Four Feet Two

First in knitting news, I had quite a lovely surprise when I made my weekly trip to the mailbox yesterday.

It seems A Knitted Peace determined I had spent $500 in their store in 2007 and am eligible for their customer appreciation program.† I got a $50 gift certificate.‡

Why do you suppose it's so much harder to spend a gift certificate than cash? I'm paralysed by my options. There's a good chance I'll sit on this for ages.

Probably until I lose the gift certificate.

[SUMMARY: I'm a financial wizard.]

But I didn't bring you here to talk about my "windfall." No, I brought you here to talk about my knitting.

I finished the Jellyfish a week ago, but couldn't deliver it§ until I could take pictures.¶




In the end, it was 33" across. It took three skeins (less three yards) of Lion Brand Wool Ease Thick & Quick in Sky Blue. It's very, very thick and may make a better dragging blankie than covering blankie.

[SUMMARY: Know your audience.]

Speaking of audience...

Nice segueway, huh? But I just thought of this. And it's sort of knitting related. And it goes with the footnote on baby blankets, specifically the one for Jeron, Christa's son.

Christa was supposed to be at the baby shower, but her mother was in the hospital or some such, so I left the long-finished blanket with Tani, who I felt sure would see Christa before I would.

Tani reported that Christa loved the blanket and...

(wait for it)

...is going to frame it.

I almost cried. I almost yelled. I almost argued.# Then I caught myself and thought and said, "I guess she can frame it if she wants to. I made it for her, so it's her blankie."

But, really.

I envision the blankies I give to the babies being loved and mussed and dragged around until they're frayed and stained. I want the blankies to be loved. Not preserved.

But, again... not my call. Blankies are like children: you do your best with them, then release them to the world and trust they'll reach their best potential.

But, really.

[SUMMARY: There's a lot of philosophy in a baby blanket.]

OK, I'm back. We were talking knitting.

Real knitting. Not philosophical knitting.

So here's the scarf you've never heard of before that I knitted for the raffle on Saturday. I used Misti chunky alpaca†† and it was lovely. Soft as alpaca is soft and quick and comfortable...




And look at the colour! It's called "Marina Melange" and it has wisps of green and deep purplish-blue in among the tealish colour. I could have stared at it for hours,‡‡ just wrapping my eyes around the depth of the shades.

See?




In a quick field trip to some of the fluffly little shops across from the Coral Room, I found the perfect card on which to write content and washing instructions:




Perfect for me, I mean. And the fact that it came with 11 other cards just like it? Bonus!

[SUMMARY: I'm a total package kind of girl.]

Finally, I finished the four-at-once socks.

As anticipated, the difference in sizes caused most of the headaches, but they were very small headaches. Not even headaches so much as exercises in brow furrowing. They hardly hurt a bit.

I think I'll do six at once next. In lace. Different laces for each pair. Then I can tell if it's difference period or just difference in size that makes the... difference.

Sort of like a double-blind study.§§








[SUMMARY: I have superpowers!]

Happy story:

The orange yarn is Hobby Kids from Schoeller + Stahl, left over from a pair I knit for Brother. I figured I wouldn't have quite enough for all four socks. When I went to look for more, I found the yarn has been discontinued.

Paradise Fibers showed they had ten balls of Hobby Kids in red, so I ordered one. They called me that night to say, "Oops! There was an error on our website. Can we send you [some other yarn] instead? Please leave us a message."

I told them I needed the same gauge, same basic tweedy colour scheme and fully machine washable and dryable.

Nobody at Paradise Fibers ever checks their messages. I got about four phone calls and three emails the next day, all from different people.% When I got the yarn, it's 83% wool and wholly unsuitable.

I had to be down in Littleton for random work reasons, so I stopped by A Knitted Peace. That's where I got the original orange yarn. I had no illusions that they would have more of the Hobby Kids, but I thought maybe they'd have SOMETHING.

Guess what?

They happened to have two balls of green^ Hobby Kids in the back. They collect yarn for the women's correctional facility to use in making charity knitting projects, and someone had donated it. So they didn't charge me.@

Oh, happy!

[SUMMARY: Good things come to those who wait 'til the last minute.]

Funny story:

I dropped by the Household du Brother Monday to drop off the socks.¶¶ Dr. Doom ran into the living room in his underpants, excited to get his socks.## Tallest, Hairiest Nephew also came in to see what the fuss was about, although he apparently forgot his underpants. And all other clothing.

