Two ways w/ Pashmina Cowl

The worst feeling ever is when I'm suddenly struck with creative inspiration (read: actual desire to work on a project rather than guilt or pending birthdays) to start a new project and find that the pattern I've carefully chosen after twelve hours of hemming and hawing at my craft bookshelf has no matching yarn in my stash.

How is this even possible? I have two buckets full of nice yarn (and one bucket of acrylic yarn that feels like prickly doody). How can there be NOTHING AT ALL in there that will work? Plus, what is all this pink wool and how high was I when I bought it? It defies logic.

So disenchanting, this feeling. Like when you (I) get all excited thinking tonight is pizza night and "woo I don't have to cook" and then you (I) realize that it's actually Thursday, or worse Tuesday, and pizza night is day(s) away and crap I have to figure out what the hell to make for dinner and WHOOPS I haven't gone grocery shopping in half a year so we have no food.

Like letting all the air out of my inner balloon, that's what this feels like.

Last week I got to the crescendo of this feeling. I stood with my Last Minute Knitted Gifts in one hand, turned to the fabulous Pashmina Cowl on page 95, and the other hand rifling angrily through my, assumed, thorough stash hunting for something, anything that I could use to make another cowl for my chilly cold neck.

I came up empty. Nothing, NOTHING I had in my stash, save for the remnant yarn from the last Pashmina Cowl I made, was the right gauge. WTF? I thought I bought this crap in bulk! Where did all my pashmina yarn go? Apparently I made things from it and either A. gave them away like a fool or B. haven't unearthed them from the winter clothes pile yet.

Ugh, whatever.

At this point I faced, for the one kazillionth time, the painful question of how does one figure out how to make something from a different yarn than is suggested in the actual pattern.

Because of the obvious math involved, you can see why, until now (yes, there's a solution in this post somewhere I promise) I just tossed the evil unmatching yarns back in their buckets and huffed off to the shop to find the oh so special perfect exact stupid yarn that the pattern called for just so that I didn't end up with some useless wrong sized cowl or whatever from having used the yarn I really wanted even though the pattern called for something else altogether.

It's been a problem for a while.

But then I gave up. Literally threw hands into air (which scared dog and cat - they are so skittish around me when I start yelling and throwing things, why?) and said, "Fuck it. I give up. I'll do math."

For those of you who aren't familiar with my particular brand of complete and total math hatred, this is a big BIG concession for me to make. Be impressed, ok.

But even in my math compromising, I still searched high and low for the solution that would limit my Time With Math to the teensiest amount possible. Like, literally almost no math at all. But I definitely used a calculator because that is the kind of retard that I am. So there.

The Almost No Math Solution:

First I found my pattern, which was easy because I was already holding it and sweating with rage onto the pattern on page 95.

Then I told the nice gauge converting instructions, out loud, that I would not be knitting any stupid swatch and would just use the gauge that the yarn tag said because, hello, they know these things.

Then I located the stitch gauge on the pattern (ex: 26 stitches/4").

Then I located the stitch gauge on the yarn (ex: 15 stitches/4").

Then I divided (with the calculator, not my pee brain) the yarn stitch gauge by the pattern stitch gauge (15/26) to get .57.

A decimal?? WTF?? *Deep breath*

Then I found the number of cast-on stitches the pattern calls for (130).

Then I multiplied the cast-on stitches number (130) by my new stitch gauge number (.57 - which I won't give a fancy name because that just confuses things).

This gave me the number of stitches (75) to cast on with my doesn't-match-the-pattern yarn so that I'd still be able to use the pattern but not be confined to the painfully rigid world of whateverthefuck yarn they called for that I didn't have.

Then I cast on, knitted feverishly with this fabulous Beetlejuicey yarn (Adrienne Vittadini Nadia 800) that my sister gave me for my birthday, while listening to/vaguely watching Serendipity (John Cusak, wuv you) on TBS for a few hours until I had, in my very hands, an FO.

Holy friggen crap, man. I CAN actually knit. Well, I'll be.


And, hey, the conversion thingee totally worked because this cowl looks like a cowl and not at all like a mangled piece of shit. Huh. Maybe math is not evil after all? No, that can't be it. I must be a genius! Yes. Much more like it.

I was even more stunned when I found (much digging involved here) my original Pashmina Cowl and laid it side by side with my new Pashmina Cowl and they were, shocker of all shockers, the same diameter and everything. But made from different yarns - one skinny and sleek, one bulky and wonky. Will miracles never cease?


Seriously, my mind boggled.

Anyway, it all worked. And my hope for the ever growing stash is momentarily renewed. Maybe I *can* do something with all that nice yarn. Maybe I *won't* have to light it all on fire during a spastic rampage when I can't find any good patterns for it.

What if?

That is too big a question for today's minds, I'm sure. But the good news (for me, you, whomever) is that patterns can be knit from random yarn as long as you can do the following equation with or without (WITH) a calculator:

Stitch gauge of your random ass yarn / Stitch gauge of pattern's yarn
X
# of suggested cast-on stitches
=
# of stitches to cast on with your random ass yarn

Don't tell me your mind isn't boggling, too.

I will quickly say, because I know some super annoying know-it-all smartie pants is about to comment on this, that this kind of calculation is only going to take you so far. It was all I needed for this simple pattern since it's just your standard tube. Basically, just cast on and go until it's as long as you want it to be (I clearly thought it should be longer than my last one). But, if your pattern is really complicated with lots of increases and decreases and jacked up cabling and what not, you're going to need to do some pretty fancy math footwork on which I am not qualified to advise.

However, if you like to knit tubes and straight flat things, as it appears I almost exclusively do, this conversion will work pretty friggen well and then you can get through your stash without tears, lots of new swears and scared pets.

I'm imagining lots of leg warmers, cowls, scarves, fingerless gloves and hats. Because they are all easy tube-like things that take well to my who gives a crap freestyle knitting style.

And thank you to the nice people at Pine Ridge Knit & Sew for this almost math-free solution for adjusting yarn gauges. Wuv you!

When the wool dries (yeeeeeeeeew! wet wool) I will perhaps model this fabulous cowl for you all so that you might also be inclined to join my world of All Tube Knitting.

The End

[UPDATE]
Here I am modeling the blocked and dried cowl. It is warm. It is fuzzy. I had to take it off quickly because, *sigh*, the weather has warmed up again even though it rained all the live long day last Saturday and pretended to be Fall/Winter for almost 48 hours.

Lying seasons.

I am so a Frontierswoman.

I went pretty far off my nut on Sunday.

This happened as I stood in my yard under the meek shade of my sombrero (dudes, I do not mess around with sunshine on my nude skin regardless of my thick sunscreen sheen) and stared at the still more-red-than-green tomato shrubs.

How, I pondered, was it possible to give away over 8 lbs of big perfect tomatoes on Friday and 10 lbs of tomatoes on Saturday and YET STILL have over 10 lbs of ripe-n-ready tomatoes hanging right there from the plant for all to see on Sunday?

HOW I ASK?

Well, avoiding all computation (no math no math no math), the answer came simply: The plants are ALSO off their nut (convenient). They are also happy, healthy and producing at a rate one must not underestimate or believe can be managed through simple redistribution alone.

