{Jinx via Great White Snark}
Quote from Jinx: "I don't care if his skin glows and twinkles and he smells like kittens and fabric softener, he's still just a glorified syringe."
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Stupid Sparkly Vampire
{Jinx via Great White Snark}
Quote from Jinx: "I don't care if his skin glows and twinkles and he smells like kittens and fabric softener, he's still just a glorified syringe."
My Rose Royce Saturday
Productive. I was productive, I tell you.
Here's the license plate before I washed the car†:
Perhaps this gives you an inkling as to why I finally bathed the poor thing. As Tallest, Hairiest Nephew has been known to say, "AntiM, she does *not* want to be a jeep."
I completely failed to get after pictures,‡ but did take pictures from inside the car wash.§
Jackson Pollack got nothing on me.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I actually took this picture to prove my tags were at one time up-to-date, as I had to pay a larger-than-necessary fine when the 2008 sticker came off the car. I was very careful to wash, rinse and dry the place where the 2009 sticker would go and it still came about halfway off. So I Gorilla Glued it.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I worry one doesn't get one's full complement of saint points if one doesn't have proof of one's good works.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.
Here's the license plate before I washed the car†:
Perhaps this gives you an inkling as to why I finally bathed the poor thing. As Tallest, Hairiest Nephew has been known to say, "AntiM, she does *not* want to be a jeep."
I completely failed to get after pictures,‡ but did take pictures from inside the car wash.§
Jackson Pollack got nothing on me.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I actually took this picture to prove my tags were at one time up-to-date, as I had to pay a larger-than-necessary fine when the 2008 sticker came off the car. I was very careful to wash, rinse and dry the place where the 2009 sticker would go and it still came about halfway off. So I Gorilla Glued it.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I worry one doesn't get one's full complement of saint points if one doesn't have proof of one's good works.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.
Friday, February 6, 2009
When Worlds Collide
{from Geekologie -- ya gotta hit the link.}
I think my geek life just ran over my chic life.
A line of three Star Trek-themed colognes. I am not making this up.
The Greatest Show on Earth%
I have a Finished Object.†
Remember how yesterday I said, "My camera is clear"? Well, right after I posted that, I went and mucked it up again with said Finished Object. Basically, the point of this paragraph is that I want credit for the FO, but I don't want to have to wait until I get it out of my camera and *show* it to you.‡
[SUMMARY: This is the problem with American society today.]
I do have a couple of works in progress I can share with you.
In the ongoing three-ring circus that is my knitting whimsy, I have started the Six-at-Once sock project.§
Before I even cast on, I realised the biggest pain in my ass was likely to be skein maintenance,¶ rather than any issues of technique or pattern.#
Kris, the best thing that's happened in my knitting world since circular needles,†† suggested putting each pair of skeins in its own Ziploc bag, cutting the corners out of the bottoms to feed the yarn, then untwisting as needed.‡‡
Elegant. Brilliant. All hail Kris.§§
[SUMMARY: Kris completes me. Well, my half-a-mind, in any case. I come up with the wild-ass schemes. She tells me how to actually do them.]
You may recall that the Four-at-Once project encompassed two pairs of socks of the same yarn with two different sizes.
This time, I am using the same breed of yarn for each sock,¶¶ all three pairs of socks the same size,## but with three different patterns, all from Carol Jean's "Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarn".
For the blue/green:
For the brown/purple:
For the pink†††/green:
I'll update when I turn the heels and they cease to be dick warmers.‡‡‡
[SUMMARY: Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah.§§§]
For my next trick, I will be needle felting.
The backstory: Brother and eBeth have made presidential candidate ornaments for the family Christmas exchange at least once. This, we feel, qualifies as a tradition.
So when Brother was grumbling about what he was going to do for this year's family gathering, I offered up a Barack Obama needle felting kit I got at Fancy Tiger during the DNC.
Not only did he make it, he deemed it the most he's enjoyed a Christmas project in years.
{photo courtesy of Tani}
So in trying to find a suitable handmade gift for the Glam Rock swap,¶¶¶ I took a page from Brother's book and decided to make a needle felted person from the following materials. Note the glitter:
Yeah, I'm being a little cagey about who it is. Partly because I'm toying with the idea of offering a prize### to the first person who can Name That Rock Star and partly because if it doesn't work out, maybe it'll look enough like someone else that I can pass it off.
[SUMMARY: Hedging my bets.]
Knitblog Plus -- now with 17% more fibre!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): This is not nearly as bragadocious (is that a word?) as it sounds. I'm merely trying to convey the circus-like atmosphere surrounding today's offering of projects.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You are so excited.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Is this any kind of behaviour for someone who wants to be promoted to saint?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I took this picture on Sunday morning (pre Jello shot). Since then, I have finished the toes and done two rounds of pattern on each sock. Yay, me.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I say, "realised," like I had a brilliant idea. Actually, it's muscle memory from the last time, when keeping four balls of yarn under control was by far the hardest part of the project.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's been well established I think there isn't a technique I can't do or a pattern I can't master. I'm going to be found strangled by my own knitting someday.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Kris found me the right yarn when I was paralysed by indecision in the Noro department at Posh. The Chypre Scarf might have been clown barf without her.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I can't help thinking I should've been able to come up with that on my own.
§§FOOTNOTE (maths just make my li'l ol' head spin): Kris can think in three dimensions. Three dimensions gives me nosebleeds.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (that's only two; I scoff at two socks): Shibui Sock in Orchid, Earth and Marine. I had no idea I'd gone so... tree hugger with my colourways.
six socks flowering
awash in an ocean blue
and grounded like mud
##FOOTNOTE (it's all in the numbers, baby): That would be me-sized. We'll see if I finally get a pair of handknit socks (or three) to call my own.
†††FOOTNOTE (put three feet in front of the other three): I feel I'm selling it short just calling it "pink." Maybe !!!PINK!!! is more apt.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (barbellous): I wonder how many more times I get to use that before Brother starts demanding royalties.
§§§FOOTNOTE (let the music dance around you): I'm singing that circus song. You know... the one that goes, "Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah."
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one half of one big sock project!): I know. I'm a sucker for some of these swaps.
###FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Like your very own handmade rock star.
Remember how yesterday I said, "My camera is clear"? Well, right after I posted that, I went and mucked it up again with said Finished Object. Basically, the point of this paragraph is that I want credit for the FO, but I don't want to have to wait until I get it out of my camera and *show* it to you.‡
[SUMMARY: This is the problem with American society today.]
I do have a couple of works in progress I can share with you.