Upon seeing the aunt and the open door, he covered his privates and fell to the ground. As he crawled to the pile of clothing on the coffee table,††† eBeth said, "Remember when I told you to put underwear on? Wouldn't that have been a good idea?"‡‡‡

So they both put on socks and wandered around in their underwear making appreciative noises.§§§ Just as I was leaving, Dr. Doom whipped off his underwear and went puttering around in nothing but his new socks.

[SUMMARY: Naked is the new black.]

I'm mildly disturbed that it's so easy for me to get my nephews out of their pants.

Then again, I haven't tried... do you think handing a pair of socks to The Spelling Bee Champ would entice him to remove his?


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Honestly, I don't know if I ever knew there was such a thing. And it's a little scary to think I spent that much last year at my SECONDARY LYS, but look! Customer appreciation!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): That's a 10% ROI. I couldn't have done any better with a Certificate of Deposit.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Speaking of delivery, the baby was born Monday. That makes this blanket a personal record for me, being both finished and presented (OK, OK... but I'm taking it tonight or tomorrow morning) within days of birth. My brother assured me long ago that hand-knit baby blankets don't have to be finished by the time the baby arrives. In fact, he tells me, they don't even have to be finished that soon after the baby arrives. Good thing, too. Christa just got Jeron's baby blanket and he's nine months old. In my defense, it didn't take me that long to knit it, just that long to get it to her.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Perhaps my hand-knit gifts should come with a warning that they will not be distributed until the proper photography and cataloguing (I can spell "cataloguing") has taken place.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which, y'know... lots of good. Yelling at Tani for Christa's actions. Very productive.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): 100% baby alpaca, which sounds really cruel when you say it out loud to someone.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): OK, I *did* stare at it for hours.

§§FOOTNOTE (two pairs, two circs): Almost nothing like a double-blind study. Mostly the cheerful, blind flailing of the blissfully experimental.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): As you may recognise, this is a mini customer service indictment of Paradise Fibers. They are VERY nice and VERY prompt, but not particularly well organised and they don't appear to ever talk to each other. Or check their messages.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Which I suspect looks better than the red would have.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): I know, I know... I felt a little wriggly taking charity yarn and told them I'd gladly replace it with two balls of something, but they said they have way more than enough and they'd never miss it. Perhaps it's my Kharmic payout for the raffle scarf.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (little stocking feet): Did I mention it took me until nearly 2:00 in the morning to finish them?

##FOOTNOTE (pounding like the last round of knitting at 2:00 am): It's spring break and they were getting ready to leave for South Dakota. He deemed the socks, "perfect trip socks."

†††FOOTNOTE (are we back to Calgary? It was Easter, after all): Packing, remember. Not a housekeeping issue.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (Frankenblog!): The things you get to say when you're a parent. Apparently. Heh.

§§§FOOTNOTE (OK, now I'm dizzy): Have I mentioned recently how marvelous it is that so many people in my life -- particularly everybody I'd ever be inspired to knit for -- is so appreciative? I hear stories from knitter friends all the time about people who aren't thrilled or impressed or... appreciative at all. I may be the luckiest knitter in the world. Even the four-year-old thinks hand-knits are cool.

Points for Python

TTHFCIF

So yesterday was Third Thursday, something the Merchants Association† on 32nd Avenue thought up to answer the wildly popular First Fridays in the artier districts.

IRL Kelley and I were talking to Kristy,‡ owner of one of our favourite shops§ and one of our favourite shop owners, and we asked her how long it had been going on since, well... in general, we're pretty connected to the consumer-driven side of the community,¶ being the consummate consumers we are, but we hadn't heard of it until last month.

Turns out they've been doing it for a year or so. Kristy said something to the effect of, "It's stupid. Nobody comes."

I think they need better advertising. I've sat on a barstool at the Coral Room many a third Thursday, I'm sure, and watched the world go by and never, ever realised the festivity that was ostensibly going on.

First Friday never lives up to its hype, but at least you always know it's going on 'cause there always is hype. And because of the hype, it keeps getting bigger and starts fulfilling the promises of the earlier hype.

[SUMMARY: A shopkeepers goals must exceed his reach, else what is First Friday for?]

Anyway, I bought stuff:

Lauryn, whom you may remember from the highly biological necklace, had a trunk show at Studio Bead, so of course we went. And of course, I bought, 'cause Lauryn uses lots of rocks and, y'know... rocks friends.#

I'm pretty sure these are chrysocolla. I'm pretty sure Red will correct me if I'm wrong.



