round of Hating Me starts up.  And I don't have enough hair left for another Stylist Intervention to work...

SA

Trust Me

I rarely think that I know what I'm doing.  It's not that I lack self-esteem.  It's just that I'm something of a realist.  I've lived with me for over four decades now and I've seen the carnage of which I'm capable.  I haven't burned down any orphanages lately nor have I cause a nuclear meltdown...at least to my knowledge.  But, on more than one occasion, I have given my own self pause after some ill-conceived plan goes awry.  

Don't get me wrong.  I enjoy me and think I am quite delightful.  But, I'm not so blinded by my endearing qualities that I can't see my shortcomings.  I goof up a lot.  In fact, I goof up the knitting a lot.

But, sometimes I am rather happily surprised by my own good judgement.  The Maine Morning Mitts spring to mind.  Sure, the thumbs show a marked lack of technical skill and the first one has a bit of an issue with "closure" at the top.  But, I did managed to pull off some rather spectacular feats of planning.  At least by my own standards.

I knew when I purchased my very first ever skeins of Noro that it would be for MMM.  I also suspected that I could squeak a full pair out of one skein.  But, I bought two.  Not because I didn't trust myself, but because it appeared that the striping was going to be different if I didn't work from two skeins.  This may be obvious to the rest of the world, but this sort of thing often escapes me so I'm rather giddy over my making the right call on this one.  In spite of today's afternoon temperatures being somewhat warm, the morning was rather chilly.  So I was able to debut my matching Maine Morning Mitts on an actual Maine Morning in all their weird-thumbed glory.

But, before I did that, I weighed one.  Then I weighed the leftover yarn.  One ounce each.  Exactly.  By gum, I do believe I can make a second pair.  Now, we all know that math and knitting have absolutely nothing to do with one another.  There are a few deluded souls out there who may disagree with me on this, citing things like measuring and gauge.  But, for every example you can come up with, I can counter with a story of how a gauge swatch lied outright.  

Yet, as I was driving to work today, I thought to myself, "Sheepie...these here mitts could stand to be just a bit shorter.  You do, after all, have such small and delicate hooves."  I'm so darned smart.  I shall simply knit a shorter version, one that doesn't come up quite so far on the fingers.  I realize, having said this, that I have probably doomed myself with excessive back-patting.  Any day now, I'll be telling you that I accidentally cut off one of my knitting thumbs or that a yarn thief came in and stole all my Noro.  

But, you'll know the truth, I suppose.  You're kind enough to let it go, though.  Meanwhile, we'll all just sit back and admire my genius.

I also decided to trust myself and hang onto this weekend's appointment with The World's Greatest Stylist.  With finances being somewhat pinched right now following the holidays, the vet bills and the weird way the paychecks came in this past fall, I'd given some thought to canceling it until the next time the school department decided to reward me for my labors.  But, I didn't.  I was really unsure of myself on that one, though.  Was I being a responsible sort of Sheepie?

My decision was confirmed during the last period of the day.  After observing my muddling through a particularly difficult lesson on how to edit a writing piece with a student who was not really inclined to put pen to paper, one of the fifth graders came over to me.  With the most understanding of expressions on his countenance and in a tone that was so very gentle and kind he said:

Isn't it really uncomfortable for you to always have your hair in your eyes like that?

I am going to be going with my instincts more often from this point forward.  Trust me.

SA

WNBP...It's All About The Random!

I've said it before and I'll say it again:  I do love Wednesday nights!  Sure, the weekend is still pretty far away and I've usually had to work all day.  But, these bullet posts surely do save me right about mid-week and that's something to smile about.  Gives me a little time to think of something better for Thursday night's post...  Here we go! 

*We have pretty much run through all four seasons over the last few weeks.  We went from raging snow storms and snow drifts so high that small children were getting nosebleeds trying to scale them whilst sledding to sub-zero temps and car batteries that actually whimpered when you asked them to make the engine start.  The last couple of days have brought with them the balmy breezes of spring and I fully expect to see robins darting amongst the apple blossoms tomorrow morning.