In the ongoing three-ring circus that is my knitting whimsy, I have started the Six-at-Once sock project.§
Before I even cast on, I realised the biggest pain in my ass was likely to be skein maintenance,¶ rather than any issues of technique or pattern.#
Kris, the best thing that's happened in my knitting world since circular needles,†† suggested putting each pair of skeins in its own Ziploc bag, cutting the corners out of the bottoms to feed the yarn, then untwisting as needed.‡‡
Elegant. Brilliant. All hail Kris.§§
[SUMMARY: Kris completes me. Well, my half-a-mind, in any case. I come up with the wild-ass schemes. She tells me how to actually do them.]
You may recall that the Four-at-Once project encompassed two pairs of socks of the same yarn with two different sizes.
This time, I am using the same breed of yarn for each sock,¶¶ all three pairs of socks the same size,## but with three different patterns, all from Carol Jean's "Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarn".
For the blue/green:
For the brown/purple:
For the pink†††/green:
I'll update when I turn the heels and they cease to be dick warmers.‡‡‡
[SUMMARY: Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah.§§§]
For my next trick, I will be needle felting.
The backstory: Brother and eBeth have made presidential candidate ornaments for the family Christmas exchange at least once. This, we feel, qualifies as a tradition.
So when Brother was grumbling about what he was going to do for this year's family gathering, I offered up a Barack Obama needle felting kit I got at Fancy Tiger during the DNC.
Not only did he make it, he deemed it the most he's enjoyed a Christmas project in years.
{photo courtesy of Tani}
So in trying to find a suitable handmade gift for the Glam Rock swap,¶¶¶ I took a page from Brother's book and decided to make a needle felted person from the following materials. Note the glitter:
Yeah, I'm being a little cagey about who it is. Partly because I'm toying with the idea of offering a prize### to the first person who can Name That Rock Star and partly because if it doesn't work out, maybe it'll look enough like someone else that I can pass it off.
[SUMMARY: Hedging my bets.]
Knitblog Plus -- now with 17% more fibre!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): This is not nearly as bragadocious (is that a word?) as it sounds. I'm merely trying to convey the circus-like atmosphere surrounding today's offering of projects.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You are so excited.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Is this any kind of behaviour for someone who wants to be promoted to saint?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I took this picture on Sunday morning (pre Jello shot). Since then, I have finished the toes and done two rounds of pattern on each sock. Yay, me.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I say, "realised," like I had a brilliant idea. Actually, it's muscle memory from the last time, when keeping four balls of yarn under control was by far the hardest part of the project.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's been well established I think there isn't a technique I can't do or a pattern I can't master. I'm going to be found strangled by my own knitting someday.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Kris found me the right yarn when I was paralysed by indecision in the Noro department at Posh. The Chypre Scarf might have been clown barf without her.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I can't help thinking I should've been able to come up with that on my own.
§§FOOTNOTE (maths just make my li'l ol' head spin): Kris can think in three dimensions. Three dimensions gives me nosebleeds.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (that's only two; I scoff at two socks): Shibui Sock in Orchid, Earth and Marine. I had no idea I'd gone so... tree hugger with my colourways.
six socks flowering
awash in an ocean blue
and grounded like mud
##FOOTNOTE (it's all in the numbers, baby): That would be me-sized. We'll see if I finally get a pair of handknit socks (or three) to call my own.
†††FOOTNOTE (put three feet in front of the other three): I feel I'm selling it short just calling it "pink." Maybe !!!PINK!!! is more apt.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (barbellous): I wonder how many more times I get to use that before Brother starts demanding royalties.
§§§FOOTNOTE (let the music dance around you): I'm singing that circus song. You know... the one that goes, "Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah."
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one half of one big sock project!): I know. I'm a sucker for some of these swaps.
###FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Like your very own handmade rock star.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
My Spidey Sense is Tingling
{via Gizmodo}
There are particles in this paint that resonate at the same radio frequency as WiFi signals, effectively blocking anyone on the outside from getting WiFi from your WiFi paint-coated room.%
If y'all had heard the saga of how I tried to set up WiFi in my home† for my month of medical house arrest,‡ you'd laugh at how badly I want this stuff.§
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I can't help the hackle-raising feeling that this stuff could make lead paint look like ice cream. Well, that and maybe living with the magnetic resonance could give me superpowers. I'm BatMarin!
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): In my defense, after about 19 hours on the phone with Mumbai (I'm not even exaggerating here), five hours on the phone with Comcast and three hours on the phone with my client's IT department, it was determined the wireless router I purchased went slightly fuzzy every ten minutes, which happens all the time and wouldn't even faze you if you were doing normal Innernet stuff like porn and Muppet Wiki, but gives the ultra-sensitive VPN that is my lifeline to the company network a serious case of the vapors.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I spent three weeks trying to get the various systems to play together, then IT sent me two 25-foot cords and a router to connect them, so I ended up with wires everywhere. Cat for Scale thought it was the greatest kitty toy ever invented.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Why? Because I *can*. Just because it took me seven years to get a new cell phone doesn't mean I'm not still a tech whore at heart.
I Know Art When I See It
Fashion, we has it.
With his dark good looks and fashion sense nonpareil,† I think this little guy has a future on the runways of Milan.%
Of course, I risked having to report as a sex offender for the rest of my life, taking pictures of random, pyjama'd chldren on the 16th Street Mall, but I do it all for the blog.‡
[SUMMIT: You're welcome.]
For those of you§ who might have been wondering, the arms mysteriously re-appeared on the top of the 1999 building last week.¶
The thing on the right is for window washing, but we still haven't figured out the arms. Someday, I will march into the building and ask the information desk about them. But not today.
The mystery is still too good today.#
[SUMMARY: Short attention span, easily amused.]
Look! Art!
My parking lot is great for sunset pictures: it faces west†† and there aren't telephone wires acros it, so I can get an angle with no cables.
Today: My camera is clear.
Tomorrow: Knitting!‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, slap a skirt on him and he could be Marc Jacobs, but *mostly* nonpareil, which is, BTW, my new favourite word for the day.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Anybody get the feeling this whole kid-in-boots bit was just an excuse to post a link to the pretty, pretty boys?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not for the nookie. 'Cause that would be wrong.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Sarah, I'm talking to you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And look! They finished the condo building! People actually *live* there now.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And I have lunch with the boss, so he can hand me my 1099 so I don't have to worry about one of my neighbours getting it in their mail.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which *really* helps.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I hope you were sitting down when you read that.
With his dark good looks and fashion sense nonpareil,† I think this little guy has a future on the runways of Milan.%
Of course, I risked having to report as a sex offender for the rest of my life, taking pictures of random, pyjama'd chldren on the 16th Street Mall, but I do it all for the blog.‡
[SUMMIT: You're welcome.]