And when I was at Kristy/Christi/Kristee's shop, I couldn't leave this behind:

See the lining?

[SUMMARY: If yarn doesn't make everything better, surely skulls do.]

And just to drive home the point that this isn't a fashionista zone with shopping and hip little bits, still VERY MUCH a knitblog, the first strip†† of the Lizard Ridge, she is complete.

[SUMMARY: Pretty.]

We had a spectacular sunset last night, only sort of captured here.

[SUMMARY: Um... pretty.]

I'm starting to feel guilty about taking the Girl Colours Big Baby away from the cat. He spends so much of his spare time‡‡ with it. And doesn't he look content?

I wonder if he'd like a Kitty Pi...?

[SUMMARY: Spoiled. Rotten.]

Tonight, I see Spamalot, a show I had a remarkably hard time finding a date for. Male or female. Platonic or romantic.

FIRST: Several people§§ expressed an "I just never liked Monty Python" sentiment. Even more¶¶ expressed an "Only if John Cleese and Michael Palin are actually going to be on stage" sentiment.

What's a girl gotta do to give away orchestra seating to a Broadway smash hit?

You don't have to answer that. The topless scenario has already occurred to me, perhaps a little late.

SECOND: Did anybody else notice there weren't a whole lot of questions about the Pythons on the geek test. As I recall, The Holy Grail wasn't something the jocks did before big games. It was something we recited while hanging lights or before Movement and Mime class.

Why not more points for Python? Katzen in himmel, I could have been a supergeek with just a couple more points on my side.

[SUMMARY: We need a telethon.]

Anyway...

Tonight, Spamalot.




Tomorrow, alpaca show.




Sunday, Brocos v Jagwads.




And with that, I leave you to your Friday.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I have no idea if there actually is such a thing.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Christy, Kristi, Christiee... at least I pronounce it right.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Starlet, where I got my Angry Little Girls F*@K! bag

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): OK, mostly Kelley's connected to the merchants and I'm connected to the Innernets, but between us we're a force to be reckoned with.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Name that movie!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): A full 1/4 of the blanket, for those of you scoring at home.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Spare time... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Like the cat has a busy schedule and has to shoehorn in a little quality time with the blanket.

§§FOOTNOTE (how curvy? THAT curvy!): OK, so maybe just Kelley.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (double-dipping on the paragraphs): Mathematically speaking, the set known as everybody minus Kelley; by definition, a much larger group by at least 100% than just Kelley.

Hornk!

We have fibre.

Oh yes, we have fibre. Fibre in several forms. FO fibre. WIP fibre. USO fibre.

[SUMMARY: Fibre.]

First, the very cat-friendly Girl Colours Big Baby.




I couldn't keep Cat for Scale off this. I tried using the Boy Colours Big Baby as a decoy, but he didn't want Boy Colours, he wanted Girl Colours. When I finished it, I tossed it in the other recliner† and he's been nesting in it every since.

You may be horrified that I let the cat nest in a blanket that will go to a tender and beloved baby, but the baby in question lives with at least three dogs and at least two cats and the blanket will be washed, of course, so... I didn't feel the slightest compunction about distracting the Quill Beast from, say, my circular needles‡ or my dinner.§

If that bothered you, don't read the next bit. In fact, if you're in the middle of any kind of meal or tend to be squeamish, don't read the next bit. Fair warning.

The other night, the cat walked across my head, down my shoulder and hopped to the Other Recliner to cuddle up with the GCBB. He gave his balls a perfunctory lick,¶ then began the distinctive *hglughglughglug* of a feline about to hornk something up.

"NO! Not the Blanket! That's for a BABY! Quill!"

But a cat in the middle of a good hornk doesn't so much pay attention.

He upchucked all over the corner of the blanket, sat there for a moment blinking at his work, then licked it clean.

(That was the gross part. All you delicate flowers who averted your eyes can tune back in now.)

[SUMMARY: Sorry Dave! I'll wash the blanket before I send it!]

And just in time for the Yarn Acquisition Report!

I got this lovely cashmere at Smiley's. Now, my Jersey girls# and various others in the know may be rolling their eyes at this point. Smiley's classically has yarn for the non-snob, frequently at ridiculously low prices.

Most of their stock is Lion Brand, Patons, et al, with a healthy dose of Yarn Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken, but rhymes with Dead Art. If you have to make something on a budget or something that has to be washed and dried or may be quickly outgrown, you can do worse than Lion or Patons, particularly at Smiley's prices.

They do carry some off-brand Italian luxury yarns for the snob in you.

