March Madness

When I woke up yesterday morning, it was freezing cold and raining. But not just raining. It sounded like someone was hovering outside the bedroom window, pelting it with ice shards. A specter, with this message: Guess what? It's still the bleak midwinter here in central PA, and you're wide awake at 5 am. The specter was right. Our yard was a giant, semi-frozen puddle of sludge. Snuffy would not go out, and Lucy stood in the rain, baffled by the thunder and shivering.




Oh, we got a puppy in August - she's 3/4 Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, 1/4 Cocker Spaniel. I had been pining for a long-haired dachshund whom I would name Mr. Peanut, but it was not to be. After reading this blog for a while, I was smitten. Our Lucy came from a local puppy mill breeder, but I feel okay about it. Pennsylvania hearts puppies now, because of new laws that say we can't stack 'em five high in wire cages anymore.

But I digress.

When I woke up this morning, the sun was shining brilliantly. I heard birds. The sky was so blue it made my teeth hurt. Timmy left the house in a bright green Springtime tie, which is a sure sign that change is coming. You couldn't design a more different day from yesterday if you tried. Last night we watched Factory Girl - ugh. But tonight? How about Meet Me in St. Louis? Or the Music Man? I half-expected a marching band to come down Allegheny Street. Happy March 1st!! It was that kind of day.

Today is Robert Lowell's birthday. I know this because I read it on the teeny tiny screen of my iPhone, courtesy of the Writers' Almanac, along with the facts of his life. The sudden change in weather seemed very fitting to me, because of his manic-depressive illness. His madness, to use the old term. I have always loved Lowell's poems, which manage to achieve compression and expansion all at once, the language and the emotion. They also make my teeth hurt, but in a good way.

Where am I going with all this?

Well, I also had one of the knitter's moments in which you cross from darkness into light. All winter, I've been knitting gray items. Some wrist warmers, a toddler sweater, an infinity scarf for myself. All grayish. At best, vaguely tan. But, as I was trolling around on Ravelry yesterday, I came across this. It seemed like a small moment of kismet, because I'm currently knitting another of Veera's designs, Golden Wheat, also to die for. Only mine is more Brownish Wheat. Generally, I'm not a shawl knitter. When I revealed this developing plan to Heather, she just said,"you love sock yarn." Which is true. But I never knit socks, because I always end up breaking those skinny needles, like Frankenstein or Jake LaMotta would, if either ever started knitting.

This shawl spoke to me. It said: Guess what? You have the yarn! Now, I don't have the called-for yarn, which would be the best of all possible scenarios. To be dumbstruck by a pattern and actually have the exact yarn in your stash? That has never happened to me. Has that ever happened to anyone?



Anyway, I remembered two skeins of madelinetosh sock yarn that have been buried under the heap of gray. Actually, the red was buried. The blue has been sitting on my dresser since December. The prospect of not having to launch an manic, exhaustive search for the perfect yarn nearly did me in. What more could I want - more kismet? The colorways are Thunderstorm and Tart.

iPhone Friday

I have mixed feelings about my iPhone. Like all things Mac, I love its nifty design and sleek surface, and the fact that it allows me to play Scrabble endlessly wherever I find myself. I love that I can record cryptic little messages for my ears only, like "two boxes of baking soda", or "dog toothpaste." However, I am hopelessly out of touch with the world of apps, to the point that my father took one look at my iPhone, gave a little laugh and said - boy, you really don't have any apps on this thing, do you? No, Mr. Who-wants-to-see-my-new-iPad, I guess I don't.

Also, since last Christmas, the volume button has been stuck in the down position, so the phone never rings. Or chimes when somebody's a-textin' me. I took it to the Bar and had the Geniuses put their heads together. One went to the back room, like a car salesman going to confer with his manager, (i.e., to have a smoke) and came back to tell me, sadly, that there was no way to fix it. I'd have to upgrade. This news caused Timmy's eyes to light up -- could he try to take it apart? No sir, you cannot.

Why, you ask? That would be fun for Timmy, and interesting to see the inner workings of the iPhone. At the very least, I could let Charlie run over it with his skateboard and make an awesome YouTube video.

