Reciprocity Failure

2012-02-13T17:32:00.000-06:00

Crap. Is it already the middle of February? Guess I'd better decide which heavy winter sweater I want to knit next (of all of the ones on my mental list) and let the rest wait until the fall. It hasn't seemed like a pressing issue, but I suppose spring will be here soon. If I want to wear the next sweater, I better get a move on.
I was planning to visit a museum today, with my newly acquired museum card from work, but I decided to stay home and wash all of my clothes instead. No, that is not an exaggeration. I procrastinated on doing my laundry, then the laundry room was closed for a week for upgrades. I've got a lot of clothes, but there's a limit to the number of re-wears I'm willing to do.
In any case, I'm looking for a way to recharge my batteries. I'm practically hibernating these days, which is a great way to entrench a rut. So, the Field Museum? I haven't been in ages and ages. The Museum of Science and Industry? I haven't been since they moved the submarine (by hand!) to its new exhibit. My old favorite, the Art Institute? An afternoon with some Impressionist masterpieces would be very soothing, but I'm afraid I'll cry in front of the Seurat. Decisions, decisions.

The catch up

2012-02-04T23:39:00.001-06:00

I left my hermitage today. It was an acquisition mission. I went to a quilting store (not to be confused with, say, Joann Fabrics, though I ended going there too for notions), where I bought some really beautiful batiks to make a purse for my Grandmother. The trouble is that I love them so much that I will probably end up keeping it for myself. She loves blues and greens, as do I. As do a lot of people, since blue and green are the most common favorite colors in the world. The least favorite? White. I suppose most people don't consider it a color.

I'm trying to recharge my batteries. My creative battery, my mental battery, my give-a-shit battery. Time to dust off the sewing machine! I also recently started a new sweater in a divine shade of green from Dream in Color. I bought the yarn from them ages ago, when they were selling some test lots. I showed the work in progress to my Grandmother while we were waiting at her doctor's office and she remarked on all of the colors in it and how I'll be able to wear it with a lot of things. I hadn't really thought of it as having a lot of colors, but as having a lot of tonal variation. I love implied texture, but not to the extent of having trompe l'oeil walls.

I've also been thinking about picking up the quilt that I started a couple years ago. It's a double Irish chain in modern prints. I haven't figured out what kind of motifs I want to quilt on it. A lot of people do shamrock designs, but I think that is a little too twee. The fabrics in mine are large scale florals in turkey red, with a pale yellow for the plain squares. I suppose I can finish the piecing before deciding how I want to quilt it. Long, time-sucking google searches for quilting stencils are in my future.

Other recharging things: I've started drinking more water, thanks to my SodaStream. I use it mostly to make seltzer water. Seltzer wasn't really my thing before, but I find it refreshing when freshly carbonated. It also fills my need for gadgets, because I get to play with the carbonator to make it.

In surprising news, I've recently started getting acupuncture. My fear of needles previously prevented me from even considering it, but it actually doesn't bother me (as long as I don't look). I wouldn't have started, had it not been for a really painful gallbladder attack about a month ago that kept me up all night. Since then, I have learned that I was probably passing a gallstone. It was so fucking uncomfortable that I would eat tacks if that was the cure. Fortunately, I can get acupuncture from one of my college classmates instead, who recently got a masters in oriental medicine. I was always a little in awe of her commitment to photography when we were in school, so I figured if she was half as serious about acupuncture as she was about art, it would be okay. I've had two treatments now and they've really helped with my gallbladder and general well being. Paired with Chinese herbs, this should help me to avoid "real" medical intervention. They usually just cut 'em out and I'd like to stay with as many of my original parts as I can. And really, does the world want me to have unmitigated gall?

An Open Letter to a Producer

2012-01-22T21:37:00.000-06:00

I am not going to name your organization here because I don't want to be accused of libel, even though what I write here is true. You don't pay a living wage, or anything approaching it. Still, you expect your employees to work extraordinarily hard in dangerous conditions to make your shows a success. When is the last time your space got a visit from the fire marshal? I ask because one of the stagehands got a nasty shock when she tried to plug something into the electrical outlet backstage that was just dangling out of the wall. Cap that shit off or fix it before someone is seriously injured.
We had a standard contract that you would pay half of my fee on opening night and the other half on closing. I kept up my end of that agreement, but on closing night, the production manager didn't have checks for the crew. Sure, the actors, who have the legal muscle of Equity behind them, were all paid on time, but the crew got lame excuses about a printer in the office being out of toner. I guess the accountant's check writing hand was broken, too.
Isn't it bad enough that you paid members of your run crew $200 total for a five week run? That's not even minimum wage. Then you had the audacity to take your time paying them after they've performed the work. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for treating fellow artists this way. Hell, for treating fellow human beings this way. When I mentioned that US Labor Law requires employers to pay their employees on the date agreed upon, your production manager told me that some people in town don't even pay. I know. One of my exes got an Equity agreement yanked from a company that stiffed him $700. That's not a threat. You eventually sent me a check with both my first and last names misspelled. Thanks for that laugh.
The saddest part of this is that I had a wonderful time working on your show, with really great people. It's just that asshole in the office who handles payroll that completely soured me on your company. I wish you all the luck you deserve in finding qualified people willing to work under these conditions, because I certainly will never work for your company again.

