They say that time flies when you're having fun, or (as a frog would say), time's fun when you're having flies. But sometimes time flies when you're so incredibly busing because you don't have the time to notice the fact that time is actually passing. In the words of Marina Sirtis, We haven't the time to worry about time.
On the up side...
I have finished my personal programs for SRP, which means that the only things I need to worry about right now are the Foundation programs and the volunteers.
I am over halfway done spinning up the green roving. I have one pound completely spun and plied, and almost a bobbin and a half spun up of the second pound. I'm going for a heavy worsted/chunky weight, and I think I have about 550 yards in one pound.
I can't believe there are people out there who didn't like The Little Engine that Could....
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I Think I Can, I Think I Can
Six more weeks until school starts.
Three more weeks until the end of summer reading.
Watty Piper never said it so well.
Three more weeks until the end of summer reading.
Watty Piper never said it so well.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I can too do it
Very busy month going on right now. Summer Reading has begun (Oh Joy), which means teen voluneers, school visits (now finished, thankfully), programs, and screaming hords inundating the library every day. Three more months....
The new library opens in about two weeks.
The house hunt continues apace. I have come to the realization that, while I am quite capable of painting walls, cleaning counters, and calling Sears and Empire for a new refrigerator and carpet, the idea of dealing with an HVAC system as old as I am is well beyond my level of expertise. So that house is crossed off the list. I'm going out again tonight. Wish me luck.
But let it not be said that I cannot cope with the stress. I cope just fine. See?
These are the Ancient Oak socks, which I swore WOULD NOT GET THE BETTER OF ME (and they haven't). And you will be happy to know that in the light of finishing up the Purple People Eaters and the Ancient Oak, I have also worked on the next appropriate item in my queue:
Darn tootin. That there is a garter stitch Syrian Shawl (that's a Ravelry link) -- the best thing in the world to work on when the universe is plotting to drive you crazier than you already are. Even the edging was relatively simple.
I am happy to see that my blocking has come out much better on this one than it did with my previous shawls.
See? No problem coping.
The new library opens in about two weeks.
The house hunt continues apace. I have come to the realization that, while I am quite capable of painting walls, cleaning counters, and calling Sears and Empire for a new refrigerator and carpet, the idea of dealing with an HVAC system as old as I am is well beyond my level of expertise. So that house is crossed off the list. I'm going out again tonight. Wish me luck.
But let it not be said that I cannot cope with the stress. I cope just fine. See?
These are the Ancient Oak socks, which I swore WOULD NOT GET THE BETTER OF ME (and they haven't). And you will be happy to know that in the light of finishing up the Purple People Eaters and the Ancient Oak, I have also worked on the next appropriate item in my queue:
Darn tootin. That there is a garter stitch Syrian Shawl (that's a Ravelry link) -- the best thing in the world to work on when the universe is plotting to drive you crazier than you already are. Even the edging was relatively simple.
I am happy to see that my blocking has come out much better on this one than it did with my previous shawls.
See? No problem coping.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
This is the way you knit a sock
Or rather, this is the way one should knit a sock:
1) Choose pattern
2) Choose yarn (this may or may not be done prior to the completion of step 1)
3) Knit swatch to see if pattern and yarn are comparable to each other (or go wild and skip this step)
4) Knit sock 1. Try sock on recipient to ensure fit.
5) Knit sock 2. Give to recipient.
See? Not that hard. At all. Which is why I have been ready to tear my eyeballs out in seething rage in response to this last pair I've been working on. Because this is how I have been knitting a sock.
1) Choose yarn (Yummy, in colorway Truffle, which apparently isn't being made anymore)
2) Choose pattern (Ancient Oak -- that's a Ravelry link)
3) Knit swatch.
4) Realize that the pattern calls for a slightly thicker yarn and a bigger gauge than the yarn will knit up at. Employ language unbecoming a knitter.
5) Decide to work the pattern anway, changing the stitch count from 54 to 72.
6) Knit ribbing and first pattern repeat.
7) Realize that even after having increased by 18 stitches, the sock is still to small.
8) Rip out sock and cast on again, this time with 84 stitches.
9) Realize that the colorway changed when the stitch count increased and no longer looks as nice. Employ more language unbecoming a knitter, but decide to continue knitting.
10) Celebrate when, after ribbing and first pattern repeat, that this size will work. Continue onto heel.