Because the thing I love most about the iPhone is the camera. I am extremely camera-challenged, and feel very intimidated when people start talking about f/stop and shutter speed. The iPhone is the perfect camera - I am always pleasantly surprised by the photos I am able to take with it, and there is nothing to do but point and shoot. I think of the iPhone as a camera on which I occasionally make phone calls, and which frequently challenges me to a game of Scrabble.

Given the fact that my iPhone is currently at a wedding with Maudie, I thought I would leave you with a photo taken on my last visit to HP. My mom and I were particularly taken with this creepy doll, probably because she has two very similar creepy dolls and this one seemed to cry out for its landsmen. My dad, slightly repelled, wandered off, engrossed no doubt, in the latest app.

Just Us Chickens

I write to you today from the attic, where I am safely ensconced, away from the five 13- and 14- year olds who have taken over the first and second floors of my house. Maudie and two friends are having a Gilmore Girls Marathon (they're on Season 7, thank God) and Charlie and his friend are in his room, blasting death metal and chugging Monsters. I really like this friend of Charlie's because a) he's smart and funny, b) he can talk to adults, and c) recently he was grounded from drinking any Monster at all for two weeks, a punishment he endured with great aplomb. I guess really I should also like his mother for that one. So I do.

They had to come in, due to the rain, otherwise they'd be skateboarding. The girls would be outside "tanning" in bikinis, telling me not to worry, they're wearing sunscreen. Fair enough. I never really thought of myself as the Mother Hen type, but I do like to have a bunch of kids around, and I'd much rather have them here than elsewhere. I used to fear that I would become "an old hen with one chick", and I guess in some ways I am just that. One chick and one step-chick.

For a few years, I was really having a hard time with this tween to teen transition. I was sad to see them leave grade school, embrace technology, grow as tall and taller than me, get cell phones, and "develop", to use a creepy 70s-style health class term. For some reason, in the last six months or so, it's okay. Which is good, because it's not like I have a choice in the matter.


Raveled here.

Also, they both rejected all hand knits during that period, which is probably a good thing in terms of their social lives, and as Heather would say, street cred. Maudie did ask for a slouchy hat last October, but she had Swine Flu at the time, so it may have been the fever talking. Conveniently, her baby sister Esmee is now almost two, and when I gave her this little sweater last month, she literally jumped up and down and immediately put it on. Has anyone every jumped up and down upon receiving a hand-knitted gift from you? It was the first time for me, but I really hope it happens again.

Oh, about the knitting. When my parents were here at Easter, my mom and I spent a lot of time knitting, laughing about knitting and most of all, reminiscing about knitters we have known. In the old days, before the Internet made it possible to befriend other knitters in far-flung locations, your knitting friends were local, i.e., the women you met sitting at the knitting table at your LYS. There was a kind of dance-with-him-what-brung-ya mentality -- find your pal at this table, or go without. Of course, this was hit or miss, but my mom did make many interesting and in some cases lifelong friends this way.

One such friend, Judy, was one of my favorites. She was totally fabulous, with a chic curly bob, pearl chokers and tons of cashmere sweaters. She took a trip to Paris every year with her girlfriends. She was like the cool, funky grandmother everyone wished they had. She was very funny and upfront and would often pull me aside and say things like, "Barbie (my mother's friends still call me that), since it's just us chickens, how do you really feel about living two blocks from your parents?"

Although she's gone now, I have in my possession a sweater she knitted maybe 20 years ago. It's a super-bulky cardigan in a rich grey-plum color with pockets and a belt. I think she made up the pattern as she went along. This garment succeeds in being functional, fashionable and does not, as many bulky knits tend to do, make the wearer look like the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man. Judy also once spent an entire winter knitting a stash-busting striped scarf -- Dr. Who-style. I think the thing is about 10 feet long. That scarf is in my ex-husband's possession.

So, today, it's all good. This summer my chicks both turn 14. I leave you with pictures of them from Tom's and my wedding, almost six years ago.

Flash & Yearn

Hello again!

I was trying to go a whole year between blog posts, but I just couldn't do it. So here I am, thanks to some serious prodding from Timmy, and a gentle nudge from a gentle reader.

Anyway, a while back, when we still had Blockbuster Online, I was searching around for a good movie. The kind that makes you glad you have an online service, as opposed to the kind you let languish for three weeks in the bowl with the bananas. I can't remember the movie that caught my eye, but I do remember that it was categorized as one of many Obsessive Quests. As I browsed around, I realized that I was drawn to Obsessive Quests, in the much the same way I was drawn to Crumbling Marriages, Dying Young, and of course, Witnessing a Crime.

