Cozy and The Creeping Crud

It's offical.  The score is Cozy - 0, Creeping Crud - 973.  It has won.  I have lost. 

I think I might be dying.   My DH says he's pretty sure the death wish thing is just wishful thinking on my part.  He said that as a rule, when you feel so sucktacular that you'd enjoy dying, you usually don't.

He has been doing the cleaning and tending the dishes to keep my nasty crud-laden germs out of the kitchen and off the food prep areas.  And off the plates.  He's a kind and wonderful man. With a strong sense of self preservation.

Meanwhile, I am almost too stupid and dopey to function.  I am prone to dropping into a deep sleep without a moment's warning.  I fell asleep while being tortured during a PT session for my torn hammy.  The therapist wondered if I'd blacked out, but I don't think so.  I think it was just a little nap.

I am not driving, needless to say.

Every now and then I cough until something that's supposed to stay inside flops out.  My liver is all covered with glitter and there are little green plastic 'pine needles' adhering to my appendix.   The perils of coughing up internal organs at holiday time. 

I've been running a low grade temp for the past week, but I'm afraid to go to the doctor.  There are two ailments circulating in Cozyville at this time.  There's the one I have.  And the other one.  The other involves unsavory bodily functions emitting explosively from several  orifices (orifi?)  at the same time.  I do not have that.  I do not wish to.  So me and the Creeping Crud stay home and cough.  Although to vary a bit, sometimes, we play Running Nose.  It runs.  I sit on the sofa and watch it go.  Have at, nose.  If you think I'm going to chase you, you're stupider than you look.

I took zillions of photos through the month of  December - the visit precipitating the Historic Clearing of The Table, and more.  Several feasts, lots of fun and family.  I plan to upload those real soon.  Right now I'm afraid I'll cough my stomach lining out onto the keyboard and ruin the computer.

There are no pictures with this report.  Would you like to see my liver flopping in the Christmas card glitter? Watch the Leaning Tower of Snotty Kleenex grow ever taller?  Well, tough.

Alert the FBI - My Dining Room Has Been Kidnapped

Oh my goodness!  I feel like the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit combined into one.  I must find my dining room table.  I must!  Family is coming.  Here.  To my house.  For A Meal.

My table!!!  Where is it? 

And more to the point - what the heck does it LOOK like?  I mean, how am I to know if I find it?  It's...you know, kind of table shaped.  About table height.  It's supposed to be flat on top.  That much I remember for sure.  Oh - and it's wooden.  Yes, definitely made of wood.  That should help id it.  If, in fact, it is ever seen anywhere.

My (soon to be late if he keeps up with comments like this) husband says, "Babe.  Under stuff."

I think he really meant well.  But it's a pretty sweeping statement.  After all, his desk is 'under stuff'.  The kitchen counter is 'under stuff.'  The sofa is 'under stuff'. (Wow - this reminds me - I need to dust the stove.)

The potty is not under stuff, but we ain't eatin' there. 

But the table.  Must locate.

This is what it looks like.  It's an old picture, but it would do if I had to put photos on milk cartons.  You know, basic table.  Brown.  Wood.  Flat on top.  Usually seen hanging out with crafts projects.  If you see it, please call me. 

 

Those Dam Trolls...

Look what I found hidden in the closet!  Trolls! Look at that profile - and that little tummy! How cute is that?!?

The bunny suit - oh my goodness. The clown suit - that mask!

What mere words can I add to these photos? Oh - just this: Dam is their brand name. It's
stamped on their little posteriors.

Z Turns One

Meet Z.  He's one year old, and as his shirt says, he must rock.  He can dance, he can play the beat box, he  has talent - and he has some lovely teeth.

Hummm...kind of chewy.  Interesting texture. 

I'm THIS many!

...or...

We're # 1!

...or...

Waiter!  Bring that candle back, please!

 

  

 

Cozy Feels Random (So what else is new?)