11) Realize halfway through heel flap that the pattern called for standard stockinette rather than slipped stitch. Rip back again.
12) Reknit heel and celebrate after a successful turning that has included copious amounts of weird math in order to get the stitch count to come out right.
13) Realize after about five rounds of gussett decreases that the color is just turning out way too weird to continue knitting.
14) Call V and complain bitterly about sock
15) Rip back, using language unbecoming a knitter and sobbing knitterly sobs.
16) Go up a needle size and cast on the original 72 stitches.
17) Use more language unbecoming a knitter when the realization dawns that this is now working.
18) Realize that the copious weird math done the first time is not going to work the second time. Use more language unbecoming a knitter.
19) Rework weird math. Celebrate when the heel turns successfully.
20) Complete sock 1
21) Begin sock 2 and ask recipient to try on sock 1
22) Dance jig when sock fits recipient
23) Progress to heel of sock 2
24) Realize that you again forgot to write down the exact numbers of the complicated weird math when turning the heel. Refrain from using language unbecoming a knitter as in the presence of parents.
25) Begin working on garter stitch shawl in an effort to preserve sanity.
1) Choose pattern
2) Choose yarn (this may or may not be done prior to the completion of step 1)
3) Knit swatch to see if pattern and yarn are comparable to each other (or go wild and skip this step)
4) Knit sock 1. Try sock on recipient to ensure fit.
5) Knit sock 2. Give to recipient.
See? Not that hard. At all. Which is why I have been ready to tear my eyeballs out in seething rage in response to this last pair I've been working on. Because this is how I have been knitting a sock.
1) Choose yarn (Yummy, in colorway Truffle, which apparently isn't being made anymore)
2) Choose pattern (Ancient Oak -- that's a Ravelry link)
3) Knit swatch.
4) Realize that the pattern calls for a slightly thicker yarn and a bigger gauge than the yarn will knit up at. Employ language unbecoming a knitter.
5) Decide to work the pattern anway, changing the stitch count from 54 to 72.
6) Knit ribbing and first pattern repeat.
7) Realize that even after having increased by 18 stitches, the sock is still to small.
8) Rip out sock and cast on again, this time with 84 stitches.
9) Realize that the colorway changed when the stitch count increased and no longer looks as nice. Employ more language unbecoming a knitter, but decide to continue knitting.
10) Celebrate when, after ribbing and first pattern repeat, that this size will work. Continue onto heel.
11) Realize halfway through heel flap that the pattern called for standard stockinette rather than slipped stitch. Rip back again.
12) Reknit heel and celebrate after a successful turning that has included copious amounts of weird math in order to get the stitch count to come out right.
13) Realize after about five rounds of gussett decreases that the color is just turning out way too weird to continue knitting.
14) Call V and complain bitterly about sock
15) Rip back, using language unbecoming a knitter and sobbing knitterly sobs.
16) Go up a needle size and cast on the original 72 stitches.
17) Use more language unbecoming a knitter when the realization dawns that this is now working.
18) Realize that the copious weird math done the first time is not going to work the second time. Use more language unbecoming a knitter.
19) Rework weird math. Celebrate when the heel turns successfully.
20) Complete sock 1
21) Begin sock 2 and ask recipient to try on sock 1
22) Dance jig when sock fits recipient
23) Progress to heel of sock 2
24) Realize that you again forgot to write down the exact numbers of the complicated weird math when turning the heel. Refrain from using language unbecoming a knitter as in the presence of parents.
25) Begin working on garter stitch shawl in an effort to preserve sanity.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Finishing Up
I can't believe it's June already. Seriously? What happened to April and May? Time flies so quickly sometimes.
On the up side (speaking of which, I really want to see that movie)...
I HAVE FINISHED THE FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS!!!
Yes. It is true. Remember the shawl?
It is now this.
A closer look?
A thousand curses on the lighting in my bedroom. The first picture shows the color most accurately. V took pictures of it on me, but she has yet to send them to me, so you'll have to make do with the crappy ones I took. I'm very proud of this. It took forever, but it was so worth it.
I also finished spinning up the tussah:
There's about 750 yards of that gorgeousness right there (and the color is pretty accurate in this picture). I want to make a nice wrap or shawl with it. Unfortunatley, it's not spun evenly enough to make anything particularly lacy, but we shall see. Perhaps another Wool Peddlers.
On the up side (speaking of which, I really want to see that movie)...
