Black Girl Picks Cotton

(On an ordinary Saturday afternoon, Liver Chick and Boy Toy are walking the neighborhood, enjoying the wonderful weather in the valley. They suddenly walk by a cotton field close to their home.)

Liver Chick: I should pick some cotton.

Boy Toy: What did you just say?

Liver Chick: I said I should pick some cotton. I want to spin some into yarn. The harvest is over, so what’s left is free for the taking.

(Boy Toy takes Liver Chick by the arm and holds her hand up to her face.)

Boy Toy: Honey, do you see what color you are?

Liver Chick: Yes. I’m black. So?

Boy Toy: Right. Which means you can’t pick cotton.

Liver Chick: Well that’s not fair. It shouldn’t matter what color I am. I’m allowed to pick cotton.

Boy Toy: Yes dear. And I’m sure your ancestors who went through 500 years of slavery being forced to pick cotton would be so proud to see you picking cotton now.

Liver Chick: Just because I’m black doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to pick cotton.

Boy Toy: I bet there is some confederate slave owner rolling in his grave right now hearing you say that.

Liver Chick: Why should I have to order my cotton from some online company when there is some perfectly good and free cotton right around the corner from my house?

(Boy Toy stops and puts his hands on Liver Chick’s shoulders)

Boy Toy: Honey, you can’t pick cotton. Remember, then whole slavery thing? The civil rights movement? We shall overcome? Free at last, free at last, thank God almight we are free at last? Blacks don’t pick cotton anymore.

Liver Chick: So, if I was any other color but black, I could pick cotton?

Boy Toy: Yes.

Liver Chick: Well that’s just racist.

Boy Toy: I seriously doubt the NAACP would support you in fighting that case. Sorry honey, but you just can’t pick cotton.

Liver Chick: But I want to pick it!  You can just stand here and watch while I pick some.

Boy Toy: Are you crazy!?! Yes honey, let’s have me, the Hitler-baby-looking-white-boy stand here and watch a black girl pick cotton. Every civil rights group will be at our door tomorrow ready to kick my ass. I can see the front page of now- White man makes his black wife pick cotton, Slavery alive and well in Arizona.

Liver Chick: Just be my look-out. No one will find out. I’ll just take a little. Please honey. Please!

(Boy Toy looks around and checks to make sure no one is looking)

Boy Toy: Okay, pick some quick.

(Liver Chick snatches a few pieces of cotton off the broken cotton plants and admires the pieces in her hands)

Boy Toy: Don’t stop to look at it, hurry up and hide it before someone sees you. I swear woman, if I get lynched for this I’m coming back as a ghost and haunting you.

(Liver Chick gives Boy Toy a hug and a kiss on the lips)

Liver Chick: Thank you honey. I love you.

Boy Toy: Great, when the guys ask me at work what I did this weekend I can tell them I took my wife out cotton picking.

Liver Chick: Just tell then we were roll-playing.

Boy Toy: Oh yes, we like to play slave and master all the time. It really turns my wife on.

Liver Chick: Yeah, we’re kinky like that.

(Liver Chick and Boy Toy continue there walk. Liver Chick makes a mental note to start taking night walks in order to pick more cotton.)

Happy (Knitting) Holidays

I wanted to take this time to thank all of you for your humor, friendship and support this past year. This blog is such a blast and I hope that next year will be even better.

Whatever holidays you celebrate this season, please enjoy yourselves and make sure to at least do one thing that would make your mom blush. (You get extra points if you do something that would make your mom dis-own you for at least 24 hours.)

With the new year comes a list of new excuses to buy more yarn and knit more items. Have fun with the after-Christmas sales, but don’t go too crazy on wools. Remember, summer is just around the corner, so make sure to stock up on some cotton too.

I’ll be busy with my own family traditions this next couple of weeks. I also have the job of keeping my Boy Toy from going overboard with the Christmas cookies and spiced wine.

So, I am wishing all of you fun-filled holidays along with a new year full of yarn and enough time to knit everything  your heart desires. See you all in 2012!!!!

Weapons of Mass Construction

My needles came in shortly after my blog posting on Monday. I think I scared the postman when I opened the door before his hand even touched the doorbell.

Needles now safely in my hands I  must say they are better than I had expected. Made of bamboo and all nicely polished, each one is engraved with the US size and mm. The needles are sets of double-pointed ranging in sizes from 0 to 9. The needles are 13.5 inches long. ( And, yes, this makes the size 0 needles look like toothpicks for giants.)