Today my 7 going on 43 year old granddaughter, explained to me that one of her dolls had just sold her dollhouse to another of the dolls.  It was a great price for the buyer doll.  She didn't even have to use her savings. Which was good, because there was a lot of stuff she needed to fix up in her new place.  So today was moving day for New Owner Doll.  She got all her stuff moved in, and it just wore her out.  Moving can be pretty stressful, but beyond that, all the dogs in the neighborhood had barked all night and so New Owner Doll had not slept well at all.  When Miss Girl said it was okay if I took a peek into New Owner Doll's  bedroom, I saw that she was zonked out with the blanket over her head. 

In case you're wondering what Former Owner Doll is doing now, she's decided to travel.  She took some of the proceeds of selling her house and bought Barbie's Palomino and was last seen riding off into the sunset.   (I think Barbie and Ken have been downsizing.  Ken might have lost his job in marketing and they may be needing to cut back.  Selling a few of the horses would help - the upkeep, feed, vet bills, stabling and so on - it adds up.)

Bull's Eye!

Who says quilts gotta be made just one way?  Not moi, for sure.

(And for those of you who didn't know I quilted, well - voila.  Evidence.  You decide if it's for or against!)

Having made a decision to go through the endless boxes of scrappity bits and see what could be done to turn some of them into something fun, I have arrived at this cute little fellow.  The Bull's Eye Quilt. 

Yes, it's an actual printed pattern, found in the marvelous book, Quilts from Aunt Amy.  It's a take off on a very early 20th century pattern in which the circles were actually pieced and seamed together.  Augh!  Work!  This one is all done layer on layer, and with the raw edges left raw.  As the quilt is put into use, the edges will begin to fray and fuzz up.  Laundering will bring out even more of the fuzz factor, but even simple use will start the process.  In a short time, a brand new quilt looks just like a prized quilt from gramma's attic.  (Just cleaner, and minus the dried up bug detritus and wierd yellowish age stains.)

I haven't quilted this fellow yet - it's just a 'quilt top' at this stage of its career. 

These blocks are so much fun to make.  You begin with a fabric square, onto which you stitch 3 circles of various sizes.  Then the blocks are cut and reassembled.  As you go through these steps, you'll be amazed to see how even the "What was I thinking" fabrics can blossom beautifully. 

Which, I'm sure, is a lovely moral lesson for all of us.  I'm quite pooped from writing this, so I'll let you ponder the ramifications.  Go on.  It'll be good for you.

The Hunger of Dryers

It happened.

And then, it happened again.

My dryer ate half a pair of brand new dryer balls.  They were pink and purple and made laundry fun. 

 And then, a few loads later, there was one forlorn little dryer ball bouncing around in there all by its lonesome.

Where did the other one go?  No one knows. 

We looked in reasonable places and unreasonable ones.  No second dryer ball.  Nothing.  Not even little shreddie pink and purple bits.

The next set of dryer balls was bland and boring.  The dryer didn't care.  It ate one of those, too.

I think I heard it belch. 

Headache

Today I have a headache. 

My sinuses are claiming more than their share of space inside my head.  They have their own zipcode now, should anyone wish to write to them.  I don't.  I wish they'd go away.  Take a holiday.  A long one.  Somewhere far away. 

I have things to do.  Yarn to skein.  A new custom tote to sew. 

A life to live.

Which would all go more smoothly if this headache would pack itself up and depart.

I'm not going to slam the door on it, though. 

Too loud.

A Trip into the Cozy Brain

(While you are on the ride, please keep your heads and hands inside the car, and remember that we are not responsible for accidents or injury.)

Various things which have occured to me recently:

1.  I used to keep my house so wonderfully clean that any one who would want to could eat off the floor.  No one did.

2.  Cooking disasters are only as bad as what you choose to call them.  An excellent name/title covers many sins.  (Pam, I'm talkin' about you!)

3.   If you are waiting for inspiration to arrive, you'd better bring your knitting.  You may be waiting a while.  Inspiration is like a cat - it comes when it feels like it, stays as long as it wants, and leaves when it's ready to go, regardless of how much you'd like it to stay.