I HAVE FINISHED THE FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS!!!
Yes. It is true. Remember the shawl?
It is now this.
A closer look?
A thousand curses on the lighting in my bedroom. The first picture shows the color most accurately. V took pictures of it on me, but she has yet to send them to me, so you'll have to make do with the crappy ones I took. I'm very proud of this. It took forever, but it was so worth it.
I also finished spinning up the tussah:
There's about 750 yards of that gorgeousness right there (and the color is pretty accurate in this picture). I want to make a nice wrap or shawl with it. Unfortunatley, it's not spun evenly enough to make anything particularly lacy, but we shall see. Perhaps another Wool Peddlers.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Lest We Forget
"Love your country and live with pride
And don't forget those who died." -- Billy Ray Cyrus
That's a line from the song "Some Gave All" -- which I've never heard played on the radio, but I think is most appropriate today. And it made me realize that whatever profound, moving thoughts I was going to put down here would pale in comparison to what the collective mind of American humanity has already said. It also drove home the point that it doesn't really matter what I say here, because the important thing is, to quote Abraham Lincoln, "The world...can never forget."
So instead of me spouting off something trite and patt about the importance of this Monday, I think I'll just close with something that was said tonight during the Memorial Day concert by one of the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff:
"Let us make their hope our own, and let us never, ever forget."
And don't forget those who died." -- Billy Ray Cyrus
That's a line from the song "Some Gave All" -- which I've never heard played on the radio, but I think is most appropriate today. And it made me realize that whatever profound, moving thoughts I was going to put down here would pale in comparison to what the collective mind of American humanity has already said. It also drove home the point that it doesn't really matter what I say here, because the important thing is, to quote Abraham Lincoln, "The world...can never forget."
So instead of me spouting off something trite and patt about the importance of this Monday, I think I'll just close with something that was said tonight during the Memorial Day concert by one of the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff:
"Let us make their hope our own, and let us never, ever forget."
Friday, May 22, 2009
The Long Weekend
I'm so glad we're coming up on a long weekend, because I really need to get a lot done. I'm desperate to finish the Flying Purple People Eaters (which is bothersome, because the more rows I do on it, the longer they become, and the longer it is taking to finish it), but I'm hoping only two more pattern repeats, and it will be done except for the blocking. And now that my wheel has dried, and the little plastic dodad has been replaced, I can work on some spinning this weekend too (yeah!).
Green Valley Book Fair this weekend!
Green Valley Book Fair this weekend!
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sigh
Right outside the building from my desk, there are a bunch of construction workers (since I can hear and see them actually doing things, I won't qualify it anymore than that). They are (at least I think and hope that this is what they're doing) rebuilding the gazebo which burned down last summer. (I think it had help.)
Let me see. It is now the middle of May. The gazebo burned down in early August. That is over nine months in which there has been a barren space of land outside. Children have been conceived, carried, and delivered.
Now that the Monkey socks are done, there is room in the queue for the Ancient Oak ones. Except that these spent almost two days in time out, thinking about what they did after I totally arsed up the gauge on them. Grumble.
Thank God it's Friday.
Let me see. It is now the middle of May. The gazebo burned down in early August. That is over nine months in which there has been a barren space of land outside. Children have been conceived, carried, and delivered.
Now that the Monkey socks are done, there is room in the queue for the Ancient Oak ones. Except that these spent almost two days in time out, thinking about what they did after I totally arsed up the gauge on them. Grumble.
Thank God it's Friday.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Well
I feel like I really want to rant right now. There are certain things that are really starting to TICK ME OFF ROYALLY -- like computers, and cleaning staff, and staff at stores that don't seem to know anything about what they're selling, and...
Never mind. Here, look at knitting:
That's the October Frost cardigan, finally done. Although I have no idea what is up with the color. Here's a much better image:
Pattern from A Fine Fleece, made with the rest of the Cascade Eco that I had leftover from making the Holiday Vest.
And here are the water lilly socks, which were finished on Thursday and promptly pressed into service on Friday:
(My own standard sock pattern, made with yarn from one of the vendors at Pittsburgh whose name escapes me at the moment.)
There. I feel so much better now. Don't you?
Never mind. Here, look at knitting:
That's the October Frost cardigan, finally done. Although I have no idea what is up with the color. Here's a much better image:
Pattern from A Fine Fleece, made with the rest of the Cascade Eco that I had leftover from making the Holiday Vest.