A lot of the yarn at Smiley's is $1 a skein or $2 or $3... most is 30% - 50% off retail price. They tend to have limited colour selection, as a lot of their stock is discontinued or overstock or something.†† Some of it you probably wouldn't take if they offered to have Christian Bale hand-deliver it to you, but, again... worth checking in now and then to see if there's something you can use at half-price.

BTW... the fact that there was a personal thank you note from Frank on the invoice does not colour my feelings toward Smiley's at all. *ahem*

Back to the cashmere. This is a chained yarn, worsted weight, 50g/154 yards for $16 a skein. I got three of each colour (red and black). There isn't much halo on it, so it's a smooth softness, rather than bunny-soft like my cashmere sweaters. Lovely, nonetheless.

I figure I'll knit up a couple of lovely scarves for people I'm, frankly, not sure are going to be gift-worthy at Christmastime, but who cares? If you have a couple of "extra" cashmere scarves lying around, how are you going to bitch about that?

To sweeten the pot, each colour came in its own nice heavy plastic bag with the plastic handle that snaps together -- you know, like they give you at the Garden and Home Show to carry all your coupons and brochures. The Lizard Ridge‡‡ is currently travelling in one of my Smiley's bags.

[SUMMARY: Half-price cashmere. What more really *needs* be said?]

Last week during Landmanning for the Non-Landman,§§ I turned the heels on both of the debt socks for Brother (while he drafted the yarn, having nothing else to do).

Brother looked at them and said, "I love heels."

I was a little surprised, 'cause I didn't know he'd been paying close enough attention to appreciate the glorious geometric wonder that is heels, so I got abnormally enthusiastic and said, "Me too. They're magic!"

He looked at me for a moment with that reptilian smugness only a little brother can exhibit and said, "I like them because once there's a heel it's a sock, not just a dick warmer."

Apparently, being twelve runs in the family.

[SUMMARY: The bloodline is doomed.]

I have been fondling this yarn over at Syl's House of Fuzzy Crack for weeks. As long as it's been out, I've been cuddling it and nuzzling it and asking, "Syl, what would you make with this?" and asking, "Syl, how many skeins would you use for a scarf?"

I imagine Sylvia is delighted I finally bought the yarn and stopped musing on it in this altogether too wishy-washy fashion.

I started knitting it up last night. As expected, it knits up like Muppet skin and very, very soft. I suspect it has a really nice hand.¶¶

It's microfibre, and (like Big Baby) says to hand wash and lay flat, but I suspect (like Big Baby) you can actually machine-wash it and -dry it as long as you don't get too extreme in temperature or beat it on a rock to wash it. Once I've tested that theory on this yarn, I'll let y'all know.

It's kinda hard to see the characteristic of the yarn...

...'specially when I got all artsy and nature-girl about it...

...but it has a row of these cool loops like your average terry-cloth bath towel (only a little longer) and a row of silky soft Muppet## fur behind that.

Here. This is what the Skacel website has, and they should know. It's their yarn:

If you click-for-big, I bet you can see the loops and everything.

[SUMMARY: Ah, techmology.]

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day, ev'ry-bahdy!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Because I have two in the living room and one is patently mine. You'd think the cat would gleefully take over the other one when he's upstairs ('cause y'all know he has his own recliner in the basement). No, no. Through the perversity of cats, he wants to sit on top of my head on the back of MY recliner, sometimes sticking one thorny paw under the edge of my shirt to... what? Maintain control? Leave a mark? Warm his foot?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Circular needles are the best cat toy ever.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): He has added raisins and pumpkin seeds to his list of favourite foods and trying to snack on a little gorp is now like trying to wrestle a well-oiled octopus with claws and a cold, wet nose.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I do not believe this was cause or even related to the act of barf that followed.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Hi Glinda!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm totally blowing smoke here. It's just an educated guess, and not that educated at that.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Almost done with the first strip, thanks for asking.

§§FOOTNOTE (snakes eat their tales): When I was in college, I took a class called Studio Art for the Non-Artist. Now, I took a lot of art in high school and consider myself reasonably artistic, but the bent of the class was to give an art elective credit to, say, business majors. We dabbled in the shallow end of many media and theories, but it would have been nearly impossible to get less than a B in the class unless you just completely failed to go or do any art.

Every time I end up in a class or lecture that's too-too basic, I immediatly dub it "Something for the Non-Somethingist."