At least it doesn't shed.

This is all for today.  Trips into Cozy Brain are intense and not for the very young or for those who might become dizzy.

Thank you for riding with us today, and remember to collect your belongings as you exit.

It is a mystery...

It's a first for me.  I have never before done a mystery knit.  Granted, I've made a number of mystery quilts and loved them.  But never a knitted mystery.  This is the start of my mysterious spruce colored socks.  I am enchanted!

A new clue appears every Wednesday, and I race to knit my way through the chart so I can see how it looks.  And then I do the second sock, so I'm ready for the next clue.

Which yields a second mystery.  I've knitted for a total of 2 days now, and have 2 half done socks.  Heels turned, and awaiting instructions that will surely include the gusset.  Never before in the history of  me as a knitter have I done socks  this rapidly.

Should I start doling out knitting instructions to myself one incriment at a time in order to inspire myself to quicker knittery? 

I'm also working on a pair of socks in the Embossed Leaf pattern.  I began them a year ago.  The yarn is incredibly lovely - clear blues and greens reminiscent of a Monet.  (Or  Manet. Whatever.)  The pattern is a pleasure to knit.  But here we are, 51 weeks into the project and I turned the heel of the second sock last week.   I'm nearly that far along on the mysterious pair after 2 days.  Why?  Is it because I've seen the pictures of the completed Embossed Leaf socks?  I know what's there.  A really lovely pair of socks.  Sooo....why am I not zipping through these just a wee bit faster than 51 weeks?  It is...yes, Virginia...a mystery.

I can't talk about this any more now.  I have to go knit a little more on my mystery sock.  The heel flap of Sock #2 awaits.  I could have a complete pair in two more Wednesdays of knitting. 

Voila - Blocking ala Tink

It appears that Tinkerbell play mats rock it as blocking mats. Just the right size, and lots of 'em. And this is Multnomah, it all it's lovely greens, purples and golds.

The Tink mats are perfection!

But you have to use them upside down.  To do otherwise is just wrong. 

.

Cozy Gets Organized

The Pod People Invade the Coziverse.
Who is this organzied person and what has she done with the real Cozy?
Genre: SciFi/Fantasy

Well, here it is.  Evidence that someone has been:
1. Thinking
2. Planning
3. Hunting and gathering
4. Organizing

Because getting one's yarn together in seems wise.

Woo-hoo! Blocking mats!

Now that I'm a serious lace knitter (1 shawl down, 1 in the works), I realized I needed serious blocking mats.

So I could get some of those, or I could have Tinkerbell.

My dh, that lovely man in need of eyeglasses says, "Babe! She looks just like you!"

There are 16 of the 1-foot squares. Do you suppose that's going to be enough?

P.S. That's Shawl II down at the bottom of the photo.  It's my wack at the lovely pattern, Multnomah. (Always, always with my apologies to the designer for what shall befall their careful work once I get my paws on it.) It's Done Roving yarn - a souvenier from the first installment of DH's bucket list trip we took last fall. Anasazi dwellings and yarn shops. And a winery. Pretty ideal! 

A Cool Tip

It's not a free pattern, but it's a pretty cool tip. 

This is something I've been doing for ages and assumed everybody did.  Apparently, everybody don't.
It's for when you've got a small project - socks with a small lace chart, for example.

Here's what you do:

 Zerox the chart.  Cut it out.  Using a glue stick, paste it to a file card.   I chose to simply copy this simple chart out on a bit of graph paper. 

Laminate it and tuck it into your knitting bag.  So much easier to cart around than an entire book.

Return of the Native (Bunny)

 This morning, what did I see in the garden but our long vanished pal Bunny Nugget, back from exile. He had crept up very close to the house, much closer than he usuall comes, and it turns out he wanted to tell us he'd heard rumors that there was something scary living in the cellar. .

Now, in the past, the Bunster has been less than reliable, so we took that news with quite a bit of salt. But looking is free, and so we opened the hatch and  there was a Black Widow about the size of a walnut in there. Augh!

