40% Mark!

Whohooo! As of this afternoon, I have hit 40% on Persian Star Prime!

It's a good feeling.

Organizing

I spent most of today organizing things in my new apartment - more specifically, the yarn stash. I took pictures, wound and re-wound balls, and updated my Ravelry stash as I filled the yarn cabinets from the boxes and bags that've been sitting in my bedroom for the past few weeks.

I found a bunch of unfinished projects, but I know I haven't found all of them. I put some aside to finish, and some aside to frog, and all in all I think I have less than a dozen projects left on the needles right now, mostly scarves. I don't know why I keep starting scarves, since they take forever and I never finish them, but I've got at least 6 scarves in my WIP pile, most less than a quarter done.

Irish Miss is no longer missing, which is nice, as it's also the project that's farthest along of all my works in progress. It's about half done, if I stop at 36", but I have enough yarn left that I could probably make it twice as long. I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do with the rest of the yarn for it, either continue and make a very long, very lovely cabled scarf, or use the rest for something lacier, perhaps another Anya or Emma or some totally different new design.

Persian Star Prime is about 37% done, which is pretty awesome. I'm 25 rows into the last chart, so I have 103 rows left (and, of course, the edging) to do, and then I'm done. I worry still about running out of yarn, but there's not much I can do for it at this point. I'm trying to make myself do at least two rows a day, at which rate I'll be done by the time September hits, which would be nice. 6 months isn't a horrible length of time for a shawl this size, from start to finish and writing up all the charts. It's half the time Galveston took, though of course I finished the second half of the knitting on Galveston Prime in the two months before my wedding.

Ah well. It's still the fastest shawl I've knit to date, out of all two of them, and that's not too bad. Once I get a television, I'll have something to occupy my brain while I knit, and that should make things go a lot faster.

Introducing: Ripley

The kitten from the last post's name is Ripley. This was decided (after some debate - she was provisionally named Seek for a while, because Heed and Seek is hilarious) after she snuggled into my shirt, and then popped her head out chestburster-style multiple times over the same evening.

I got her via one of the shadier methods of kitten acquisition - a dude on the side of the road holding up a sign that said "Free Kittens". I had already been looking at kittens from local rescues, one in particular who was very sweet and reminded me a lot of Cricket, but I just didn't feel that instant connection with her, so I decided to wait. When I saw the free kittens dude, I pulled over, thought I'd go check it out (it never hurts to look, right?) and this was the last one left.

According to the Kitten Dude, she was the runt of the litter, as well as the one with the shortest hair (she will likely be a medium-hair), and is 8 weeks old. According to the vet (and yes, I took her to the vet right away, I am a responsible pet mom) she's closer to 6 weeks old, but since she's eating solid food and using the litter box, I don't have to worry about her being so young. She does not have any kind of Crazy Death Plague, which I will admit I worried about A LOT, and has been cleared to interact with Heed.

Heed, of course, loves her. He loves everyone, especially small things that he can bat at and groom. He swishes his tail for her to pounce on, sniffs the litter box when she's done using it, and makes sure everything is properly covered. He's a very paternal cat. He doesn't even chase her off the bed at night, though sometimes I do, because she's very active right around the time that I like to be sleeping. Hopefully that will settle down once she's older.

Someone Needs a Name

Total impulse kitten-getting. Driving down the road, saw a dude with a 'Free Kittens' sign, she was the last one left. Runt of the litter. Snuggled into my shirt, and I felt that jolt of yes, this is my kitten.

She's got a vet visit this afternoon, and will be fixed next time I'm in Austin.

Oh, That Maggie

Okay, so Mr. Ex went out of town last night, and isn't going to be back until late Sunday, so I volunteered to take Maggie for the weekend (I do loves my Maggie). So yesterday I drive over to his place, calling in some pizza for dinner to pick up on the way home, and collect her and Heed.

Now, I hadn't intended to take Heed home quite yet, I wanted to give it another week just to be sure that he doesn't get exposed to what Loki had, but I had actually talked to his vet and he's been vaccinated against the virus I was worrying about. Still, to be sure I had wanted to wait.

But I got there, and he was crying for me, and I just couldn't leave him again. I've been Heedless for two months now. So I picked him up, sans carrier, sans litter box, sans any of the kitty-related accouterments you generally need, and took him home.

I put him and Maggie in the house, made sure Maggie's food and water were full (I had bought the same kind of food for Grue that Maggie eats, so that's handy), opened Heed up a can of wet food and put it where Maggie couldn't get to it, and headed out to go get me a litter box with the store credit I got for returning Grue's crate.