¶¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphs coming out of my ears!): Yeah, I still don't know what "hand" means.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like a two-dollar whore): Yes, I've used the word "Muppet" several times now, exhibiting a redundancy and obsession extreme even for me. I really, really want to knit my own Grover. I need a lovable, furry pal.

Go ahead. Be twelve. Take that any way you want.

Reality Check

The bottom line about this weekend:

• Friday: Devised workable method of shortcutting workload by taking a box of folders home, a couple of snakebites† at Patrick Carroll's, a tarot reading, a little art, a sudden realisation that while I had devised a workable method of getting ahead on the Everest of workpiles, I left the box of folders at the office,% went downtown at 7:00 to pick up box,returned home for a little TiVi catch-up while knitting, a lot of quality sleep

[SUMMARY: Pretty pictures don't erase dorkdom, but they help.]

• Saturday: Up at 7:30, notary skills applied in Littleton and check picked up, followed by trip to bank (where they had doughnuts and coffee),‡ ESPN-XM on the way home, a productive two work hours, lunch, five more hours of work (slogging along, but making progress), TiVi and knitting -- all laundry done during work and folded during TiVi breaks, a little more art, a little wine, a surprise appearance by various relatives and an outstanding massage.§ No sex.
  

[SUMMARY: At least I caught on to that laundry issue before it was too late.]

Sunday: Woke up crying at 6:00 (sad dreams), said, "fuck this," went back to sleep, woke up at 10:30, ran down to DVR the Broncos, two hours of work, half a Bronco game, one hour of work, blog, second half of the Broncos.# I am 12 rows of garter stitch from finishing the Girl Colours Big Baby and will pop it into the laundry shortly, along with the Boy Colours Big Baby¶. I already called Kelley and will pick her up at 5:15, at which time we'll have a lovely dinner at Vesta, laugh our asses off at Lavell Crawford and try not to let the fact that I still have 30 hours worth of work left to do in three days bother me too much.

[SUMMARY: A win is a win, no matter how ugly.††]

Now I should go perform ritual hair removal and shower so as to be presentable in public.

Thank you for your continued support.



%FOOTNOTE (percented): Dork, dork, dork...

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Half Strongbow Hard Cider, half Harp's. All yummy and refreshing.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Nobody at the bank even asked why I was taking pictures of their doughnut table.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not Fling. A massage therapist at the art show.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): which I had to use as a decoy for Cat for Scale so I could get anything at all done on the Girl Colours Big Baby, and it (Boy Colours Big Baby) is now covered in kitty snot and wild hairs. Don't tell Christa. It'll be clean before her little darling sees it.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which, frankly, if Mom wasn't already dead, this game would have killed her. I *screamed* at the end. I made girl noises. At football. That's just wrong.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Y'all get that I'm not just talking about the Broncos, right? That it's a metaphor for my weekend and I think I'm clever and this is probably one of those style-over-substance things I corner myself with so often?

Watch Me Wiggle

The age-in-dating issue really strikes a chord for some of you.† Lights a bulb. Sets off a nuclear device betwixt the ears.

*sigh*

OK, for the second time yesterday,‡ I was dead wrong. Dead. Wrong.

Let me take you back sixteen years to when I was 24 and was dating a 39-year-old man with two ex-wives and three ex-sons.

I was not interested in men my own age, primarily because there *were* no 24-year-old men in my radar. There were only 24-year-old boys. Gross, hedonistic, sexually irresponsible, emotionally retarded, alcohol-soaked, financially untenable boys.

If I knew then what I know now, I might have spent less time looking for a meaningful relationship and rode out my twenties on a wave of blissful sexual excess.

[SUMMARY: And my 40s and 20s would be different... how?]

Instead, I hooked up with Rich. Rich was in Vietnam when I was eating paste in pre-school. Rich was starting his first family when I was starting middle school.

We could *not* agree on a radio station. Not for long, at least. He liked the classic rock station,§ which I could go with as a novelty, but my heavy metal/goth sensibilities needed feeding too. Looking back, it feels like Rich and I spent all our time together twitting each other about our musical/movie/TiVi taste and trying to find something we could both listen to/watch.

Because of that, I'd written a rule for myself that anyone who wasn't in high school when I was in high school probably can't talk to me. That doesn't mean everybody who was in high school when I was in high school *can* talk to me, but at least it eliminates a whole area I saw as a known and avoidable problem.

[SUMMARY: Dead. Wrong.]