So Bunny was right, he saved the day, and he wasn't even snarky.

Can a new leaf have been turned?

His whiskers are back - regrown, and this time, in the right place. As must be his heart. It's very encouraging.

Why I have no energy

It's warm in The Coziverse.  

This is all for now.  

I need to go die.  

 

Gettin' the Crap Out

Aw, naw, it's not a paean to regularity.  It's a thought I filched from my pal Pretty Knitty (she of the blog of the same name) having to do with (insert Jaws!!! theme music here) that dreadest of phrases: house cleaning.

The basic assumption being that if, perhaps, you could see the various surfaces of your home, it would be far easier to clean them.  The 'WTH....there's a FLOOR under that???' phenomenon. 

I'm thinking about it.  I skipped over spring cleaning this year because I had an insane round of allergies and even prodding at the top archeological layers produced violent sneezing and migrane-like headaches.  (My excuse, sticking to it, don't tell me about your awesome nasal spray, don't wanna hear it.) 


I suppose rather than 'cleaning' per se, what I should address is packrattery.  We have it.  Maybe I'll deal with that later.  Right now I'm too depressed to think about it.  And if you're waiting for photos, get over it!  You think I want to DOCUMENT this?  Are you INSANE? 

(The preacher visits occasionally.  I'm pretty sure when he says, "Holy Crap!" it's meant as a blessing.)

Small Creatures...

!

Oh look...it's a nest of...them.  Whatever it is they are.  There they is. They take on quite a dynamic when they herd together.

Sleep Like a Baby

Do we ever again at any time in our lives, sleep like this?


This is all for today.

Ponder.

And admire.

:-)

Flora in the Coziverse, Part II

 Flora was just blown away by the awesome size of these peapods she discovered. She shinnied right up the tree (shades of Jack and the Beanstalk) so she could check them out better.

Flora never takes that sweater off, BTW. I think there are treasures of great merit in the pockets. Her best crochet hooks among other potential plunder.

She also was impressed with the mums.  They're not really very big this year, but the color is very intense.  Flora shared some of her organic gardening secrets with me, but you already know I'm not going to follow them.

When she started talking about manure, I just tuned her out.  You know it's not like she's going to volunteer to shovel it.

 

Let Flora's Wild Adventure Begin

Time: 12:02
Things are happening.

We observe the postal carrier trying to cram something into the mail box. Finally it succumbs and goes into the box. The postal carrier speeds away in a cloud of dust.  (She drove off in a sensible and appropriate way, but I ask you, what kind of story does that make?  Plus, there was no dust.)

Carefully Mr. Cozy proceeds down the road to see what the postal gal was wraslin' with.

"Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe," hollers Mr. Cozy. "For you."


Time: 12: 07

Flora gets acquainted.

And so it is that Flora has arrived, savely ensconced in her own personal LearJet. Okay, so it's a Priority mailer, but  Flora thinks she's traveling first class and I suggest we continue to allow her to think this.  She debarked down the skybridge...

... and into the Coziverse. 

Glad to be 'off the plane' and out in the fresh, clean air, she looked around.  Oooh!   Huge day lilies, her favorite!  She was very impressed with their  lovely color and size.
She seemed to be extremely interested in...well...the flora.  Hummmmm.....

But she also wanted to get acquainted with us, and of course, she wanted to meet the little creatures and Bunny.  She especially wanted to meet Meela, but she was nowhere to be seen.  Neither was Bunny.  This bodes ill.  Flora wanted to take a look at Bunny's hideout, just in case she, being sharp of eye, might spot him.

There was no sign of him.  Neither hide nor hare.

Flora took note of a kind of promising looking hole waaaay down there under the log that's under the mint that's attempting to take over the wood pile..

When Mr. Cozy pointed out that small holes in darkish spots could be full of toads or snakes, Flora decided she needed to go inside and freshen up. 

So she did.

Then she revealed that she had a treat for the small creatures.  Almost immediately, a small herd of them drifted over the horizon and carefully approached Flora. 