In my time, I have been witness to any number of Obsessive Quests: Ornamental Grasses, N-Scale Model Railroad, 5 Gum, Bakelite Cherries, Beaujolais Nouveau, Flipping Off All Extant Cement Mixers, just to name a few. Most poets, also, live for the Obsessive Quest. Do I even need to mention knitters and their obsessive quests? The Socks That Rock Booth at Rhinebeck comes to mind. Malabrigo, Pigeonroof, Sundara anyone?

First picture of Tea Leaves.

My most recent Obsessive Quest? The Tea Leaves Cardigan, hands down. I swatched. I calculated. I planned. This is possibly my favorite hand knit. Ever. Never mind the entirely cabled cardigan from Vogue Knitting I made (out of Maratona) in the 80s while watching Reds over and over again from a king-sized water bed. Goodbye, February Lady Sweater and all other viral knits! This pattern took hold of me like nothing else. And then it was done. I missed it so much, I made a toddler-sized garter yoke cardi in the same yarn. I thought of Berryman, and all those Dream Songs. I flashed and yearned.

I know Heather felt the same way. On a Wednesday, she texted me that she was only 2 inches below the armholes - complete with frowny face. Sunday morning? The text said -- it's blocking (smiley).


Last picture of O W L S.

Borne along by my Tea Leaves success, it was onward and upward to O W L S. My new love. I yearned for this sweater. Yes, I swatched. I planned, I knitted on, through Swine Flu, Thanksgiving and Christmas. And yet, it was big. The back poofed. I sewed on all 38 button eyes during the Super Bowl. The sleeves sagged. I blocked, I soaked, I threw it in the dryer. It still wasn't right. I frogged. Because, as we now know, knitting is ripping and ripping is knitting. My Quest seemed for naught.

But that's the nature of the Obsessive Quest -- dazzling highs and punishing lows. Probably the same is true of Marriage and Crime. It's Spring and so to my Quest. After weeks of stewing over it all, whining to anyone who will listen, and weighing the relative merits of size 36 vs 38, I'm ready. I've bought new yarn, printed out a fresh copy of the pattern and obsessively check the project gallery on Ravelry for newly finished sweaters. Because I really want that sweater. Hopefully, the second time's the charm.

Inch by Inch, Row by Row

When Maudie was a little girl, she loved that song. We listened to it and sang along with Peter Paul and Mary. A lot. We didn't have a garden then, but at least we had middle-aged hippies to sing to us about a garden.

One of the great things about living where we do is that although we are landlocked, our area is mostly rural. If we drive for about ten minutes, we're whizzing past Amish buggies and acres and acres of farmland.

I never really had a garden before I married Timmy. He's a natural gardener, dedicated and meticulous. He builds the raised beds, makes the compost, plans and plants, and is out there every day doing the work. I'm the cook and tentative canner, and I love preparing and eating what we grow. Last night I picked some green beans, and 15 minutes later we were eating them. We call these "Moosewood Moments", in homage to the tried-and-true hippie classic. This year we doubled the size of the garden. We've got kale that I hope we'll be eating until Thanksgiving, beets, carrots, cucumbers, corn, and for the first time, blackberries.

We've also got tomatoes in all shapes and sizes -- Roma, cherry, Pink Lady, Mr. Stripey. This morning we also learned we've also got Late Blight.

Last night I was reading Erin's post about her own garden, and I showed it to Timmy. He assured me that, no, we didn't have it. This morning he came back from walking the dog and told me, that yes, we do have it. What a bummer.

As for knitting, I've been working on Ishbel, my first-ever shawl. After months of turning up my nose at shawls (and secretly feeling intimidated by the lace), I finally cast on with some gorgeous Malabrigo Sock yarn in Abril. I'm now completely hooked. I love the concentration this kind of knitting requires, how you really feel the inch by inch and row by row of it. And then, after seeing it as groups of stitches, the finished product blooms into something amazing; proof that the whole really is greater than the sum of its parts.

I leave you with some canning shots, a fun afternoon spent with Heather and my pal Peeper-lou making tasty, but not so crispy, pickles.

