A is for April Madness
I have even gotten some knitting in this week. Stolen time. Stolen from should be, should have, better do's...you name it. I can procrastinate it. :0) Even my knitting.
I have also started the unraveling of my Sockapalooza sock and a matching navy is on the way for the heels and toes so I can stretch the multi yarn as far as I need. I actually think it will look nice after much wringing of hands and midnight pondering. There was no hope in finding this yarn still available. My mother in law checked it all out for me in Germany. Thank you, Hedwig!! And I have also started the Embossed Leaves Socks by Mona Schmidt from Interweave Press Winter 2005. I am making them in the Flickering Flame from Brooklyn Handspun. It is a really nice colorway.
And lest I forget my Red Hot Sizzling Socks....I will have more updates in a week or so. I have a beautiful yarn on the way for them. Yipppeeee!
Now for a story.
My friend, who will remain nameless, (you know who you are), swears by waxing her legs. After listening to how wonderfully smooth my legs will be and how I won't have to shave for weeks...I decided to give it a try. The last wax disaster had completely been forgotten, or at least blocked. So, I went merrily on my way to the beauty supply store with good intentions and money. Never doing anything half-assed, I bought the supplies: a warmer, wax, sticks for applying the wax, and cloth (there is a name, I forget) to rip the hair from your body. I went home and began. All was going painfully fine. I ripped as much hair from my legs as I could stand for one afternoon and time was growing near for me to get ready for a big concert I was playing. I started cleaning the wax drippings from the floor and counters. Hmmm, it wasn't coming off very well. Nothing seemed to work. Soap, water, towels. I began to panic. Fine, I can get the wax off the house later, AFTER the ever approaching concert. My legs! My hands! I began to furiously wipe the wax off my hands with a towel! It wasn't coming off. My God, the towel was now stuck to me! Why wasn't it coming off? My fingers were sticking together. How could I play a concert with my fingers sticking together? No one said anything about wax remover! How can you sell a novice this equipment and not sell wax remover? It was a conspiracy. I imagined them now at their little desk laughing at what they knew I must be going through. My God! I am going to be stuck to my oboe! How will I even turn pages? Get dressed? Even shower, for God's sake? I began to run through the house with my hands held high screaming. (no one was home) Gasoline? Turpentine? I had none of these short of siphoning gas from my tank. Then a thought. Could I burn it off? No, no, never have been good with fire. What was I thinking? Baby oil? I ran back to the bathroom screaming hands still raised above my head. It must work. It had to work. I had to at least get the black towel fuzz removed so I didn't appear to have hair growing from my palms. ( I needed to be asked back to play this gig, ya know) I poured the baby oil on. Slathered it. Rubbed in a frenzy. Slowly the fuzz began to lose its grip and I was able to at least scrape the wax off enough to keep my fingers from sticking together. More oil. Less stick. There is a God.