My Freaking Long Double Pointed Needles

The whole idea of buying freaking long double-pointed needles was to create smaller needles at a cheaper price. Since I don’t knit with double-pointed needles, but need the smaller sizes for knitting socks, I figured I could cut a pair of the needles in half, thus creating two pairs of shorter straight needles and still leaving one set of long needles in the same size for other ‘non-sock’ projects. Smart idea, huh? The price I had to pay for these needles is pocket change compared to how much it would have cost to purchase pre-made smaller needles in all these sizes.

Once I cut the needles I will glue a small bead to the ends which will give me some nice custom DIY needles for all my two needle sock knitting.

Of course my Boy Toy had a few things to say about my new needles:

Boy Toy: Why not cut all four of the size 0 needles?

Liver Chick: I’ll end up with two pairs once I cut the first two, so there is no need to cut all four.

Boy Toy: But what are you ever going to knit with a pair of 13.5 inch size 0 needles?

Liver Chick: You never know when I might need long needles that size.

Boy Toy: Yes, because when Godzilla comes into town to can take him down by giving him a splinter in his foot with one of these.

Liver Chick: It could happen.

Boy Toy: You know, we have meat skewers thicker then these things. No needles should ever be this thin and long. Seriously, these things aren’t for knitting, they’re weapons.

Liver Chick: Oh no, you’ve discovered my secret. For years now I’ve been practicing the ancient art of stealth knitting needle kung fu.

Boy Toy: Dude! I could totally use these as poison darts. All I need is one of those long straws that I can blow into and shoot them at something like elephants.

Liver Chick: Yes, because there’s a huge elephant problem here in Arizona.

Boy Toy: Or maybe I’ll just blow one at you when you’re ignoring me.

Liver Chick: And when we’re in the emergency room because I have a knitting needle stuck in my butt I’ll make sure to ask the doctor to give you a vasectomy while we’re there.

Boy Toy: Would I get extra points if I hit bullseye?

Liver Chick: WHAT?…you…you know what, don’t even talk to me.

Boy Toy: *laughing* 50 points for the right butt cheek. 60 for the left one. 100 if you get it in the center.

Liver Chick: Okay, that’s it.

(Liver Chick gets up and goes after Boy Toy. Boy Toy takes off running and locks himself in the bathroom. Liver Chick walks away fuming and thinks of leaving one of the size 0 needles outside the bathroom for Boy Toy to step on and get a splinter.)

The Slow Boat From China

I have been waiting for almost a month now. It seems strange that in a time where I can download a book in two minutes and have a burger, fries and drink in under five minutes, that I have to wait a month for a new set of knitting needles.

Last month I bid on, (and won!) a set of knitting needles on Ebay. I was just as surprised as the other bidders when I won. I have a pretty consistent track record when bidding on Ebay.  About 99.9% of my bids never win.

After winning the bid I then realized that these knitting needles were being shipped from China and the scheduled delivery date would be a month away! I won them. I paid for them. So I would have to wait for them.

The needles were delivered to the house this past Friday, but I wasn’t home at the time. So instead of being greeted by my highly anticipated package, I was greeted with a “Sorry we missed you…” slip from the postman. The package had been sent registered mail which meant I needed to sign for it.

I rescheduled for delivery today and now, like a school girl waiting for the cute boy in class to call her, I’m waiting for that little white postal truck to pull up in front of the house.

So, why more knitting needles? Do you really need to ask? Knitting needles are like jello- there’s always room for more! Truth be told I have never met a knitter who ever said they have ‘enough’ knitting needles. I really don’t think there is such a thing. It’s like having too much yarn or too much chocolate- it just doesn’t happen.

Waiting this long does have its upside. It has given me the time to think about projects I want to use my new needles on. My poor Boy Toy has had to endure another trip to the craft store as I just had to buy more yarn for all these upcoming projects.

FYI- If you need me for anything today, I’ll be at home stalking my own front door and hopefully soon casting on another pair of socks on my new needles.

Boy Toy’s Failed Attempt at Design

Well, I am happy to say that another one of my designs have been accepted by a yarn company!

I’ve just mailed off the completed garments from the other yarn company and working on swatches for a few more submission deadlines coming up.

It feels good to have some work to do and get paid for doing it. Like my Theatre teacher often told me- “The only real difference between a professional and an amature is a paycheck”.

The interesting part about all this is trying to get my Boy Toy to  understand the whole process of me being paid to play with yarn.

Boy Toy: So, let me get this straight. You draw some shit on paper, turn it in to some company and they pay you for it?

Liver Chick: Well, that’s part of it.

Boy Toy: So, I could get paid for drawing shit?