No, one must make compromises and exceptions in proportion to the tremendous bounty.

Basically, it was time for the big guns. And time to pay for the ease with which I came to know the fear and sleepless nights that come with having two (TWO ONLY) tomato plants producing like twenty.

I had to can.

And it was, oh, like 95 degrees out. AND we have no A/C. AND Bubba was trying to work in the office which shares a (hot) wall with our kitchen. AND it was hot. Well, that was my main issue. The hotness.

It was Hotness vs. Tomato Waste and in that particular situation, I can stand the heat, be in the kitchen and still stave off insanity. If only for one sweaty afternoon.

And it was sweaty alright.

Stupid canning always happens right when it's the hottest. Not when it's chilly and I'm wearing my librarian sweater (which I promise to feature in a future post on Ugly Things I Own) over all my clothes and socks with my slippers and my nose is still red and icy.

NO.

Canning only happens when I'm wearing the least I can get away with without incurring a neighborly call to the bobbies and yet it's still somehow so hot that I'm rocking impressive boob sweat and my hair is tied up in an unflattering ponytail/bun thing under my orange doorag.

I know you're thinking, the weather isn't the only thing that's hot. Yes, I am very hot indeed in these warm weather getups.

This past Sunday, my hot getup and I went out to the garden and picked 12.5 lbs of tomatoes.

In the blazing mid-day heat of late summer.


Then, back in the kitchen, I fired up the giant canning pot to boil and proceeded to sweat until the tank top boob sweat became tank top torso sweat and then just Sweaty Tank Top.

Don't worry though, the canning process was very sanitary.

After boiling/peeling/halving 12.5 lbs of tomatoes, boiling/sanitizing 12 pint jars/lids/rings, packing 10 pints jars with the tomatoes (shocker, I ran out of tomatoes) and then two rounds of 50 minute sessions in the canning pot, I am sure I had dropped at least two pounds of water weight.




Not bad.

Best thing ever was that they all sealed properly and I didn't have to then scurry to eat two jars of piping hot not-quite-canned tomatoes because the lids didn't seal and what if they go bad and I have to deal with the sadness of Tomato Waste.


So, I had 10 lovely jars of my tomatoes to stow in my cabinet for a wintry day when I'm wearing my librarian sweater over all my clothes and thinking, "Hey, you know what would be gooooooood after the football game (because in winter I am almost always watching football and thinking about what is for dinner)? Lasagna with homemade sauce or Creamy tomato and basil soup or meatballs with homemade sauce or stuffed peppers with homemade sauce or a big spoon with homemade sauce.

It will justify all the sweating I have just done. The making of wintertime sauce from summertime tomatoes. MY tomatoes.

I will be a satisfied, if slightly chilly, football fan on the verge of a great sauce. I will also have satisfied my inner Frontierswoman by going full circle on the plant seeds/grow crops/harvest crops/can crops/use canned crops in winter when we're all hunkered down for winter due to the terrible storms outside even though I live in Northern CA where it hardly gets below 40 degrees.

We'll save my fascination with being a frontierswoman for another day. But I bet they all wear big librarian sweaters and get boob sweat in summertime while they can tomatoes from their big frontier gardens.

That is the dream.

I guess it really was a good hat day even though it involved math.

Dear Donk,

I will say this, after I triumphantly decided that TEE DAH our first sewing project was going to be the Good Hat Day hat by Rebecca Malmström , I immediately regretted it.

Because I suddenly remembered that I'm lazy and this project had some seemingly complicated elements like heavyweight fusible interfacing and cutting of circles (fuck, math), two things that can confuse the simple-minded like myself.

But, not being one comfortable with flaking on my promises (or seeming like a big fat wuss), I forged ahead.

I did go to the One Yard Wonders Flickr pool seeking reinforcement from other crafters since SURELY someone had made this hat already and I'd be able to see just how great theirs came out so what was I so worried about, but, frighteningly, there was none to be had. No one had made this hat yet.

LAME.

Sure, there were a million of those keyhole creatures and, LOVE YOU some people had already made my Not Ugly Car Trash bag, but no hats yet. Boo.

I was forced to go forward with no references other than the pattern and the book and, you know, lots of finger crossing and good trusty swears and by some miracle there were precious few fuck-ups that resulted in seam-ripping.

It was a miracle and I am grateful for these miracles (and my momentary ability to do math) and so I will share some things with you that I discovered while watching the Patriots lose in a most hideous game where they forgot to play football and instead fell down a lot.

Not that I'm a Patriots fan or anything, I mean, obviously, but I expected some good football out of Hotness Brady and, sadly, there was none to be seen.

Moving on to helpful tips you can use while making your Good Hat Day hat if you're making it to showcase the reverse side of the fabric, which I was. Because I think it's cuter. But if you think it's cuter to do it the other way then, whatever. You can ignore me. Also, you should know to just take my tips as you would tips from any low-grade lunatic and not equate them with The All-Knowing Truth or anything because, hello, I'm just one person and could be wrong. So, like, proceed at your own risk or whatever.

1. Sewing the band seams.
Where it says, in what I believe is Step 1, to fold your hat bands in half WRONG SIDES together and sew the short ends together, instead, fold your hat bands in half RIGHT SIDES TOGETHER and sew the short ends together. Kay?

Otherwise you'll end up with the wrong side of the seam showing on the right side (outside) of your hat. Which you don't want. That's a little *too much* wrong side on the outside for me even though you know how I love me some wrong.

Anyway, it's not the kind of wrong that I had in mind, so I had to do some mid-stream ripping and re-sewing of seams. No hard feelings, though, it took my mind away from the bloodbath on the TV (see: Patriots shit the bed, paragraph 7).

2. Measuring the circles for the top.
To measure the circles for the top part of the hat, I used this math and this method for cutting.

Math:

First, get the Diameter of your circle. Which is the Circumference you already measured (that's the inches around your noggin + 1/2") divided by 2. In my case it was 22/2 = 11.

Then, get the radius for your circle. 
For those of you who are math retards (like moi) or have been out of junior high math for a while (also like moi), the formula for that is: R = D/2 (D = Diameter, R = Radius) or 11/2=5.5. Then she says to add an inch or something, so do that and you're radius is 6.5.

Cutting:

Then cut a piece of string about an inch or so longer than your radius, so, let's say 7.5", and tie a knot in one end of the string. Pin that string (through the knot) down to your fabric, holding a fabric marker or chalk at the other end of the string, and draw a circle holding the string taught.

Like so:

Then double your fabric over, pin it together in the center, and cut yourself out two circles of the same size. Dandy.

3. Sewing your lid on so seams face in.
When you go to pin these top of the hat circles to your topless hat, pin the circles right sides together, and then pin them to the right side of the exterior band (that's wrong sides of the top circles TO right sides of the exterior band) so that when you turn it right side out, the raw seams will be on the inside.

4. Fuck the slipstitching of the interior band.
Y'all know I hate to handsew things and that hatred has done nothing but grow and intensify with time. I do not enjoy it, is what I'm saying. And, thankfully, I already had a similar hat on hand (made by the geniuses at Fossil) to which I could refer when debating whether it was necessary to handsew in the interior band of this hat.

