Down, But Not Out

I began this post about eleven days ago, though I didn't want to believe I'd have to post it.
My progress on the olympic knitting seemed to go very slowly; I was only halfway up the back and I wasn't sure I'd be anywhere near done.
More importantly, I got some shocking personal news and have been in a fog ever since.
Dealing with that has been a big fat emotional drain, to say the least.
(Sorry to be mysterious, but the issue is not settled, so I'd rather keep a lid on it until it is. It's already caused a enough of a kerfluffle that I am going to keep it under wraps until everything is 100% settled. I will share with you all when I can.)

Add a complicated professional life (trade shows & the like), and you've got a recipe for a stressed-out control freak with very little emotional fortitude.
I recognized that finishing was unlikely, to say the least, I didn't want to give up.
Today, however, I'm content. I won't finish in time, but I love this project and am so excited about how pretty it is so far.

Some of that contentment is due to the fantabulous (yes, I know it isn't a real word) birthday dinner which my husband treated me to last night! We had dinner at Vincent-A Restaurant and OH. MY. WORD.
It was exquisite.

We both had a beautiful salad of Belgian endive, frisee & shaved apple with a hazelnut vinagrette (featuring my second favorite cheese* in all the world - Humboldt Fog. Oh!).
For the main course, the Boy-O had the wild boar with garlicky brussel sprouts & an amazing butternut squash, while I had a gorgeous cassoulet of tarbais beans (a french white bean), duck confit, toulouse sausage, etc., etc.
If you could ever marry a dish, that would be the one.** Hearty & filling, yet delicately flavored. And a perfect bread crumb crust on the top. It was just beautful.

Dessert was equally delightful - Boy-O loved the three creams: creme caramel, pot de creme & creme brulee, while I had a beautful citrus tart featuring blood oranges and pink grapefruit accompanied by White Peach Sorbet. (Yes, it was capital letters good.)
And to top it all off, they wrote Happy Birthday on the rim of my plate in chocolate!
How cute is that?

But the best part? We got all dressed up in our grown-up clothes and my sweetie wore a tie.
(Sigh. He's so cute.)

*My first favorite cheese is Rogue River Blue. Always & forever. If you haven't had it, rush out & get some. It's splendid.

** Because I'd rather stay with my husband, I shall have to learn how to make cassoulet immediately. With my five million recipe books, I'm sure I've got it around here somewhere.

Breaking the Waves

Just a quickie (rising from the onslaught of work, attempts at a personal life and Olympic challenges to my sanity) progress posting:

The questionable quality of this pic required significant manipulation from the GIMPto even get to this point - normally, it'd look like this:


Ah the challenges of photography with an inexpensive digital camera, crappy lighting and anicient yarn that isn't really any particular color (despite its designation as "Blackberry Heather").
Speaking of ancient, between the razor sharpness of the US2 needles and the dusty dryness of this 400 year old (okay, I exaggerate - but just a little!) Shetland Tweed, my hands are starting to resemble crunchy old paper bags. If this keeps up, I'm gonna have to find myself a gentler hobby...

Down to the Wire

Whew! Circumstances have conspired ot make this week quite a bit busier than expected - I've only just finished the knitting of baby Max's sweater.



Somehow, during the Knitting Olympics (or NaNoKnitMo, as the Boy-O calls it), I shall have to find the time to finish it.

Meanwhile, the Olympic project awaits:



Mmm. Shetland Tweed. This is gonna be fun...

Good, Bad & Ugly

Oy! It has been quite the week, at Chez Boy- & Girl-O. A little bit up, a little bit down, and more than a little bit absurd...

As proof, and for those of you who come for the knitting, I present the Good:


The finished back of the Marshall sweater. There has been precious little progress this week, but I've got the day off today and will soon be rectifying that situation. Still confident that it'll be done before the Olympics begin.

Lest you think this lovely example of complex knitting establish my prowess as a proper adult member of civilized society, I present to you The Bad:



Yes, friends, at not quite 7 am on a Thursday morning, I managed to cut off my own d@mned eyebrow with my honey's razor. Don't ask.
I am considering it an homage to my beloved brother.*

And for those kind souls still tuned into the the freakshow that is Cher's week, I offer you The Ugly (blurred for your own protection):


Ladies and gentlemen, at darned near 33 years of age, I have a constellation of pimples sprawling across the universe of my chin. And not just any pimples: these batards (Pardon my french, aha) are so incredibly huge and swollen that my entire head hurts when I bend down.
Ye gods. Any pimple removal tips will be gratefully accepted.

Y'all will have to excuse me now: I'm going to go soak my face in something with tea tree, have a soothing beverage and a relaxing Sunday morning with my honeybun. He'll make the breakfast, I'll do the knitting, and we'll listen to public radio with the beasties at our feet.

(Okay, more like he'll go buy the breakfast -- a girl needs her soy latte, you know! -- and the knitting/radio listening will be interrupted by beasties trying to leap into our laps, but hey: the general feeling is about the same.)

* Antwyon, as I may have mentioned, was my hero and could pretty much talk me into anything. He was also pretty willing to try anything, and having seen my mother do it countless times, was confident in his skills. Thus at the age of six, I let him arch my eyebrows - with a razor blade.
(Even now, it gives me the shivers.) Mom was Not Amused.