Five Minutes

I realize that I am perhaps the last known knit blogger to post about Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, but I am coming to terms with the fact that I am a late bloomer as well as a procrastinator. I can't say enough about this book.

The recipes are simple and elegant, and the bread is to die for. The basic recipe has four ingredients; that recipe alone is worth the price of the book. Earlier this week, I ventured into uncharted territory: enriched breads. First, plain brioche. Today: Chocolate Prune Brioche. Having just had the first slice, I can safely say that Chocolate + Prunes + Brioche = Heaven.

Knitting? Well, a little. Yesterday Heather and I spent a lovely afternoon knitting, lunching and chatting on the back porch. She's doing a fabulous springtime shawl; I'm about ready to seam the sleeves of the Top-Down Vine Lace Cardigan and pick up the collar. Yes, this sweater will be finished just in time to wear it for an hour next week in the early morning, and then pack it up for next fall.

Hmmmm. Rather than thinking of it as a sweater that never got finished for this winter, I'll think of it as early knitting for next fall.

Blocking for Dollars

I have finished Talia, but cannot show it off just yet. I thought it was blocked, but when I put it on this morning, I realized that it is not blocked enough. It grew very nicely length-wise and the lace opened beautifully. But the width. That's another story.

It goes around me, but with buttons actually buttoned, not so much. Sausage casing comes to mind. I could wear it open -- like Rhoda Morgenstern -- but this was not the look I was going for. It just dawned on me that maybe steam blocking might help with the width -- I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It also dawned on me that maybe there is something to that formula or theory that one should weight within ten pounds of one's high school graduation weight. I'm not keeping my fingers crossed for that one.

In the midst of this blocking problem, I also remembered that at Rochelle's shop, they had a finisher. You left the piece or pieces of knitting at the shop, and a week or two later you picked up the finished garment! It was sewn together, perfectly blocked, and fit like a dream! At least that's how I remember it. I never thought of the poor knitter, probably woefully underpaid and squinting under a bare bulb at her dining room table, all to do the grunt work on someone else's sweater.

The last time I asked a shop owner whether she had a finisher, she looked at me balefully and said, Well, I guess that would be me. Then there was an awkward pause. That was ten years ago. So, I've learned to sew and block, and even pick up stitches at the neckline, although it does scare me. I always imagine that having completed the bulk of the knitting, I will now somehow ruin the sweater with shoddy blocking and finishing.

Instead, I can show you two items that required zero blocking: a Tender Blankie for a friend's new baby, and a pair of red mittens for the big sister.

Oh Sherrie

It is Timmy's role, as the resident Morning Person, to wake up the entire household on school/work mornings. After much trial and error, he has come up with a winning method that 1) is efficient, and 2) does not fill the rest of us with a murderous rage. Here's how it works: at 6am the alarm goes off. He immediately leaps from bed and into the shower, leaving me about 10 minutes of peaceful languishing. He then turns on the lights in our bedroom, and in the hallway, which in turn shines through the transom windows into the kids' rooms. He then turns the radio to a local station which plays "the best of the 80s, 90s and today." This is key, because he used to turn on NPR, which often stirred up household debates -- not a good way to start the day. More often than not, the songs are cheerful, or at least pleasantly nostalgic. Today was no exception as I woke to the sounds of Steve Perry belting out "Oh Sherrie."

I'm not sure if I can convey my undying love for Steve Perry - his voice, hair and nose speak for themselves. I do know that it seemed he was the heartthrob of every girl in 80s Chicagoland. I just watched to youtube video, and even Sherrie herself, who seems like a sweet, lovable dope, can't take her eyes off him.

The downside of the wake-up method is that eventually we turn off the radio and the reverie is broken (sometimes by Phil Collins or Men at Work.) We rouse the kids from their beds, and Maudie turns on the shower radio to Hot 100. And now it's Beyonce or Lady Gaga or Kanye West. Don't get me wrong, I love Kanye, but he's no Steve Perry.

On the knitting front: Talia is finished and blocking, I've got socks for Timmy in the works and an early spring cardigan from Sweaterbabe - I love her simple, elegant designs and excellent instructions - all Raveled here.

Gifted

I have no FOs to show today; I'm in a bit of a knitting lull.

However, I do have two fabulous gifts to show -- one knitted and one quilted.