And here are the water lilly socks, which were finished on Thursday and promptly pressed into service on Friday:
(My own standard sock pattern, made with yarn from one of the vendors at Pittsburgh whose name escapes me at the moment.)
There. I feel so much better now. Don't you?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Update
Just a quicky, because I have no time.
The candle flame socks are done -- except for weaving in the ends, but really ends, schmends.
The OF cardigan is blocking. On my bed. Hopefully by the time I get home this evening, it will have finished drying, and I will be able to use my bed. When I move into my my own digs, I really need to get a blocking table.
The lily pond socks are almost half way done.
There has been no further progress on the flying purple people eaters.
This past week has given new meaning to the phrase "April Showers."
Stitches in Your Home -- what a great idea! Heather is a genius.
On behalf of Mason-Dixon Knitting, please consider donating to Afghans for Afghans if you have a chance.
The candle flame socks are done -- except for weaving in the ends, but really ends, schmends.
The OF cardigan is blocking. On my bed. Hopefully by the time I get home this evening, it will have finished drying, and I will be able to use my bed. When I move into my my own digs, I really need to get a blocking table.
The lily pond socks are almost half way done.
There has been no further progress on the flying purple people eaters.
This past week has given new meaning to the phrase "April Showers."
Stitches in Your Home -- what a great idea! Heather is a genius.
On behalf of Mason-Dixon Knitting, please consider donating to Afghans for Afghans if you have a chance.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Random on a Tuesday
It's raining right now. We need the rain, but it makes for some dreary scenery outside. The sky is gray, and from my desk at work I cannot see any of the pear or magnolia trees that are in bloom nearby. Blah.
I really, really need to finish up a whole bunch of projects before I start working on any more. Like the candle flame socks I've been working on (they're almost done. I should have them done by tomorrow.), and the OF cardigan (needs sleeves. Should be done by the end of the week).
Also on the needles that needs to be finished is this shawl.
I have more done than the picture actually shows -- I'm about halfway done with the repeats (note that I did not say that I am halfway done with the shawl -- just the number of pattern repeats). It's done with Jojoland Harmony, which is cobweb weight, and so fine that every time I pick it up to work on it, I get all bleary eyed. It's going a lot better now that it is on straight needles rather than circulars, but I don't know how long that's going to last, since by the time I'm done, I'm going to be working with twice the number of stitches than I am now.
Yesterday was the birthday of Marguerite Henry. I have no idea how old she was, but it makes me want to go out to the beach, even though I know it's way too cold right now.
Since it is no longer Lent, I'm thinking about some sort of berry pie. I wonder what good ones my new book has...
That reminds me -- I need to go grocery shopping.
I really, really need to finish up a whole bunch of projects before I start working on any more. Like the candle flame socks I've been working on (they're almost done. I should have them done by tomorrow.), and the OF cardigan (needs sleeves. Should be done by the end of the week).
Also on the needles that needs to be finished is this shawl.
I have more done than the picture actually shows -- I'm about halfway done with the repeats (note that I did not say that I am halfway done with the shawl -- just the number of pattern repeats). It's done with Jojoland Harmony, which is cobweb weight, and so fine that every time I pick it up to work on it, I get all bleary eyed. It's going a lot better now that it is on straight needles rather than circulars, but I don't know how long that's going to last, since by the time I'm done, I'm going to be working with twice the number of stitches than I am now.
Yesterday was the birthday of Marguerite Henry. I have no idea how old she was, but it makes me want to go out to the beach, even though I know it's way too cold right now.
Since it is no longer Lent, I'm thinking about some sort of berry pie. I wonder what good ones my new book has...
That reminds me -- I need to go grocery shopping.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Whatever happened to Ordinary?
First, some prompts:
1.One blue Nissan sedan, a plot of daffodils, two wild rabbits, and a three year old.
2. Robert Sean Leonard has knocked on your door, carrying a jar of tomato sauce and a violin bow. What happens next?
Whatever happened to the day when you could go into a place of business and perform a simple transaction? The other day, I was at the post office, mailing off a book. I pick up the envelope, address it, and walk up to the teller, at which point, I open the envelope, stick the book in, and seal it. I then hand the envelope to the teller, who says,
"Do you have anything liquid, fragile, or perishable in here?"
