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If you please
Jan. 8th, 2007 08:12 amWe survived the 4 hour visit with the in-laws yesterday, thanks in part to the bulk of their visit being dinner and dinner prep. Mike smoked a roast on the old Weber (he and I agree that it wasn't as good as the chicken we smoked for Thanksgiving), I made some amazing green beans (onions and bacon were involved) as well as some creamy goat-cheesed red bliss mashed potatoes.
They liked what we gave them and Operation: Handmade Afghan went over without a hitch. When I realized earlier (as in about a month ago) that there was no way I'd finish the blanket I was supposed to crochet for his parents last year in time for this year, and then further realized that I'd never finish it simply because I DID NOT WANT TO, I had to come up with a plan B. Mike had said sometime over the summer that I should just buy his parents a blanket and claim I made it, but as any handcrafter knows, you can't do that and expect to get into Stitcher's Heaven. The solution was subtle: I bought one of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boogie_babe's grammy's afghans and vowed to not pass it off as my own.
Here's how that went:
As they open the gift, I say, "And finally, here's something handmade..."
They say, "Ooooo, an AFGHAN!"
(Aside--I wonder if they'd have the same reaction if, say, I wrapped this, or this... It's sad to say, but they probably don't even know that the word for the blanket comes from another language... I mean after all, afghan in American means AFGHAN, not something else. PLUS, an aside within an aside, but illustrating their point of stupidity: his father commented about switching to Eastern SIAMESE Time. SIAMESE. It's the new standard.)
They never ask if I made the afghan, and I hold fast to the "it's handmade" response. A white lie, but everyone wins: I win, because I no longer have to make them anything; Boogie wins because her Grammy gets to buy more yarn for crocheting; and they win because they can STFU already.
Other gifts for his parents included really nice PJs for her (I LOVE Target PJs), a digital compass for him, a gift card to Honkey Bucket, and a framed photograph of the two of us. They gave us the usual check, with which we are treating ourselves to a new vacuum cleaner. Our Hoover is over TEN years old, sucks (in the bad way), and blows (in the bad way). Expect a future post about how amazing our new vacuum is sometime this weekend.
Also, his dad commented on how good I looked, asking if I'd lost weight. That compliment made the visit go even better, especially since it wasn't followed with something like, "Why bother--you're just going to get pregnant and gain it all back." I think they're finally catching on that I'm NOT JUST going to get pregnant!
The most satisfying part of yesterday was the spinning I did on Anj's lent Louet. I started up with some fits and coughs, yelling at the wheel to TAKE IT, WHY DON'T YOU EFFING TAKE IT. But, then I switched bobbins, predrafted and drafted, and then spun myself a fine yarn with hardly any kinking! I even managed to spin while watching the last 1:20 of the Eagles game (btw, boys, don't go getting any stupid fucking penalties next week. OR ELSE. It's golf time.). The only problem with spinning is I'm kinda allergic to the fiber, and since the fiber was a-flyin', I spent my evening with a snuffly, whistling nose. The things I suffer for crafting.
Ok. Short week, and crazy week. Three workshops, one after-work meeting, and then HALLELUJAH, Friday off.
They liked what we gave them and Operation: Handmade Afghan went over without a hitch. When I realized earlier (as in about a month ago) that there was no way I'd finish the blanket I was supposed to crochet for his parents last year in time for this year, and then further realized that I'd never finish it simply because I DID NOT WANT TO, I had to come up with a plan B. Mike had said sometime over the summer that I should just buy his parents a blanket and claim I made it, but as any handcrafter knows, you can't do that and expect to get into Stitcher's Heaven. The solution was subtle: I bought one of
boogie_babe's grammy's afghans and vowed to not pass it off as my own. Here's how that went:
As they open the gift, I say, "And finally, here's something handmade..."
They say, "Ooooo, an AFGHAN!"
(Aside--I wonder if they'd have the same reaction if, say, I wrapped this, or this... It's sad to say, but they probably don't even know that the word for the blanket comes from another language... I mean after all, afghan in American means AFGHAN, not something else. PLUS, an aside within an aside, but illustrating their point of stupidity: his father commented about switching to Eastern SIAMESE Time. SIAMESE. It's the new standard.)
They never ask if I made the afghan, and I hold fast to the "it's handmade" response. A white lie, but everyone wins: I win, because I no longer have to make them anything; Boogie wins because her Grammy gets to buy more yarn for crocheting; and they win because they can STFU already.
Other gifts for his parents included really nice PJs for her (I LOVE Target PJs), a digital compass for him, a gift card to Honkey Bucket, and a framed photograph of the two of us. They gave us the usual check, with which we are treating ourselves to a new vacuum cleaner. Our Hoover is over TEN years old, sucks (in the bad way), and blows (in the bad way). Expect a future post about how amazing our new vacuum is sometime this weekend.
Also, his dad commented on how good I looked, asking if I'd lost weight. That compliment made the visit go even better, especially since it wasn't followed with something like, "Why bother--you're just going to get pregnant and gain it all back." I think they're finally catching on that I'm NOT JUST going to get pregnant!
The most satisfying part of yesterday was the spinning I did on Anj's lent Louet. I started up with some fits and coughs, yelling at the wheel to TAKE IT, WHY DON'T YOU EFFING TAKE IT. But, then I switched bobbins, predrafted and drafted, and then spun myself a fine yarn with hardly any kinking! I even managed to spin while watching the last 1:20 of the Eagles game (btw, boys, don't go getting any stupid fucking penalties next week. OR ELSE. It's golf time.). The only problem with spinning is I'm kinda allergic to the fiber, and since the fiber was a-flyin', I spent my evening with a snuffly, whistling nose. The things I suffer for crafting.
Ok. Short week, and crazy week. Three workshops, one after-work meeting, and then HALLELUJAH, Friday off.