First, from my sister-in-law, the quilt she made as a gift for Timmy's and my wedding. I can honestly say I've never been given anything quite like this in my life. It is heart-stoppingly gorgeous and also mind-boggling to the non-quilter. How did she do it? We originally used it on the bed, but then decided that a) it might fall victim to Snuffy's toenails, and b) it deserved to be displayed (to anyone who just happens to walk by our bedroom.) One of the great things about living in a house built in 1893 is the height of the ceilings -- the quilt seems made for the space.


Second, from my mom, the Modern Quilt Wrap, another project which I have admired from afar, but am way too chicken to attempt. I have been wearing it non-stop, and in addition to its unmitigated fabulousness, it keeps me warm in this drafty house. As a family friend once said, "One is always warm when one is wearing a scarf."

I feel lucky and blessed to have these women in my life.

Blue Person

This little guy came to Maudie from Taiwan, from her school pen pal, along with a Chinese New Year card, carefully hand-lettered in English. The girl made him, using Chinese knots and that cute little head, and aptly named him Blue Person. Isn't he nifty?

I've finished my Just Enough Ruffles and have started a baby blanket. Enjoy the weekend!

Less Knitting, More Pudding

No knitting progress of any kind. I am poised to begin the short row section of Just Enough Ruffles (ravelled here), but because I don't understand how short rows work, I'm a little afraid. I've done them before, but I can't yet do them from memory. I love what they do -- it seems like magic to watch that lovely curve take shape.

Instead, I've decided it's officially a cooking day. I was going through my recipes and found this at the bottom of the pile. As a child, I remember eating a lot of pudding - mostly chocolate and vanilla. My grandparents used to pour milk directly onto the pudding in their bowls, which seemed completely gross at the time, but now seems quaint and homey.

This pudding makes a lovely lemon custard with a cake-y top. It comes from a family friend - a knitter of beautiful afghans who I always thought was very glamorous because she wore false eyelashes, several perfumes at once, and a frosted fall.



Trudi's Lemon Pudding

2 eggs
1 C milk
4-6 T fresh lemon juice
zest of one lemon
4 T flour
1 C sugar (I use about a half cup extra)
1/4 t. salt

Separate eggs. Beat whites in a bowl to stiff peaks. In another bowl, beat all other ingredients together. Fold in egg whites.

Spray 4 ramekins with a light cooking spray and fill. Bake in a 9x13 water bath at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Makes 4-5 individual puddings.

Enjoy!

This Knitter's Hubris

When I was growing up, my mom worked at a knit shop in HP, Granny's. Granny's was owned by a woman named Rochelle. I can't quite remember, but either her married name was also Rochelle (making her Rochelle Rochelle), or she was married to a man named Sheldon, thus making them a couple with a gimmick: Shelly and Shelly!!!

Rochelle was a great knitter, and although she was a dedicated smoker and allowed others to smoke in her shop, we will forgive her because it was the '70s. Anyway, Rochelle always said "knitting is ripping and ripping is knitting," when consoling tearful knitters faced with massive corrective frogging. As an adult, and a knitter with a more than a few years behind me, I completely understand the wisdom and up-by-the-bootstraps practicality of this statement.

I only wish that Rochelle had had a similar maxim regarding swatching, because that would really come in handy, for oh, say, every single project I ever do. The thing is, I almost never swatch. And if I do, I frequently fudge the gauge a little because I don't want to do another swatch. Bad, I know.

One way I've tried to get around this is by using the exact yarn that the pattern calls for, desperately hoping that my gauge will match that listed on the pattern. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I also tend to use fall-back yarns, like Cascade 220, which I know I'll never ever have to swatch.




This practice, along with my attendant hubris, came into play this past week when I made the Birthday Cowl. While I have admired numerous cowls on Ravelry, I've only ever knit one other cowl. Why I don't know. It's the perfect little project -- highly portable, quickly finished, practical and wearable. Living as I do in drafty house built in 1893, I could wear a cowl all day every day from October - April. After looking at scores of beautiful Birthday Cowls, I cast on with some gorgeous Cashmere Island Heather gave me last Christmas.

I followed the pattern to the letter, blithely assuming that 1) Cashmere Island is a worsted weight yarn (since I long ago misplaced the ball band), and 2) the gauge on the size 8 needle would therefore be perfect. The pattern is genius; it's easily memorized and only two rows. Once you get just a little tired of the lace round, you get to knit one round, and then it's time for more lace. The end result with the diagonals and yarn-overs is really to die for.