The Fling (your Bachelor #4) is fine. He isn't immature. He doesn't twit me about my age. He is attentive, accommodating, present, loves my body, has a big dick and we can talk. Not that we talk a lot, but we always do and I suspect if this were all about sex, we wouldn't want to.

Part of me is uneasy about admitting all this (to y'all or to myself) because I don't want to be caught in yet another web of emotional hope and disappointment and it's easier to play cool% if I can casually say, "Yeah, I'm just in it for the sex."

Besides, if we ever have a Talk or he tells me about some other girl he's falling for$ I can more easily bounce into the fun fuck-buddy role and lick my wounds in private¶ where they won't embarrass me.

[SUMMARY: I'm human. And I was wrong.]

Besides, the rug burn? Totally worth it. And a funny story: when he saw the rug burn yesterday morning, he made a big show of matching it to the couch, the recliner, the stairs... to determine exactly where it happened.

"I watch a lot of CSI," he said, "and I'd say from the angle and the trajectory that this came from the couch. Definitely the couch."




[SUMMARY: She had sex on the stairs?]

Onward to the Yarn P0rn!

[SUMMARY: Fibre photos make everything better.]

The Seven Deadly Sins Sock Club from Fearless Fibres kicked into gear late last week.

Here is the first shipment:

Nice feet


Gluttony and Wrath


The true colour (at least on my monitor) is somewhere between the wide shot and the close-ups, leaning a little toward the close-ups.

I'm ever-so-slightly disappointed in the colours. I have a gorgeous hank of purplepurplepurple sock yarn from Fearless Fibres that eca-elf sent for my birthday. The colours are rich and saturated, ranging from almost-aubergine, through royal and right into a deep reddish purple.

Lust may look very like that purple colour to me.

Shouldn't sin be rich and saturated? If your sin is kinda medium to faded, you're not getting enough out of it. Or you're Catholic, but that's another issue.

Gluttony is billed as being rich shades of caramel and chocolate, which I get in theory. I don't see much of what I would call chocolate in this. I think there should be much more dark. I think the caramel is gorgeous, but against the middling mutt browns,# it just looks yellowy.

Mostly, it looks like a Milky Way to me. Nothing wrong with Milky Way, but...

Wrath is pretty. It should be scarier. Wrath is scary. It's the only of the seven deadly sins that eats other people, not just the sinner. It should be redder. It should be angrier.

I don't dislike either yarn out of context. But deadly sin is mythic and disproportionate. These are just too nice.

[SUMMARY: I ain't selling my soul for a Milky Way.]

Huh. I'd swear I uploaded pictures of the bonus gift tags Fearless Fibres sent. They're cute. I like them. I'll use them. I wish I had a picture to show you. Besides... bonus gift? Right in the category of Goody Bag and Limited Edition in AntiM's rickety world.

[SUMMARY: Old. Feeble. Gullible. Check.]

I almost hate to do this to you, 'cause WIP pics are frequently dull. 'Specially fingering-weight size 12 (men's) socks.




The girl version of Big Baby is coming along swimmingly. I have less than two-and-a-half balls left to knit. For some reason, this one seems to be taking way more yarn. The boy version I knit a couple of months ago called for nine balls and took just over eight. This one looks like it might take all of ten.

Go figure.




Lizard Ridge is such fun.

Seriously, how many of those have you seen? But this is *my* Lizard Ridge. It's special.††

[SUMMARY: blahblah Lizard Ridge blah...]

No matter how many Lizard Ridges you've seen in your Innernets travels, I bet you've seen more of these:

I do love this little sweater. It took about... four hours? five? to get this far, which puts it in the realm of something I could knit easily in a weekend if I needed a last minute gift. Particularly since I don't intend to have to frog the first two colours for having forgotten the seed stitch when I do the next one. And I won't have to read the instructions next time.

It's that easy.

I have since done the seed stitch border on the left front and applied i-cord all the way down the left and around the corner to pick up the bottom to i-cord.

[SUMMARY: blahblah Tulip blah...]

Knitting pictures to make you feel better, crane picture to make me feel better.

[SUMMARY: blahblah Crane blah...]

In culinary adventure news, in eating my own weight in sushi last night, I tried sea urchin for the first time. Bleagh. OK, it tasted fantastic, but I couldn't quite get past the texture. Runny fish pudding... it just ain't right.

[SUMMARY: Some things just shouldn't go in your mouth. Shut up.]

In TiVi news, Fling and I rested with some BBC the other night and caught Top Gear. Have you seen this? If you like MythBusters, I think you'll like this. Two (maybe three) British guys race cars with celebrities, then trick out cars and perform experiments on them as dictated by... the producers? The viewing audience?