Liver Chick: It’s not shit. I draw pretty pictures.

Boy Toy: Okay, so lets say I draw some pretty shit on paper and send it in,….

Liver Chick: Stop calling it shit! Call it ‘stuff’ or something.

Boy Toy: Alright. So I draw some pretty shitty stuff on paper and turn it in. Then they pay me for it?

Liver Chick: Say that five times fast.

Boy Toy: Pretty shitty stuff, pretty shitty stuff, pretty shitty….

Liver Chick: No. You actually have to ‘make’ what you draw and give instructions on how you made it so other people can make it too.

Boy Toy: Well, that’s easy. I’ll just give it to you to make.

Liver Chick: Oh, how nice of you, honey. Make me do all the work while you get all the money? I don’t think so. If I do the work, then I get the money.

Boy Toy: No, that’s not how it works. Remember, we’re married. What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine.

Liver Chick: Um, I think that’s my line, honey.

Boy Toy: No, I remember specifically in our vows that you are to honor and obey me and give me all your money.

Liver Chick: Maybe those were the vows you heard when you got drunk and married that hooker in Vegas, but that is not how it goes in this house. If you get a design accepted by a yarn company then you’re gonna have to pick up your knitting loom and knit it yourself.

Boy Toy: But honey, you love me. And you suppose to do nice things for the people you love. So, if I get a design accepted, you’ll do it for me, right?

Liver Chick: Only if you agree to clean the toilets for a month.

Boy Toy: Never mind.

And Other Drugs

So, I just finished watching “Love and Other Drugs”, starring Anne Hathaway and Jake Gyllenhaal. I never got to watch it when it was in theaters, so had to wait for it on Netflix.

It was a wonderful movie full of delicious eye candy of have nude Anne and Jake, (Jake, your ass looks hot in any camera angle, just thought you should know). But The major part of the movie that made me cry like a baby was Anne’s character, Maggie.

I so related to Maggie with her disease. Relationships were not my thing because I just couldn’t see anyone wanting to be with me, knowing that with my disease I would get worse, not better, over time. Relationships are about being able to lean on each other- you know, when one is weak, the other is strong. But who on God’s green earth would knowingly walk into a relationship where most of the burden would be one-sided?

So, I built up my brick wall for my own protection and walked into relationships prepared for the break-up. Guys would say, “Baby, you know I’ll be there for you”. Which is very easy to say when I was going out with them partying and having fun. But when I was laying in the hospital with an IV  in one arm and a blood transfusion in the other, well, those same guys couldn’t find the exit fast enough.

At a certain point I got to where on the first date I would drill the guy with a set of questions that would determine if there would be a second date:

“Have you ever heard of Sickle Cell Disease?”

“If someone you cared about was in the hospital, what would you do?”

“What if the person you married got sick to the point they couldn’t work anymore and you had to take care of them, what would you do?”

“Do you think, if you really loved someone, that you could marry them, knowing they had a life-threatening disease?”

Not exactly the warm and fuzzy conversations most people have on first dates, but I wanted to cut to the chase. I really had no time to play around or try to ease the person into the reality of my life. Needless to say, my approach lead to few date offers. But on the plus side, I faced very few disappointments.

Then my Boy Toy walked into my life. Other the course of the next seven years, AND  against my own will I might add- I fell in love. I fell in love with someone who made me laugh, who was interested in what I had to say, and for a few moments in my life, made me forget that I was sick. So, I did what any sensible girl would do when they find themselves falling in love. I freaked the hell out! We argued. We broke up. We got back together. We broke up. We got back together. Then my Boy Toy moved to another state. We went our separate ways and I tried to get on with my life.

Then on an ordinary day he called me out of the blue and asked if I’d come visit him. I still don’t know for the life of me what made me say yes, but I did and while I was there he proposed to me. I explained to the idiot what he was getting himself into, but then he said the following:

“Many people have given me advice on why I shouldn’t marry you. There is the whole race issue, but it is  mainly because you have a disability. But I decided that I can’t live my life following other people’s  advice. I have to live it following my heart. And my heart tells me that I can’t live without you. So I don’t care if its fifty years or only five years, what ever time God has left for you here on Earth, I want to live it with you.”

Now, would you be so kind as to excuse me while I go get some Kleenex for my face and then go make love to my Boy Toy like there’s no tomorrow!





I finally got some really cute pictures of my Boy Toy wearing my first ever male socks. And, of course I can’t show them to you because the swatch for it is being sent off for consideration in another knitting magazine.