What Would Laura Ingalls Wilder Do? Drink Some Wine and Sew Some More.

2011-12-13T23:33:00.000-06:00

I stayed up until 4 am last night sewing xmess presents. I realized today that the sound of the machine, so comforting to me, probably irritated the neighbors. Then I though about how their child has endless screaming tantrums and decided not to feel guilty.
In the past twenty-four hours, my sewing machine has:

Refused to work. The thread wouldn't catch. I disassembled it, cleaned its nooks and crannies, swapped bobbins, everything. Turns out that the problem was a little burr on the spool of thread I was using that prevented the thread from feeding.
Broken two needles. This was my fault. I recently fell in love with a quarter inch foot that is apparently NOT for zigzag. My previous favorite utility foot is, so it didn't occur to me that the slimmer foot would be a problem. Thank god I had a whole pack of needles, but I could definitely have done without catching part of a needle in my hand.
Burned through a surprising amount of bobbin thread. I could probably wind a bobbin in my sleep now. Maybe I did last night.
Installed many a zipper (with my guidance). The new fave quarter inch foot is great for zippers, so I don't have to swap feet to put them in. Zippers are now my bitch.

Even though the sewing has been a little fiddly, it has been so much quicker than knitting presents like I usually do. I've decided that most of my family aren't knitworthy. I got tired of seeing the presents that took me hours to make get casually tossed on the pile. The work was not appreciated.

Mad Men has fueled my holiday craft marathons in the past (or one year, shamefully, Gossip Girl), but this year I'm working my way through all of the episodes of Saving Grace on Netflix. Maybe I needed a badass Holly Hunter fix and didn't know it. I've also got the new Jane Eyre adaptation out from the library, but that seems like something that requires a little more attention.

In other news, my cell phone broke. It still works, after a fashion, but the scroll pad refuses to scroll. I can't check my email, text messages, use the internet, turn my ringer back on, or about a dozen other things without it. All those reasons I want a smartphone now don't work. So, if I've missed a call from you in the past few days, I apologize. I'll call you when I get my new phone tomorrow. I decided to abandon the Blackberry (8 track of the 2000s) for an iphone. Yes, I've mocked them in the past. Yes, I tease one of my friends for his near-obsessive love of his iphone. I just want a smartphone that works, has no scroll button to break (which killed my last two phones), and doesn't have a squint-inducingly tiny screen. That leaves android phones and the iphone. The tech support guy who remotely reprogrammed my Blackberry when its data service went out told me that iphones generate the fewest number of problem tickets of any phones on my carrier. What else do you need to know? My new phone is in the FedEx depot across the street from my apartment, which has me as antsy as a kid waiting for Christmas. I wish I could just go get it, but I'll have to wait for them to deliver it tomorrow. Sometimes the tracking page is not your friend.

2011-11-23T15:04:00.000-06:00

2011-11-02T10:47:00.003-05:00

Knowing that when light is gone,
Love remains for shining.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

2011-10-20T20:18:00.000-05:00

I had an idea for an art piece made out of the disposable gowns I have to wear when I visit my grandmother in the hospital. I would shred them and use the resulting strips to weave a giant piece of fabric, possibly incorporating medical paperwork. Then I realized that I have to wear those gowns to prevent transmission of infectious disease. So, I'd have to use a lot of Lysol on it, or post a warning that no one with a compromised immune system could be in a gallery with it. I would also need a loom. Back to the drawing board.

