Remember how I was kinda going through a phase where I didn’t really wanna knit?

REMEMBER?

Well, consider that done.

I may not have been POSTIN’, but I sure as hell’ve been KNITTIN’!

The following FOs were all started and completed between Thursday, Feb. 9th and Thursday, Feb. 16th (ok, except for the Hannukah scarf, which just kicked off the FO parade on the 9th…IF YOU WANNA GET ALL TECHNICAL):

{{phew}}

I’m tired just *thinking* about all that knitting!!!

Add in that I almost added SNOWBOARDING to my insane list of new/revisited hobbies (ahhh, the power of cute boys), and I’m pooped!

Speaking of which (the hobbies, not the boys), I’m two weeks into ballet, ice skating starts next week and Laurent is still kicking my ass!!! OH! AND! I can now plink out “Ode to Joy,” “Yankee Doodle,” AND “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” on the guitar!!! READING THE MUSIC! YAAAY!!!!

Chelsea is leaving me.

This makes me very saaad.

(ditcher!)

She’s my very best knit friend and just a good friend in general and even though I have other fabulous knit friends that I love, she’s my first and BESTEST knit friend and I don’t want her to leaaaaaaave!

Who ELSE (well, besides Sarah, who rocks too!) is gonna drive 6 hours with me, THROUGH THE NIGHT, to attend a fiber festival?!!?

Who else is going to agree to tresspass with me through an abandoned and asbestos-covered sanitorium at 3am?

Who else is gonna draaaaag my ass to shows by musicians I don’t know but will totally {{heart}} afterwards?!?!!?

{{sniff}}

This weekend, Chels dragged me out to see RJD2

DUDE. GO BUY SOME OF HIS SHIT. It’s TIGHT.

I would have had one of those totally amazing, life-altering, zen-like concert going experiences had it not been for a little thing I would like to consider my newly found anger-management issues.

Maybe it’s because I f’ed up my pill, but look at me the wrong way lately, AND I WILL TRY TO KILL YOU.

(ok, maybe not, but if you try to slip in front of us at the show, when there is NO ROOM for you and your stupid boyfriend, causing MY friend to have to inHALE the ugly blond nest of fuzz you call HAIR, I will dance in such a way as to intentionally trample ALL. OVER. YOU. Passive Agression, anyone?)

There were at least FOUR couples that got on my lastgoddamnednerve that way, either by just being annoying people who think they’ve *JUST* discovered the Digible Planets, or by standing ON ME in an attempt to get closer to the stage, or by talking and talking and talking INCESSANTLY while someone is on stage PERFORMING FOR THEM.

The one, however, that drove me to CODE BLACK* LEVELS OF DANGER, was the drunk-ass girl who was DANCING BEHIND US WITH HER DRINK WAY UP IN THE AIR.

The first time I felt wetness on my shoulder, I didn’t think TOO much of it. Maybe some over-hyped fan sweat on me. It’s a concert. It happens.

Then I felt it trickle down my back.

This is when I sternly signaled to the girl to keep her f’in drink LOW. (HA! ’cause she’s gonna listen! which of course, she DIDN’T)

I started plotting ways to bump her *just* so, to make her drink spill on the white monstrocity she called a top. Realizing that this would likely cause the drink to spill on anyone BUT her, I started scripting out a plan to GRAB the drink from her so I could have proper aim.

Apparently, I wasn’t quick enough, because mid-schemeing, I felt my right foot get DOUSED. Chelsea’s entire right hip and back got soaked. JOY.I thought she just spilled it, Chelsea thinks she THREW it at us.

I stood there — amidst the happy, dancing people — rigid as a board, staring straight ahead with my eyes all narrow and mean, my heart P O U N D I N G. Chelsea just sorta looked at me amused, with a goofy SMIRK and said, ” Oh yeah? Whatchu gonna DO about it?”

She totally saw that I, sweet little NICE GIRL LARA, was on the verge of attempting to kick that girl’s sorry ass to whereever drunk whores go when they die.

Thankfully, I mostly let it go.