My example hat, which I love very much, simply had the interior band folded upward and left unattached, a feature I'd never fully appreciated but suddenly came to love very much because it meant that TA DAH I was done.

And, you know, I left it that way and tried it on and totally dug it. So, there you have it, I don't think it's necessary. And it still looks finished inside and causes no issues from what I can tell, so you can decide whether you're willing to waste those extra minutes of your life and soul handstitching this interior band into place.

Your call.

OK, so that's all I know about the hat. I sewed it and it didn't take all day and it was pretty fun to make and I made it using all stashed items, so the whole de-stashing theme is safe with me so far. Even the heavyweight fusible interfacing was found lurking at the bottom of one of my fabric bins and the fabric I'd been coveting since Philigry so kindly swapped it to me was just waiting to become this hat so I had to make a big ZERO trips to the fabric store for this project which is YAY.

So, go on people, make yourselves a hot new hat and don't be all skerred of the math because, lord knows, if me, The Math Retard, can do it - y'all can, too.

xo
Finny

We canceled TV and now I like TV again.

Am I the only one that looks at the monthly cable/satellite/TV bill and immediately bends over to assume the apparently accepted position?

Well, I'm here to tell you that I will bend over NO MORE.

For that - for TV. Not that I'm bending over for other things, but let's try to keep it somewhat clean around here, you big pervs.

As of last Friday, we don't have our massive, all-inclusive, gets all the channels even the movie ones, satellite TV service anymore and, suddenly, I like TV again and it's not just because I'm not paying upwards of $170 a month on the shit.

Yeah. $170 a month. That's ABSURD. I don't spend that much money on effing groceries, people. Like, I have been spending more money putting commercials into my eyeballs than food into my body.

That's just not right. I mean, yes, our grocery bill is sort of absurdly low because so much of it comes from the garden, our neighbors' chickens and fruit trees and the farm/beef/chicken/pork shares BUT STILL - the math could not be done to make the TV bill work and you know I don't do math if I can help it anyway, so that was the final nail in the coffin.

I was forced to do math to justify this rapist TV bill and that alone meant that No More TV.

No more TV of the old-fashioned kind anyway - we still have the Roku and such to stream Netflix and Amazon Instant and all of the other online-y media that we can't live without and that's probably why I like TV again. Suddenly.

One week after canceling traditional TV and I'm all, "Hey! There's so much good shit on TV!" since suddenly I'm not spending all this time scrolling through hundreds of useless channels filled with nothing good or maybe, if I'm lucky, something marginally watchable but usually packed with commercials or with half the screen covered by the in-program network ads whoring their other stupid unwatchable shows and YOU KNOW they're bleeping out all the good parts.

I want the swears, people! And for $170 a month - I want them ALL.

So, now I'm not watching commercials (or even half watching them as I fast forward through them). I'm not watching stupid crap that I barely like just because it's on when I feel like sitting down in front of the tube. I'm not sending good money after bad service and I'm not giving up all kinds of space to the big stupid satellite boxes and remotes and wires and such. I'm also NOT having to fill in all the bleeps with what I assume they're ever so hilariously saying behind the carefully placed bleeps.

No. Just no more of that, thank you.

But I am now faced with a new issue that perhaps some of you can relate to - I'm, at the same time, drawn to and repelled by The Walking Dead and I can't cope effectively without the intrusive commercial breaks.

Since we've been watching it on Netflix like the greedy streamers that we are, I watch this show without any commercial breaks and the fucking show gives me a heart condition. I've had to resort to just getting up and going to the bar to freshen up my drying ice cubes and other such methods of self-imposed commercial breaks because I can't handle how anxious I get with the lurky zombies and the face eating and the Who Is Going To Do What Fucked Up Thing For No Apparent Reasoning that is just all over that show.

Are you like this, too? Does this show make you mental? Do you find yourself waking up every 20 minutes throughout the night having dreamed about zombie cashiers at the grocery store? Have you started noticing crossbows for sale around town? Do you carry a shovel to bed?

Regardless, I'm loving the no-normal TV life we're now leading where, when I decide I'm going to sit in front of the TV for a bit, I can be all, "Hmmm...I feel like watching something that will scare the ever loving crap out of me and then I'm going to watch Drawn Together because I just remembered how awesome that show was and then I'm going to watch a documentary about Alaska because I've always wanted to go there and then I'll do something productive."

BUT ONLY THEN.

Part 3 in Soil Testing: Being done. It's the best part.

(Part 1)
(Part 2)

So, when we last left this wildly exciting series, the tests were finished and the numbers jotted down in my handy, if not nearly destroyed, little yard notebook (and online spreadsheet - DON'T FORGET THE ONLINE SPREADSHEET!)(I love it.)(In case you can't tell.)

Which is all fine and good, but, like - now what?

Well, now we amend. This is when we take that valuable knowledge of what organic nutrients we can add back into the soil to make it healthy and viable so that it will produce food that won't give us a tail. Because using chemicals derived from pee just can't be good for you - right? I mean, it just seems wrong. But I'll admit to not having done a super thorough investigation on the matter. To me, the fact that Miracle-Gro includes Urea as one of its main ingredients is enough for me. Then there was that whole 1 of 3 ingredients in the lethal injection cocktail thing...

Anyway - we won't be using anything as scary and wrong as all that. No, but we will be using things that seem nearly as creepy, so, like prepare yourselves to be a bit freaked out if you haven't, say, bought a bag of blood before.

Unique and interesting experiences! That's what I bring to you on this blog! Hooray! Perhaps I should bring you some experiences that aren't also disgusting and freakish?

We'll see.

For now, we're going to finish up this boring and tedious series with disgusting yet unique experiences with soil amendments like bone meal, dried blood and the less terrifying wood ash.

If you start to get all weirded out, just remember, there's wood ash waiting for you at the end and it's not scary at all. Though it is WICKED messy, so, like, don't wear your wedding dress for this or anything. I guess I should have warned you at the beginning. Sorry. Didn't realize so many of you worked in the yard in your bridal attire.

You guys are strange.

Anyway. Let's get started on being done.

1. Gather your things

Notebook with the test results, the pH preference list and amendment list included with your test kit, a measuring cup with ounce measurements and your amendments as follows:

Organic Dried blood
Organic Bone Meal
Wood Ash and/or E.B. Stone Sure Start mix

2. Ask the plants what they want, pH-wise

Refer back to the bottom sheet of your notebook, or the section in your spreadsheet where you determined what you'd be planting in which bed, and figure out what kind of pH those plants like.

For the record, I've never actually had to make any pH adjustments thanks to the very flexible nature of most vegetables' pH requirements.

But, to be sure, I do check the pH preference list that comes in the test kit and then note that pH preference above the beds' sketch so that I can check it against the test results. I mean, otherwise, why the hell am I doing the pH test? Right - no reason. So just try doing it. I bet barely any of you die from the extra effort.

In the case of Bed #1 up there, the pH preference was 6-7, which was perfectly fine for the beans, cucumbers and lettuce that I plan to have living there. Yay.

Check this for each area and make a note like this even though you may really not want to. It's good for you. Builds character.