So. I get that, easy no problem. Decide that Heed's an older boy now, he needs the special Senior Cat Please Don't Die fancy cat food. Pick up pizza on the way home.

When I get home, I discover that Maggie has NOT touched her food at all, or thankfully, Heed's, but she HAS found the box of treats I was going to send home with Mr. Ex, and she has eaten the ENTIRE BOX. ALL OF THEM. OVER A POUND OF TREATS.

Little shit.

Anyway, so I get the litter box set up in my room, realize that I forgot to get the baby gate from Mr. Ex's house, so I put up some flattened cardboard boxes hoping it'll deter her at least a little. Seems to work okay, so I go to bed.

So in the middle of the night, I wake up to VERY loud thumpy music. I'm on the second floor, and it sounds like it's coming from downstairs. For some reason it feels like 5 a.m., so I figure hell, I'll just get up, go walk the dog, get ready for work.

It is in fact 2:30 in the morning. Oh HELL no.

So I go downstairs, and the music is coming from a car. Dude is packing up some things, I don't know if he's coming or going but I don't much care. I go downstairs and politely explain that I'm on some medication that makes it really hard for me to get to sleep, and would he mind not having his music up so loud between midnight and 7 in the morning? He apologizes profusely, and turns it down. I try to go back to sleep.

Then this morning, of course I overslept, but I walked Maggie before work, got Heed shut up in the bedroom so Maggie doesn't get into the litter box, and since I am late, drive instead of walk so I can get there on time. Everything is great.

Now let me tell you about lunchtime.

I walked back to the house during lunch, forgetting that I had the car, and not only would it be faster to drive it home, but I could leave it there and save money on the parking garage. I forget this entirely, until I am halfway there and it would no longer be faster to drive.

So I get home. I let Heed out of the bedroom since he's been cooped up all day, and I take Maggie out for a walk. It takes her a while, but she pees, so we head back upstairs, and discover that Heed's had a hairball on the kitchen floor.

I'm cleaning up the mess, when Maggie runs into the bedroom and eats the rest of Heed's wet food. Mind you, she's had her dry food available all day.

So I get her out of the bedroom, put Heed back up, wash my hands, and grab some cold pizza to eat on the way back to work. As I'm about to head out the door, I find another hairball.

So I put down the pizza, go clean up the hairball, and call and tell work that I'm probably going to be late getting back in. When I put down the phone, I see that Maggie has eaten my pizza. And I'm still late.

So I check the house for any other surprises, find none, and leave. It's usually a 20-30 minute walk for me, depending on how hot it is and how much energy I have, and I already know I'm going to be late and have to stay longer at work because of it, so I don't stress. I made it back, only 5 minutes late. All in all, pretty good time.

UPDATE: When I got home, Maggie was THRILLED to see me. You know that thing that dogs do when they're guilty about knocking over the entire trash can and eating most of its contents? Yeah, she doesn't do that. She just wants to give you kisses.

Weekend, and New Socks

It is the weekend, hooray!

This has been a hell of a week, but I feel now like I'm finally settling down into my new life, and that's good. A friend of mine is coming up with her son (my godson!) for his fourth birthday party, and we're going to hang out all day and have fun.

The day I took Grue back to her foster mom, I came home after hours and hours in the car and needed to unwind. I picked up Persian Star Prime, but I just wasn't feeling lace right then - too much brain work. So I grabbed the square DPNs I got last time I was in Austin, and some sock yarn, of course, that I got to test out the new needles (Cascade Heritage Paints, in the Feathers colorway) and started making a toe. I haven't done socks in... months. Since the Bayerische socks, which remain half-finished in a box in my bedroom, waiting for me to rip the heels out yet again so I can reknit them in the right size. That was around christmas, wasn't it?

So I started on these socks. And I'm doing a garter stitch short row toe, because that's my usual fallback, and for some reason the garter ridges reminded me of this stitch pattern I'd seen on the bus one day, I'm thinking on someone's scarf? I wrote it down in my Idea Book (I love my idea book) thinking to make a hat of it, but you know, that would make a pretty sweet sock pattern too. So I did the math, and hey, what do you know, my usual 80-stitch sock just so happens to fit the pattern perfectly!

So I've been working on those, and I'll probably post the pattern up when I finish them. A simple, textured sock, for some near-mindless comfort knitting.

Dizzy, Dizzy, Dizzy!

Okay, so remember how I told you that the prozac was giving me some side effects? Well, the worst ones are of course the depressive episodes and suicidal thoughts (none since Monday, yay me), but the most annoying are the very light sleeping, and the vertigo.