*This is wishful thinking and I know it.  Just let me have this one moment of happy denial, 'kay?

*With the warm temperatures upon us, our intrepid school principal thought it would be a good idea to sneak in one of the state mandated fire drills today.  The kids were rather confused and required some gentle "herding" in order that they might find the exits.

*Such herding generally takes the form of verbal encouragement.  The verbal encouragement becomes downright strident after a while and, from my place in the line, I could hear several of my colleagues quite clearly in spite of the shrilling alarms, the distance between us and the shuffling feet. 

 

*Then, from the front of the line, came the voice of Mr. Teacher Who Is Retiring This Year And Has Lost All Interest In Maintaining The Social Niceties bellowing, "I'm goin' as fast as I can!!!  Some of us are OLD you know!!!!!"

*Love that guy.  Seriously...

*You'd think that would settle things down at the back of the line.

*But The Other Mr. Teacher Who Is Retiring This Year And Never Really Cared About The Social Niceties To Begin With was back there shouting, "Well, you're s'posta be back here with the rest of us old farts!!!"

*Love that guy, too.  These are my people!!!

*We have to do the drill again.  We didn't meet the minimum time for escaping a fiery death.

*I finished up the second of my Maine Morning Mitts this afternoon during this week's last Beastly Biking session.  (I've gotten back up to just under an hour of stationary cycling time...the holidays are still hanging from my hips, you know)  I just wove in the last of the ends before sitting down to post tonight.  

*Good thing because, eventually, I am going to accept the fact that spring is not coming any time soon and I will need mitts.

*I could wear them to the next fire drill...

*I'm casting on for a second pair tonight.  I still have a bunch of the Noro left over, you see.

*And I printed off the pattern for Fetching, too.

*Sorry, Trek.  

*Does anyone happen to know if there is some sort of support group for Mitt Knitters?  I'm just curious.  It's not for me.  I can stop any time I want.  I just want to know for a friend, is all.

Happy Mid-Week to all and to all a good night!  As always, I hope that your Wednesday was everything it could be and more.  And that you did a better job on your fire drill than I did today.  As I'm feeling like this post was a little more "themed" than truly random, I shall leave you with this little pearl of wisdom from Max Brooks'  "The Zombie Survival Guide."  That should leave a little loose end for people to pick at for a bit...

Be Alert:  Maybe you're elated from a successful fight; maybe you're tired from days without sleep; maybe hours upon hours of fruitless searching have left you mind-numbingly bored.  For whatever reason, never let your guard down.  The undead could be anywhere, their sounds muffled, their signs ignored.  No matter how safe the area seems, be alert, be alert, be alert!

SA

From Grumpy To Good To Gratitude

The Grumpy:

I think I maybe need more of a transition period with this whole "work thing."  I haven't worked a full week in I-don't-know-how-long.  Between the snow days, doctor's appointments and holiday break from school, I might be a little out of practice.  In fact, during a lengthy monologue on the subject first thing this morning, I actually used the words, "I take umbrage" when describing my thoughts on this matter.  I seem to feel rather strongly about being asked to work for five days in a row.  Very strongly, indeed.

My Cheerful Teaching Assistant, the audience for this One Sheep Show, is a bit more gifted when it comes to being succinct.  That or she has precious little chance to get a word in edgewise.  At any rate, she put it like this:

I just woke up mad and stayed that way.

We both seem to think that working is taking away from the time we'd like to spend doing other things.  Like sleeping.  Or watching TV.  Or anything else that doesn't involve working.  

Don't even ask how the students in our class feel about this matter.  They have been "challenging."  We shall just leave it at that lest I say something that could get me sued or locked away for the safety of others.

The Good:

The day is behind me now, though.  And there are a few precious hours to call mine own.  Let's kick things off with some Maine Morning Mitts, shall we?  People seemed to think that I should provide proof of my sudden departure from the socks and scarves and who could blame them, really?  If you are going to cry, "mitts!" you'd better be prepared to back it up:

MITTS!!!!!  (or mitt...there's really only one at this point)

And, for the record, it is really hard to take a picture of your own hand whilst still maintaining a pose which will hide the horror that is the thumb on this thing. And, to make matters worse, I have a deep loathing of things that feel differently, so I am going to have to try and make the same mistake on the second one. The good news is that I know what I did wrong so the next pair will be a bit more along the lines of the pattern.