2011-10-19T18:31:00.000-05:00

Some days, I think that I should have just stayed in bed.
Today, I decided to take the El into the city to see my grandmother, who is still in the hospital. I could have driven, but I ran out of parking passes for the garage and didn't feel like paying their exorbitant rates. Mistake. I had to run to catch the train, but might as well have taken my time. Two stations later, the train went out of service due to a fire at the Logan Square station. The CTA's answer? Provide a shuttle to the Logan Square station. At the California station, the CTA peeps said that platforms would be headed towards the loop. Except, when the train showed up, it was headed to O'Hare and the conductor kept yelling at passengers who were just trying to ask where the train was headed. After plenty of shivering on the platform in the freezing rain, a southbound train finally arrived. It was packed. Despite all the standees, there was a man sitting Indian style across two of the seats. When an older woman admonished him for taking up two seats when so many people had to stand, he just stretched his legs out across the second seat. I hate everybody.
My grandmother's nurse proudly told me that she's doing much better. She stood up today, briefly, which is not a big deal for most of us, but incredibly hard when you've been bedridden for a month. Her appetite hasn't improved, though, which is incredibly frustrating. She has to get her strength up to get out of the hospital and that requires eating. Last time, I took her pad thai. This time, I made her rice pudding, which I normally only make for xmas. The nurses were very encouraging, saying that she needs all the extra nutrition she can get. Well, she only ate two bites. I suggested. I cajoled. I hovered and handed her things. She even told me that I am the only member of the family more stubborn that she (a dubious achievement that I attribute to my Norwegian ancestors). I don't know what to do, other than keeping at it. As hard and frustrating as it is for me, I am sure that it is worse for her.

FML

2011-10-17T16:50:00.000-05:00

Warning knitters: this is a sad tale.
After I remodeled the house, it became overrun with wool eating bugs. Almost all of my socks and more than a few of my hats and sweaters were quietly destroyed by munching insects, while I was blissfully unaware. As a result, I have only a few pairs of socks left.
Saturday, I worked a twelve hour call at the museum. It was real stagehand work, as opposed to my usual cushy A1 work, so I wore my Doc Marten boots and one of my few remaining pairs of socks. After many hours of gigging it, I was quite tempted to just sleep on top of the covers with my boots on. Instead, I took them off and discovered something horrific. There must have been a weak spot in the right sock that I hadn't noticed when I put it on, because hours of rubbing against the very structured toe of my shitkickers made a hole large enough for my first three toes to stick out. GAH!
I've decided to temporarily put my other projects on hold so that I can replenish my sock supply. So, if you were hoping for a knitted gift for xmas, it's not going to happen. Honestly, I'd already decided to cut back my xmas knitting because I felt a lot of it was unappreciated. I practically crippled myself last year trying to finish things at the last minute. This year, it's drawings of spiders for everyone!

La Douleur Exquise!

2011-10-12T15:48:00.000-05:00

What used to cause me pleasure now causes me pain. Too many times, I have pinned my hopes on the wrong thing. Or pinned all of them on one thing, setting myself up for heartbreaking disappointment. I have to stop living in a privately defined world and start living again. If only I could feel as light as those umbrellas, to take long strides across the world, and feel unafraid!

2011-09-24T22:23:00.000-05:00

I am moving a week from today and I've barely packed. I'm in big trouble. I don't want to be that girl who has nothing packed when the movers show up, so I spent most of the afternoon putting my stash into ziplock bags and listening to old Radiohead albums.

I have really mixed feelings about this move. My neighborhood has become increasingly unsafe, and some of you may know that I am having a problem with a peeping tom/creeper. After the neighbors informed me that he tried to break in one night that I stayed abroad, I decided that I couldn't stay here anymore. That stranger stole my sense of security; something so often taken for granted, but once lost, rarely regained. I became afraid to leave the house, in fear that "they" would break in and steal all my things while I was gone. I was afraid to stay in, in fear that "they" would break in and attack me. Not a good way to live. The only answer is to move.

I have lived in this house off and on since I was five years old, so leaving it is a bit of a wrench. It's been my permanent address for a long time. It was never my intent to stay here. I always imagined myself as a glamorous ex-pat. Well, not glamorous, as my self-esteem is limited, but at least far, far away from this place. And now I'm leaving, but it doesn't really feel like it was a choice. The low caliber element that has moved into my neighborhood has pushed me out of my home. Not just my house, but my HOME. That didn't really hit me until today. I felt like throwing myself on the bed and having a good cry, except all of my beds have knitwear blocking on them. Never underestimate the power of a good cry. I've had to make do with some Cadbury's drinking chocolate and an immoderate amount of peanut m&ms.

On the knitting front, I just finished knitting another Peace Fleece Everyday Cardigan. I used this pattern for the first "real" sweater I ever knit, years ago, and wore it to death. If you live in a cold climate, I highly recommend Peace Fleece for cozy garments. It's a rustic yarn made by old hippies in New Hampshire that really softens up when washed. I <3 it a lot. This incarnation of the sweater is a lovely seamoss color, soon to be punched up with antique pressed glass buttons. If only it would hurry up and dry! The weather is perfect for rustic sweaters now.

I am also trying to finish up some WIPs before the move. I've picked up the Wicked cardigan in Madelinetosh merino again. The yarn is luscious, but the rows are so, so long. I've knit the pullover version of this a few times before and it's always flown off the needles. Knitting it flat, though, is taking much longer. If steeks didn't make me skittish, I would have done that instead. Taking scissors to my knitting? No.