Quickly they decided she was a friend.  They gathered close, and  from her lovely blue bag, she brought forth heart-healthy snacks for one and all.  Flora's new pals, from the top left, are Derek (the larger one), and his son, Derek Junior, known as Bubba,   Harris, Nillo (the spotted one) and at the far right, Candace.

And this concludes the first chapter in the saga of Flora.  For those of you who have no idea what's going on, Flora is on a six month trek.  Her goal is to visit many locales, in a Flat Stanley Goes Grownup sort of adventure.

Bunny sighting...

 Bunny has been spotted lurking around here and there in remote locations.

Is he waiting for his moustache to grow back?

Gershwin is still keeping a low profile, so I have a pretty good idea as to - well, not WHAT happened, exactly, but certainly who the agent of change was.

Bunny's been sticking to the really wild bits of the garden, where I think he feels as if he's blending into the woodwork.                                  

But hey...what IS that thing over his nose.  Aw, Bunny, it looks suspiciously like a fake moustash made out of a twig.  (It's in the wrong place, Sweetie.  Somebody should tell you.)

And Meela says not a word.  She's laying out catching a few rays.  The deal is, Meela doesn't exactly have skin.  You know, not really.  Not in the strictest sense.  So none of the usual concerns seem to bother her in the slightest.  She just likes being warm, and now that she's decided to just come to grips with her jiggly bits (Thanks, Niecy Nash!) she doesn't care who sees her plump little derriere. So there you are, Bunny.  You were rude and mean, and Meela and Gershwin have moved beyond it, and are living well...and you...  Well, you seem to be spending all your time hiding out in the wood pile or under the overgrown mint, hiding your little bald bunny face. 

 

1

In Which Meela Shops for Spanx

This will be a brief post.  And no photos.  Meela was absolutely mortified to see the photos of her posterior.  She had no idea at all.

She's hidden herself away until the Spanx she ordered on line arrive. 

Bunny has been making annoying little remarks in a rather loud voice, and Gershwin is threatening to duke it out with him.  The next time Bunny makes some vaguely off-color comment that could be construed as pertaining to Meela's tush, he had better start watching his back.

Not a clue how this will play out between them,  but Gershwin is NOT happy with Bunny.  You know, if Bunny woke up tomorrow with a tat that said something like "Big, hairy loser"  I wouldn't say a word to Gershwin.

I'd say somebunny had it coming.

(Line for Maalox forms to the right.  No pushing, please.)

In which Bunny talks Meela into getting inked

 Bunny and Phil went off this morning, early, and were gone most of the day.

Now we know what they were up to. They met up with Phil's cousin Gershwin and his girlfriend, Meela.

They went off where ever small creatures go, and hung out for a while, and then Bunny talked Meela into getting a tat on her...well, Meela says it's her shoulder, and we have to assume she'd know, but it looks suspiciously like she's gotten that dragonfly inked on her nether section. She's wearing a stretch outfit, and it just is not keeping all of her secrets.

Whatever part of Meela it may be on, Gershwin likes her tat. A lot. He's thinking about getting one, too.  Something manly:  maybe a Kanji that says, "Warrior," although since Gershwin doesn't speak Japanese, he's really taking a risk. He hasn't done it yet, but he's thinking about it.

You know that when the actual needles came out, Bunny was no where to be found.

Go away a few hours....

...and when you come home, you find....these.

They are so freakin' cute, but I have no idea what they are...or how they got in.

In the morning, I'm hunting Bunny down. I'm sure he's involved in some way.

Right now, I just can't deal with it. I went to the dentist expecting that I'd be getting my implant installed. Which I did. Except I thought it was going to be the TOOTH. *sigh* No. A lovely space age titanium thing-doolie is now implanted into the bone, way the heck up inside the gums somehwere, and there is no tooth. For 90 days. There has been no tooth since before Thanksgiving. (We had turkey roast. I could gum that. And mashed potatoes.)

And I came in, tired, sore and still minus a tooth, and here were these little dudes. Awwwww.

