A Small Complaint

[This is the e-mail I would have sent if I truly lacked social filters at work. This is not to anyone I work with, rather it is to someone who works on my floor.]

Dear Sir;

Although I appreciate that you are blinded by my amazing ability to multi-task, work overtime, and do any number of other mind-blowing tasks, I would like to remind you that no matter * how * much you would like me to set up your office, that is nowhere near within the scope of my responsibilities.

You may remember when we discussed this about a month ago, I directed you to your Group Admin (who is NOT me, despite my mind-boggling-ly hyphenated title). Since you left and have returned, your requests are still not within the scope of my professional duties.

Furthermore, calling my office first (from two doors down) and then appearing in my doorway five seconds later in order to chastise me for not doing someone else's job was not appreciated. Bless my co-worker's heart who told you where to go to get what you need accomplished. Yet again. She also remembered telling you the last time that I am not only not part of your group, but part of an entirely separate group. Our physical proximity, charming as it may be, does not designate me as your personal go-to person. I do that for my team, and that's more than enough, thanks.

I also do not appreciate the tone of voice which you use when addressing me. I understand that my vibrant personality and the youthful exuberance that I exude may give off the impression that I lack direction and tasks. I assure you that this is not the case. I can also assure you, that despite the fact that I quite possibly am the youngest person on this floor, I deserve to be treated with the same respect you show anyone else. I am not your daughter and I do not work for you. If my manager can be polite and friendly to me, someone as low-ranking and seemingly temporary as yourself can manage to behave similarly.

Also, if I was in charge of setting up your office, based on your attitude, I would make sure it took a long time, was a mess of inconveniences (for you) and any phone that you eventually got would give you testicular cancer.

Best Regards,

Jasmin the Great

“When I Grow Up”

I had an interesting interchange with Sarah,while we were eating lunch (Sarah is 11, going on 45). We are listening to streaming Broadway on the Tivo, and something with Patti LuPone starts to play.

"I want to be Patti LuPone when I grow up," I announce.

"But you're already grown up," Sarah points out.

"But I'm not Patti LuPone yet," I answer sensibly.

So, in case that wasn't clear, here's the equation:

Jasmin ≠ Patti LuPone ≠ Grown Up.

Andrew Haiku

Andrew gave me a very thoughtful gift for our 5 year anniversary. I'll post a photo later. For now, here is a haiku I wrote for him:

You are very tall,
Your arms are like the ape,
And your wife is cute.

The “Ball Of Yarn" Effect

I have a theory about time.

When you are knitting from the outside of a ball of yarn, the closer you get to the end of the ball, the faster your yarn runs out.

(So, the same time that it originally took for one circle of yarn around the ball gets seemingly exponentially smaller.)

So, running with my ball of yarn metaphor, as you get older, time seems to pass more quickly.

Just a thought.

KIP-ping (Knitting In Public)

Some knitters are of the opinion that Knitting In Public (KIPping) is alienating. As in "Oh, it makes you uncomfortable that I'm sitting here knitting during [activity]? I'll just put it away. Is that better?"

I feel that these are the same people who conform in every aspect of their lives in order not to ruffle anyone's feathers. I won't sacrifice my own comfort for the comfort of strangers, and although I have been approached by a number of crazy people when KIPping, that hasn't been enough to stop me.

I knit in the movie theater (sans the dorky/cool light-up needles). In fact, at V for Vendetta, I found that I could do all of the tricky parts of a sock in the theater. Woo! I knit through my "optional" lunch meeting, which spurs conversations of all kinds before/after the main topic of the meeting is discussed. I knit my way through high school and college, finding that it helped me concentrate on the lecture.

Why hasn't it been an issue for me? Because I can maintain eye contact, and participate in the conversation while I knit. Not normal eye contact either. The "staring contest" kind of eye contact, which is a little creepy. But the point is made, and I only do it the first time my ability to participate in a conversation while knitting is questioned.

I usually knit socks in public, since they're super-portable. However, I found that while I was watching Carnivále and working on my Peaseblossom socks, I goofed up a couple of times on the mitered squares. There was some profanity involved while I frogged; There is nothing more frustrating than screwing up something so simple because of the riveting subject matter that the show deals with. These are not "meeting appropriate" socks, simply because of the potential for both swearing and showing my co-workers that I rip things out.

(Ripping= not being super-amazing, like they believe me to be. It's like seeing Superman trip on his cape. Completely undignified and it just doesn't fit expectation. My readers/friends in real life know me better than that- blasts of profanity, ripping and all.)

The most awkward KIPping experience I had was when I was dating Zak- after his truck had died. I had driven him to SCVC Rehearsal, and instead of spending the whole time driving home and back, I took an aran sock that I had been DYING to start- but hadn't had the peace to get familiar with the pattern.

Memory Montage Sequence

I found a Starbucks near the corps hall, got my latté and a table, and started knitting. For about ten minutes I was grooving and in a very Zen knitting place.