Like this:

Monday's episode featured a Chevy... um... it looked like a Cobalt. A bunch of aging musicians and soccer players dropped by the track and raced it, trying for the best time.

Meanwhile, the hosts drank tea from china cups near the track (Fling and I both agreed they were at least as death-wishy as the people taking a Chevy Cobalt to 160 mph, sitting that close to the track. Also that most of the people appeared to be hammered). The aging musicians had a keyboard jam while a soccer player took his turn.

It was slightly less surreal than it sounds.

Next, they drove what I think was a Porsche. I thought it was a 959, but it clearly wasn't once I got a good look at it. One of the celebrity guest drivers lost control and drove it to the infield, leaving a trail of tires and bits all the way.

After the break, they came back and turned a mini-van into a convertible, after which they had to perform three tasks with it:

1. Take it up to 100 mph and have nothing fall off.
2. Drive it through an animal preserve featuring African animals.
3. Take it through and automated car wash.

They weren't allowed to fix anything between challenges, so the frame of the convertible top was all wonky when they went to the animal preserve.‡‡ After monkeys rode it all the way through the preserve, poking and peeling the canvas top, they took it to the car wash. At night. And bailed when the roof collapsed.

They peeked around a wall to see smoke pouring out of the car wash.

HOST1: It's on fire.
HOST2: Fire?! It can't be on fire.
HOST1: RUN!!!

Yeah, like teenaged boys after being caught in an ill-advised egging, they took off, leaving the smoking wreck of the converted mini-van for the owner of the car wash.

Good TiVi. I highly recommend it. Besides, Ewan McGregor is going to be on next week.

[SUMMARY: Boys doing dumb things are irritating in your living room, but funny on TiVi.]

Now go have a happy Wednesday.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Also maybe the vicarious prurient joy y'all are getting from my current sluttastic lifestyle.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Ally very thoughtfully (as only Ally can) corrected the error of my ways in literally judging a book by its cover in the comments on her post yesterday.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which at that time, boys and girls, did *not* play 80s music. "Classic rock" meant mostly 50s music.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Like when the cat falls clean off the dresser and just pauses right as he landed to lick the body part closest to him like it was all part of his grooming strategy.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): No, it's not a normal topic of conversation, but we have rolled out little bits of our love lives on occasion. I can see it happening. Suddenly I'm in some weirdly incestuous relationship where I'm playing big sister in one room and Penthouse Pet in another.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Except for, y'know, the handful of dearest friends and family to whom I whine and obsess endlessly in these cases. The more I love you, the less exempt you are.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): When Red and I were speculating on what colours we would use for which sins (before we received our yarn), I said I'd probably make sloth brown (not unlike this, but with less caramel) simply because... well, sloths are brown.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Hey, I just sold my soul for a Milky Way. Humour me.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): On their way to SafariLand (not necessarily its actual name), they were arguing about whether they were more frightened of lions or monkeys. After much hilarity involving sign language to illustrate monkey teeth vs. lion teeth, they boiled it down to "would you rather be locked in a phone booth for a half-hour with a lion or a monkey?" One guy stuck to monkey, the other two stuck to the lion.

When they got to SafariLand, the lions were too busy making little lions to even pay attention to the mini-van with the chewy centre, whereas the monkeys attacked the vehicle and eventually rode it all the way to the edge of the park.

Monkeys: 1
Lions: 0

There's a Matt Millen joke in there, I just know it.

Knitblog in the Moonlight

It took me hours to figure out what setting and how to take this picture of the Lake in moonlight,† then I forgot to post it yesterday. Good thing I'm in charge here so we can preempt your regularly scheduled knitblog to make you unwillingly appease my vanity by looking at my pretty pictures.

[SUMMARY: HKIC: it has its advantages.]

These are the yarns that showed up Tuesday and Wednesday last week. I didn't even open them before I left -- I just tossed them wholesale, packaging and all, into the Mini and took off for Nebraska.

Knowing what was waiting for me when I unpacked on the other end inspired me to the discipline necessary to organise myself and stick with the program and...

Who am I kidding? It mostly inspired me to drive about 100 all the way there.

But look:

Clockwise from upper left: Cider Moon Glacier in Rainbow Trout, Louet Gems Opal in Violet and Shamrock, Lorna's Laces in Baltic, Watercolor and Maple Leaves.



Wouldn't you drive fast if you knew this was on the other end of your journey?