The Gratitude:

Do you guys remember back in December when I posted a general sort of "Thank You" to whomever it was who sent me The Zombie Survival Guide?  The mystery was solved not too long after that, but I forgot to give credit where credit is due for this fine piece of literature, without which I would never have read the greatest words ever penned in the history of writing:

Hooking on scuba gear and blindly diving into zombie infested water is a wonderful way to mix the two childhood terrors of being eaten and drowning.

I may just have to stitch that into a sampler or something...

The forward-thinking sender of my key to survival is none other than Teri!  Does she know me or what?  

Teri also most thoughtfully made a donation in Desdemona's memory to Alley Cat Allies.  Knowing that my baby will live on in some way through the saving of another kitty was of great comfort to me.  Thank you so much, Teri.  

Then today, another kindness showed up in the mailbox.  Back at the beginning of the month that I will forever think of as The Time Of Holiday Horror, poor Cathy most innocently emailed me with an offer of some extra fiber.  Little did she know that I was only recently saddled with the knowledge of my poor kitty's illness and that I was just a wee, bit fragile.  She was quite remarkable in her handling of my utter loss of composure in the face of her thoughtfulness.  And, as one of maybe three people who knew what was happening, proved herself to be an amazing listener while I navigated the waters of veterinary treatment.  As if her being such source of comfort during that time wasn't enough, look at what she done gone and did:

She crocheted me a vest...

Not just any vest.  A Cathy Vest.  It is dark here and the colors in the photo are nowhere near what I get to look at tonight in real life.  This vest is a perfect fit as well.  Perfect!!!  And soft...so very, very soft!  I'm just gobsmacked.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Cathy.  This is a treasure.  As are you.

And there you have it:  how A Sheep can run the gamut of emotions on any given day.  I am nothing if not gifted with range.  Now let's all raise a glass of Mountain Dew to the end of Tuesday and the glimpse of hope that mid-week affords us.  

Working a full week...who ever heard of such a thing?????

SA

Mundane Morning In Maine

There is something comforting in "the familiar."  I like knowing what's coming next.  Predictability is my friend.  And I try to extend that little comfort to you.

Nowhere else in the blogosphere can you find more in the way of The Usual.  I keep it constant for ya!  I'm good like that.  Let's take a look at some of the ways in which I endeavor to ensure an endless loop for you all.

*I knit socks.

*I knit one or two row scarves.

*I knit more socks and scarves.

*When I don't knit socks and scarves, I invariable write lengthy dissertations on how the universe conspired against me and why the three thousand things that went horribly awry on the project that was not a scarf or sock were not my fault.  And, if I do say so myself, these are crafted in such a way as to tug the heartstrings mightily.  You might even call them, "stirring."  

*Then I knit a sock.

I do it for you.  You are good folk who deserve a safe place in this crazy world where anyone anywhere can suddenly decide to bang out a lace shawl or some sort of cable-ridden sweater.  Or, heaven forbid....miters!  ::shiver::

But, last night there was a subtle shift in The Norm.  I don't know what came over me.  There was this feeling.  I dunno...I can't explain it.  But, I think it might have been something along the lines of boredom.  I'd just cast off the second Sort Of Purple Sock That Might Match Something I Own, slipped the pair on my hooves and declared them Good.  And then I was at a loss.  What to do?  I'll tell you what I did.

I knit a Maine Morning Mitt.

Well...not a whole one.  But almost a whole one.  I finished it up this afternoon whilst riding the exercise bike.  But I knit almost all of it last night.  And I was entranced.  Just entranced, I tellya!  Sure, there were a few issues.  The Noro and I had a little disagreement over just how hard I should be tugging on the yarn to close the gap between the needles.  We were able to reach consensus on this matter, though.  I agreed to stop cranking on it like I was starting a lawn mower and the yarn agreed to stop disintegrating every two minutes.  This seemed fair.  And things hummed along amazingly.  I forgot the time.  I forgot the lame television viewing.  It was all MMM for me.  I had broken the sock/scarf chain.  I was knitting something different.