So, Tuesday I went and saw the doctor, and she told me to take two of my pills until my current supply is empty, then to get the doubled prescription filled so I can take one twice-as-large pill. So, okay, I took my second pill that day when I got home, and two each morning since then.

Now, yesterday I did drive Grue back to her foster mom. Hastur came by and helped me load Grue into her crate (two person job, I tell you) and by 10 a.m. I was on the road. I dropped the dog off, then had lunch with some friends who live in the area, hung out with them for a little while to recover from the massive drive, then made my way home again. I got home at 9 p.m., tired, eyesore from concentrating on the road, and certain in my bones that I should not make a huge trip like that in one go until I get this vertigo thing beat but good.

Today the feeling of vertigo is worse, much worse. Worse enough that I'm feeling it with my eyes open, sitting at my desk at work, and I'm swaying a bit in my chair. I am so, so glad that I did my driving yesterday, because I do not feel that I would be safe on the road today. It's like the feeling you get standing somewhere high up and looking down, where you lose your sense of balance and feel like you're falling even though you haven't moved. I have that, sitting down, wide awake (though tired, I slept only lightly again last night), with my eyes open and my feet planted firmly on the floor.

I do not think this prozac is great for me. Eventually, I will have to drive again, if only to get groceries or go to the laundromat or visit family during the holidays. I can't afford to sway like this on the road, it's like being drunk only without all the pleasant actual drunkness or tasty margarita flavor. I'm hoping these side effects go away soon, or at least get back to their previous levels. I'm going to keep a record of them, and if they persist until, say... the 15th? I'm going to call my doctor again. I know these things take time, and I want to give my brain that time to adjust, but this is not a good sensation.

In more happy news, since I don't feel up to working on Persian Star Prime while effectively high, I started some socks. I had picked up the yarn and needles (those nifty square DPNs) up at the Knitting Nest in Austin last weekend, and last night it occurred to me that the stitch pattern I'd jotted down in my idea book (was it from a scarf someone was wearing on the bus? I don't recall) would make a pretty nifty sock. So I cast on for a garter stitch short row toe, my perennial favorite, and this afternoon I hope to get into the actual patterned portion of the foot. It's ribbing based, but interesting, and I think it'll complement the dark blue colorway I got nicely.

Overwhelmed

Well, I know my last blog post seemed very rosy, but I have decided that Grue is not the dog for me. I know, I know, it hasn't been very long since I got her. I know this.

When I said she was not socialized as well as I had expected, I was only beginning to see her personality. She is afraid of men, of bikes, of people with beards, of blondes, and of loud noises and fast movements. She is not laid back like I thought she would be - in fact, she's quite active, more active than I can handle. She isn't housebroken, she isn't actually used to being inside at all - I spoke with her foster mom some more, and as it turns out she is used to being kept outside in a kennel all day, every day.

People, I am many things, but incredibly active is not one of them. I do not have a yard at the new place - hell, it's a one bedroom apartment, and I work 8 hours a day. I do not have the energy that this dog will need, to be trained properly and become a good indoor dog.

Grue loves being outside. LOVES it. Wants to spend all day out there - and coincidentally, doesn't want to pee just because she happens to be outside. I'm not going to have enough time in my morning to get myself ready for work AND spend over an hour walking her, and hoping that at some point she pees.

Another thing, and this is hard for me to say, but I am just not as ready to have a dog again as I thought I was. When I caught her chewing on my spinning wheel, I called her Maggie without thinking, and cried for an hour. I cried most of yesterday, actually, but at least some of that is because of the prozac (which, by the way, I saw the doctor today and she decided to double my dose and see if that fixes the side effects I've been having; I have a follow up appointment next month), and I know now that getting a dog was me looking for love more than me being in a good place to take in another animal.

It's still not easy being in my brain, knowing that some of the things I'm thinking are the product of weird chemistry and not really me. I've been having more suicidal thoughts, but (don't fret!) not the kind that are in any way serious. I know this doesn't make much sense if you haven't experienced it, but these are the kinds of suicidal thoughts where once I realize what I'm thinking, my first reaction is That's not normal, I should mark that down on my calendar and talk to the doctor, not Hmm, gas or rope? like it was before I started the brain drugs.

So, tomorrow I drive out to return Grue to the rescue wherefrom I got her. She will be happy to see her foster mom again, and she will be with her sister and brother again, and she will get to be outside all day like she wants to be. Hopefully, someone with a yard and lots of time and energy will see her, and love her like she deserves, and give her a home that will be better for her. She is not a bad dog. She is a very sweet dog. But she is not the dog for me.