Let me give you some tips

Note to everyone who lives in this house. You are driving me insane. I don’t know who you think is going to perform all the manual labour in this house when you finally put me over the edge. In order to prevent the men with the huggy coats picking me up for being a few grapes short of a fruit cocktail, it is important that you read the following.

1. You should clean up a hairball on the carpet if you see one. Do not lie to me and tell me that you did not see it, I know you are lying because you warned me not to step in it. We are not wild animals, we do not simply “work around” disgusting messes until Mum comes home from the guild meeting and cleans it up. I do not feel cherished when you save it for me.

2. Do not, I repeat, do not make the decision to re-lace both of your stupid sneakers while I stand there telling you that you are late for school. This is not a mature decision, and since it is possible to walk to school with your laces laced in a less than perfect manner and instead re-lace them later when no-one is waiting on you, I feel that I must also tell you that as far as attempts to drive me insane go….this one is pretty infuriatingly transparent.

3. Do not use up the last of the toilet paper and tell no-one. This should be obvious.

4. Do not be late and then insist to me that you are not only not late (which you SO ARE) but insist with belligerent indignation that you have never been late in your whole life. You are often late. Everyone knows this about you. We talk about it. We are thinking about starting a victims association. We will have tee-shirts. You are late.

5. Immediately cease and desist with fights so stupid that they would make a United Nations negotiator want to snatch you bald. I cannot possibly hear anything more about who is crowding who on the chesterfield, who is looking out who’s window or who took who’s lip gloss. I do not care that she was in your room. It matters nothing to me that she took your bookmark out of your book. Stop. It.

(NB. Your sister did not steal your lip gloss. You left it in your pocket where it exploded in the dryer and stained an entire load of laundry.)

6. Put the *&^%$#@@#$% MILK IN THE FRIDGE. Not “by” the fridge, not “near” the fridge. PUT. IT. IN. For the love of wool, I could train monkeys to do this.

7. Do you think, that I…as a woman, a mother and the person intelligent enough to keep a whole family alive and functioning for 16 consecutive years is really so easily tricked that you can lead me to believe that you have changed the hamster cage when I can smell it from the kitchen?

8. I don’t want to talk about “the wrong kind of toothpaste” anymore. You’re lucky I buy you toothpaste. I have bigger fish to fry than discussing (again) exactly how it is that I have completely ruined your life by getting the wrong toothpaste.

9. Despite having conceived, gestated, nursed and cared for you, I assure you that it is not my fault that your bangs won’t curl under.

10. The recycling bins are on the porch. I can tell that up until now you didn’t know that, since you have put nothing in them. I trust that sharing their location with you will resolve this issue.

I’ve finished my Dulaan hat, designed by Norma.


It’s a pretty hat, warm and cozy, but I gotta tell ya Norms, there comes a point in this hat where you really need some self discipline. The hat is knit as a long tube, (really long) then you gather the ends up firmly, tuck one end inside the other and make a double thick, simple, warm hat. The willpower part comes in when you are exactly half-way done the tube, when you suddenly look down and realize that if you gave it all up, right that second….


You would have a perfectly good roll brim hat. I’m telling you…it takes a little bit of something to keep knitting after that.

The Dulaan hat is tucked into my box with a few others, and I started a Dulaan sock to be my computer knitting.


The shawl is a little bigger, but not worth photographing. I’m desperately behind on adding people to the KSF tally and pages, so no thank you gifts (including the mittens…which I totally am not trying to keep for myself) until I’ve got everyone who should be on the list, on it. (You all want a chance, don’t you?)

See you Monday…in Memphis. (Holy cow.)