I stared at her. I mean, she just saw me put the book (and only the book) into the envelope. What on earth did she think could be liquid, fragile, or perishable about it? The only possible way to ruin it would be if someone along the way spilled something liquid on it, and if that were the case, I don't think mine would be the only thing ruined. I realize she's required to ask that, but I'm a little baffled at how policy flies in the face of common sense sometimes.
Then she asks, "Do you want it insured or certified in case anything were to happen to it?"
Hadn't I just said it wasn't fragile or perishable? What on earth could happen to it? "No," I say. "It's just a book. I don't need it insured. And I don't need to know when the recipient receives it."
"Would you like it to go priority or express so that it will arrive within a certain time, like before tomorrow at 3?"
A vague headache begins behind my eyes, and I stare at her (because really the only reason I was at the Post Office at all was because I didn't know how much postage it would need -- I really didn't foresee it being this big of an issue for her). "NO. It doesn't need to get there before a certain time. There's nothing special about it. IT'S JUST A BOOK. Send it in regular mail."
At which point, she stares at me, like I cannot possibly understand the importance of the decision I am making -- the decision which clearly signifies life or death for myriads of innocents, and (most importantly) denies the USPS a chance to make more money and says, "There is no regular mail. You have to pick which way you want it sent." A pause. "Would you like me to send it First Class?"
No regular mail. This is complete news to me. A complete and utter surprise. I have always considered First Class to be synonymous with "regular mail." Ummm, ok. Whatever. I nod, and she rings me up. "That will be $2.75, please." (I had to buy the envelope too.)
As long as it gets to Florida. But seriously, whatever happened to regular and ordinary?
1.One blue Nissan sedan, a plot of daffodils, two wild rabbits, and a three year old.
2. Robert Sean Leonard has knocked on your door, carrying a jar of tomato sauce and a violin bow. What happens next?
Whatever happened to the day when you could go into a place of business and perform a simple transaction? The other day, I was at the post office, mailing off a book. I pick up the envelope, address it, and walk up to the teller, at which point, I open the envelope, stick the book in, and seal it. I then hand the envelope to the teller, who says,
"Do you have anything liquid, fragile, or perishable in here?"
I stared at her. I mean, she just saw me put the book (and only the book) into the envelope. What on earth did she think could be liquid, fragile, or perishable about it? The only possible way to ruin it would be if someone along the way spilled something liquid on it, and if that were the case, I don't think mine would be the only thing ruined. I realize she's required to ask that, but I'm a little baffled at how policy flies in the face of common sense sometimes.
Then she asks, "Do you want it insured or certified in case anything were to happen to it?"
Hadn't I just said it wasn't fragile or perishable? What on earth could happen to it? "No," I say. "It's just a book. I don't need it insured. And I don't need to know when the recipient receives it."
"Would you like it to go priority or express so that it will arrive within a certain time, like before tomorrow at 3?"
A vague headache begins behind my eyes, and I stare at her (because really the only reason I was at the Post Office at all was because I didn't know how much postage it would need -- I really didn't foresee it being this big of an issue for her). "NO. It doesn't need to get there before a certain time. There's nothing special about it. IT'S JUST A BOOK. Send it in regular mail."
At which point, she stares at me, like I cannot possibly understand the importance of the decision I am making -- the decision which clearly signifies life or death for myriads of innocents, and (most importantly) denies the USPS a chance to make more money and says, "There is no regular mail. You have to pick which way you want it sent." A pause. "Would you like me to send it First Class?"
No regular mail. This is complete news to me. A complete and utter surprise. I have always considered First Class to be synonymous with "regular mail." Ummm, ok. Whatever. I nod, and she rings me up. "That will be $2.75, please." (I had to buy the envelope too.)
As long as it gets to Florida. But seriously, whatever happened to regular and ordinary?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Once a Classic, Always a Classic
"people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to other animals as well as humans, it is all a sham."
This past Monday was the anniversary of the birthday of Anna Sewell, the author of the above quote. In light of that auspicious day, I suggest you check out this place.
Anna Sewell wrote Black Beauty in an effort to educate the public regarding cruelty to animals, and it is still today refered to as a novel that helped ignite the animal rights and welfare movements. It was also used by some people as a manual for the care of horses. In fact, the book has been so influential, one SPCA founder was known to give out free copies to cab drivers.