My room looks like a giant mutant yarn moster stumbled into it after having way too many jager and redbull shots and threw up all over the place. There is yarn everywhere- but in the oh so wrong kind of way.

I just found my bobbin lace pillow, finished the lace edging that’s been hanging off that thing for like the past three years and have now started another lace piece. (Yes, I do bobbin lace. Unlike Latin, its not completely a dead artform. And once I take over the world with my two needle knitting I will then require all scholl age children to spend two hours a day learning bobbin lace. Yes, I AM an evil dictator!)

The Boy Toy has finally raised the white flag saying he has given up on trying to understand how I can have so many different craft projects going on at the same time. “I still can’t pat my head and rub my belly at the same time. How the hell do you manage to do so many things at once?”

After several tall adult drinks, I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that unless someone is willing to give me an all expenses paid trip, I will not be going to Sock Summit this year. (Wait, I think I may need another drink. The pain is starting to come back.)

I just realized that once my sock design gets published I still need to come up with a plan to get three TNNA members to write letters of introduction for me. Anyone out there willing to volunteer? I’m willing to send a free pair of hand knitted socks to you for your time. (Yes, I will stoop so low as to knit my way into TNNA. I am never above grovaling!)

And, well…

I’m working on another sock design that I will try to post here on the blog next week. Yup, its going to be a free one, yeah!!!


Socks Before Husbands

After all the celebration from yesterday, it was time to settle down and get back to work. I’m still working on that pair of men’s socks that I mentioned to you before. I want to make sure I get them in well before the deadline.

My Boy Toy will reluctantly be my model for the socks.

Boy Toy: “Do I need to shave my legs?”

Liver Chick: “No, you can just stay all natural.”

Boy Toy: “But my legs are so white! Maybe I should go get one of those fake tans or something.”

Liver Chick: “Yes and have your legs look like a pair of over-baked french loaves?”

Boy Toy: “Better than them looking like the first stage of rigamortis.”

Liver Chick: “Your legs are fine.”

Boy Toy: “Wait, what if someone recognizes me?”

Liver Chick: “I’m not taking a full picture of you. It’s just your feet and legs.”

Boy Toy: “But someone could still recognize me.”

Liver Chick: “Yes, because you have done oh so many fashion spreads that your legs are now as recognizable as J-Lo’s butt.”

Boy Toy: “What, you didn’t know I was a leg model in my youth? Seriously, what if one of my ex-girlfriends see the picture and realize its me.”

Liver Chick: “So, you’re saying your ex-girlfriends were on their knees so much that they would be able to recognize your knees and feet?”

Boy Toy: “Well….”

Liver Chick: “Or will they have to turn the picture upside down because they’re more use to your legs being up in the air?”

Boy Toy: “Okay, that’s just nasty! I don’t even want to think about where you’re going with that one.”

Liver Chick: “Hey, you were the one talking about ex-lovers recognizing your legs.”

Boy Toy: “I was just saying. Maybe I should shave.”

Liver Chick: “No shaving!”

Boy Toy: “But I’m so hairy. I have freaking bear legs.”

Liver Chick: “No shaving. No tanning. And if some ex-girlfriend recognizes your legs, we’ll deal with it on Jerry Springer! I just want to take a cute picture of you wearing my socks, that’s all.”

Boy Toy: “This is not going to be one of those pictures that some jaded knitter is going to try to blackmail me with later when I run for president?”

Liver Chick: “Yes, forget that you balanced the country’s budget and ended poverty in America. Your entire presidency will crumble and fall all due to this one picture of you wearing my socks.”

Boy Toy: “It could happen. Besides, you women are evil like that. Walking around with two sharp pointy things in your purse and a ball of yarn. At any moment you could drop a stitch, snap under the pressure, then stab someone to death with your needles in frustration and then use your yarn to wrap them like a mummy.”

Liver Chick: “And that is why you can never divorce me.”

Boy Toy: “No. I’ll just leave the country and then serve you divorce papers.”

Liver Chick: “You do remember, they allow knitting needles on planes again.”

Boy Toy: “Crap!”

Liver Chick: “I love you too, honey. Now try on this sock.”