In fact, I was so enamoured of the whole process that I forgot to eat my second black and white cookie.  This, in turn, led to a shattering of the "you can have black and white cookies on Sunday and you only get two so you'd better ration them accordingly" rule.  This forced me to eat a black and white cookie on a Monday because the only thing worse than not eating a black and white cookie on a Sunday is letting it go bad.  I'm so far out of my rut that I couldn't fall back into it with a good push and a little extra gravity on the side.

I've taken away your safe place.  I couldn't feel worse if I tried.  You come here for the comforting familiarity and now I'm just knitting strange stuff all willy-nilly.  I feel like I should make it up to you somehow.  

I like to think that this is why I messed up the thumb so badly.  Yeah...that's it.  

I did it for you.

SA

Amphibian Assistance

As part of my ongoing mission to distract and entertain the Big, Fluffy Kitty while she transitions into being an Only Cat, I have brought in a vast and embarrassingly large number of kitty-type goo-gaws.  But there is none we love more than Turtle.

It is a bit difficult to translate this particular word from standard English into Crazy Cat Lady Speak.  The closest approximation would be phonetically pronounced, "Toy-doo."  Perhaps it will help to hear it in context.  Examples of word usage might include:

Where is Toy-doo?  Go git Toy-doo!

Awwww...dus oos baby wuv dis Toy-doo?

Why no, Mommy doesn't mind laying flat on the floor with her arm under the recliner up to her shoulder and rummaging around amongst the dust bunnies for Toy-doo after you batted him under there...why do you ask?

Or, my personal favorite:

Oh, for the love of all that is holy, please go play with Toy-doo!  Mommy needs some space!!!!!

We love Turtle very, very much.  Sometimes we just gaze at him lovingly:

Turtle doesn't care if we have bed-head.

We cuddle with Turtle.  We play with Turtle.  We chew on Turtle until he screams for mercy.  And, of course, we sleep with Turtle:

Look closely.  He's there.

Turtle is a very helpful creature.  If not for Turtle and all his crackly, catnippy goodness, we would not get much peace around here.  Turtle is good for a kitty mommy who needs a little elbow room to finish some knitting.

These Sort Of Purple Socks That Might Match Something I Own brought to you courtesy of Sockotta and the generous April Who Rains Sock Yarn Upon My Head.

And, of course, through the selfless acts of Turtle, without whom I could not have finished them in this lifetime.  Bless you my little shelled friend!

SA

I'm A Sheep Of My Word

Of course, this is assuming that some of those words are along the lines of:  "kinda," "sort of," "maybe", "if I remember" or "when I feel like it."  I think it's important to clarify these things when promoting myself and my many virtues.

When last we left our intrepid, yarn-loving Sheep, she was in possession of a fat gift certificate from Mommy and Daddy Sheep to a local yarn store and not afraid to use it.  Upon finishing her grueling, three day work week, she had but one thought:  

I needs me some yarn. 

OK.  I actually had two thoughts, the first being, "I needs me a frozen pepperoni pizza."  But I have that same thought on most days so it really doesn't count.  Frozen pepperoni pizza thoughts are really more along the lines of an autonomic function at this point given their regularity.  

Meanwhile, Friday was upon me, I had this gift certificate and a well-thought-out plan for its use.  The rules were simple and clear.  I put a great deal of brain work into this over the holiday break from school and felt that I was ready to put my plan into action.  My thoughts on the matter were these:

1.  Purchase smaller amounts of yarns with which I've never knit.  Specifically, look for Malabrigo and Noro.  I am tired of hiding my virginal status with regard to these yarns.

2.  Given the gloomy nature of the past holiday season, I shall endeavor to purchase the brightest and happiest colors possible.  Nothing in the browns or blacks...we're going for those colors that don't normally come home with me!  Let's bring back the light!!