3. Find out who's needy

Looking at the test results you jotted down in either your notebook, spreadsheet or both (Oh! Both!), start with the first area (I like to start with Bed #1, but you may be all anarchical and want to start with Bed #3, you rebel) you'll be amending and determining what nutrients will need to be added to bring all nutrients up to "Sufficient".

Let's use Bed #1 from my notebook as an example.

I just looked down the list and crossed out any nutrients that didn't require amendments - so any nutrient with a test result 3 or above or a pH above that of the bed's specific needs.

So, like, you can see that P (phosphorus) was off the chart and pH was fine, so those both got the beloved dash.

N (nitrogen) was in dire need of replacement (thanks, corn of 2009) and K (potassium/potash) was slightly low, so I pulled out my handy test kit chart to do the math.

4. Do the math. Barf.

There are a few things to note, here, before you start The Math.

Firstly, the recommendations on the chart are based on ounces you need to add per 100 square feet of soil. 

And I don't know how big y'all's gardens are, but all four of my beds don't add up to 100 square feet (96 sq feet to be exact, but you don't really care. Jerks.), so I take the recommendations and reduce them by 1/4, because each of my beds are 24 sq feet (3'x8'), which is so close to being 25 square feet, and therefore PERFECTLY 1/4 of 100, that I can barely stand it and feel like it's OK to fudge a bit.

I also realize that my math is no good, so it's likely I'm making math errors elsewhere, so what's this one little transgression going to matter in the grand scheme of me sucking at math, anyway? Not much, is how I figure it. Just go with me on this.

So - my recommendation here is to figure out how big your space is in square feet (3'x8'), divide 100 square feet by that number (24) and come up with your fraction (1/4) or multiplier depending on whether your space is smaller or larger than 100.

And if your garden is larger than 100 square feet, you are my hero and I'm jealous of your ass but also grateful I don't have to work all that land because I'm sweating just thinking about it. Yikes. I hope you don't have to hill potatoes.

Then, refer way back to the nutrient you're trying to amend (N - nitrogen), find the "Vegetables (leafy)" row  (since that bed will have leafy vegetables in it), scroll over to the (1) Deficient column under N (nitrogen), divide the 14 oz/sq foot reco by 4 and come up with the amendment recommendation of 3.5 oz.

I added 3.5 oz of nitrogen amendment (dried blood) to this bed.

Write that down in the notebook.

Wipe your brow - that was a lot of math. Your brain may hurt, but this is normal. Keep going.

5. Do the math some more. 

Now, like any good and annoying knitting pattern or automobile repair manual, repeat that process until you've calculated and noted all nutrient amendment numbers for all beds.

Know in your heart of hearts that this is the hardest part and soon you'll be finished and able to freely drink an entire bottle of gin while standing over your garden with grand superiority.

Or something a little less ridiculous and indulgent.

6. Add the amendments and be done already

Like I've said before, I amend with these things.

N (nitrogen) - Organic Dried blood
P (phosporus) - Organic Bone Meal
K (potassium/potash) - Wood ash and/or  E.B. Stone Sure Start mix

You may use other things, you may ignore my example altogether - that's up to you. And, for the record, I'm able to find these things at my neighborhood nursery, so hopefully you won't have too much trouble either. And if you do, well, I'm sorry. Perhaps you live in a unique part of the world where you can actually locally source feather meal, I don't know.

However, once I have my numbers and my amendments all sitting together cozy-like on the bench between the beds, I know I'm almost done with The Science and I become very, very happy. And relieved. And like starting cocktail hour early.

All that's left to do at this point is measure out the doses into your yard-approved measuring cup (I've relegated this one to Yard Only so that I don't have the creep-factor of later scrambling eggs in it knowing that EW dried blood was, like, *just* in there. Can you imagine? Ew.), sprinkle that over the soil, and rake it in.

And then, if you're so inclined, scoop up a trowel-full and admire how dark and luscious it is and how OH BOY HOWDY your tomatoes are going to love living here.

I usually then take the opportunity to test out the irrigation system on each bed to make sure it's working and not, say, missing a sprinkler head which results in a fountain of water shooting up and over into my neighbor's yard, and that also lets the amendments sort of soak into the soil and mingle with what's already in existence.

I'm not sure if this is required or recommended or forbidden or what - but I always do it and I haven't seen any watering-related horrors as a result.

Go with what your heart tells you, I guess.

Again - follow this process of measuring, sprinkling, raking and (optional) watering for each bed.

7. Be done

I doubt I have to tell you how to be done with soil testing, since I'm sure you've been wishing that *I* was done talking about it three posts ago, but just to be consistent, here - once you've finished this process, you are - by my process anyway - ready to plant your seeds or seedlings.

Which leads us to Step 8. PLANT SOME SHIT ALREADY.

But I'll get into that another day.

For now - go amend your soil. Just go, already.

Big melons

Ok, I *must* do a minor garden update right this minute. Because if I wait much longer, the photos I've taken will be totally outdated. And I can't keep going out every friggen day to photograph the garden because it brings my crazy right out into the light for everyone to see, which is a practice I am trying to limit.

So, for the moment, running, crafting, bitching about everything under the sun - all on hold.

See, the vegetables, they've gone right off the rails. They get bigger when I blink and it makes me uncomfortable.

The pumpkins have, well, gone from pumpkin to pumpkinS. I planted one, count 'em ONE, pumpkin seed this year. In a tiny pot salvaged from my sister's wedding favors, which then sat ignored on the sideboard in my kitchen and barely got watered. Until one day when I tore my focus away from the Nutella long enough to catch a glimpse of some big leaves flopping around over there and realized that, shit, some of the seeds actually germinated.

Hey! Look at that! Plants that learn to tend to themselves. Perfect.

Out of the six seeds I planted in the tiny pots, all but one germinated (can't remember who was the loser, here) and I planted them all in the garden.

There, all but one (Big max pumpkin - rock on, Biggie!) was then mowed by bastard bugs. And now I see why. This pumpkin seed is not of this world. I am certain it was sent from another universe where plants survive on little other than neglect and open space.

Basically, the plant, which I didn't technically have room for, has taken over the bed it shares with the cantaloupe, strawberries, random garlic and chives. When I originally tottered out to the garden with this tiny being - only two leaves in all (albeit large ones) - I didn't really have a place to put it. So I just jammed it into the bed next to the future lush Asian pear site (read: current ugly dirt yard) thinking that I could "train" it to grow over there, where it wouldn't bother the other plants.

Nice thinking, retard.

There is no "training" a pumpkin plant. Especially not this one. Its still holding a grudge from the month or so I forced it to live a near solitary and water-free lifestyle on the kitchen sideboard. It's taken its latent frustration out on all the plants in the bed and is threatening to move to the neighbor's yard and tell them exactly what kind of gardening asshole I really am.

Here it is shoving the strawberries around:


Here it is entirely covering the cantaloupe plants and forcing the cosmos to stretch for daylight:

And here is a photo so impressively out of date that the pumpkin featured here has actually doubled in size and taken on a more authentic orange shade. Plus it has about five friends of varying size that all promise to be carnival sideshows.

We're going to have to move.

See, I did a little science experiment at the end of last season.