Currently On The Needles

I’ve been reminded of the lack of knitting pictures- especially sock knitinng pictures- on my blog. Trust me, I am knitting and crocheting my butt off at the moment. Unfortunately, since some of the items I am knitting is being sent to magazines for publication consideration, I’m unable to share them with you just yet. However, even though I can’t let you see what I’m working on, I can at least tell you about it. So, here is a list of what’s currently on my needles, (and hooks):

– A crocheted Homestar Runner as a birthday gift for my Boy Toy

– Another crocheted Strong Bad For my Boy Toy’s co-worker

– Some size 8 1/2 socks for a sock swap (I will share this pattern free on Ravelry near the end of May)

– The Royal Wedding socks being knitted in size 10 crochet cotton, double stranded (hopefully will be able to post the  pattern on the big day)

– A blingy pair of socks for consideration in the ezine, Twist Collective Winter 2011 issue

– Two fashion-forward sock designs for consideration in the new upcoming ezine, Clotheshorse Spring 2012 issue

– Elegant and simple sock design for consideration in Knitscene magazine Spring 2012 issue

– Hand stitching the pieces of the blanket my Boy Toy made on his knitting loom

– Working on the cross-stitch pattern from Hell, for my Boy Toy’s great Aunt

And finally, I’m doing my best to keep from tripping over all the yarn that has exploded in my room due to all my many projects going on at once. I’m starting to wonder the statistics of knitters who have died under the weight of too many knitting projects?

By Any Other Name

Hubby: So, you still blogging about your knitting?

Liver Chick: Yup.

Hubby: Is that all you talk about is just you and your knitting?

Liver Chick: Well, no. I do mention a little bit of my personal life too.

Hubby: So you talk about me? You’re not using my real name are you?

Liver Chick: No, I don’t use any real names. My name is Liver Chick and I refer to you as ‘Hubby’.

Hubby: ‘Hubby’. That’s very generic.

Liver Chick: Well, I know that some bloggers use fancier names or nicknames  for their husbands, but I really didn’t know what to call you, so I just went with ‘Hubby’. Is there another name you would like me to use?

Hubby: How about ‘Well-Hung’ or ‘My Pimp Daddy’?

Liver Chick: I am not going to refer to you as ‘Well-Hung’ on my blog.

Hubby: Oh, so you’re saying that I’m not well-hung?

Liver Chick: No! I’m saying that I’m not going to mention that to thousands of complete strangers online. The last thing I need is a whole bunch of women and men emailing me asking how long you are and what price you charge for your services.

Hubby: Well, that would depend on how much they’re willing to pay me for my services.

Liver Chick: I’m not about to pimp out my husband on my knitting blog. It’s not that kind of blog.

Hubby: Yes it is! I’ve read some of your stuff. I know what you knitters talk about. Sitting there discussing long stiff rods.

Liver Chick: They are called knitting needles.

Hubby: Oh, is that the new slag word you use for it now, (making quotation sign with his fingers), ‘Needles’? (Talking in a high-pitch sound to mimic women talking): “I like six inches. It gets the job done.” “Girlfriend, you should try eight inches, there’s nothing like it.” “Honey, once you get your hands on a twelve-inch, you never want to go back.”

Liver Chick: (laughing out loud) Okay, our conversations, to some outsiders, may sound a bit perverted. But that’s beside the point. You have to come up with a better name then ‘Well-Hung’ or I’m just going to keep calling you ‘Hubby’ on my blog.

Hubby: Just call me ‘Whitie’ of ‘Cracker’, then.

Liver Chick: Yes, and get my ass kicked by people thinking I’m a racist. The last thing I need is the freakin’ KKK after me.

Hubby: What’s the KKK going to do, text you images of a burning cross?

Liver Chick: They would probably send me a computer virus that as soon as I opened it would show my blog going up in flames and little men dressed in sheets dancing around it.

Hubby: (laughing)

Liver Chick: Don’t laugh, it’s probably true. So, no. I’m not calling you ‘cracker’ or any other racial name. I’m just going to stick with ‘Hubby’.

Hubby: No, I want something else. Okay, what about Ramon, the Latin lover or Antonio, the pool boy?

Liver Chick: Hummm. Pool Boy sounds good. Or maybe Boy Toy or Trophy Husband.

Hubby: I could be a Boy Toy. After all, you are older then me.

Liver Chick: Please, I’m not that old. I’m barely one year older then you.  

Hubby: Yes, but that still means you’ll turn 40 before I do. Wow, can you believe that? In a few years I’ll still be in my 30’s dating a 40 year old. You’ll be like my cougar wife.

Liver Chick: You know, you’re about one more remark away from being refered to as Asshole on my blog.

Hubby: I’m just messing with you. I love you, my little cougar-in-training.

Liver Chick: Maybe I’ll call you my S.O.B. instead?

Hubby: I think I’d like  Boy Toy instead.

Liver Chick: Okay, then Boy Toy it is.

Boy Toy: Liver Chick and Boy Toy. Sounds like a bad porn movie title.

Liver Chick: Or a very funny blog.