So here's what I know about them so far:

1. They are excellent to hold when you need to feel better.

2. They are soothingly quiet.

3. They have wonderful spots. All over.

4. They don't stand up.

6. They seem to be vegetarians.

Oh, Bunny...

Oh, Bunny. What have you done? And who is going to clean that up?

In Which Phil Takes up a Hobby

Admittedly it's not much of a hobby. But it's a big deal for Phil.
He realized he wasn't going to be able to knit, and was very depressed for several days, but now he's discovered something he can do.

It could be worse. He could be into Pong.

It's Phil!

Meet Phil! He's cute, he's single and he likes my knitting.
I'm not sure what he is.  there was some felt laying around...and then there was Phil.

To Boldly Go Where None of His Kind Have Ever Been

In which  Guy has an epiphany and becomes a bold climber of trees and haver of adventures...

It started on an ordinary day...Guy woke up as usual , waddled over to the computer and checked his messages. As always, there were a few. He was invited to shop for inexpensive perscription drugs, but this didn't interest him. A friend had sent him a warning about toxins in shampoos. Guy wondered why his friend had done this. Clearly his friend lacked a good picture of Guy's needs. This same friend had given him a hairbrush for his birthday. Guy had begun to wonder if indeed this WAS a friend.

He sighed.

And then, it came to him. A vison. All at once, and crystal clear, as these things so often appear. He knew that if he wanted to have friends who really knew and apprieciated him, he would have to waddle off the computer and get out there and Do Things.

And so he climbed a tree. He felt rejuvenated and restored. The air was clear, the sun was warm upon his felty little body, and his beak tingled with joy.

Cowl Love

How many reasons are there to love a cowl?  Let me count the ways.

We won't mention I'm also somewhat plagerizing a classic poem.  

(Hey!  You in the back.  Yes, you.  I said we would not be mentioning that.  Sheesh.  Sit down now.  Thank you. )

Now, where was I.  Right.  Deep into cowl love.  

And to think, until recently, I'd never made one.  Scarves yes.  Knitted ones, and crocheted, and even some sewed from polar fleece.  But.  No cowls.  No idea why not, as I'm constantly knitting socks.  Basically, a cowl is just a big neck sock.  

(What?  You again.  No, cowls don't have toes.  You're very clever to notice that.  Say what?  Because necks don't have toes, either.  Well aren't you observant.  Sit down now.  Thank you.)

Big neck socks - yes.  On larger needles, more stitches, but in the round.  Just like the cuff of a sock.  So fun, so easy, so...well...socklike.  And I love socks.  I'd been a  cliff dweller from an ancient culture, it would have had to be a culture that did socks.  Because I love them that much.  And cowls are so very, very similar to the part of socks that I like the best - the cuff and leg. The fun part, where you can really enjoy the pattern, before the techy stuff starts happening for the heel turn.  Not that I am against heel turns.  It's just kind of a bump in the flow.  Cuffing along so smoothly, and then, gotta shift to another mode.  Sometimes my brain makes the transition, sometimes, not.  Either way, there's none of that with cowls, because indeed, my helpful friend, necks don't have heels. 

Annnnnnnnnd,the very best part?  You only have to make one of them.

Sure, if you love the pattern, you can make several.  Share 'em with friends, spread the love.  But.  You don't need to, because, yes, my persistant pal, as a rule, we humans do have only the one neck.  Yes, your doggie, also.  Kitties, too.  Sit down now please.

And cowls are delightfully cuddly.  Snug or in a looser fit, they are warm and comfy.  I love cowls.

Guy

Ah, so sad...he's all alone, and yet his heart is full of love. Well, it's full of something...a very nice grade of fiberfill, I think, but quit quibbling and let's get back to the storyline.

Here he is, Guy, gazing wistfully into the Green Tree and thinking...thinking about love, probably, cuz even though both of his eyes are on the same side, his heart is clearly in the right place.

(I have no idea.  There was felt...there was stuffing...then there was...it.)