The infamous Lorna's Laces, fresh from their worldwide tour.





...and the shamrock Louet is for these...

Cookie A! Twisted Flower!




...and the violet Louet is for this...

More Cookie A! Thelonius!



...or maybe these.

Cookie, Cookie, Cookie A! Gothic Spire!



Just love me some Cookie A. Theoretically, I mean, since I bought four patterns and have yet to do more than fondle and drool and daydream.

Now, the Cider Moon (new best friend!) didn't picture up as well as I'd hoped, so I took a new picture this afternoon, with the wound skein attached to its chosen project, Sulala's Swirl Socks.

The colour is called Rainbow Trout and I hope to get more to make socks for my dad. Not that my dad is so into the rainbow part, but I think when I tell him it's all about the trout, he'll snap right in line.

Isn't it gorgeous?




Just look at the progression of colours along the needle...




*sigh* Beauty surrounds us.

[SUMMARY: We've learned something important here today: I am a sock whore.]

You know one thing I really like about the Swirl Socks and the Cider Moon? Sport weight.

Here are my other current socks, the debtor's socks for my brother for Father's Day. They're not sport. They're fingering.‡ It'll probably be really good for the intarsia Arrrgyle pattern I'm putting on the leg, but it is a LOT of stitches. 72 per round, to be exact.

[SUMMARY: No greater love hath a seester...]




When I wasn't knitting the debtor's socks at the Lake, I was knitting this washcloth.§

Look! Purple!



The pattern's cool, isn't it? And pretty easy.

My big gripe¶ is that the Fiber Trends pattern is printed on dark green paper, defying photocopying, so I can't write all over it, which would be helpful since there's a lot of on-beyond-four counting involved. Plus, it's getting pretty beat up. I'm just going to have to break down and put it on my very special computer-generated index cards one of these days.

Soon, if I'm smart.#

[SUMMARY: Modern technology: Garbage In, Garbage Out. Or, in my case, Nothing In, Nothing Out.]

And this would be the Girl Colours Big Baby Blanket for Dave's daughter.



I know, I know, but after the forgetting-the-border debacle (particularly since I'd just sent First Among Imaginary Kellys the pattern that very day), I was a little demoralised.

Don't worry, I'll get there. I have to. It's deficit knitting and I want to be out of debt and free to live my life.

And...



All the way in from the coast...



Wait for it...



Cat for Scale!



Your camera strap, it fascinates me.



[SUMMARY: Not a knitblog without a cat.]

I heard the most interesting thing†† on ESPN Radio this morning.

The New York Yankees will be playing in KC tonight, which is almost irrelevant to this story. This little statistical gem goes like this:

A-Rod hit his 499th homer last night. The Yankees have won six straight.

On Friday, prior to a regularly-scheduled game, the Yankees and Orioles will be playing the last couple of innings of a game that was suspended on June 28. Anything that happens during those makeup innings will be statistically counted on June 28.

So... assuming the Yankees win tonight in KC, they will have a seven-game winning streak going into Friday.

Here's the good stuff: if they lose those makeup innings, that loss will be counted for June 28, thus the winning streak will still be alive.

Even better: if A-Rod hits his 500th during the makeup innings, that will be credited to June 28, putting last night's 499 as 500 in the record books.

It's like quantum baseball: "If Alex Rodriguez hits his 500th homer prior to his 499th homer, will there be anybody there to celebrate?"

[SUMMARY: Hate me some Yankees, but love me some weird-ass statistics.]

Wow. Is it Thursday already?

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Oddly, the simpler the camera, the harder to take pictures of the moon.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): eca, pray for me. Steph, I can hear you giggling.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Yes it is.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): You knew there had to be one somewhere, didn't you?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): RHETORICAL. No need to comment.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Now, now... you have your interests, I have mine.

ETA: Take my car keys. As I was typing and such, I realised I got the WRONG WEIGHT in the Louet yarn. Cookie A would really like me to knit her lovely patterns in FINGERING,‡ and I apparently think I should be doing them in SPORT.

Thank the wool gods I'm dealing with Wendy at Lanas de Libelula.

Wendy is marvelous.

Wendy will probably secretly laugh and wonder if she should take my car keys but she'll exchange my yarn cheerfully. For putting up with all my senility (and you haven't even heard the story about how I didn't get enough yarn the first time around and she -- thanks be -- still had the same dye lot which turns out not to matter so much when it's all going back and we're going to have to start over hopefully without all the Marin angst...), she has my undying devotion.

Good grief, I'm a dork.