3.  We fully accept that we are going to exceed the amount of the gift certificate.  But, if we can keep it to somewhere between ten and twenty dollars out-of-pocket, then we'll call it good.

4.  We do not need sock yarn.  We have enough sock yarn to see us through any unforeseen sock yarn droughts.  Should there ever be some sort of Prohibition on sock yarn, we are in good shape.  Love for sock yarn does not mean that you have to own it all.  Don't buy sock yarn.  (Let's face it.  We are going to be buying sock yarn at SPA next month anyway...)

That's it.  Those were the parameters.  Easy-Peasy!  There were a few issues getting out of the school building since I am the only one who is taking my arrangement with the administration that allows for leaving earlier on Friday with any seriousness, but these things happen.  And it's not like the average 5th grader is just dying to adjust his behavior in order to make it possible for me to leave.  Even with this little obstacle in place, I made it to The Promised Land, aka The Yarn Sellar, with a full hour of shopping available to me before closing time.

  Let's see how I did, shall we?

The desired Malabrigo was, fortuitously, located quite close to the entrance.  As I was still in the early stages of the shopping process, it was a simple matter to remember the rules and I set aside the skeins in my usual palette for this lovely punkin-type stuff:

It's so soft, I nearly took it to bed for use as an extra pillow...

From there, I moved to the Noro Nook.  Here, things took a little turn, I fear.  Yes, I now have Noro Kureyon in my possession.

But, I found myself seduced by the soothing darker tones.  We sort of fell off the rule wagon a bit at this point.

I can't even look you in the eye when I tell you what happened next.  I blame the store.  I blame Patti for her uncanny ability to stock and display fine yarns.  I blame global warming and the Republicans.  I blame everyone.

Bearfoot sock yarn.  In my defense, there are one or two pretty bright colors in the mix there.  Work with me on this one...

By now, I was  hopelessly off track.  The rules had been utterly disregarded.  I had shed them without a thought and was mindlessly grinding them into dust all over the shop floor.  In an attempt to do something practical, if not exactly in keeping with the self-made rules, I grabbed a skein of Debbie Bliss in the exact same shade as Beth sent me a year ago.  I'd been saving that yarn for something special and thought that maybe adding another skein to it might give me a little more inspiration.  And who doesn't like Baby Alpaca Silk DK, right?  It almost made it worth breaking the "buy what you don't already have" rule.  Or would have, had I actually read the label. 

 

Doh!!!!!

That's OK.  At least it matches.  And I still think I can make the two yarns work together.  They are both amazing and whatever you knit with amazing yarn is probably going to be amazing in its finished state even if the gauge is of your own making.  Again, I ask you to work with me...

By now, I couldn't even recall having made rules around this little expedition.  Frankly, I was so very happy with my basketful of yarn that you could have stepped on my foot, pointed out a large zit on my nose and told me that the only pizza left in the frozen food section was the pineapple kind and I would have still been pretty content with my lot.  

Which is why I happily handed over my debit card to cover the $25.00 that I owed after the gift certificate was wrung dry.  You can't put a price on contentment, after all.  And, once I hit the grocery store to purchase some of that sweet, frozen pepperoni pizza, my bliss was complete.  I may not have done so well with the rules, I suppose.  But there are some who say that rules are meant to be broken.

And Sheep who simply say, "What rules?"

SA

Earth Mother, Giver Of Knowledge...or not.

I like to think that I am an easy-going sort of gal.  You know...a gentle and calming influence on the world and those who cross my path.  In my mind's eye, I'm really something of an Earth Mother, Bringer of Light and Flinger of Wise Words all rolled into one.  

Sure, maybe I drop the occasional curse word into the cosmic flow, but that is merely in response to events that are unjust beyond all reason.  Things like slow internet connections, dropped stitches and jeans that do not button after the holidays can make even us saintly types go a little whack-a-doo.  It's only natural and certainly to be expected.  

Mostly, though, I'm the picture of serenity.  Or so I thought.