Since its publication in 1877, the book has sold more than 30 million copies and has never been out of print. It is, according to some sources, the sixth bestselling novel written in English. If you've never read this book (and if that's true, I am profoundly sorry for the shallow husk of the empty and depraved life you have obviously led), or if it's been a while since you've read it, I highly encourage you to pick it up. It is, regardless of what you think of Victorian writing (I find it incredibly wordy sometimes), still a wonderful story, for children and adults alike.
A good thing to do tomorrow, as there is a 70% chance of rain.
This past Monday was the anniversary of the birthday of Anna Sewell, the author of the above quote. In light of that auspicious day, I suggest you check out this place.
Anna Sewell wrote Black Beauty in an effort to educate the public regarding cruelty to animals, and it is still today refered to as a novel that helped ignite the animal rights and welfare movements. It was also used by some people as a manual for the care of horses. In fact, the book has been so influential, one SPCA founder was known to give out free copies to cab drivers.
Since its publication in 1877, the book has sold more than 30 million copies and has never been out of print. It is, according to some sources, the sixth bestselling novel written in English. If you've never read this book (and if that's true, I am profoundly sorry for the shallow husk of the empty and depraved life you have obviously led), or if it's been a while since you've read it, I highly encourage you to pick it up. It is, regardless of what you think of Victorian writing (I find it incredibly wordy sometimes), still a wonderful story, for children and adults alike.
A good thing to do tomorrow, as there is a 70% chance of rain.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Pie
My friend H and I were at the local Borders on Thursday, and while wondering around in the cooking section, I discovered this book.
Pie is one of my favorite desserts. I like Pie better than cake or cookies or pudding, and there are so many different kinds that I don't know as I could ever get bored with eating it. But even I didn't realize, until I picked up this book and started flipping through it, that there were this many different kinds. Seriously, 300 different kinds of pie? Wow.
Dudes. My next baking endeavor has just gotten way more interesting.
Pie is one of my favorite desserts. I like Pie better than cake or cookies or pudding, and there are so many different kinds that I don't know as I could ever get bored with eating it. But even I didn't realize, until I picked up this book and started flipping through it, that there were this many different kinds. Seriously, 300 different kinds of pie? Wow.
Dudes. My next baking endeavor has just gotten way more interesting.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ideas
So my parents have recently gotten back from a cruise around Cape Horn and the Antarctic peninsula. Before they left, my mother asked me if I wanted her to get me anything while they were down there (aside from, you know, a postcard that depicts a penguin or two). I said that if she could find some locally raised alpaca or llama yarn to bring back, that would be pretty cool.
She said she'd look, and off the two of them went. They came back a couple of weeks ago and said they had a grand time (They saw lots of penguins). They had also managed to procure some yarn for my sister and me. Something called vicuna.
None of us had ever heard of vicuna before, but my mother was concerned whether or not it was good yarn, so when I was home over this past weekend, we looked it up online. Retail price for vicuna yarn is (are you ready?) $300 per ounce.
My mother said that if she had known it was so valuable, she would probably have bought more than she did. As it was, she came back with 5 75-gram balls. That converts to a little more than 13 oz, or about 6.6 oz each for me and my sister.
Here is my half (or rather, it's my sister's half, because she's the one who took the picture of hers, but mine looks pretty much the same. Trust me.):
That's about $2000 worth of yarn right there. I'm thinking about making this shawl with it. Anyone have any other ideas for it?
She said she'd look, and off the two of them went. They came back a couple of weeks ago and said they had a grand time (They saw lots of penguins). They had also managed to procure some yarn for my sister and me. Something called vicuna.
None of us had ever heard of vicuna before, but my mother was concerned whether or not it was good yarn, so when I was home over this past weekend, we looked it up online. Retail price for vicuna yarn is (are you ready?) $300 per ounce.
My mother said that if she had known it was so valuable, she would probably have bought more than she did. As it was, she came back with 5 75-gram balls. That converts to a little more than 13 oz, or about 6.6 oz each for me and my sister.