I've decided not to knit presents for xmas unless I feel like it. I practically cripple myself every year and the effort and gifts aren't appreciated enough. Any hints dropped about new scarves, hats, or god forbid, sweaters, will be ignored. Want some knitwear? Learn to knit or buy it at the store. I want to knit for myself.

2011-09-14T15:40:00.000-05:00

Treeline Cardigan, I hardly knew ye. A few years back, I fell in love with a free pattern on purl bee.

See? Lovely, great single row stripes with a nostalgic, Grandpa-style shawl collar. Here's the problem, it only comes in two sizes, neither of which I am. I stashed the yarn, planning to do the math to make it in my own size, but frankly, I don't like doing math. I can--I'm not an idiot--but it's not one of my favorite activities and I'm not always confident of my work. So, that Manos has been waiting until I get around to crunching the numbers or con my math genius mom into doing it for me.

Then I saw the new Webs catalog this week, with this gorgeous pattern in it:

which just happens to use the same yarns as the Treeline Cardigan, except for the Kidsilk Haze. I'll have to decide whether or not I want to carry it along in the brown stripes. It would give the color more depth... I ordered a copy of the pattern, Marais, from Webs, so I guess their catalog marketing is effective. Also, I love that it is a modern interpretation of un mariniere, which is very stylish at the moment, but classic enough that it won't look dated in a few years. I think that I will make the sleeves longer, maybe the waist as well. 3/4 length is a difficult proportion.

2011-09-14T11:38:00.000-05:00

My Shoulder Hurts

2011-08-23T23:03:00.000-05:00

My left shoulder, to be precise. I am right-handed, so I am a little confused as to how this happened. No, that is total denial. This is a knitting-related injury. On Christmases past, I have had achy forearms (bad!), but this shoulder thing is new. I don't think that I've been knitting any more than usual lately, or anything unusual. I am still working on the Central Park Hoodie in Ultra Alpaca for my grandmother. The yarn isn't hard to knit, but I am using some old-school, heavy, metal needles instead of my usual Addis/HiyaHiyas/Harmonys. Could they be to blame? Could this be from using my laptop too much or sleeping in weird positions? I need a day off from all of this.
Do you think I could work on a sock while this heals up?
Probably not. Sigh.
Tomorrow, I think I will go see a movie at the place in Indiana with cheap matinees of new releases. I can get some (relatively) cheap gas while I'm there. I'll be able to eat greasy movie theater popcorn without having to worry about getting the "butter" on my precioussssssss yarn. This plan gets better and better...
I am slowly working my way through World On Fire, a book about the British involvement and influence in the American Civil War. It was written by the historian who wrote that fabulous Duchess of Devonshire biography a few years ago. This is a bit slower moving, as there are so many characters (historical figures) to keep track of, what with the Federals and their British supporters and the Confederates and their British supporters. Still, very interesting. I had no idea what a dick Seward was before reading this book! The other reason this hasn't kept me riveted, I suspect, is my extremely limited interest in the American Civil War. It was long, it was awful, and afterward people said "the United States is.." instead of "the United States are..". It's the stuff of 5th grade reports, reenactors' weekends, and sad folk ballads. I'm midway through 1863 right now. Will write more once I've finished the book.

I Hate Everybody.

2011-08-16T14:24:00.000-05:00

Someone tried to break into my house while I was out for the night. THANK GOD, my neighbor scared them off, but it still has me really freaked out. I am afraid to go out, because I am convinced that someone will break in and steal all the things while I am gone. When I am home, I am afraid that someone will break in and it will lead to violence or worse. Someone tried to break into my home. My former roommate had left the window in his room unlocked, which gave them an easy access point, and me a total rage fit when I realized it had been unsecured. What can I expect from someone who used to live in a house where the back doors were secured with a rubber band? Everything is locked up tight now and I have a couple of motion activated floodlights to swap out with my existing fixtures on the patio, when I can get someone to hold the ladder while I work. Call me crazy, but I think that doing electrical work on an aluminum ladder alone is a bad idea. That must be why I'm not a union stagehand. Ideally, I would like a security system, as I must leave the house occasionally and most of my gigs are at night. Or a flat on a leafy street in Hyde Park.