Today I was assisting a student with a 5th grade project designed to show what the kids have learned about reading.  The assignment required that they choose a book they particularly enjoyed, then use a word processing/graphic layout program to design a small poster.  This project was multi-disciplinary and intended to highlight the connections they are able to make between their reading and their own life experiences.  The student with whom I was desperately trying to finish this project was, shall we say, less than enthusiastic.  But, in keeping with my delusional belief that I am a paragon of patience, I truly believed that I was doing a fine job of encouraging him.  My own view of events had me cast in the starring role as The Teacher Who Cared And Will Be Forever Remembered With Teary-Eyed Fondness.

Teaching is nothing if not a good reality check.  Here's what he wrote:

"The main character in this book reminded me of Ms. Sheep because he is really loud and always wants a vacation."

Oh.  I see.  And this is after a three day work week...

I'll just be resting this weekend.  You might want to call ahead if you were thinking of dropping by.

I will be thinking serene, quiet thoughts and trying to find my Inner Earth Mother.  Or buying lottery tickets.  Either one...

SA

Monday/Wednesday...whatever.

It's crazy when the work week starts with a Wednesday.  Kids kept showing up in my classroom and, no matter how many times I tried to tell them that they were scheduled to be somewhere else at that point, they just wouldn't leave.  For the record, they were right.  I was wrong.  Apparently there is a cut-off to the Age Of Understanding What Day It Is.  

Thank heavens for the Wednesday Night Bullet Post.  I'll just be rambling along if you need me.  Feel free to interrupt if you don't understand anything.  I won't hear you or help to clarify.  But I encourage you to give it a shot.  I like positive thinkers...

*The Big Fluffy Kitty managed her first day alone ever like a trouper.  As predicted, she met me at the door when I made it home.  But she seemed fine.

*I, on the other hand, was a wreck all day and it took the strength of Hercules to keep from calling her every other hour just to say, "hi."

*You guys are right.  I am going to have to consider bringing another kitty into our lives at some point.  This is torture...

*I spared a thought this morning for all of the commenters who mentioned how jealous they were of our plentiful snowfall here in Maine.  Last night's storm was a doozy.  So I got to stand in a snowbank and painstakingly chip away at a two inch layer of frozen snow encasing my truck at 6:00 a.m.  I thought about you snowless folk quite a bit this morning, if you want the truth.  

*You want snow?  I got yer snow!  C'mon up and get yourself a handful.  What the heck!  Take two!!!

*I left early and was still late to work.

*And all you snowplow drivers?  You people do God's work, I tellya!  What you did with the roads today was a work of art.  Seriously.  It was amazing.  From the bottom of my heart (and that of my insurance agent) I thank you.

*Hey, if you get a chance, go give some of the internet high fives to The Gator.  He's a friend of Daddy Sheep and an all around good guy who is back to blogging.  And he's not afraid to admit that real men read knitting blogs.  

*I wonder if we could get him to knit...

*The nice people at Amazon sent me The Knitter's Book Of Yarn rather speedily, I'm pleased to say.  I read it while I was pedaling away on the little exercise bike this afternoon in a desperate attempt to make the holiday chocolate lumps slide off my thighs.

*Good book.  A very good book.  But not so good as to make a chubby Sheepie forget that she is pedaling her fat fanny to nowhere.  

*It was rather chilly last night.  While the temperatures dropped into the range I like to call "Stupid Cold," I was contemplating turning on a fan.  All my internal systems went completely haywire and I was broiling away while the winter winds whipped about.

*Or, as I explained it to my Cheerful Teaching Assistant today:  I have become a middle-aged stereotype.  

*I like to think that my middle years are going to save me a fortune in heating costs over the long haul.  See how I did that?  Positive thinking, baby!

And there's your Wednesday Night In A Nutshell!  I'm pretty tuckered out after my one day of work in a week and a half so I shall bid you all a fond Nighty-Night!  Here's hoping that you have a wonderful second half of the week and that your intro to '08 has given you hope for a wonderful New Year.

I'm going to see if I can't work up another hot flash for tomorrow morning.  I hear it's going to be a chilly one...