I was so destroyed over the utter failure of last year's vegetable crop that I gave up, bought a soil test kit, and sat out in the vegetable beds under the broiling hot sun to take soil readings and let my neighbors laugh at me. And then, as a shock to myself and others who know me well, I did NOT just forget the test kit and it's interesting findings in the potting bench drawer and leave this season's veg. crop "up to the gods" like I normally would. I actually (brace thyself) rustled up the necessary amendments, DID THE MATH (who is this madwoman?) and carefully amended the soil as instructed.

I don't even recognize me in this scenario.

Now I can say: "Laugh at this, neighbors with small melons!"

My plants are huge. There is no crispy crunchy death show happening this season. Oh no. This season is all about big ass plants with big ass fruits and, well, big melons.


At current count we have 6+ pumpkins on the vine (one of which going beyond volleyball size), 4+ cantaloupe, one million tomatoes, half a million lemon cucumbers, uncontrollable lettuce, some hidden basil, chives, beans and parsley and a batch of nasturtium making good on it's threat to "mound and takeover".

I'm not saying I'll take go back on my "I was told there would be no math" mantra, but I *may* reconsider my stance on science.

Lesson learned: Soil testing is not retarded. Also, companion gardening appears to work.

Hermits do it in the can

After every vacation, even the ones we go on where we hide out in a jungle and see barely more than a monkey or the inexplicable armadillo, we come home and immediately have a NO PEOPLE weekend.

See, y'all, despite childhood report cards indicating my extreme social behavior and Bubba's super friendly outwardly appearance, we are really just big hermits.

We like to be in our house (which also includes the backyard surrounded by an 8ft fence, thank you) with just each other and the creatures and no one telling us what to do or when are you having kids or hey can we borrow your welding equipment or whatever.

Frankly, going out to lunch (which we love to do even when we have food at home - don't tell my mom) becomes a flee-worthy event because of the stressful human interaction that happens when the dude asks us what we want to drink with our carne asada tacos.

STOP PRESSURING ME!

It's not an official thing, where we press our palms together in solidarity on Thursday night and declare Friday through Sunday a NO PEOPLE WEEKEND, but it might as well be for the amount of socializing we do.

Sometimes I get self-conscious about the fact that it seems like everyone else in the whole wide world wants nothing more than to spend every free waking moment surrounded by other people doing things outside their homes despite the amount of hassle, travel and logistics involved. And then these same people come racing in to work on Monday morning to share with me their breathless accounts of the three bridal showers, two weddings, seven cocktail hours, family bbq and neighborhood block party they enthusiastically attended in between which they shopped for their fall wardrobe and painted the house.

REALLY? And you didn't throw yourself from the roof and/or barricade yourself in the basement?

Me, I get anxious when my weekend is predicted to hold more than one social occasion. And for me, a social occasion is any event outside my home that involves a person other than Bubba and an unexpected return time.

I don't know when I became this way, but it would appear that I'm growing into something of a magnificent hermit and with my 3-0 birthday only a few short weeks away (vomit), I'm no longer going to be able to use my youth to disguise my true identity: Old Hermit Woman.

This is another reason why no more cats.

So whether this post is really about how Bubba and I are hermits or how I'm going to be old soon or why Rocket will likely be the last feline to grace our doorstep, I'm not sure, but what I am sure about is that this Old Hermit Gal will probably eat pretty well even if she decides she can no longer handle the intense questioning of the taco dude because being a hermit means there's lots of time to work in the garden and then can some vegetables.

Because there's nothing that says Young and Vibrant like canning vegetables.

For the record, no, I am NOT sure that I'm not really turning 80. Thank you for pointing that out.

So, during our unofficial but legitimate nonetheless NO PEOPLE weekend, I did some successful canning of two crops going slowly out of control in the garden: cucumbers and tomatoes.

For the purposes of this post, though, I'll just be covering the tomatoes because I have to have something good to report about the cucumbers in the Adopt a Crop post and I suspect people are bored of hearing about the status of my melons - as inexplicable as that may seem.

So the situation with the tomatoes is this, there aren't enough.

We have two very full and healthy and productive plants, which is the same amount we've had for years and by which we've been satisfied if not overwhelmed, and yet it would seem that we've found so many ways to use them that two plants are no longer enough.

We are tomato whores.

So, this weekend's activity was to pick and can as many tomatoes as possible so that when tomato season is over *tears* we will still have tomatoes for sauce and chili and sauce. And did I mention sauce? We make a lot of sauce. It's a food group over here.

And the anxiety about oh my god are we going to have enough tomatoes to can because they're so good we've been eating them at every meal and the need to harvest and can them For Winter when we are destitute of tomatoes had become very real and a little chest-pain inducing.

We are also a little dramatic.

Saturday morning my basket and I harvested these:


And then we, quick like a cat, raced into the house and peeled them which is much messier and time-intensive than this looks:


After which , I (the basket took a nap) ran the canner at a steady boil for the entire afternoon so that we could have four quarts of tomatoes at the ready For Winter as though we live in the Alaskan interior instead of northern California and are running any risk of food shortages.


At the end of the day I happily reported to Bubba, with no sarcasm in my voice mind you, that we had DON'T WORRY, at least four quarts of tomatoes to see us through until spring. Because you know that I will can more if this next crop really comes through (*hint hint* to the plants, I know they read this) and I'd really feel more comfortable if we had more like eight quarts of tomatoes rather than four. NOT TO BE GREEDY, but really now.

And to that Bubba said, "Wow! That's almost more than last year!" which is an excellent observation because it was exactly the same amount as last year because I learned an important lesson in my canning time since 2007 and that is to STUFF THOSE FUCKERS FULL rather than do it all dainty like and end up with tomatoes floating in juice when they could be tomatoes smushed up against other tomatoes in a lewd way.

To be specific, last year I canned 10 pints of tomatoes loosely and this year (so far - remember, HINT HINT TOMATO PLANTS) I canned 4 quarts TIGHTLY.

Which, if you can do Finny Math, means 10 pints = 5 quarts but if you really smushed the tomatoes in the quart jars (which I so totally did to avoid the floating) it's 4 quarts so TEE DAH - same amount.

And there's more on the vine.

WOO!

OK, I think it's obvious now why I'm destined to be The Old Hermit Woman.

It's 70 degrees, so obviously I'm knitting.

Yeah, in true Finny form, the weather is warming up and I'm choosing this time to begin a sweater for Bubba.

And you know I'm using wool since Bubba can actually wear wool and also because it's the most punishing fiber to handle when you're me and the temps get higher than 32 degrees.

I just hate wool and I realize that makes me an outcast in this world of knitters.

SORRY! I'm allergic! Or my skin is a big pansy, whatever. I don't know the technical reason why my skin freaks the hell out when it comes into contact with wool of any blend or saturation. I call it an allergy because that makes it seem more legit, but really it could just be that my skin is ultra-sensitive or an anti-woolite, I don't know.

Again, I can thank Philigry for this particular inspiration to knit man sweaters, since it was her Cobblestone that sent me to that place where all I could think about was knitting a sweater for Bubba that he could wear next winter for our ski trip.

And while I did present the Cobblestone as an option, Bubba chose the Seamless Hybrid from Knitting Without Tears because I think he wanted to test the legitimacy of the "without tears" claim or at least see if it could produce "Knitting Without Swears", which I think we all know is impossible.

For me.