My resolve to only work on long-term UFOs has faded. After the limited success of the Damariscotta and Rusted Root (which has found a home with my mother, who tells me she will redo the ribbing at the hem, which I accidentally knit as k2p2 instead of k3p1. More power to her, I say!), I decide to start on a new cooler weather appropriate project. In fact, I have been project monogamous for the past week. That's rare for me, so you can appreciate my determination.
I am currently working on a Central Park Hoodie in Ultra Alpaca for my grandmother, who is ill. Every time I see her, she looks cold, so I'm sure this cozy sweater will be well received. So far, I have knit the back and right front pieces and am about halfway through the left front piece. The left front went remarkably fast, probably because it is only half the width of the back piece. Also, it happened to be in my bag when I went to check on my grandmother in the ER. It took them five hours to admit her, which is a lot of knitting time. I expect the pace of this project will slow a little when I run out of flat pieces to knit. Anything that involves picking up over a hundred stitches just doesn't travel well, so when I get to the hood and ribbing, the CPH will have to stay home.

Current projects:
* The Bribe CPH
* Everlasting Mary Jane
* Rainbow Noro Shawl

What I will knit next, I do not know, but with this unseasonably mild weather, I am considering rescuing my Madelinetosh worsted Wicked cardigan from its couch exile. The yarn is a loosely spun wool single, so it's not the best for knitting while sweaty. Now that it is cool enough to have a whole sweater sit in my lap while I work on it, I might tackle more cold weather projects.

An update on the UFO roundup

2011-08-07T22:17:00.000-05:00

After writing my last post, I attacked my unfinished objected with alacrity. Over the past few days, I have finished three sweaters. Better yet, they are weather appropriate sweaters! As I write this, the Damariscotta and Rusted Root are blocking on my bed. If I had a larger bed, there'd be a Twilight Tee on it as well. Since it is August, I am not itching to start working on the cold weather projects. I know that I should, but I can't stand having a big, heavy sweater lying in my lap in this weather. So, I will probably tear out the duds and work on small things.
When it is too hot to knit, I have a few good books to read. When it's too hot to read, that's sheer misery.

UFOs, be gone!

2011-08-04T21:37:00.000-05:00

I have decided that I will finish or tear out all of my UFOs and WIPs before starting any new projects. I'm dying to cast on something new! Because I am shameless (or need to subject myself to internet shame in order to motivate myself to finish a bunch of abandoned projects), here's a rundown:

Damariscotta tee-- This shapely tee with crochet edged neckline, knit in Malabrigo's worsted cotton, lay abandoned in my credenza for about a year. I'd knit it from the top down, all the way to the waist increases before casting it aside for more exciting knitting. The pattern calls for a double knit hem with tubular bind-off. Um, no. All of my double knitting experience has ended in disaster, so I am knitting a turned hem and whipstitching it to the body. I highly recommend weaving in a high contrast lifeline in the row before starting the turned hem, so that you have a reference point for stitching the seam later. I've had my fair share of wonky picot edges, so I wish that I'd thought of the lifeline earlier.
Everlasting pullover-- This recently abandoned project was set aside in favor of small, summery projects after one end of the circular needles developed a burr. I tried sanding it down and powering through it, but the yarn is a splitty, 12 ply cashmere blend. The resulting fabric is sprongy and lush, but the process of knitting it can be exasperating. I cannot tell you how many times I accidentally put the tip of the needle through the yarn. The burred needle's manufacturer sent me a free replacement, so the everlasting pullover is free to resume, weather permitting.
Fairly Easy Fairisle Cardigan-- This has been marinating the longest of all of my UFOs. I knit the peeries, sleeves, and body, but ran out of steam on the colorwork yoke. It's not hard and it's knit with bulky yarn, but the flat construction makes the colorwork a bit of a drag. Guaranteed to make a cozy winter favorite for someone. I can't remember what size I was making, so this might go to one of the female relatives.
2830 jacket with heavy mods-- This one potentially needs the most work. It needs sleeves, but after they are made up I will tear out the hem edge and lengthen it. My mother thinks that the yarn is a little ugly. It's a two color variegated hand-dye. I think it is lovely, but can see how it might not be to everyone's taste. I have some darling pink oval buttons for it, which it makes it slightly more likely that I will actually finish it someday.
Transatlantic Shawl-- It just needs the border finished and a little crochet work. But the rows are soooo long.
Twilight Henley-- Needs to be sewn together and get its collar. I am very unenthusiastic about sewing right now. This might be due to the hot weather. Finishing work is so dull, but it always pays to take your time and do it properly. A sweater that took months to knit can be ruined in minutes by slapdash finishing.
Wicked Cardigan-- This was put on the back burner so that I could make seasonally appropriate projects. Now that it's August, I'm starting to think ahead to cozy fall sweaters. Must find air conditioned place where I can hang out and knit so that I don't felt this with my sweat!
Ulmus shawl-- I didn't get into the rhythm of this pattern, so I will probably tear it out and start over when I can give it the attention it deserves.