For those of you§ who might have been wondering, the arms mysteriously re-appeared on the top of the 1999 building last week.¶
The thing on the right is for window washing, but we still haven't figured out the arms. Someday, I will march into the building and ask the information desk about them. But not today.
The mystery is still too good today.#
[SUMMARY: Short attention span, easily amused.]
Look! Art!
My parking lot is great for sunset pictures: it faces west†† and there aren't telephone wires acros it, so I can get an angle with no cables.
Today: My camera is clear.
Tomorrow: Knitting!‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, slap a skirt on him and he could be Marc Jacobs, but *mostly* nonpareil, which is, BTW, my new favourite word for the day.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Anybody get the feeling this whole kid-in-boots bit was just an excuse to post a link to the pretty, pretty boys?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not for the nookie. 'Cause that would be wrong.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Sarah, I'm talking to you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And look! They finished the condo building! People actually *live* there now.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And I have lunch with the boss, so he can hand me my 1099 so I don't have to worry about one of my neighbours getting it in their mail.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which *really* helps.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I hope you were sitting down when you read that.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Easy Like Sunday Morning...
...and on into the night.^
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Bent Art
Check it out, all y'all knitters.
You won't be disappointed. I'm not guaranteeing anything for non-knitters, but you'll probably get a kick out of it too.
You won't be disappointed. I'm not guaranteeing anything for non-knitters, but you'll probably get a kick out of it too.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sticks 'n' Stitches 'n' Nephews 'n' Bitches
It was a busy weekend, what with angsting over missing mail and all.†
[SUMMARY: Got your bitches right here.]
Mostly, you're getting pictures. I shot my blabber wad‡ on bitching about the USPS. And, as always, 1 picture = 1000 words.§
Saturday, I played the role of sole volunteer to Mya's Queen of this year's Sticks 'n' Stitches.¶
Sylvia# and her two boys came...
...Brother and Dr. Doom each brought a friend††...
...and people knit.‡‡
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Oh, yeah. There was hockey too...
...and quite a bit of it,§§ but the Avs didn't win.¶¶
Hey! You know what else is in the greater downtown area?
How long has it been since we had a good, old-fashioned crane slurp?##
Tomorrow: What I did on Super Bowl Sunday (abridged)†††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): If your yarn was missing, you'd angst too.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *giggle* Blabber wad. It's fun to say and it sounds funny. Blabber wad.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Over 6000 words today alone. That's dedication to the cause.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Next year, I will be in charge.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Knitting related.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I didn't get pictures of their friends.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And I took blurry photos of them.
§§FOOTNOTE (double toe loop!): Seven goals between the two teams.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (club footed hockey players): Damned Ducks have always had our number. And by "our," I mean, "the Avalanche's"
##FOOTNOTE (like girder frames soaring high): Too long, far too long.
†††FOOTNOTE (holy...): For the sake of the children and several political careers.
[SUMMARY: Got your bitches right here.]
Mostly, you're getting pictures. I shot my blabber wad‡ on bitching about the USPS. And, as always, 1 picture = 1000 words.§
Saturday, I played the role of sole volunteer to Mya's Queen of this year's Sticks 'n' Stitches.¶
Sylvia# and her two boys came...
...Brother and Dr. Doom each brought a friend††...
...and people knit.‡‡
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Oh, yeah. There was hockey too...
...and quite a bit of it,§§ but the Avs didn't win.¶¶
Hey! You know what else is in the greater downtown area?
How long has it been since we had a good, old-fashioned crane slurp?##
Tomorrow: What I did on Super Bowl Sunday (abridged)†††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): If your yarn was missing, you'd angst too.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *giggle* Blabber wad. It's fun to say and it sounds funny. Blabber wad.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Over 6000 words today alone. That's dedication to the cause.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Next year, I will be in charge.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Knitting related.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I didn't get pictures of their friends.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And I took blurry photos of them.
§§FOOTNOTE (double toe loop!): Seven goals between the two teams.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (club footed hockey players): Damned Ducks have always had our number. And by "our," I mean, "the Avalanche's"
##FOOTNOTE (like girder frames soaring high): Too long, far too long.
†††FOOTNOTE (holy...): For the sake of the children and several political careers.
Take a Letter, Maria
Dear Postal-Going Public,
You have heard me complain about my postal service.†
I didn't think it possible, but it's actually in decline.‡
Picture this: my neighbourhood is nine square blocks en toto, including shopping and open space. It is ACROSS THE STREET from the post office. It is served by five or seven banks of mailboxes.§
The postmaster at the post office across the street tells me our little corner of the postal world is a Training and Limited Abilities Route.¶ Brother's mailman, Dave,# tells him that when someone is done with his route, he just grabs a tub of Highland Gardens Village mail and delivers it.
I've seen four mailmen delivering to four different boxes at the same time. We're just not getting consistency.
[SUMMARY: Therein lies the rub.]
And the rub turns to the smoking electric sander when sights like this become common:
I don't have a picture around the corner behind me from there, but there's another USPS minivan also double parked.††
And look closely:
Two mailmen. Working the same bank of mailboxes.
It used to be invitations would go missing with uncanny regularity. And bills.‡‡ And the amount of mail I got for random and varied other people was amazing.§§
[SUMMARY: We are about to go from bad to worse.]
Now my packages are going missing and I want pounds of flesh.
Eca's package, which is going on four weeks missing.
Nathan's package, which shows as delivered on Friday.
Knit Picks order, which shows arrived at my post office last Wednesday.
You may wonder why I'm bitching here.¶¶
[SUMMARY: My point, and I do have one...]
Well, for one, the nice people who mail me things that aren't bills should be aware. I feel like I need to explain and apologise for my post office like I would if my unruly child was running amok in a bank.##
For another, when Paddy P complained about Comcast in his blog, he got a near-immediate reply from a random Comcast worker and all his problems were solved. I'm guessing Comcast is more in tune with its constituency than the post office, so I don't have high hopes, but... it couldn't *hurt* to put the vibe out.†††
[SUMMARY: Hope springs eternal.]
Hey, I clap for Tinkerbell. This couldn't be any dumber than clapping for Tinkerbell.
*clapclapclap* I do! I do believe in the postal service! *clap*
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The post office has heard me complain about my postal service. My family has heard me complain about my postal service. Sylvia has heard me complain about my postal service. The checkout clerk at the grocery store has heard me complain about my postal service.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Read: a steep and rapidly increasing downward spiral that makes the White Cliffs of Dover look like a pleasant Sunday stroll, steep-wise.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Nobody in the 'hood has a mailbox on their actual house.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which makes sense. I could deliver the fucking mail with *my* limited abilities, it's that compact and easy.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We all live in the same larger neighbourhood. And Brother goes to the gym that is six steps from my front door, so he occasionally runs into Dave, delivering mail to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Most of our neighbourhood was not built with sufficient clearance for cars to park on both sides of the street and still allow for two-way traffic, much less double-parked mail minivans.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm waiting for the day somebody sues the post office because their botched delivery caused a nasty case of stolen identity.