Cashmere Island, as I now know, is a DK weight yarn. Hmm. I love my cowl, and I'm wearing my cowl, but my cowl is big. Not crazy big, but a little droopy, and not snug up to my neck and chin like I wanted it to be. I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if I had only used a 7 needle. If I had only swatched. I guess I could use a funky little pin to make it snug, but that isn't really the way I pictured this cowl.

Will I rip and re-knit the cowl? No, despite Rochelle's maxim. Have I resolved to "get with the program," as my dad would say, and swatch every project from now on? Probably not. Am I getting there? Maybe.

While I was gone

This is what's happened:




Both Charlie and Maudie turned 12; she started junior high. Shockingly, junior high is now considered 'fun', probably because they all have personal phones and are available by text and IM 24/7.

My mom got sick, and then she got better.

I happily reconnected with an old friend, thanks to Jane.

Snuffy went from a 38 lb. weakling to a 55 lb. stud. (Also, he got neutered.)

We drove to Chicago, to Boston and to Florida.

My cousin was ordained as a minister.

I took a quilting class. Quilting is okay; there is a lot of ironing, which is also okay. I experienced a lot of junior high home-ec class sewing machine anxiety. For me, junior high was not fun.

For Christmas, I baked cookies, knitted mittens, juiced a lot of oranges and received a new iron.

There was knitting, and planning knitting projects, although I was completely silent.

Now I'm back.

Peace to everyone in 2009!

Full Circle

As promised, here is the completed Circle of Friends Baby Blanket. I have always wanted to knit this blanket, and as luck would have it, Maudie's stepmother -- a lovely person -- is expecting a baby girl at the end of May. I had some of the Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece, added a few extra colorways, and got to it. So, as Timmy would say, opportunity met preparedness.




A huge thanks to the add knitter, who happily jumped on board, along with her Peeper-lou, to get the job done. And, yes, both of us have ex-husbands who have remarried and are having baby daughters. I don't know if our parallel lives came first or our friendship, but no matter. She's the best!


The lion's share of credit goes to my mom, knitter extraordinaire, who knitted three of the strips, did all the sewing and blocking, straightened out any mismatched gauges, and crocheted the picot edge!!

And finally, to Maudie, who diligently knitted her strip, counted all her ridges correctly, and wanted everything to be just perfect for her new sister.

So Big, So Tiny

I don't remember why, but a few Christmases ago, my niece Colleen repeated the phrase "so big, so tiny" about 20 times a minute. She was maybe a year and a half old, and for some reason it just took hold of her. I get it now. Big and tiny just go together.



I've been working on a second Juliet, for myself this time, and I love it. I've been dying to get my hands on this yarn for a while, and having knit a Juliet for Maudie I just had to have my own. But it's so big. The needles are big, the Cashmerino Superchunky is big; the whole endeavor just started to seem big. And heavy.

Enter the Lace Ribbon Scarf, currently the most popular project on Ravelry, and rightly so. It's gorgeous, springy, so light, and those stitches are so tiny! A 3 needle? After the 10.5, that 3 is light as air! I saw that scarf and thought it's just so tiny -- I could take it with me anywhere, keep it in my car, on my nightstand.



Yes, this scarf is now my constant companion. I'm using the rest of the Colinette Jitterbug I have left from the Soba Noodle Bainbridge and love it. When the yarn is gone, the scarf is done. And then back to Juliet...

And speaking of tiny, the Circle of Friends Blanket is finished and has been gifted! Pix to follow soon.

Spring Mittens

With everything that's been going on around here -- the return of Spring, school play, talent show, 6th grade graduation frenzy, scrambling to finish the Circle of Friends blanket strips and Snuffy's emergency toenail-ectomy (don't ask), I found myself yearning for a quick and simple knit, one that I could finish in a day or so.

I've been dreaming of white-ish mittens for a while, and had a false start with an EZ Mitered Mitten and Noro Silk Garden.


I love the yarn, love the pattern, but the long cuff modification, while practical, just isn't right for me. I'll be frogging and starting over with a standard cuff. Besides, Timmy told me it looked like an oven mitt, and I have to admit, he's right.