FYI: This is not Bubba. This is Bubba.

Anyway, it was this rendition on Ravelry that had me thinking it might be a possibility for Bubba, since this guy has a similar build and maybe I was swayed by the color, I can't remember exactly. But Bubba liked it and so I ordered the book, a few sizes of Addi Turbos that I didn't already own and a truckload of Cascade Superwash in Como Blue so that I could exchange it upon receipt for a more normal color like Navy.

The Como Blue, I do not recommend it. It's a little too teal. And now that I look at this photo, it also strikes me as a little too teal. What is my problem? Anyway, we're knitting with Navy now and that's just fine by all of us.

And so far, very few swears! Granted, I'm only about 1/4 of the way up the torso of a patternless sweater knitted in the round, so there *shouldn't* be too much swearing going on, but I will say that given the work I've had to do to get to this point of mindless and enjoyable patternless knitting in the round, it *should* be nice and swear free.

I will have you know that, for once in my life, I actually knitted a gauge swatch.

(Hold for applause)

Then, THEN, I went on to measure, GASP IN HORROR AT THE WRONGNESS OF MY STITCH GAUGE, realize that I needed a smaller needle, realize that I didn't have that smaller needle in my possession, order the two next smaller sizes of needles from Jimmy's, WAIT a few days, receive the new needles, reknit the swatch and then GASP IN GLEE AT THE RIGHTNESS OF MY GAUGE on these smaller needles.

Oh yay and it's about fucking time, already.

So, I feel like I've earned my mindless and enjoyable patternless knitting in the round. Also because I had to do math before I could even cast on the first stitches because that is how this book works.

You may not know this about me (you know this) but I was told that there would be no math. Ever. But, alas, there it was. And it was asking me to do multiplying and measuring and there were words like "precise" and "exact" and "you'll fuck it up if you don't pay attention" and it was a little intimidating. Also, there wasn't actually any swearing, but that's how my mind translated "if you're off by even 1/3 of a stitch, your sweater will not fit properly".

I'm sure I'm not the only one who would take direction this way.

SO - I was vurrrrrrrrry careful to follow the directions exactly. Because we don't want another incident where I knit all gleeful and mindless for rounds and rounds and rounds only to realize that WTF?! this thing is so huge.

I can't have that in my life again. It was too sad.

I'm really hoping beyond hope that this sweater, when completed, will fit like a muthereffing dream and I won't have to put it in the To Be Frogged With Shame bin like the other one. For the record, I'm thinking that, once frogged, that beautiful silk yarn will become a long-sleeved version of this sweater that I already know fits like a normal sweater should. I think I can be trusted to knit a few sleeves and add a few inches to the bottom without fucking things up too badly.

It'll certainly be an improvement over the hot mess I've got on my hands now. Just taking up all kinds of space in the stash and everything. Ugh, it annoys me.

ANYWAY - this is about Bubba's sweater and how it's coming along nicely and I've followed the math instructions (triple checking, of course, since my math sucks bags) so it should do what the pattern says it will do, which is "fit perfectly" and "without tears".

Since I don't do a lot of crying, I feel like this is a pretty safe bet.

Perhaps I'll have to come up with a "Knitting Without Swears" book for those of us who scream profanities during times of stress rather than curl up in the fetal and cry into beers. We'll see.

Be sure to come back in a hundred years to check my progress on this sweater. Since you know it takes me forever to finish these things.

InStitches: August

Dear Donk,

I want to talk seriously about something here: Masking tape.

Masking tape and its unending usefulness in this month's project. When the pattern called for masking tape to mark out the quilting lines I shrugged my shoulders, gave the whale eye to the book and marched off to the garage thinking to myself, "Well, when it looks fucked up, I'll just say the book told me to do it."

I like to place blame elsewhere whenever possible.

When I sat down at the machine with the makings for two potholders (why can't I just make one? why make it hard?) and my roll of masking tape I did not have high hopes. But I also didn't have to spend one hundred years measuring and marking dumb lines on the fabric with my semi-broken marking pen, so I was willing to take a shortcut, if only because the book toldmeso.

Well, HELLO, it totally friggen works so much better! At first I was leery. Maybe the tape would fail me. Maybe it would somehow stop working and making straight guiding lines as I moved across the fabric. Maybe it would clog up my machine somehow (remember, vinyl? I'm still afraid). Maybe the adhesive would rub off on the fabric and then it would catch all manner of funk and become hideously ugly before I was even ready to put on the bias tape. Maybe the sky would fall.

And you know what? None of these horrible scenarios befell me or the potholders. The tape was a genius plan. GENIUS!

I made straight, evenly spaced quilting lines. Oh que milagro.


Do you know what is not genius? The marking and measuring and using of the half-broken fabric pen backintheday when we were making the Quilted Sleeping Mask. Do you know how much time this would have saved me?

So much time.

It was at this moment, when I realized how inefficient my first quilting project had been, that I got that icky creepy sneaky feeling that one gets as a child when one feels that they have been hoodwinked into doing something *fun* that turns out to be something *educational*.

You know.

Like playing a video game only to find out that, HEY! Why does the goose have to go from one room to the next making sure to get only the exact amount of eggs in her basket (My first computer was a Commodore 64, people, there weren't a lot of games)? This isn't right. They're making me do math here! Abort!

I was told there would be no math.

Anyway, that is the exact feeling that I got when I thought, "Hmmm...I wonder why we didn't use this method for the quilting mask. That would have made it wicked easy. I would not have hated that project oh so much. It would have been rad."

And then, "Damnit. I bet she was trying to make me learn. Damn."

So, whatever. I suppose I had to learn how to make dumb quilting lines the *proper* way, by using a big awkward quilting ruler on my too-small table with my broken (have I mentioned it's broken, because it is.) fabric pen leaving blobs of ink everywhere.

But now I know. And in the future I will be using only the Masking Tape Method for quilting. Because it's easy, I'm lazy and it involves ZERO math.

Ta da.

Also, let's talk big fancy winner of the month: Elemental Stitches


Because, come on, that is a fabulous fabric combination and an excellent execution. Plus, PLUS she had the balls to use contrasting thread to sew on the bias tape. Whoa - that is life on the edge, folks.

So, Ms Elemental Stitches, would you please send me your name and home address to finnyknits AT gmail DOT com so that I may send you your prize? Yes, thank you.

And, Donk, now that you're home from your travels, you can choose our September project. I plan to work on it while watching football because I will be watching football night and day thanks to the fact that we now have the Sports Package in HD and I can see every single NFL game (including stupid pre-season) AND every single MLB game.

Oh yes. It is ON.

Miss you,
Finn

The Finny Training Schedule - it's very technical.

So I have this 1/2 marathon coming up, which I obviously have to train for, but I can't choose a training schedule since all the ones I've come across are really high maintenance and require math.

And we know I'm not doing any math. Running is hard enough.

Active and Runnersworld and all those authoritative-type running sites keep saying words like "tempo" and "speedwork" and "HMP" and I've finally come to the conclusion that they're making it too hard. Or, I'm just not hardcore enough to appreciate the intricate benefits of "carbo-loading".

And also, I don't know how far 400 or 600 or 800 yards is when I'm out at 6am in my stretchy pants. If these schedules could be more specific by using landmarks - like, say, from my house to Starbucks - that'd be much more convenient.