§§FOOTNOTE (fuming mad): I once got a piece of mail addressed to a Jiffy Lube, from Jiffy Lube headquarters, on an entirely different street than mine, with an entirely different street number than mine, in a different zip code than mine.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (I have TWO talking sticks): But you're probably just used to it by now.
##FOOTNOTE (let me pound this point home): And by "my," I mean, "my," since I know not everybody shares my feeling that we are responsible for our children, pets, cars... I'm not going to start.
†††FOOTNOTE (three ticks to stop and think about that): Unless, y'know, it's like when the waiter spits in your eggs because you complained.
You have heard me complain about my postal service.†
I didn't think it possible, but it's actually in decline.‡
Picture this: my neighbourhood is nine square blocks en toto, including shopping and open space. It is ACROSS THE STREET from the post office. It is served by five or seven banks of mailboxes.§
The postmaster at the post office across the street tells me our little corner of the postal world is a Training and Limited Abilities Route.¶ Brother's mailman, Dave,# tells him that when someone is done with his route, he just grabs a tub of Highland Gardens Village mail and delivers it.
I've seen four mailmen delivering to four different boxes at the same time. We're just not getting consistency.
[SUMMARY: Therein lies the rub.]
And the rub turns to the smoking electric sander when sights like this become common:
I don't have a picture around the corner behind me from there, but there's another USPS minivan also double parked.††
And look closely:
Two mailmen. Working the same bank of mailboxes.
It used to be invitations would go missing with uncanny regularity. And bills.‡‡ And the amount of mail I got for random and varied other people was amazing.§§
[SUMMARY: We are about to go from bad to worse.]
Now my packages are going missing and I want pounds of flesh.
Eca's package, which is going on four weeks missing.
Nathan's package, which shows as delivered on Friday.
Knit Picks order, which shows arrived at my post office last Wednesday.
You may wonder why I'm bitching here.¶¶
[SUMMARY: My point, and I do have one...]
Well, for one, the nice people who mail me things that aren't bills should be aware. I feel like I need to explain and apologise for my post office like I would if my unruly child was running amok in a bank.##
For another, when Paddy P complained about Comcast in his blog, he got a near-immediate reply from a random Comcast worker and all his problems were solved. I'm guessing Comcast is more in tune with its constituency than the post office, so I don't have high hopes, but... it couldn't *hurt* to put the vibe out.†††
[SUMMARY: Hope springs eternal.]
Hey, I clap for Tinkerbell. This couldn't be any dumber than clapping for Tinkerbell.
*clapclapclap* I do! I do believe in the postal service! *clap*
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The post office has heard me complain about my postal service. My family has heard me complain about my postal service. Sylvia has heard me complain about my postal service. The checkout clerk at the grocery store has heard me complain about my postal service.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Read: a steep and rapidly increasing downward spiral that makes the White Cliffs of Dover look like a pleasant Sunday stroll, steep-wise.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Nobody in the 'hood has a mailbox on their actual house.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which makes sense. I could deliver the fucking mail with *my* limited abilities, it's that compact and easy.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We all live in the same larger neighbourhood. And Brother goes to the gym that is six steps from my front door, so he occasionally runs into Dave, delivering mail to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Most of our neighbourhood was not built with sufficient clearance for cars to park on both sides of the street and still allow for two-way traffic, much less double-parked mail minivans.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm waiting for the day somebody sues the post office because their botched delivery caused a nasty case of stolen identity.
§§FOOTNOTE (fuming mad): I once got a piece of mail addressed to a Jiffy Lube, from Jiffy Lube headquarters, on an entirely different street than mine, with an entirely different street number than mine, in a different zip code than mine.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (I have TWO talking sticks): But you're probably just used to it by now.
##FOOTNOTE (let me pound this point home): And by "my," I mean, "my," since I know not everybody shares my feeling that we are responsible for our children, pets, cars... I'm not going to start.
†††FOOTNOTE (three ticks to stop and think about that): Unless, y'know, it's like when the waiter spits in your eggs because you complained.
Monday, February 2, 2009
From One Saint to Another
Thanks, Brigid, for giving me something to post on this otherwise postless day.
*************
Sisters of Mercy
by Leonard Cohen
Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control.
It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned:
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
Well they lay down beside me, I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon.
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right,
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.
*************
Sisters of Mercy
by Leonard Cohen
Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control.
It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned:
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
Well they lay down beside me, I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon.
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right,
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Art of Glass
I missed Wednesday.
When you're busy making the world safe for big oil, sometimes meetings and world domination† just eat into your day.
I feel I can make up for skipping Wednesday by giving this on Thursday:
{from Popular Mechanics}
Temperature sensitive glass. Obviously, it could be very cool on a shower door,‡ but I think the key application is barware.
Picture this: the singles bar of the future, where you can tell at a glance who's the ice man§ and who's hot blooded.¶ Where just the right amount of ice can get your G&T to match the blue of your eyes or a dash of cinnamon schnapps will give off smoke signals nobody can ignore.
Besides, it'd give bartenders another dimension to work. An idle bartender is the devil's playground.#
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): "What are we going to do tomorrow night, Brain?"
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you could re-enact the car scene from "Titanic" with LSD-like special effects.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): He cometh!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Did anyone else just go Foreigner?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): So they told us in Sunday school.
When you're busy making the world safe for big oil, sometimes meetings and world domination† just eat into your day.
I feel I can make up for skipping Wednesday by giving this on Thursday:
{from Popular Mechanics}
Temperature sensitive glass. Obviously, it could be very cool on a shower door,‡ but I think the key application is barware.
Picture this: the singles bar of the future, where you can tell at a glance who's the ice man§ and who's hot blooded.¶ Where just the right amount of ice can get your G&T to match the blue of your eyes or a dash of cinnamon schnapps will give off smoke signals nobody can ignore.
Besides, it'd give bartenders another dimension to work. An idle bartender is the devil's playground.#
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): "What are we going to do tomorrow night, Brain?"
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you could re-enact the car scene from "Titanic" with LSD-like special effects.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): He cometh!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Did anyone else just go Foreigner?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): So they told us in Sunday school.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Pig You Can Knit
I am NOT making this up.
These even look like fluffy,white sheep.
Does anybody else wonder what sort of interspecies hanky-panky is going on in Hungarian barnyards?
These even look like fluffy,white sheep.
Does anybody else wonder what sort of interspecies hanky-panky is going on in Hungarian barnyards?