Most of these projects can be finished with one big push, an afternoon or an evening's worth of finishing and knitting before they can be enjoyed. What that says about my attention span is not great, but I'll be able to have lots of new handknit garments with little effort on my part.

No smoke from the Vatican on everything else going on right now. My knitting I can control.

I wish I could quit you, cotton.

2011-07-17T00:56:00.000-05:00

Every time I knit with cotton, I swear that I will never do it again. And yet I do and more lurks in my stash. Sometimes the same cotton yarn can be a pleasure in one project and an utter pain in the ass in the next. I just finished a lace tee in a cotton/wool blend at four stitches to the inch. I breezed through that project. The same yarn knitted at five stitches to the inch? Pure drudgery.

I'm trying to knit a few quick warm weather projects while the weather is still conducive. So far, that has included a Twilight short sleeved sweater (no vampires were harmed) and another Krista tee. Now, I am trying to remain motivated to work on a Rusted Root. The lace panel is a little too fiddly for mindless knitting and the resulting fabric surprisingly thick. Maybe I'll cheat on it with another weather-appropriate UFO, Damariscotta (also in cotton, FML).

In things unrelated to fiber, I've been spending a lot of time with my grandmother lately. Did you know that grandmas are the largest growing population in new internet users? Well, add mine to that statistic. I recently gave her a surprise!computer after years of resistance on her part. I just showed up at her house with an old iMac and asked her where she wanted it. So far, she knows how to turn it on and off and check her email. She doesn't know how to reply to them yet. Rome wasn't built in a day. When I went over there this morning to deliver a bunch of gladioli I picked up at the farmer's market, my cousin Chris was there helping her with the computer. He's part of the mac using branch of the family. Actually, the majority of us use macs (even Grandma!), with the exception of a few family members who've never even used macs. I am oddly fascinated by people who cling to PCs because switching to macs made such a difference in my life. Could I do what I do on a PC? Yes, but not as easily or cheaply, and with way more unprintable words used.

2011-07-07T23:08:00.000-05:00

I went on a two person yarn crawl today with a friend. Miraculously, I bought nothing. Some of it is willpower and the rest a function of the depth of my stash. I heard recently that novelty yarn is coming back, a less than thrilling prospect. I didn't see any novelty yarn at the three stores I visited today, but saw many novel things.

The first store I visited was Sifu Design Studio, in Andersonville. I really, really like this store and not just because Lisa, the owner, gave me a much needed cup of coffee. Sifu is eclectic and charming, full of potential inspiration. I was very tempted to buy a bundle of high end yarn from a famous Michigan fiber artist for a Colinette style throw, but I need more yarn like I need a hole in the head. Most importantly, I learned that Lisa sews zippers into sweaters for $30-- a steal. I've decided against a few designs that featured zippers due to my dread of sewing them in, but now that I know where to have them put in properly, I might get around to knitting them after all.

Just up the street (ok, many long blocks), we headed to Windy Knitty. I'd been there a few times before and raved about it to Nancy, but it was her first time there. WK and Sifu are very different, but both excellent in their own way. Windy Knitty is a spacious, airy store with a clean, cheery aesthetic. They carry both workhorse yarns and luscious independent dyers, in sweater quantities. They also have excellent notions and some knitpicks needles. If you're curious about the joins in knitpicks options needles, this is an excellent place to see them for yourself before buying (although I can tell you, they are excellent and make addi turbos feel slow!). I envy the knitters of Andersonville for having two such excellent stores.

Our third stop was Knit1, which has undergone a change of ownership since my last visit. Knit1 is a dog friendly yarn shop a block or so north of Trader Joe's on Lincoln. The great selection of Malabrigo is still there, though there are plenty of other reasons to stop by. Curious about Ysolda Teague's new book, Little Red in the City? Thumb through it at Knit1 and check out the wonderful illustrations.

Perhaps you noticed that I have Daybreak listed in my knitting projects again. This is the fourth one I've made, and I blame all of the wonderful people participating in the LSG Daybreak KAL. After seeing all of their excellent shawls, I couldn't resist casting on another one. This is Daybreak #4, but the first one in Colinette Jitterbug. The first three were in Noro Silk Garden Sock, which is lovely, but a lively single. That's a nice way of saying "this yarn wants to twist and tangle with itself all the time". The cushy, tight twist of Jitterbug is a dream compared to SGS, even if it isn't that great for socks. All of the socks that I've made with Jitterbug have felted at the heel, but I love it for shawls and accessories. I've been working on this Daybreak for a week and it's nearly finished. All of the previous ones took a month each. Funny what you can do when you aren't fighting your yarn!

