Here comes Eeyore. That explains the rain.
So, yesterday, I was talking about Wigwam yarn I bought on eBay. (This is part of my big long entry that vaporized.) The first sweater I made was with Wigwam. It was probably presumptious of me to try such an expensive yarn on the first go, but the cost was what kept pushing me to keep trying and get the sweater “right”. It was a mock-turtleneck shell for Klumpen. She loved it until she grew out of it, and then we passed it on to a friend’s daughter. It got plenty of wear.
The yarn I ordered the other day from Smiley’s arrived yesterday. I’ve decided to use the Plymouth Encore DK for my friend’s baby’s sweater. It’s the yarn the pattern calls for, but it’s also the nicest when swatched. The Lanarota Luxor is a cotton acrylic blend, and splits a little too much for my taste. And I think that I’ll use the Paton’s Canadiana for a sweater for TSM.
Speaking of TSM, I finally cast on for his second sock yesterday at lunchtime. The patterning on these socks looks much like my “Optical Delusion” socks, only in blue and white, instead of grey and white.
I seem to be on a buying spree of yarn lately. And I think I know why. My Mother is coming to visit today. Her main reason for coming is to see Klumpen perform in tonight’s All County Band Concert. But, she’s also coming for sympathy, I think. My mother, the martyr. Because of her income (or lack of it), she lives in a HUD subsidized apartment, where her rent is based on her income. Every year, they do a review of her income for the past year, and base the rent on that. Well, last year, she worked for the summer, and earned an extra $6,000. She’s not doing that this year, and therefore won’t be earning that extra money. But rather than try to work out an arrangement with her building management, she’ll pay the extra rent, even though she’s not getting the extra money. So, she’ll whine on TOH’s shoulder about it. Rather than take us up on our offer to have her move in with us. Rather than accept monetary help from us. Rather than move in with one of her sisters.
She frustrates the hell out of me. She’ll complain endlessly about her dire straits, but when you try to help her out, she gets offended. TOH and I pay for her to have a telephone, so that she can call us or her other kids or whomever. But she spends money she doesn’t have on calling cards! She complains about the bad shape her van is in, but the insists on driving the 300 miles to see us and won’t let us purchase a train ticket for her.
Not to mention the religion debates. I was brought up as an American Baptist, but have since pretty much become more of a Secular Humanist or something close to it. (TOH likes to call himself a “Frisbeetarian*”, but that’s a whole other story.) Anyway, my mother and I no longer see eye to eye on religion. So she tells me things like, “I’ll miss you when I’m in heaven and you’re not.” In front of the children. I’m raising my children that all beliefs are valid to their holder, and to approach things with an open mind. Believe what you want, but have facts - not just opinion or “faith” - to back up those beliefs if you want to try and sway me. And all her sneaky little comments and digs drive me up the walls.
Well, now. I think I’ve ranted enough. Maybe I’ve gotten it out of my system, and I’ll feel calm enough to enjoy the visit with my Mom. Because when all is said and done, she is still my “Mom” and I do love her.
*Frisbeetarianism is the belief system, attributed to Alex Evans that when we die we all turn into Frisbees, water rockets, baseballs and other airborn toys. We are then hurled from Earth by 3rd grade angels and get stuck on the roof of Heaven forever. If you were bad, you become a kite stuck in a tree, ripped apart by sadistic branches and tortured by high voltage lines. It sounds silly, but the point is that nobody is sure what happens after we die. Therefore, I hold the Frisbetarian in as much esteem as any other believer.