Monday, January 26, 2009
No Comment
I'll leave the commenting in your capable, filthy, twelve-year-old hands.
{via Now Smell This, with prompting from Juno}
HINT: the name of the perfume is Sexual Star from Victoria's Secret.
{via Now Smell This, with prompting from Juno}
HINT: the name of the perfume is Sexual Star from Victoria's Secret.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Fly Day
I want to redecorate my whole bedroom around this wallpaper†:
{via Art of Darkness}
It has *bats*.
[SUMMARY: Bats are where it's at.]
While I go ponder the remodel, you go check out Gigapan, one of the coolest ways to suck a half-hour‡ out of your day.
You can see the Obama inauguration picture in full screen here.
[SUMMARY: If I'm not getting any work done,§ ain't nobody getting any work done.]
I bet that Captain Kangaroo¶ guy was embarrassed when he realised nobody else in the entire event# was clapping.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Maybe not this colour. But I kinda like this colour. But I don't know if I'd want to sleep with this colour. The white one with the blue bats would make a lovely sundress, don't you think? You could practically go to Ascot in a dress like that.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Or two. Or twelve.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And I'm not. Oh, how I'm not. I put in my 4o hours sometime yesterday -- perfume reviewing at work notwithstanding -- and feel totally justified in screwing off to see a Best Picture nominee this afternoon. Besides, I'm pretty sure it can only put shiny, shiny rhinestones on my application for saint to help boost a sagging Hollywood economy. Or even Bollywood economy *hinthint*.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Marin Trivia: Captain Kangaroo and your dear ol' AntiM share a birthday. This will be really handy for you when, as a saint, I'm my own Jeopardy category.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): He's in the VIP section behind Obama, for the record.
{via Art of Darkness}
It has *bats*.
[SUMMARY: Bats are where it's at.]
While I go ponder the remodel, you go check out Gigapan, one of the coolest ways to suck a half-hour‡ out of your day.
You can see the Obama inauguration picture in full screen here.
[SUMMARY: If I'm not getting any work done,§ ain't nobody getting any work done.]
I bet that Captain Kangaroo¶ guy was embarrassed when he realised nobody else in the entire event# was clapping.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Maybe not this colour. But I kinda like this colour. But I don't know if I'd want to sleep with this colour. The white one with the blue bats would make a lovely sundress, don't you think? You could practically go to Ascot in a dress like that.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Or two. Or twelve.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And I'm not. Oh, how I'm not. I put in my 4o hours sometime yesterday -- perfume reviewing at work notwithstanding -- and feel totally justified in screwing off to see a Best Picture nominee this afternoon. Besides, I'm pretty sure it can only put shiny, shiny rhinestones on my application for saint to help boost a sagging Hollywood economy. Or even Bollywood economy *hinthint*.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Marin Trivia: Captain Kangaroo and your dear ol' AntiM share a birthday. This will be really handy for you when, as a saint, I'm my own Jeopardy category.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): He's in the VIP section behind Obama, for the record.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Long Time No
A B C D knitter?
L M N O knitter.
S M R a knitter.
C D yarn?
[SUMMARY: Paraphrasing.]
You'd think I wasn't diligently knitting every night and planning social events around Tuesday's Drunken Knitting and Saturday morning's Reveille Knitting.† You'd think I hadn't seen a new skein of yarn since the old year.
No, no. I understand. It's my fault and I take full responsibility. But despite all appearances, I've been busy as a beaver‡ behind the scenes.
F'rinstance, I'm almost through my stint as a Black Bunny Fibers yarn club member. Perhaps you remember the purple laceweight from a couple of months ago. Well, there have been two installments since then:
Black Bunny Chunky 100% Falkland wool in a vibrant turquoise semi-solid called Icicle.§ The above is a little over-exposed, but a surprisingly close representation of the colour in real life. If you average the vibrancy above with the variegation below, you've got a pretty good idea.
We had a white elephant exchange at one of the hundred and twelve office Christmas parties last month and I snagged Apollo here. My bust may not be as big as Franklin's,¶ but I think it's as artistically viable.#
I plan to knit stuff for it.††
Anyway... more yarn:
Isn't it pretty? Its colour name is Restoration. Look at those browns and purples and corals in with that nice New England red.
Nearly 500 yards of 75/25 superwash wool/polyamide. Appropriately enough, I'll probably use it for one of the patterns from Carol Jean's‡‡ latest publication.§§
[SUMMARY: It's Carol Sulcowski Thursday.]
Well, until we get to the FO part of the post.
Here is my sheep-like, follow-the-herd contribution to the Cult of the Stripe:
I call it the Chypre Scarf, in honour of my recent education¶¶ in both the ways## and pronunciations††† of the perfume category known as chypre.‡‡‡
Let's see... 1.5 skeins each Noro Silk Garden numbers 239 and 249 on Size 7 needles.
It still needs to be washed and blocked,§§§ but the knitting and weaving parts are all complete. When all is said and done, it will be 5.5 or 6 inches wide and a little over six feet long.
I couldn't be happier with the subtle, elegant flow of colours. I was paralysed by choice at the Noro rack at Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack, but Kris jumped in and helped me and she is my hero for the day.
[SUMMARY: I get by with a little help from my friends.]
I'm still working on the Purple Prose scarf,¶¶¶ started a Baby Surprise Jacket### and hope to begin a six-at-once sock-knitting experiment in the near future. I am also the volunteer for Sticks 'n' Stitches again this year.††††
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Today's offering was brought to you by the letters DK and FO, and by the numbers 239, 249 and 7.
*************
Today's perfume review started out to be Fracas by Robert Piguet. Because my brain is about two hours behind the rest of me until after noon, I forgot I have two versions of this perfume (the original and the current), which I purposely got so I could do a compare-and-contrast review of it. Them. Whatever.
So I'm going to hold off, but I thought it might be an interesting educational bit for those who have never thought of it: many perfumes go through numerous changes in their lifetimes. A 1940 vintage Joy may be entirely different -- almost unrecognisable -- from its 2009 namesake.
This is due in part to availability and price of components, but also because some ingredients have been found to be allergens or toxins as time and science go by. Coming from the other end of that road, strictures have become tighter on what exactly constitutes a toxin or an allergen.
If Chanel No. 5 or Mitsouko just doesn't smell like it did when your mother wore it when you were a child, it's not necessarily just you -- it could actually be a whole new scent.
[SUMMARY: Time changes things, perfume is fleeting, I may find this way more interesting than you do.]