Here is my half (or rather, it's my sister's half, because she's the one who took the picture of hers, but mine looks pretty much the same. Trust me.):
That's about $2000 worth of yarn right there. I'm thinking about making this shawl with it. Anyone have any other ideas for it?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Announcement
I am now Twittering (you might think I've been doing this regularly for years -- now it's official). Check out the link under my feeds to keep up with me on this. And if you happen to be twittering too, let me know, so I can follow you!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Gauge, and other things
The problems I've been having really don't have anything to do with Gauge, but I feel like I have to blame something about it, and Gauge (it is capitalized to give it the respect it deserves) will work. I've been working on this cardigan off and on for about a month. This one to be precise. (I've been obsessing over it ever since I saw the movie.) So I look at the pattern and realize that because I have these accessories out the front that the designer of the pattern perhaps doesn't have that I will have to make the large. I cast on, read what the pattern says about upsizing and start. After about three rows, I decide that I don't like the look of all those purl stitches inbetween the different cable panels required to upsize the pattern and decide to change the cabling. So I do. I change the cabling, work the entire front (conveniently ignoring the fact that I miscross three of the cables in the process), kitchener the two fronts together as the pattern calls for,
Then realize that the way I have changed the cabling changes the way the whole cardigan hangs, and it doesn't look right at all. I have now ripped out the two fronts, have re-knit one of the sides with a larger version of the original cable the pattern calls for, and am in the midst of the second half. There may have been some alcohol, tears, and language unbecoming a knitter in the process.
There's GOT to be another way to adjust for porch sizes.
Then realize that the way I have changed the cabling changes the way the whole cardigan hangs, and it doesn't look right at all. I have now ripped out the two fronts, have re-knit one of the sides with a larger version of the original cable the pattern calls for, and am in the midst of the second half. There may have been some alcohol, tears, and language unbecoming a knitter in the process.
There's GOT to be another way to adjust for porch sizes.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Things You Never Knew
So I was at this knitting convention in Pittsburgh this past weekend. Sunday morning I was taking this class on color, and there KL, the teacher, was explaining all about proportion -- that darker, brighter colors make more of an impact than lighter, matter ones. And she gave an example of Argyles: that if the colors were black, red, and white, then the main color would be red, the diamonds white, and the lines would be black if one wanted a balanced look between the colors. Someone else mentioned that you could then switch the colors up if you wanted a different look too, and then I commented that that was the cool thing about making Argyles, at least with socks, anyway: that once you bought the yarn for one pair, you had yarn for three more pairs.
The teacher then said that was fine and dandy and all that, but that she could only knit socks for pirates, because she just never got around to knitting that second sock. I don't know quite why she felt she had to limit herself to the idea that socks had to match, but since she brought up the pirate idea, I just couldn't resist, and said, "Well Argyle socks should be perfect for you then, since they're Arrrgyles."
The whole room cracked up, our teacher most of all. Totally flipped. She was practically rolling on the floor, she was laughing so hard. Apparently she had never heard the joke before. I laughed a little with her, all the while thinking, I can't believe she's never heard that before. That wasn't even an original on my part. There's even a pattern on Ravelry for Arrrgyle socks, for crying out loud. But clearly, this was the funniest thing she had heard in a while, and she kept coming back to it, laughing every time anyone mentioned Argyles.
I never knew I could be so amusing.
The teacher then said that was fine and dandy and all that, but that she could only knit socks for pirates, because she just never got around to knitting that second sock. I don't know quite why she felt she had to limit herself to the idea that socks had to match, but since she brought up the pirate idea, I just couldn't resist, and said, "Well Argyle socks should be perfect for you then, since they're Arrrgyles."
The whole room cracked up, our teacher most of all. Totally flipped. She was practically rolling on the floor, she was laughing so hard. Apparently she had never heard the joke before. I laughed a little with her, all the while thinking, I can't believe she's never heard that before. That wasn't even an original on my part. There's even a pattern on Ravelry for Arrrgyle socks, for crying out loud. But clearly, this was the funniest thing she had heard in a while, and she kept coming back to it, laughing every time anyone mentioned Argyles.
I never knew I could be so amusing.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Random Saturday
Some prompts:
The endless blue.
White on red.
Abuma books (interpret that as you will).
Mother Goose is having a dinner party. In addition to Humpty Dumpty, Little Miss Moffet, Bo Peep, Simple Simon, and Little Boy Blue, name five more people who are invited and why.
A three year old is sitting in the grass. Near him is one large button, a hockey stick, a packet of wintergreen Altoids, a glue stick, a copy of Where the Wild Things Are, and three catnip joints. What happens next?
That's really all I have right now, because I've been tearing my hair out trying to find my flash drive, which I have misplaced for the second time this week, and because I'm too infatuated with my current knitting project right now to think much on anything else.