I plan to give the shawl to my grandmother. She doesn't wear a lot of shawls, so I hope that she doesn't think they're too old lady-ish (though there is nothing matronly about the colors in this Daybreak). I gave her an old G4 iMac last week that I picked up on craigslist, after years of her resisting all things computer. While we were setting it up in the basement, I noticed how chilly it was down there. Unfortunately, it has to be that cold there to be cool enough in the rest of the house, so I thought she might need a shawl to wrap around her shoulders while playing with her mac. So far, she knows how to turn it on and off. Great, considering that she has assiduously avoided computers for the past decade or so. She asked me for the book for it, not realizing that computers don't come with instruction manuals anymore. Fortunately, the library had a couple of appropriate For Dummies books. She'll come up with questions after she's read them, she tells me.

2011-06-07T01:01:00.000-05:00

If I were to have that imaginary dinner party that people talk about idly, inviting anyone from history, I would invite Samuel Pepys. I'm re-reading his edited diaries now and I feel that I know him. He wasn't writing for an audience, so the content is more intimate and unguarded. It's also a great first person account of some of the most interesting parts of English history. He was personally involved in the return of Charles II, witnessed the Great Fire of London, and attended a great deal of theatre. After dinner, he might play his flageolet or regale us with old backstage gossip.

Pepys also spends a lot of time chasing after women, talking about clothes, and running all over London getting papers signed or dispatched. He nearly went blind from all his paperwork, which may be why he stopped keeping his diary in 1669. I doubt it was for lack of material; almost every entry contains some gem. Did you know that the word turd was already in popular usage in 1660? It's also interesting to see what has stayed the same, like Pepys wishing to God that he'll be able to afford his new silk suit.

Phil Gyford runs a website, Pepys' Diary, that is a great introduction to the text. It displays an entry from the current date, but you can also browse different dates. Perhaps you'll make a periwigged friend there.

Found on Ravelry

2011-05-31T16:31:00.001-05:00

2011-05-30T17:06:00.000-05:00

I was just thinking sour thoughts about a favorite blogger not updating in a while, when I realized that I haven't written anything on this blog in over five months. Some of that is due to lack of material. Some of it is hesitation to write about a current production.

So, what have I been up to since January? Well, I engineered another musical. It was a new work, or new-ish work that had only been workshopped before. Yes, that is a verb in the theatre. New works are a mixed blessing. Everything was new once. Four hundred odd years ago, Shakespeare probably paced backstage wondering if Hamlet would be a hit. Sometimes, a new work turns out to be a hit, an amazing, exhilarating experience. Other times, you want to kill the writers and run far, far away. I don't know what the future holds for that show, but I hope to remain friends with the wonderful company of actors, musicians, and technicians (okay, technician singular-- it was just me and the stage manager) assembled to perform it.

I've become more of a hermit lately. Maybe hermit is a misnomer. More properly, the word is homebody, which is incredibly unappealing. Basically, I spend a lot of time in my house. It takes something special to interest me in going out. As a result, I think I may have inadvertently drifted away from some friends and acquaintances. If we haven't talked in a while, drop me a line or give me a ring. I get a little too involved in living a life of the mind sometimes.

I had an idea for a hermit newsletter recently, but the internet already serves that purpose. Also, some people have suggested that hermits aren't interested in sharing their thoughts and ideas or in the thoughts and ideas of others. Not true, I say, but I don't know of any hermits who might be interested. What are the odds that a couple of hermits would know each other, though?

Here's a list of things that have gotten me out of the house. I'll write more about them later.

A Ron Sexsmith concert at Schuba's
The Dream in Color factory sale (I even got up early for it!)
Liza Minelli's Daughter, a cabaret written and starring my college classmate Mary Fons

Bah Humbug. And Happy Belated Saturnalia.

2011-01-02T16:32:00.002-06:00

So, the holidays are over. They really weren't so bad, except that it is impossible for them to live up to all of the crazy expectations. I am wary of any event that calls for general felicity, especially during the most depressing time of the year. It's cold and dark and I'm supposed to be having the time of my life? Bah!

Christmas wasn't that bad this year. I did a lot of knitting for gifts, but also bought a few as well. About a week before Christmas, I looked at the sweater I was knitting for my grandmother with a critical eye and decided that it would not do. It was more than halfway done and in worsted weight yarn. Instead, I decided to go the totally illogical route and start a new sweater in dk weight hemp. By illogical, I mean crazy. Over two hundred stitches in every row, worked in stiff, finger torturing hemp; I must be a masochist. Everyone else who knit that pattern on Ravelry took a month to finish it. I made mine in five days. All I did was knit and breathe for those five days. I knit everywhere. I cannot tell you how relieved I was when it was finished, a cool twenty four hours before Christmas Eve dinner. Especially my hands. Please note, the picture is neither my grandmother nor the sweater I knit, just the same pattern. It turned out very well, but still quite stiff. Since it was far too cold to go outside and beat the sweater against a rock (not a joke), I put it through the spin cycle and high agitation in the washer about six times. My grandmother reports that she has tried on the sweater and likes it, especially the neckline. I'm glad that all of those short rows didn't go amiss. I also made the sleeves on hers a bit longer, as octogenarians are usually reticent to show so much arm.