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not its official name. That's what I call it because it gets me out of bed before noon on Saturday. Besides, it sounds like "Ravelry" and that's kinda cool.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Easy, Kim.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Or maybe Icicles. I don't know if Carol planned on one icicle or many icicles when she started that project.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yeah, it's a link to Carol's blog, but her picture of Franklin's bust was readily available. And it's not totally inapt since we are talking about Carol and awful lot.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Without the pictures, that's a marvelously strange sentiment.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am just that kind of dork. When I was in the sixth grade, I knit a matching scarf and fin-cap set for a rubber shark. I have *always* been just that kind of dork.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yes, I call her Carol Jean. She knows me mostly as the dink who couldn't press the right PayPal button, yet I feel comfortable enough to call her Carol Jean. Come to think of it, I'm not sure where I got the Jean. Hell, her middle initial may not even be J.
§§FOOTNOTE (back to Carol Jean): Thus:
¶¶FOOTNOTE (little graduates, all in a row): Thanks to a very patient Nathan, who didn't laugh directly at me even once.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding it into my thick skull): Like where it's Cyprus, not cypress. There's a big difference -- totally different directions.
†††FOOTNOTE (put a tack in that one): Sheep-er or Sheep-ra, as opposed to "chai-per," which is what I was saying prior.
1) Isn't that a nice pun for a knitted object?
2) Sheep-ra, Princess of Power! I've wanted to do that for ages.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (thinking outside the boxes): Usually with citrus and usually a woody note usually from oakmoss, plus amber and sometimes sandalwood. It's not hard science.
§§§FOOTNOTE (swish it in the water...): Just a little blocking. Mostly to disquise the lumpy bits on the edges from carrying new yarn up the side.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one step forward, two steps back): I finished 12 of 16 repeats... then frogged back to 10. I finished 10 and 11 and am now gathering strength to go back to the beginning of 10 again. I've actually knit seven Purple Prose scarves. It's just that they didn't all make it out of childhood.
###FOOTNOTE (bam!bam!bam!): For not-evil future stepsister-in-law.
††††FOOTNOTE (dear gods, it's four): Day game on Saturday, January 31st. You don't have to knit or crochet, but it couldn't hurt. Get your tickets!
L M N O knitter.
S M R a knitter.
C D yarn?
[SUMMARY: Paraphrasing.]
You'd think I wasn't diligently knitting every night and planning social events around Tuesday's Drunken Knitting and Saturday morning's Reveille Knitting.† You'd think I hadn't seen a new skein of yarn since the old year.
No, no. I understand. It's my fault and I take full responsibility. But despite all appearances, I've been busy as a beaver‡ behind the scenes.
F'rinstance, I'm almost through my stint as a Black Bunny Fibers yarn club member. Perhaps you remember the purple laceweight from a couple of months ago. Well, there have been two installments since then:
Black Bunny Chunky 100% Falkland wool in a vibrant turquoise semi-solid called Icicle.§ The above is a little over-exposed, but a surprisingly close representation of the colour in real life. If you average the vibrancy above with the variegation below, you've got a pretty good idea.
We had a white elephant exchange at one of the hundred and twelve office Christmas parties last month and I snagged Apollo here. My bust may not be as big as Franklin's,¶ but I think it's as artistically viable.#
I plan to knit stuff for it.††
Anyway... more yarn:
Isn't it pretty? Its colour name is Restoration. Look at those browns and purples and corals in with that nice New England red.
Nearly 500 yards of 75/25 superwash wool/polyamide. Appropriately enough, I'll probably use it for one of the patterns from Carol Jean's‡‡ latest publication.§§
[SUMMARY: It's Carol Sulcowski Thursday.]
Well, until we get to the FO part of the post.
Here is my sheep-like, follow-the-herd contribution to the Cult of the Stripe:
I call it the Chypre Scarf, in honour of my recent education¶¶ in both the ways## and pronunciations††† of the perfume category known as chypre.‡‡‡
Let's see... 1.5 skeins each Noro Silk Garden numbers 239 and 249 on Size 7 needles.
It still needs to be washed and blocked,§§§ but the knitting and weaving parts are all complete. When all is said and done, it will be 5.5 or 6 inches wide and a little over six feet long.
I couldn't be happier with the subtle, elegant flow of colours. I was paralysed by choice at the Noro rack at Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack, but Kris jumped in and helped me and she is my hero for the day.
[SUMMARY: I get by with a little help from my friends.]
I'm still working on the Purple Prose scarf,¶¶¶ started a Baby Surprise Jacket### and hope to begin a six-at-once sock-knitting experiment in the near future. I am also the volunteer for Sticks 'n' Stitches again this year.††††
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Today's offering was brought to you by the letters DK and FO, and by the numbers 239, 249 and 7.
*************
Today's perfume review started out to be Fracas by Robert Piguet. Because my brain is about two hours behind the rest of me until after noon, I forgot I have two versions of this perfume (the original and the current), which I purposely got so I could do a compare-and-contrast review of it. Them. Whatever.
So I'm going to hold off, but I thought it might be an interesting educational bit for those who have never thought of it: many perfumes go through numerous changes in their lifetimes. A 1940 vintage Joy may be entirely different -- almost unrecognisable -- from its 2009 namesake.
This is due in part to availability and price of components, but also because some ingredients have been found to be allergens or toxins as time and science go by. Coming from the other end of that road, strictures have become tighter on what exactly constitutes a toxin or an allergen.
If Chanel No. 5 or Mitsouko just doesn't smell like it did when your mother wore it when you were a child, it's not necessarily just you -- it could actually be a whole new scent.
[SUMMARY: Time changes things, perfume is fleeting, I may find this way more interesting than you do.]
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not its official name. That's what I call it because it gets me out of bed before noon on Saturday. Besides, it sounds like "Ravelry" and that's kinda cool.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Easy, Kim.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Or maybe Icicles. I don't know if Carol planned on one icicle or many icicles when she started that project.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yeah, it's a link to Carol's blog, but her picture of Franklin's bust was readily available. And it's not totally inapt since we are talking about Carol and awful lot.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Without the pictures, that's a marvelously strange sentiment.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am just that kind of dork. When I was in the sixth grade, I knit a matching scarf and fin-cap set for a rubber shark. I have *always* been just that kind of dork.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yes, I call her Carol Jean. She knows me mostly as the dink who couldn't press the right PayPal button, yet I feel comfortable enough to call her Carol Jean. Come to think of it, I'm not sure where I got the Jean. Hell, her middle initial may not even be J.
§§FOOTNOTE (back to Carol Jean): Thus:
¶¶FOOTNOTE (little graduates, all in a row): Thanks to a very patient Nathan, who didn't laugh directly at me even once.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding it into my thick skull): Like where it's Cyprus, not cypress. There's a big difference -- totally different directions.
†††FOOTNOTE (put a tack in that one): Sheep-er or Sheep-ra, as opposed to "chai-per," which is what I was saying prior.