Then there's the whole "hill workout" business, which I just don't get. Does anyone have a hill by their house that they know is exactly 600 yards long and is followed by a "flat and fast" 400 yard track? Because I sure don't. And I'm not going out to any of the hills in my area with one of those walking/rolling/chalking mechanisms to pace one out either. Just forget it.

I just have to be realistic about this training thing. I know that even when the training schedule says,

" 20-minute jog. 8 x 400 (at pace specified) with a two-minute recovery jog in between each. Cool down with a 10-minute jog."

,that I'm just going to go out and run whatever distance that works out to be, at one steady (read: fairly slow) pace and then come home and do some abs in the backyard.

I'm not going to look at my watch every five seconds to see when I've hit the 20 minute mark and then try to do eight 400s at some pre-calculated pace while eyeballing my watch to make sure I'm doing exactly two minutes of recovery jogging in between. Not to mention the fact that I doubt I'd be able to keep track of how many of the 400s I'd done. I'm sure I'd lose count around sprint #3 and then end up doing, like four, when I'd get annoyed with the whole process and just go home and throw the ball with the dog.

Plus, I barely know how to use my watch. I would probably F up the buttons somehow and end up restarting the timer to zero thus negating the intricate workout anyway. I thought I bought a fairly basic watch, but it baffles me so regularly with it's flashing lights and tiny beeps and hundreds (four) of buttons that I'm sure there's a way to push the buttons together in a certain sequence to open wormhole to a parallel universe.

What I do understand is long runs. I know that there's supposed to be one long run per week, preferably followed by a day of rest and then some other shorter runs in between. And when you're tired, you should rest and if you're injured (say, with enormous crippling blisters on both feet) you should definitely not run in the rain through puddles no matter how good you feel otherwise.

What I also understand is this: on October 14, 2007 I will run 13.2 miles.

Whether this happens in 2 hours or half a day is of little interest to me, as long as I'm running. That's my only stipulation. I don't want to walk. I want to run the whole thing. Ok, so I might want to walk while drinking some water or trying to man down some Gu, but otherwise, I'm running this bitch.

So, that means that somehow, between now and then, I need to figure out a way to make my body run for 13.2 miles without falling completely apart.

And, I am pretty sure I can do it.

Last weekend I ran seven miles and my big concern was how I could get some new tunes on my iPod before next weekend so that I wouldn't have to keep clicking past The Fray because it is just too slow.

I wasn't in pain. I wasn't dreading looking at my watch to see how long I'd been running and HOW MUCH FARTHER do I have to go. No, I was trotting along (This is my official pace and I don't know how it compares to my HMP so don't ask), taking in the new scenery afforded to me by my newly elongated route, sorting out the week's bullshit and every so often checking in on my parts to see how everyone was faring.

Feet? Are you feeling blistery anywhere? No? Perf.

Legs? Are you feeling tired? Tingly in alarming places? Tight? No? Greeeeeeeeeeeat.

Fingers? Are you feeling hotdog-ish? Yes? Well, that's what happens.

About every mile or so we go through this convo. And, if we can get through it successfully for seven miles then I bet we can do so for 13.2.

So, after all that, I've decided that my training schedule will go as follows:

During the week, do runs of three or four miles at a time and only increase mileage on Saturday, Long Run Day. Like, for instance, I'll prolly run seven miles again this Saturday, just for consistencies sake, and then try to go for eight after that for a couple weeks. Then I'll up it a mile every couple weeks 'till I'm running for a couple hours on Saturdays and covering 13+ miles at a time.

I'm just worried I'm making this too simple and somehow I'm glossing over a crucial piece of training knowledge that would keep me from otherwise wounding myself for life.

Although Donk did tell me about the Gu + water thing (drink water when eating Gu so that kidneys don't shrivel) so I like to think I'm set. But if you see some glaring error in my tactics (comments on my stretchy pants are not welcome) please speak up before I land myself on a stretcher.

Meanwhile, I take solace in the fact that I have $1 in quarters taped to my iPod (so high-tech) in case I need to limp into a 7-Eleven and call Bubba to rescue me from blisters, exhaustion or unforeseen disaster.

Probably not the best time for this, but...vitamins and Crossfit

So, I've been drinking and Bubba's not home yet from his weekend away and I've spent most of this day doing homework that has melted my brains into a BUT I HAVEN'T DONE CHEMISTRY SINCE THE 9TH GRADE pile of shit and for whatever reason I felt like it was time to talk about vitamins and Crossfit.

The "Bubba's home late" dinner

Because why not talk about All Things Health when you're squinting at the screen with exhaustion while knocking back your supplements with the rest of that gin martini (and two olives - I'm not an animal.)?

I'm all about health, people. And reasonable behavior for a near-35 year old woman.

Anyway, here's the low down on the vitamins after...ohlemmelookthisup...two years (holy shit - that's more than I thought) of taking them daily. Like a freak. And sometimes when sprinkled over yogurt like so much ice cream topping. Like a freak.

Just so you know what we're talking about, here.

B12
Yeah. This shit. I fell victim to a few random people's insistence that B12 could ONLY be properly absorbed via liquid drops and that "Why do they even make tablets when you can't even absorb the nutrient that way?"s  before giving up and trading in my handy dissolving tablets for a daily dropper's load of foul tasting faux Nyquil that doesn't even have the stones to hit me with a nice alcoholic thunking.

No. It just tastes nast and then doesn't give me near the brain boost of my dissolving tablets.

But I have half of the bottle left, so I'm going to slog through this bottle and then smash it on the concrete outside Whole Foods as I vow to stay true to my dissolving tablets.

That's right, Whole Foods - I'm about to make a scene at your place of business. But in a good way! I shall never go astray again from your dissolving B12 tablets!

I'm sure they're thrilled.

Folic Acid
Um. Yeah. So I take this. And usually I don't forget because it's a small little thing that can be easily scooped up with a spoonful of whatever breakfast I'm eating and disappear down my lady gullet without too much early morning Just Make It Happen prodding.

Though, sometimes I forget to take it because it gets stuck in the corner of my sweatshirt pocket and I don't realize it until three days later when I'm going into my pocket for a dog treat while out on a walk with Jada and, well, the dog doesn't consider folic acid tablets enticing enough to not go after a squirrel.

Upping the ante with a pocketful of the tablets doesn't do the trick either.

All that to say that sometimes I forget to take these things and I don't notice any difference in my life. Not that I'm going to stop taking them since they're supposed to be good for your brains and all, but I guess maybe in just a long-term way.

I should look that up.

B6
B6 is the hotter, skinnier, way more appealing sister to the filthy liquid B12. It's a tiny tablet that I make sure to take every live long day because I can so totally feel the difference in my attention span, overall outlook on life and ability to focus and comprehend when I don't get my Bs in the morning.

Behind the Cal Mag Citrate and pro-biotics, these are crucial to daily functioning.

Cal Mag Citrate
Like I was saying - crucial. If you recall, I started this whole terribly ridiculous supplement experiment in an effort to find a way out of my mind-eating migraines without becoming wholly reliant on prescription inhalers (that were promised to NOT work forever. Comforting.), extra dosing (so that I don't sound like a crackhead) on Excedrin Migraine and Bubba's power tool collection.  (The garage one, you filthy beasts. STAY WITH ME HERE.)