And because it's my birthday this weekend, which really has nothing to do with my creativity or lack thereof, but I just thought I'd put it in there.
(The Argyles are done!)
The endless blue.
White on red.
Abuma books (interpret that as you will).
Mother Goose is having a dinner party. In addition to Humpty Dumpty, Little Miss Moffet, Bo Peep, Simple Simon, and Little Boy Blue, name five more people who are invited and why.
A three year old is sitting in the grass. Near him is one large button, a hockey stick, a packet of wintergreen Altoids, a glue stick, a copy of Where the Wild Things Are, and three catnip joints. What happens next?
That's really all I have right now, because I've been tearing my hair out trying to find my flash drive, which I have misplaced for the second time this week, and because I'm too infatuated with my current knitting project right now to think much on anything else.
And because it's my birthday this weekend, which really has nothing to do with my creativity or lack thereof, but I just thought I'd put it in there.
(The Argyles are done!)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Something to Consider
It's snowing right now outside my window at work. Real snow that actually sticks to the ground, in contrast to the flurries that has been all we've been getting here this winter. Not that it hasn't been cold enough, it's just been too darn dry most of the time that everytime it dips below freezing here in northern VA, it never does anything. Annoying, really.
The other night on the news, when the weatherman was talking about the precip that is currently coming down outside my window, he mentioned that we had been lucky so far in terms of winter weather. Which got me to thinking (I know. it's a dangerous habit). What, exactly, is "bad" or "lucky" or "good" weather and what makes it so?
Last year ('07 actually), in November, it rained for about four days straight -- a gentle, soaking rain that was absorbed (almost) completely into the ground. In addition, during those four days, the thermometer dropped about ten degrees, and we got about four inches of rain. And everyone complained about it. They complained that it was too cold and that it was too wet, and when was the sun going to come out again?
The reason that it was so baffling, though, was that the temperatures during those four days weren't all that cold. They were normal, average temps for November. What made them different was that it had been unusually warm throughout September and October. In addition, it had also been very dry. From June through September, we had approximately 3.5 inches of rain (Total. In Four Months.), ten inches below the average for that time of the year, and October wasn't any different. During that time, everyone grumbled that it was too dry. So why, when it finally rained and cooled down, were people complaining?
The same is true for right now. It's JANUARY, for crying out loud. That means that, in northern VA, it's SUPPOSED to be cold and snowy outside. If a person does not enjoy cold wintery weather, then that person can go and live in an area of the world that does not have cold snowy weather in the winter. Why in the world is snow (or rain or any form of precip, really) considered bad, simply for doing what it was made to do, which was fall to the ground? Don't we need precipitation as much as we do sunlight? And why, especially in the light of global warming, is cold weather considered horrible, particularly in January, when it's supposed to be cold?
Thoughts?
The other night on the news, when the weatherman was talking about the precip that is currently coming down outside my window, he mentioned that we had been lucky so far in terms of winter weather. Which got me to thinking (I know. it's a dangerous habit). What, exactly, is "bad" or "lucky" or "good" weather and what makes it so?
Last year ('07 actually), in November, it rained for about four days straight -- a gentle, soaking rain that was absorbed (almost) completely into the ground. In addition, during those four days, the thermometer dropped about ten degrees, and we got about four inches of rain. And everyone complained about it. They complained that it was too cold and that it was too wet, and when was the sun going to come out again?
The reason that it was so baffling, though, was that the temperatures during those four days weren't all that cold. They were normal, average temps for November. What made them different was that it had been unusually warm throughout September and October. In addition, it had also been very dry. From June through September, we had approximately 3.5 inches of rain (Total. In Four Months.), ten inches below the average for that time of the year, and October wasn't any different. During that time, everyone grumbled that it was too dry. So why, when it finally rained and cooled down, were people complaining?
The same is true for right now. It's JANUARY, for crying out loud. That means that, in northern VA, it's SUPPOSED to be cold and snowy outside. If a person does not enjoy cold wintery weather, then that person can go and live in an area of the world that does not have cold snowy weather in the winter. Why in the world is snow (or rain or any form of precip, really) considered bad, simply for doing what it was made to do, which was fall to the ground? Don't we need precipitation as much as we do sunlight? And why, especially in the light of global warming, is cold weather considered horrible, particularly in January, when it's supposed to be cold?
Thoughts?
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