1) Isn't that a nice pun for a knitted object?
2) Sheep-ra, Princess of Power! I've wanted to do that for ages.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (thinking outside the boxes): Usually with citrus and usually a woody note usually from oakmoss, plus amber and sometimes sandalwood. It's not hard science.
§§§FOOTNOTE (swish it in the water...): Just a little blocking. Mostly to disquise the lumpy bits on the edges from carrying new yarn up the side.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one step forward, two steps back): I finished 12 of 16 repeats... then frogged back to 10. I finished 10 and 11 and am now gathering strength to go back to the beginning of 10 again. I've actually knit seven Purple Prose scarves. It's just that they didn't all make it out of childhood.
###FOOTNOTE (bam!bam!bam!): For not-evil future stepsister-in-law.
††††FOOTNOTE (dear gods, it's four): Day game on Saturday, January 31st. You don't have to knit or crochet, but it couldn't hurt. Get your tickets!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Sunday in the Oven with George
I baked.
A cake.
From scratch.
Part of me wants to continue this as some sort of slam poetry thing.†
But we should get to the business at hand, because I baked this from scratch.‡
I used a recipe from Fine Cooking.§ Their very pragmatic name is Buttermilk Cake with Spiced Vanilla Frosting. They don't mention *anywhere* in the name that it has 2 1/4 cups of grated butternut squash. If it were mine to name, I would definitely have mentioned the butternut squash.
Anyway, it was my contribution to the notable return to family dinner% and I wanted to show off.
It was wonderful, if I do say so myself.¶
[SUMMARY: In which I toot my own horn.]
But the real star of this blogpost is the pictorial answer to the question, "How many Untiedts# does it take to..."
That would be three.
Wait!
Three-and-a-half.††
When Dr. Doom saw all the fix-it activity, he shouted, "Maybe you need a glue stick!"‡‡ and ran off to the desk to find one. He had the most earnest look on his face when he came back.
He took the cap off the glue stick, handed it to Brother and watched anxiously to see if it worked.
Brother dutifully dabbed the errant screw with the glue stick, then thanked Dr. Doom and went back to using the screwdriver. Dr. Doom waited around for a moment to be sure more glue stick wasn't needed before he put it back where he found it.§§
[SUMMARY: In which Dr. Doom saves the day I count to nearly four.]
Despite all the blurry action photography, isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Heard? Read?
C'mon... humour me. Say, "Awwwww."
*************
Miel de Bois (edp) - Serge Lutens+
Marin says: This is a notoriously reviled scent in many perfume circles.¶¶ Apparently, the element that is the scent of honey is the same as the element that is the scent of urine.
I know.
Consequently, a lot of people HATE this perfume.
I tried it in the privacy of my own living room## a couple of weeks ago and really liked it, which brought up the question, "Am I anosmic to urine^ or does my body chemistry like honey?" Like any good scientist, I added a control group to ascertain the validity of my conclusion.
I believe you all know Hans, my perpetual control group.
Hans agrees: It just so happens that on me, Miel de Bois smells like warm, floral honey that melds into a honeyed wood that calls up a picture of the polished pews of an old Catholic church on a Thursday afternoon, the ghost of incense lingering from Wednesday mass††† and freshly-lit beeswax candles.
I will admit that, like the Etat Libre d'Orange Jasmin et Cigarette,‡‡‡ I can see the relation to the repugnant scent and its more socially acceptable counterpart. I believe I used this analogy before, but it's like switching between the woman and the skull.§§§
The Perfumed Court@ says: A sensuous woody$ Oriental scent with notes of ebony, oak, gaiac, aquilaria aguillocha (used to make incense sticks)$ and honey all resting on base notes of beeswax,$ iris$ and hawthorn.¶¶¶
Hans says: Once again, I'm getting baby powder.$ Or maybe flowers. Is it... lavender? Roses? [I explained the urine connection] I totally did not get pee.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Another part wants to haiku:
orange flecks of squash
sunshine on a winter night
spiced to my own taste
If you look at it sideways, it's kind of provocative.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Once I got the pictures off the camera, it was clear I should've taken at least a couple of pictures from some sort of angle. For the record, that is, in fact, from a rose bundt cake pan. It is *not* an asshole cake, despite all appearances. Hey, the image got stuck in my head and I am not one to keep my misery to myself.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): My favourite magazine. Favouriter even than Interweave Knits.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Probably most notable because Father has moved in with the fiancée, Brother and eBeth have separated and Brother is living at Father's former home. Yeah, as Brother says, that's not awkward at all. The fiancée didn't attend, which may be for the best, but I think a sprinkling of evil step-sisters would have really made the occasion come alive.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And I do. I do say so myself. I figure I earn the right to take some credit. You know how some people can't leave a knit pattern in its natural state and they have to use a different stitch here or shorten that or do a picot bind-off? I screw with every single recipe I make. And I almost never measure spices, so it's always my own unique creation. I believe I shall call this one Haiku Cake.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I keep telling you, my last name is ten kinds of weird.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And one to put pictures on the Internet.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I wish you could've been there. Dad and Brother were making manly noises about what didn't seem to line up and threading on the screws and washer viscosity (I know, I know) and Dr. Doom was shouting as he ran, so they didn't really hear him and I was sitting in the kitchen doorway, bouncing up and down and going, "Did you hear that? Ohmigosh! Did you...? The camera!"
§§FOOTNOTE (is that another asshole cake?): So *earnest*. So happy to help. So very very adorable.
*ahem*
I'm doing it again, aren't I? Eh... it was written in the stars. When eBeth was pregnant with Tallest, Hairiest Nephew, I got to go with them when they registered at Babies-backwards-R-Us. Brother, in charge of the laser pistol (because that's what you do when you take men to register -- put them in charge of the gun) and thinking he was funny, first scanned eBeth, looked at the display and said, "Fat chick." Then he scanned me, looked at the display and said, "Psycho Aunt." I continue to live up to my potential in that arena.
+FOOTNOTE (plussed): Perhaps you thought I'd forgotten all about perfume.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two does not a circle make): Of *course* there are perfume circles.
##FOOTNOTE (tictic tactac toetoe): It seemed the polite thing to do.
^FOOTNOTE (carated): Or would it be, "Is urine anosmic to me?"
†††FOOTNOTE (three steps closer to sainthood): Wednesday is a big mass day for the truly devout, right?
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (cancer sticks): I know I haven't exactly reviewed it yet, but I've mentioned it.
§§§FOOTNOTE (skull? woman? cigarette? jasmine? honey? urine?): Thus:
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Normally, I try to link and quote the perfumier rather than another reviewer or vendor, but in this case, Serge Lutens' unnavigable website pissed me off so he gets no say in the matter.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Honey and wood, just like I said. I'm also giving Hans credit for the powder thing because iris is classically described as a powdery note. Question: isn't ebony a super-hard hardwood? Would it have enough smell to list in a perfume?