What I've found is that YES. Cal Mag Citrate, in the dose that I've worked out over the last two years of experimenting, relieves me almost entirely of migraine.

Like, I used to get a migraine every two weeks or so. Twice a month - sometimes more, depending. It blew. I lived in fear of being somewhere where I could not access my Imitrex inhaler. I'm not going to go into further details, but it was ugly.

In the last two years, since embarking on this whole Let's Take Supplements Like a Freak thing, I have had three migraines.

In two years.

So, in the time when I *could* have, had I kept following my doctor's advice, had 48 migraines, I've had three.

And those three times were when I forgot to take my Cal Mag or my vitamins altogether. Also - and it could have been this, too - these were times when I was already super stressed and probably dehydrated and maybe drinking, so that could have brought the migraines on, too.

I just think that the Cal Mag Citrate gives me a buffer so that I can live my life without having to find a dark corner in which to curl up around the power drill to turn my skull into a Wiffle ball in the hopes of alleviating the throbbing pain.

That's what I think.

Pro-biotics
THIS is not about thinking. It's about doing. The business. You know - the business. Morning business.

Yes, I'm very indelicate. Thanks for noticing.

Pro-biotics make you poo. That's a documented fact. I guess. Somewhere. Whatever - if your guts are all a mess and you need to straighten a few things out around there, I heartily recommend a daily dose of pro-biotics.

I'm right as the mail, friends. It's good times.

Chaste Tree Berry, Evening Primrose and DIM
These are the "Lady Pills" as Bubba likes to call them and I am fine with that. Because I've seen what happens when I run out of any of these and go a few days before restocking and when the time comes...bad.

Think cramps, crazy crying for almost no reason because Oh my god did you see the kids' faces with their new computers? It's the most incredible thing oh my god what's the matter with me oh it's PMS.

I get PMS if I don't take these Lady Pills consistently and daily. Good thing is that when I am good about taking these guys, I have no problems whatsoever. It's almost a...delight. No, that's too favorable of a term for that scenario. Let's say that it's...easily bearable.

Yes. Also, no crying which is good because it freaks both Bubba and I out a lot. 

I'm not really a crier.

Fish oil
Yeah. I don't remember why I'm taking these except that Omega 3s are supposed to be good for brain health and I need all the help I can get what with all the fucking math, taxonomy and chemistry my teachers are doling out this semester.

What the fuck, by the way, are farmers doing with so much math? There is no escape.

Women's Multi
I take this because the book told me to and I figure that it rounds out whatever I may, somehow, not be taking with all these other things. Plus, it's huge and I feel accomplished every day after I choke it down and don't die a horrible blech-tasting death from choking on it.

It's truly awful. All the brands. All the formulations. Like eating a squirrel turd.

Biotin
This is the newest comer to the world of my Fucked Up Vitamin Sprinkles Over Breakfast lifestyle. Story goes that I worked with a girl whose hair suddenly became noticeably shiny and gorgeous. Granted, girlfriend has long black Asian girl hair that's going to look beautiful sort of no matter what, but still - it looked extra nice.

So I was all, TuTu (this is a nickname, not a real name so don't get all RACIST or whatever with me because it's cool. Promise.), how the hell does your hair look so awesome? She tells me that she's been taking biotin but watch out because it's not just your head hair that grows like wild.

Noted.

And then I started taking biotin so that my highlighted hair could maybe regain some of its pre-highlight vigor.

See? Smooth on top, frizzyblech at the bottom. 6 month's worth of growth doesn't lie.

Six months later and YES. It's working. Plus, my nails are like...well...nails and I daresay my skin has never been clearer.

It delights me so to have a moment where I don't have a zit. Apparently this is my delighted face which looks very little like delight. Oh well. Personal flaw, I suppose.

That could just be my near-35ness showing though.

Also, my monthly waxing appointments have never been more crucial. Just lettin' you know - don't take that warning lightly because it means business.

So yeah - the vitamins and supplements are happening still despite the array of raised eyebrows I've gotten over the past two years.

About Crossfit...I can't believe I'm continuing to write this post right now. Ridiculous.

Crossfit is a beast, people. I'm not going to lie to you. It terrifies me. Less now than a week ago, but still - it's really not for the faint of heart.

I heard that before I joined up and I totally blew it right the hell off because "Hello, whatever, I'm totally in shape."

No.

I was not in Crossfit shape. Not even fucking close.

Let me explain this and then that thing about being scared of it until last week...

So, you know how usually you walk into the gym or a group fitness class and there are people of all shapes and sizes and fitness levels. Like there's the plump older gal in her Jane Fonda-esque leotard doing arm circles and there are a couple of super fit looking teenager types, some folks on the lumpier side and a random dude in work boots and whatever?

Right. Yes. We've all been to an American gym class.

Crossfit is not like that. These people - all ages of people - are in the most incredible shape.

It's like they stocked the fucking place with models from the videos with the shape these people are in. There are women in their 60s in amazing physical shape - strong as god damned bulls - and women with three kids who look like they could take down a charging bear and dudes dead lifting 400 pounds and HOLY.

I was blown away. People, when they want to be, can be really bad ass.

And here I was all, "Oh, I run three days a week and do Pilates - I'm so in shape for this. Pfffffffft, Crossfit."

And then Crossfit had its way with me.

I went to the Crossfit Lite deal for a few months. (It's like a warm up for Crossfit where you do all the same workouts, but with dumb bells instead of the bar.) It was fine. I felt reasonably adequate. Then I realized that my spring school schedule wasn't going to allow me to go to those few Lite classes and that I'd better sack up and do the whole "on ramp" thing so that I could go to all the Crossfit classes.

Particularly that special little gem at 6am. Yay. Love driving to Santa Cruz every morning for 8:30 and 9am classes.

So, back to that "until a week ago" thing - until a week ago I thought I was the most inept person on the planet. I was doing the "on ramp" sessions where the coach teaches you all the moves you'll do during class so that you don't kill yourself, those around you or bring down the satellite radio with an errant kettle ball toss, and I was just not *getting* it.

Like we're going through things as simple sounding as Push Press and girlfriend is stopping to tell me to push my head through and move my feet in and out or whatever and all I can think about is why am I so dumb that I can't so something as simple as lift something over my head.

I'm thinking that I'm too dumb for Crossfit.

But then I finish my sessions and she clears me for takeoff (despite what I'm imagining are my extreme and obvious limitations) and during my second 6am session as I'm stressing out about my Cleans (I'm sorry, I'm trying to be sort of specific so forgive the annoying pretense of weightlifting parlance), another coach who's just there working out goes, "Don't worry. It takes time. Years even - to get it right."

Oh.

So I'm not just supposed to know how to do this right off the bat and no one's judging me because I take five minutes to set my stance and whatever?

OH.

Would have been super nice if someone had told me that, like, two months ago.

Anyway, Crossfit is fine now and even though it scares the crap out of me and I've never been so exhausted and then so sore and then so ready to go back and see how badly I can humiliate myself in the pre-dawn hours - I'm still going.

And now you can go.