In the meantime, through the magic of Ravelry trades, I found myself with three skeins of Wool-Ease Chunky in Fisherman. These are Super Mittens, from Weekend Knitting, and they're exactly what I had in mind -- finished in two days, and perfect for cool Spring mornings. Next up: a chunky cowl like these to match? Yes, I'm a bandwagon knitter, and proud of it!

Multi-tasking

And then some days, it's just the opposite and you have so much time and energy that it seems like a really good idea to alphabetize cookbooks and iron handkerchiefs. It's feast or famine....



I've got big plans for these two yarns: more to come on that, but the colors of these two are to die for!!




Soon to be a Green Gable and a Juliet, both patterns I've knitted before and loved. All hail the Zephyr Girls!! Here's to Spring and renewed energy!!

Multi-slacking

What is it about starting a big project that kick-starts the little project?

For months, Timmy has been asking for a vest. What? A man's garment without sleeves? Every knitter's dream, right? So finally, finally I cast it on, only to realize that it would fit Jackie Gleason. I rip, re-cast and get going. Then, the doorbell rings -- it's my neighbor, with her new baby, and I realize I must immediately make a gift, as the kid is already three months old. I start a little hat and in comes Timmy, with a defeated look. "You're not knitting my vest," he says.

So I'm caught -- a knit-slacker. And, if the truth is known, a multi-slacker. Timmy accused me of this recently, and he's right. For me, a day of multi-slacking involves shirking laundry duties, wheeling and dealing on Ravelry, eating potato chips and watching HGTV, with a little knitting thrown in. I have a strict rule that I'm out of my robe by lunchtime. The time flies, the kids come home from school. For them, it's all about texting, Drake and Josh and pizza snacks. Do we do this every day? No. Would we like to? Maybe.


Anyway, here's the hat. It's from LMKG, one of my favorite books of all time. It's Mission Falls 1824 Cotton in Pebble, done on size 7 dpns for Baby Katie.

Wintry Mix

That's what we had all last week. Snow, sleet, freezing rain and a couple of snow days thrown in for good measure. The latter, which often induce cabin fever and general bugging out, were actually two very nice days with Maudie. Once the novelty of tv wore off, we cozied up on the couch, knitting and taking turns reading to one another. She is hard at work on her strip for the blanket, and I am working on a Juliet for her.



This photo is from my friend Jane in Chicago, who has made a kind of long-term installment/photo project with several mannequins. I thought they were gone, but she sent me this gorgeous photo of her newest model, and that granny-square scarf caught my eye. She told me she's granny-square mad, and can't stop making them -- and has been crocheting granny-square belts out of embroidery thread! That is some serious granny-square dedication, and I can't wait to see them.

Also, I've decided what to do with all that Manos. I'm donating it to the Mother Bear Project, which provides hand-knitted teddy bears to children with lives affected by HIV/AIDS in emerging nations. I realized that it would just languish here (with a lot of other languishing yarn) so off it goes.

My Circle of Friends

I think maybe the world is getting smaller. This occurred to me the other day when I saw Sylvester Stallone on The View. He was totally pumped, sitting between Barbara Walters and Joy Behar, talking up the new Rambo movie. He's smart and funny, but there just seemed to be a disconnect. Or just an odd mix of people. Maybe it's just me. I prefer Rocky to Rambo anyway, and really only the first Rocky at that.

Then yesterday, I took Maudie and her friend to Hot Topic at the mall, where you can buy a Ramones t-shirt and a Sex Pistols t-shirt and a plethora of t-shirts with other images, old and new. Looking at Sid Vicious over the bobby-pinned heads of two 11 year old girls kinda felt like I had just passed myself in a narrow hallway. But the girls weren't interested; they wanted Save the Planet and Hello Kitty. Bollocks.

Sid, Rocky, Sly, Dee Dee, Hello Kitty -- it's all okay with me. Old friends who, wierdly, turned up in the same 24 hour period.



I got started on the first strip of the Circle of Friends baby blanket from LMKG last week. It's row upon row of lovely garter stitch, which is just right for showing off the neat squares of color. We've got six knitters lined up, three of whom are kids, to crank it out by the end of February. It's seven colorways of Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece. We recently replaced a caramel color with a cotton candy pink, since the recipient is most definitely a girl.

This is definitely tv knitting, so tonight I'll start the second strip, act my age and watch the next Jane Austen on "Masterpiece".