k is for krista

Moving Day!

Today we begin the moving process to our new house!  It's still a rental, but finally we have our own space with no one living above or below!  I am so excited; I may have to use more than one exclamation point!

!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am going to get some before pictures today, while I measure rooms, line kitchen cabinets, and get a general idea of where all my $#@* is going to go.  Blah.  THAT is the hard part.  We have a ginormous basement, so storage isn't a problem, but I'm losing about 15 square feet from an already cramped bedroom.  I think I'm going to be okay with the rest of the house (as long as Steve and I don't clash too much with decorating ideas), but the bedroom is definately going to be a challenge.  Oh, and the nursery doesn't have a closet.  Not that a baby needs a closet, but I'm thinking Steve and I could have used it.  I've already downsized so much, I'm not really sure there is anything else I can give up without having to walk around naked a couple days a week, and in my current condition, don't nobody wanna see dat!

The bump grows rapidly:

If it hurts too bad smack it with a hammer.

I have my grandmother's hands.  That was the first thing Steve noticed when he met her.  My Mom-mom Elizabeth was cantankerous at best, and most people had a really hard time getting along with her.  She and I got along like peas and carrots.  I think it bothered people that she didn't bother with niceties.  If she didn't like you she didn't tell you or anyone else about it.  You simply ceased to exist in her world.  End of story.  I love that.  I live that.  That mentality has saved me so much heartache and unnecessary drama in my life.  I have plenty of friends, and I have learned what type of people I want around me, so I actually don't have to cut people off that much.  Besides, I don't set the bar quite as high as she did.  Steve was always amazed at her strength and the size of her hands. 

Today I felt a pain in my left index knuckle, probably the cause of too much typing at work and too much knitting at home, and I thought of my grandmother's hands.  Her knuckles were riddled with arthritis, something I will always have to be on the lookout for.  Her joints were swollen and the skin was always red and flaky.  Even with her pain she could roll out a bowl of dumplings or bread chicken for the frying pan every night.  Even after dialysis and polycystic kidneys, it was a car accident that did her in.  She was on her way home from visiting one of her younger sisters whom she hadn't talked to in years, even though they only lived 10 miles apart.  My mother said she looked so peaceful, as if that was the way she wanted to go, not wasted away by some disease.

My friend Barb's grandmother also had arthritis in her hands, and when a joint would dare to get red or puffy she'd smack herself in the hand with a hammer as hard as she could.  Can you believe the woman's knuckles never twisted or swelled her entire life?  True story.  I wonder what else in life that philosophy could be applied to.

Where I've Been

I know it's been awhile, but I have good excuses, I swear!

1.) Housing.  You know we have been looking for a new place with more room, right?  Oh, you didn't know that?  Well, we have.  We got a line on a great house that is only 3 streets down from our current place, the rent is right, and I get to stay in this neighborhood, which is really family friendly and just so cute!  Except that our downstairs neighbor's husband moved back to Ireland 2 weeks ago, meaning the big apartment downstairs would probably open up.  Even better!  Except the woman downstairs is convinced she can keep up with everything on her 4 hour-a-day work schedule.  So we just found out she's not giving it up.  So back to the house.  We talked to the landlord 2 nights ago and told him we were going to take it.  He is happy, we are happy, I am finally at peace with it.  I didn't realize how much it was bothering me until it was all settled.  You know what's going to happen, don't you?  As soon as we have moved out and committed to a year in this house she will decide she's lonely and it's too expensive and she will move out.  Whatever.  I am so beyond that drama-mama.

2.) Preganancy.  It really just explains itself, doesn't it?  I am waterworks all the time.  I cannot have even basic, polite conversation without getting a tremble in my lip.  AND I've got breastfeeding to look forward to as well, so please don't tell me it'll all be over soon.  I'm dealing with it in my own special way, mainly watching a ton of tv and ignoring the world outside.

3.) Vacation.  My parents went out of town last weekend, so I stayed at their farm.  Alone.  In solitude.  It was wonderful.  I took extra days off for MDS&W but didn't get to go because Mom couldn't come with me, so I just chilled on the farm.  The crops have been planted, and I could smell turned earth and fertilizer all over town.  I also got a chance to drive down to the Rehoboth boardwalk and visit with my old boss.  It was a great weekend, and an excellent chance to "recharge my battery," as Steve's dad says.

4.) Knitting.  I have been working on my Leaf Lace Shawl and the baby Tomten jacket.  The jacket just needs sleeves and it will be all done.  Leaf Lace is a little tedious but it's pretty cool that I can watch tv or talk to Steve while knitting lace!  That's a new experience.  Usually I have to place myself in solitary confinement to avoid making an error.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

P.S.  We all know about the tragedy in Kansas.  A whole town destroyed.  I cannot even imagine the destruction, or what would happen in my parents' small town were to be hit by something of that magnitude.  Laura is working on a project to offer comfort to a family she has volunteered to help; check out her blog if you can assist.  I have also asked if she has any additional addresses for outside donations as I feel called to donate some Bibles.  If you would also like that info just leave me a comment with your email address and I'll let you know as soon as I get it.