Mostly.

And it’s a good thing too, because I can’t kick ANYONE’S ass. The most I will end up being able to do is kick them in the shin, which will HURT, but pleaaase. Hardly an ass-whupping.

She eventually wandered off and left our area, but we DID get to see her again on the way to the coat check. As I walked by her half-passed out self, I WHOLE-HEARTEDLY patted her on the arm and with a grin that could only be described as *slightly* maniacal, shouted at her, “HEY DRUNK WHORE, HOW YA DOIN’!?!?!?“

yeaaaaaah.

issssuuuess.

Awesome show otherwise though.

Later in the weekend, while we were calmly discussing the fact that she bought the wrong detergent for the washing machine, I told my roomate about my wierd, easily-angered funk and the drunk whore incident. She paused for a second and said, “Well don’t get all crazy and kick MY ass! I just though we could save some money!”

*Grey’s Anatomy, anyone?

FYI – I’m feeling much better now, thanks.

While I *may* be entertaining the idea of becoming an Olympic Ice Dancer, I will not be joining the Knitting Olympics.

I whole-heartedly support your efforts and will be cheering you on from the sidelines, but the Knitting Olympics are not for meeeeeee.

Deadlines and Vibe don’t mix.

I don’t like to HAVE to do anything (who does, really?) , and I’m shit when it comes to that pesky thing they call TIME MANAGEMENT. That’s partly why I’m not a good gift knitter…it makes a want to into a HAVE to, and the HAVE to HAS to be DONE in a specific amount of time. Procrastinators never work well with these sorts of retraints.

(btw, are you aware that over 1800 knitters have signed up for this thing? INSANITY!!! AWESOME!)

As I was sitting here, thinking of my knitting future, I began to look back fondly on a time in the not-so-distant past where I was kniting for me and me alone — ANYTHING I WANTED — with no real time restricton whatsoever. No pressure. No expectation.

Just me, knitting for me, whenever or whereever, if ever.

HOLYCRAPTHATISTHEBESTKINDOFKNITTINGEVER!

I love how adorable my neice looks in her new purple Christmas sweater and how Gilli’s face lights up just the slightest when she sees me working on her belated Hannukah scarf, but I’ll be honest… I miss the super-selfish, deadline-free ME time.

I may be embarking on an exciting knit project that is both a HAVE to AND a WANT to, and I’m quite hyped about the idea, but it also means less me-just-for-me knit time. I think it’ll be worth it, but… but… you know?

So, since I have no real progress to show you (even though the knit-fast has been broken! WOO!), and since I’m remiKNITscing , let’s take a look back at progress shots I never shared with you from my glorious days of freeeeeee kniiiit.

Ahh, Mavis…I barely knew ye…

CLAP-OH-TEE, peeps.

Clapotis is now entering her 6th straight row section (out of a total of 13), so she’s a *little* further along than shown, but Mavis, sadly, is stuck right there. One Ball In. Rogue, not pictured, is sitting in a plastic bag, stuffed at the bottom of a dark, sad backpack full of neglected knits, buried in the closet. Even though Phil has predicted 6 more weeks of winter? FALL! PRE-SPRING, I doubt she will have her day THIS season.

{{sigh}}

All that blathering is REALLY just to cover up the fact that I have nothing new to show Hope you have a fab weekend AND, if you missed it LAST week, or just got confused {{cough}}cara{{cough}}, I’m filling in again today (Friday), so you can listen to me at work, 10a-3p! (That is, if you are THAT. BORED. )

ps – I know I’m a day late, but I *just* watched this week’s Project Runway and HOLYCRAP! That episode had me FREAKING OUT in suspense until the last. five. SECONDS!

pps – My calves are a stiff wad of pain today, but ballet was fun!

ppps – All the time I’ve been sitting here, I’ve been hearing this faint little noise that kiiiinda sounded like Gil on her cell phone waaaaay on the other side of the apt, locked in her room. Turns out it was this:

She was snoring. HOW CUTE IS SHE!?!?!?