A woman parks herself at my table and starts chatting with me about knitting. I was polite (but had to put down what I was working on, since it required my undivided attention at that point), but the conversation went like this:

Crazy Woman: * talking at the speed of light about how she knit while she was high because it made her head feel good*

Jasmin: * Trying to pack up without her noticing, because you don't want to make a crazy person think that you don't want to be around them. *

(45 minutes passes in this fashion)

Crazy Woman: I have to go outside and have a cigarette now or I'm going to choke you to death.

Jasmin: * Throws everything into the bag, runs to car, locks door, drives like mad to corps hall, where she pulls in just in time to pick Zak up.*

Proof that I have the best job ever!

So, I got this from a co-worker. She saw it and thought of me:

To buy it, click here.

Seriously, I love the people I work with.

Getting It Together

I am not devoted to taking pictures. I should have taken "before" and "after" pictures of the "Romper Room" (now my office). I'll get the "after" pictures up soon.

[Don't roll your eyes. I post photos. Sometimes.]

With the assistance of Space Bags and modular storage, the room that looked like a bomb had exploded (a yarn bomb, nonetheless) is now a functional office/ guest room.

I'll have to post the "after" pictures and explain the system. I'm amazed at how well my idea turned out. (I often have seemingly brilliant ideas about organization that have turned out… less successful.)

The thing I am most excited about is the fan I set up. Everything else is cool, but this is brilliant. My office has an air flow issue. Now, when you turn on the light to enter, the fan switches on. Magic!

This probably explains my astronomically low Finished Object count. I feel like I have accomplished something good, but counter-productive to the Yarn Diet objectives.

[Note to readers: Everything except knitting is counter-productive to the Yarn Diet objectives. Except for playing with the dogs.]

Family Heirlooms

Most families pass on "stuff", like family silver to their kids. Or mental illness. Whatever.

My mother jokes that I am going to inherit/have inherited her Badonkadonk [backside], which I have, to a certain extent. She also jokes that I will inherit her Schnaz (not to be confused with Schnauzer).

[However, if we were going to do a nose comparison, using Schnauzers to represent size mine would be this [Miniature Schnauzer]:

Mom's would be this [Giant Schnauzer]:

And for a side-by-side comparison [not to scale, unfortunately]:
Mine: Mom's:

Just so we're clear.]

I have also inherited my mother's inability to drink from an adult cup/glass/mug, requiring me to drink from a sippy cup. This inability (or what I like to refer to as my "drinking problem" a la Airplane) always flares up on important days.

Example 1:

Jasmin is running a meeting. Readers of my blog all know I am a complete fraud and do not deserve the tremendous amount of praise and respect I get at work, where they find me exceeding expectations.

[Seriously. I look at myself and worry every day that they will realize that I'm faking it and will have the contents of my office waiting in a bankers box the same day that I find that my badge no longer works.]

Showing their complete confidence in me, they arrange a meeting, where I am in charge of teaching everyone how to use some software, where they have granted me the title of "Super-User".

Ten minutes before this meeting, I manage to pour hot chocolate (brown) down my shirt (pale pink). It now looks like my boob has leaked hot chocolate. Great.

Solution: wear a sweater, it's air conditioned and I am only a little too warm.

Example 2: [Thursday]

I am wearing a white raglan tank top (my "Astonishing" shirt, from Little Women) to wear to the department picnic.

An hour before it starts, I notice the dark brown dribble (same place as last time) on my very WHITE tank.. I try cleaning it off with soap and cold water. Now I have a SEE-THROUGH stained tank. I put on my jackety-thing until it dries.

Seriously. This is the legacy of the ages I am passing on to the future generations.

**photos courtesy of the AKC website

Darn You, Ashford!

So, last week was a lousy week for me. The straw that broke this particular camel-jockey's back was when my swift would no longer co-operate with me.

The initial issue that my swift had was that the screw was stripped, and so was the little female part of the screwing mechanism. (Ha ha, I said "screwing mechanism".) Andrew is very handy with things like, fixing the guest bathroom fan, or the pipe that burst behind the dishwasher during Stitches West. But he is not a woodworker.

[His temporary fix involved a rubber band providing the resistant that the screw mechanism should be doing. It sort of works, but is awful for set-up and ease of use.]

Despite his lack of woodworking skills, Andrew is still a more-than adequate spouse. He has other skills. You should see him with a bow staff.

The not- okay part about this whole thing is that the swift is only 5 or 6 years old. It's the Ashford swift- unfinished, the larger size- and although their spinning wheels come with replacement parts, since the female part of the mechanism is stripped as well, I am functionally HOSED as far as this swift is concerned. There is no way to remove the damaged part and replace it. So the swift * looks * okay, but doesn't really work.

So, a replacement was ordered on Friday, after I nearly broke down in tears over the whole mess. Photos and a story will be posted upon receipt.

Temptation #2- Regia Silk

We went to Knitting Arts on Saturday, and I saw the Regia Silk. It feels HEAVENLY. Unfortunately, I'm not willing to cough up the cash for it. It was $11/ 50g ball there, where everywhere else I've found it for about $15/100g ball.

This wasn't a real temptation, but the fact that I didn't order it online when I got home shows TREMENDOUS restraint.