What they don't tell you.

1.  You will cry with every emotion.  You could be mad enough to spit nails and you will cry.  Then you will cry because you have been stripped of your assertiveness and eye-of-the-hurricane calm you have been cultivating your whole life.

2.  You will look at your husband, at least once, and hate him.

3.  You will look around your living quarters, at least once, and hate them.  (Let's be honest here.  You will hate them a lot.)

4.  You will get gas that could kill a small child.  At work, you will avoid bending over to pick something up for fear of letting one rip, it will be that bad.  I have had a Cheerio sitting on the floor under my desk for a week because of this.

5.  The midwife will find something wrong, at least once, and you will simultaneously become terrified and devastated because there is something wrong with your baby.  Then you will find out you are fine, the baby's fine, and you will hate your midwife, just a little.

6.  The midwife will think your belly is measuring too big and so she will check for two heartbeats, which she will find.  You and your husband will take off work the next day for an ultrasound only to find there is just one, incredibly long baby in there.  You will love your ultrasound tech more than you have loved anything on this Earth.  You are too full of love for the ultrasound tech to feel any hate for anyone at this time.

7.  You will ache at night.  You will ache at work.  You will ache in the shower, and no one can help you stop aching.  You will hate your own body for just a minute or two.

8.  Everyone has a terrible labor and delivery story.  Women who have lost legs from labor, women who have labored for 13 solid days, women who have delivered 15 children at once.  It's okay to hate these witches.

9.  You still may not find yourself bonding with the baby.  This is normal and you don't need to hate yourself for it as long as you are taking care of yourself and the baby.

What they will tell you.

It's A Boy!

Our baby boy now weighs 1.4lbs and is tall like his daddy.  We have a hockey star in the making!

We Do Knit, Here.

I've been working on the baby Tomten jacket but it's all garter stitch and occasionally drives me crazy.  It is moving along pretty quickly, though, and I have nearly finished the hoodie.  Don't you love the color?  I'm using Naturespun in Antique Turquoise.  The plan is to also make some little pants and possibly booties in the same color.  I have a ton of this yarn bought on clearance at my yarn shop, but the other two colors are pink and blue, and I don't want to jump into that until the next ultrasound, which is going to be next week!  Any guesses? 

I also made myself some new dishclothes, also garter stitch, but so easy and quick they only take a couple hours to do.  Pattern found at Dishcloth Boutique.

How Eeee-nteresting!

In my daily jog through the blogs, I came across a blogger questioning the dynamics of blogging.  She wonders why people blog if they have no commenters.  Some people got a little pissy about the question, thinking she was downgrading the bloggers that have a small or non-existant audience.  I didn't really take it that way.  I understood the question to be more of a study of motives, something that has been on my mind for awhile now.  Try to hang with me while I dissect my own opinion about Knitblogland, which is, as far as I can tell, located somewhere in Wisconsin.*

I starting blogging about a year and a half ago, on Blogger.  I started my blog after reading the Harlot on a daily basis, then discovering Crazy Aunt Purl.  I obsessively visited blogs that belonged to their commenters, and really, really wanted in on the community.  To me community is about communication, so I was a little bummed that no one wanted to read me.  No one wanted to comment to me.  Then I got off the pity wagon and started to comment in places other than the uber-bloggers.

I got this nifty Typepad account because Blogger starting screwing up on pictures and posts.  Those with Blogger can totally understand this.  Once I made the switch, I immediately starting commenting on more and more blogs, hoping to catch someone's eye.  It was a success if a post gained a comment; it was cause to celebrate if someone linked my site to their page.  I wanted to gain communication and friends, and it was happening! 

I joined Rhinebeck Bingo because I thought that would be an awesome way to make new friends.  Once again, the little guy was being trounced by the uber-blogger.  I actually had people in the crowd look me in the eye and walk away when I asked if they were on my bingo sheet.  People would ask my name, mark an X on their sheet, and walk away.  They didn't even say thank you or nice to meet you.  It was a joke, and a humiliating joke at that.  The crowds found the uber-bloggers, the ones who get hundreds of comments a day.  Did anyone in that crowd understand they would have gained a lifelong reader and maybe a buddy if they had just let me know their name and used some manners?  No, and they didn't care.  They had bigger and better things to do.  I have to confess, I was upset.  I mean, couldn't just one person show some kindness?  I'm not a cry-baby here!  I tried to talk to these people!  I tried to get into the clique!

I found myself curious about these uber-bloggers.  They have so many comments!  People crawl over themselves to get to shake their hand!  How do they keep it personal?  They don't.  They can't possibly reply everyday to hundreds of comments via email.  Once I realized how impersonal some of these sites were, I stopped worrying about becoming one of them.  I may never have a catch.  I may be just plain-jane, straight, quietly conservative, passively Protestant Krista who could never knit a sweater in a week, but I like the friends I've made.  I like the fact that I am able to consider them friends.  I can email them with questions, worries, congratulations, and praise.  The few that I have are my buddies.  I would always welcome more, but I'm happy with what I have.  Love you guys!  Thank you for being there!