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (the international symbol for hawthorn): Hawthorn is listed as a note in quite a few perfumes. Wikipedia doesn't list anything about its use in perfumes. I don't even know if it's the wood or the flowers. What I do know is that the flowers are hermaphroditic, so I'm guessing hawthorn is a good unisex scent.
A cake.
From scratch.
Part of me wants to continue this as some sort of slam poetry thing.†
But we should get to the business at hand, because I baked this from scratch.‡
I used a recipe from Fine Cooking.§ Their very pragmatic name is Buttermilk Cake with Spiced Vanilla Frosting. They don't mention *anywhere* in the name that it has 2 1/4 cups of grated butternut squash. If it were mine to name, I would definitely have mentioned the butternut squash.
Anyway, it was my contribution to the notable return to family dinner% and I wanted to show off.
It was wonderful, if I do say so myself.¶
[SUMMARY: In which I toot my own horn.]
But the real star of this blogpost is the pictorial answer to the question, "How many Untiedts# does it take to..."
That would be three.
Wait!
Three-and-a-half.††
When Dr. Doom saw all the fix-it activity, he shouted, "Maybe you need a glue stick!"‡‡ and ran off to the desk to find one. He had the most earnest look on his face when he came back.
He took the cap off the glue stick, handed it to Brother and watched anxiously to see if it worked.
Brother dutifully dabbed the errant screw with the glue stick, then thanked Dr. Doom and went back to using the screwdriver. Dr. Doom waited around for a moment to be sure more glue stick wasn't needed before he put it back where he found it.§§
[SUMMARY: In which Dr. Doom saves the day I count to nearly four.]
Despite all the blurry action photography, isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Heard? Read?
C'mon... humour me. Say, "Awwwww."
*************
Miel de Bois (edp) - Serge Lutens+
Marin says: This is a notoriously reviled scent in many perfume circles.¶¶ Apparently, the element that is the scent of honey is the same as the element that is the scent of urine.
I know.
Consequently, a lot of people HATE this perfume.
I tried it in the privacy of my own living room## a couple of weeks ago and really liked it, which brought up the question, "Am I anosmic to urine^ or does my body chemistry like honey?" Like any good scientist, I added a control group to ascertain the validity of my conclusion.
I believe you all know Hans, my perpetual control group.
Hans agrees: It just so happens that on me, Miel de Bois smells like warm, floral honey that melds into a honeyed wood that calls up a picture of the polished pews of an old Catholic church on a Thursday afternoon, the ghost of incense lingering from Wednesday mass††† and freshly-lit beeswax candles.
I will admit that, like the Etat Libre d'Orange Jasmin et Cigarette,‡‡‡ I can see the relation to the repugnant scent and its more socially acceptable counterpart. I believe I used this analogy before, but it's like switching between the woman and the skull.§§§
The Perfumed Court@ says: A sensuous woody$ Oriental scent with notes of ebony, oak, gaiac, aquilaria aguillocha (used to make incense sticks)$ and honey all resting on base notes of beeswax,$ iris$ and hawthorn.¶¶¶
Hans says: Once again, I'm getting baby powder.$ Or maybe flowers. Is it... lavender? Roses? [I explained the urine connection] I totally did not get pee.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Another part wants to haiku:
orange flecks of squash
sunshine on a winter night
spiced to my own taste
If you look at it sideways, it's kind of provocative.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Once I got the pictures off the camera, it was clear I should've taken at least a couple of pictures from some sort of angle. For the record, that is, in fact, from a rose bundt cake pan. It is *not* an asshole cake, despite all appearances. Hey, the image got stuck in my head and I am not one to keep my misery to myself.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): My favourite magazine. Favouriter even than Interweave Knits.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Probably most notable because Father has moved in with the fiancée, Brother and eBeth have separated and Brother is living at Father's former home. Yeah, as Brother says, that's not awkward at all. The fiancée didn't attend, which may be for the best, but I think a sprinkling of evil step-sisters would have really made the occasion come alive.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And I do. I do say so myself. I figure I earn the right to take some credit. You know how some people can't leave a knit pattern in its natural state and they have to use a different stitch here or shorten that or do a picot bind-off? I screw with every single recipe I make. And I almost never measure spices, so it's always my own unique creation. I believe I shall call this one Haiku Cake.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I keep telling you, my last name is ten kinds of weird.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And one to put pictures on the Internet.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I wish you could've been there. Dad and Brother were making manly noises about what didn't seem to line up and threading on the screws and washer viscosity (I know, I know) and Dr. Doom was shouting as he ran, so they didn't really hear him and I was sitting in the kitchen doorway, bouncing up and down and going, "Did you hear that? Ohmigosh! Did you...? The camera!"
§§FOOTNOTE (is that another asshole cake?): So *earnest*. So happy to help. So very very adorable.
*ahem*
I'm doing it again, aren't I? Eh... it was written in the stars. When eBeth was pregnant with Tallest, Hairiest Nephew, I got to go with them when they registered at Babies-backwards-R-Us. Brother, in charge of the laser pistol (because that's what you do when you take men to register -- put them in charge of the gun) and thinking he was funny, first scanned eBeth, looked at the display and said, "Fat chick." Then he scanned me, looked at the display and said, "Psycho Aunt." I continue to live up to my potential in that arena.
+FOOTNOTE (plussed): Perhaps you thought I'd forgotten all about perfume.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two does not a circle make): Of *course* there are perfume circles.
##FOOTNOTE (tictic tactac toetoe): It seemed the polite thing to do.
^FOOTNOTE (carated): Or would it be, "Is urine anosmic to me?"
†††FOOTNOTE (three steps closer to sainthood): Wednesday is a big mass day for the truly devout, right?
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (cancer sticks): I know I haven't exactly reviewed it yet, but I've mentioned it.
§§§FOOTNOTE (skull? woman? cigarette? jasmine? honey? urine?): Thus:
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Normally, I try to link and quote the perfumier rather than another reviewer or vendor, but in this case, Serge Lutens' unnavigable website pissed me off so he gets no say in the matter.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Honey and wood, just like I said. I'm also giving Hans credit for the powder thing because iris is classically described as a powdery note. Question: isn't ebony a super-hard hardwood? Would it have enough smell to list in a perfume?
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (the international symbol for hawthorn): Hawthorn is listed as a note in quite a few perfumes. Wikipedia doesn't list anything about its use in perfumes. I don't even know if it's the wood or the flowers. What I do know is that the flowers are hermaphroditic, so I'm guessing hawthorn is a good unisex scent.
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