Well, I guess I'm back to spinning and knitting. Trying to get all the yarn spun and 2- plied for this circular shawl is ........daunting. I'm a 50/50 cross between get up and go, and bone idle. Depends on my mood, and caffeine. (and my thyroid!) But this is why spindles work better than wheels do for me- I can't sit long enough to spin. This fiber is organic merino and it's soft as a cloud to touch- and even sweeter to knit with.
I decided to pick up a sock I was working on last month... I stopped because my elbow was bugging me. It's noro, some sort of silk blend. I usually don't like factory dyed yarn, I prefer to dye my own fiber or yarn and do it all myself, but I needed a treat after having my photo taken at DMV. I needed therapy for that, but I settled for yarn and needles.
Come to think of it, I STILL need therapy for that. I have my new license hidden behind my old one in my wallet. : )
This yarn is SO SOFT! Although I doubt I'd work with this yarn again, I know these socks are going to be so comfy. I prefer most of my socks to be a few inches above the ankle, no higher, and no lower than the ankle.
Oh, and apparently my thermos didn't hold my sweet tea too well, because I found my knitting bag had a POOL of it. : / So I had to skein it up, and wash and dry.
As of this week, both kids will be receiving in- home therapies to help with life skills. I have tried to do this on my own long enough! I HATE admitting I can't do it myself. I HATE that I couldn't do everything with parenting 'naturally,' from home birth to breastfeeding to the typical life. And before you think, oh what's typical, what's normal? I'm comparing it to what isn't. ; ) I handle a lot of very unbelievable things with a smile, when I'm lucky. But keeping our home upright, our furniture and dishes (and toilets... ) from being broken, and everyone safe, that's clearly not something I (we! sorry, M) can do without therapists to guide the kids.
Nicky is more verbal than he was just a month ago. Verbal= cursing a bit, too, mindlessly. He's a little grouchy little thing, just like I am, and his grandmother was. He's also mischievous and it's hard to get (or stay) mad at a little rascal with a light as air, hysterical laugh. Even if I have to pull the toilet off the floor to find Henry and Skarloey out of the bottom of it, or paint the walls (you really can't handle that story).
I hope they cure the inability to cope in people with Autism.