* JOKE.  Get it?

My Goodness, It's Been Awhile.

I'm here, alive, and starting to show.  It has been awhile since a post, so I'm going to give you random things I like, courtesy of Big Alice.

• lasagna made with cottage cheese instead of ricotta
• my front porch in the summertime
• having a whole swimming pool to myself
• a good pastry with a strong cup of coffee in a cool cafe
• hanging out with my BFF Barb
• when Steve goes to bed early and I have the whole house to myself
• the first time you sit down after REALLY cleaning the house
• traveling with Mom
• fresh strawberries (my first craving!)
• clean sheet day
• baseball (playing or watching)

A Victory, of Sorts. Now with 100% more run-on sentences!

Today I am working 12 noon to 9pm.  This means I get a lot of extra time in the morning to get ready for work.  When I have to be in at 9am, things get a little hairy because the hot water isn't fully replenished after Steve, but on Mondays and Tuesdays I get all the hot water I desire.  Until the hot water heater runs out.  Which is happening faster and faster and could have something to do with our neighbors stealing our electricity (hello $400 electric bill for a 2 bedroom apartment!), but that can't be proven and therefore cannot be accused.  Anyway.

This morning I woke up, shaved my legs, flossed and brushed my teeth, showered, dried and styled my hair, and put on makeup.  This may sound like your average morning, but lately I have been showering, putting my hair up, and brushing my teeth.  Period.  I think my lack of female fixing-upping had everything to do with my level of anxiety, but I didn't know what to do about it.  I figured it is what it is and I should just ride it out.  Bullshit.  I need to fight through this, I need to get up and get ready, I need to face my day instead of my day just rolling all over me like Cocoa on Steve's hockey jersey.  So I did it.  And it is good.

I will be decluttering over the next couple of weeks.  I really believe it will take me that long, although I'm not going to be at all picky about what I get rid of.  There will be boxes and bags, and it's all going to the Goodwill.  I'm also going to start taking receipts for my donations to help me at tax time next year.  Did I tell you about my taxes and the $1600 that I owe because how dare I not be lower class anymore and work really hard to make annual and monthly bonuses and then get screwed on it at the end of the year because I don't want to own a house right now and I waited until I had good sense to have a child?  Ahem.

So anyway, out with the old and in with nothing.  I am ready to get some zen and peace and the clutter, and yes the books, and yes the yarn is all turning against me.  I can't really rely on my huge amount of books to define me as a reader and writer.  I can let my personality do that perfectly well, thank you very much.  And I don't even look at acrylic yarn anymore, so why am I still hanging on to the boxes in the attic?  I can hardly find time to finish my quality projects, let alone some crazy granny square afghan, and by the way, there is enough acrylic to make about 10 of these afghans and no way am I taking that on.  So out it goes.  There will be pictures.  Wish me luck!

I am Woman, Hear Me Roar!

Today marks the start of National Women's History Month, and I am pleased.  In honor of the month I think I'm going to post each Thursday about women I look up to.  Today I will post about Eleanor Roosevelt and Dolly Parton.  Before you get all agitated and try to say, "Whoa, Krista, you cannot possibly compare these two women.  You cannot possibly put Dolly in the same category as the previous First Lady!"

Oh yes I can.  Oh yes I will.

Both Eleanor and Dolly are well known for their looks, but for entirely different reasons.  It is a wide-spread opinion that Eleanor Roosevelt was not a pretty woman, whereas Dolly is known for her beauty, natural and otherwise.  Regardless, neither woman wanted to be known for their looks alone.  Both have fought and contributed to the greater good.  Eleanor worked with the Red Cross and the early civil rights movements.  Dolly contributes countless time and money to underprivileged children and the war on AIDS.  Both women have used their fame for things other than getting the front page of a newspaper or magazine.  They represent strength and courage when the world's eye expected something completely different. 

Eleanor and Dolly, I salute you.

"I'm not offended by all of the dumb-blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb--and I'm also not blonde."  Dolly Parton

"No one can make me feel inferior without my permission."  Eleanor Roosevelt

"Never wrestle in the mud with a pig. You both get dirty and the pig likes it."

Barbara L in MA used this quote on the comments board for the Yarn Harlot and I think it pretty well covers what's going on with me.

Pig=Ego

Mud=Self-pity

My ego has really been enjoying wallowing around in the mud of self-pity lately, and I don;t know what's up with that.  We have to find a bigger apartment, preferably a house, but I don't know how we will afford something more with baby expenses upcoming.  We have always been provided for, and God has always given us what we need and most of what we want, but there is a trigger of panic that thinks..."we're not going to pull this off...we're going to go bankrupt...we can only afford to live in section eight..."  Which is just plain ridiculous.  I need to get off this train and hop on a friendlier, funnier one.  I just want time to enjoy this pregnancy, to ponder exciting things about the baby, to think of all the fantastic sweaters and socks I can knit...but when I start thinking baby all I get is a laundry list of complications and worries.  When does this phase of the pregnancy end?????  (when will I stop over-punctuating????)