SA

Me And My Shadow

Well, this day sure did get away from me.  Tomorrow being "back to school" day for children and Sheep alike, it seemed like a good idea to take care of all those things to which one must attend if one wants to be clothed and fed for this abbreviated work week.  I distinctly remember saying to myself bright and early this morning, "Let's get to it, Sheepie, Old Girl!  We're all set for a day of great productivity!  I'll just take a minute to pat myself on the back and give myself an appreciative wink in the mirror and then we're off!"

And that was about it.  I could blame the whole thing on the fact that there was a Twilight Zone Marathon on today and that this was the reason for my having been sucked into some time vortex.  Because, really...is there any better way to ring in the New Year than with a cheerful sentiment like, "I'm Talking Tina.  And I'm going to kill you?"

Maybe it is the fact that we are hunkered down for yet another massive snow storm.  That always seems to bring out the lazy in me.  Something about those gray skies and the inability to get out to do stuff...it's a marvelous excuse for lolling around.

Whatever the cause, I don't seem to have done all those last minute things I'd planned on doing.  I've pretty much been sacked out on the couch and knitting a sock.  I like to think that the sock knitting is what keeps the dust from settling all over me.  

It's probably just as well that I've been sedentary today.  Moving around too much could prove to be a bit dangerous these days.  I have a little black and white shadow, you see.

Tomorrow will mark one week since the passing of my poor Smaller, Less Fluffy Kitty.  She made the last ride home on Friday and one can't help but wonder just how such a large presence could fit in such a small urn.  The two days following her death were spent in a fog, alternating between weeping and trying to find some magical cure for puffy eyes.  I flirted with dehydration and became further despondent upon learning that peanut butter cups are neither a cure for grief nor for that dehydration.  The Big, Fluffy Kitty patiently waited out this storm.  But I wasn't so far gone that I couldn't see she was confused.

Since then, she has been an interesting little companion, to say the least.  No matter where I go, every time I turn around, I see this:

"Hi."

She and her sister never had the best of relationships.  But it wasn't for lack of trying on the part of the BFK.  In fact, her unwillingness to just give up and be terrified was something of a subtle form of sibling torture for Desdemona.  Eventually, they each found their place in the household and an uneasy truce was reached.  Now that she is an only child, Persephone seems to need a new hobby.  And is maybe a little depressed.  

Mealtime is particularly confusing.  Never having dined alone, she can't seem to figure out just when she is supposed to start eating and I spent several nights hand-feeding her.  Which is gross and involves the actual touching of mushy cat food.  She has finally gotten a handle on the new dinner rituals, but still seems perplexed.  

*Note:  Last summer's concerns regarding her having put on weight were resolved recently when I realized that my double-coated kitty had a mat problem and not a fat problem.  To put this in terms we can all understand, my cat had felted.  This was not apparent given the lovely condition of her outer coat and had progressed rather horribly.  Now that we've removed a couple pounds of clumped fur, it is clear that she is not fat.  So she probably should be eating...

If I happen to leave the room when she isn't paying attention, she begins to cry.  Never having been the most vocal of creatures, this is noteworthy.  When we are reunited after our two second separation, she expresses her happiness with great and sloppy enthusiasm.  She has also taken up mumbling to herself at random intervals.  My pointing out that this is behavior one step away from having to live in a place where you get paper shoes doesn't seem to make any sort of impression.  When she happens upon a spot where her dear departed sister used to nap, this mumbling takes on an almost quizzical tone.  

It's sort of a little bit heartbreaking, if you want the truth.

Tomorrow is not going to be a fun day for the poor BFK, I fear.  I'll be heading back to school and she will be alone for the first time in her life.  I'll leave the TV on and scatter about the eight billion toys I've purchased for her over the last week in the hopes that she can find a way to keep herself entertained.  But, I suspect that there will be a very grateful kitty greeting me at the door when I get back home.  

If the aforementioned strategies don't work, there will be nothing else for it but to purchase a baby sling and just lug her around for the rest of my life.  Which I suspect is going to be something of a problem for the school department given the rules around animals in the building.  

Do you think they'd consider opening up a kitty day care center?

SA