On the present front, I got a set of Harmony interchangeable needles, which are the bee's knees. I'm using them now to make a sweater in soft, cushy wool. My hands deserve a reward. I've revived the Dream in Color Classy that made most of a wrap cardigan a couple years ago and languished afterward to make a cowl-y/turtleneck sweater. I don't find turtlenecks especially flattering on large busted ladies, but this turtleneck is very relaxed. I described it recently as looking like a cowl and and turtleneck smoked marijuana together. The resulting fabric is a dream, though I do have to watch for pooling and changes between skeins.

I am trying to step it up a notch in the wardrobe department, so I have decided to knit and wear more sophisticated pieces. No more hoodies for me, unless they feature incredibly chic Celtic designs and look like a million dollars. I decided this after my aunt referred to her "dress hoodie", which must be an oxymoron. No more things that look cozy. Stealth luxury is the key, like handknit socks and dreamy fibers. I've also weeded out the rattiest jeans from my wardrobe and bought some really dark indigo replacements. And an adorable pair of Swedish heels that I can't wear in the snow, which is probably why they were on sale. Still, I am trying to look like less of a slob and more of an adult.

2010-11-19T00:26:00.000-06:00

Glad to see I'm not the only romantic out there.

2010-11-17T17:30:00.000-06:00

Maybe it's all the moving about of yarn or the presence of a new roommate, but Winston has been all over the place the last few days. He jumped on top of my highboy dresser, sending assorted jewelery flying to the ground, and breaking a pair of unrepairable hoop earrings. He keeps meowing and pawing at the closed door to the room where he used to nap in the afternoon. Winston is unaware that not everyone wants to sleep in a cat's nest. Then, this afternoon, I came home and found him poised to jump off of the high shelf in my closet. I suspect if I had not intervened, he would have knocked the monitor off my desk. It's also unclear how he got up there, since he's a lazy jumper.
In other news, my destash is off to a good start, but I still have twenty items available. Here is a flickr badge of the available yarns:

www.flickr.com

This is a Flickr badge showing items in a set called destash '10. Make your own badge here.

Please have a peek at my destash page on Ravelry and PM me if you have any questions.

Shitty shit of the week

2010-11-16T17:33:00.000-06:00

And it's only Tuesday!
Last night, I was hanging out at my aunt Maria's house. I said my goodbyes, all the while thinking about how much I wanted to make a McDonalds run. Access denied, by my adorable car and it's bad starter. At first, I thought that I needed a jump, so I called AAA. They sent some guys who checked the battery (fine), then couldn't even find the starter in my engine to give it a tap. I was unimpressed, but I couldn't find it either until I looked at the engine diagram later.
The mechanics where I had the car towed quickly diagnosed it as a bad starter. I was really hoping for a bad fuse or relay. Apparently, VW starters are expensive, because this whole shenanigan cost me over five hundred bucks and a lot of shoe leather.
I am having a destash on Ravelry to help defray the costs of the starter. For fellow ravelers, this is the link to my sell/trade page: linky.
Here's a little preview of the yarns in search of a good home:

Cherry Tree Hill Silk & Merino DK, going for a cool $16 (including shipping within the US) for the pair. Perfect for a Clapotis or other fanciness.

A single skein of Malabrigo Lace in Damask Rose, for $9.
Beautiful, soft, and lots of yardage. I used another skein of this to make a Citron, which turned out wonderfully.

Seven balls of Rowan 4 Ply Cotton, for $24.
A very sophisticated ashes of violet sort of color. This yarn would be perfect for making an Orangina.

Five balls of Second Time Cotton, for $25. Perfect for a Hey, Teach!

Three balls of Malabrigo Worsted in Orchid, for $24
The photograph really doesn't do the depth of this color justice. So very pretty in person.

I've got loads of other yarns in the destash as well. Please have a look. You might find something perfect for those last-minute gifts that always strike this time of year!

2010-11-13T00:08:00.000-06:00

To the few people who actually read this blog, I apologize. I've been living my life instead of writing about it. It wasn't for lack of material, certainly, but sometimes it is better to wait until things are over to write about them.

I spent the last few months working on one of my dream shows. Everyone working in theatre has a list of shows they'd like to do, but rarely have the privilege of working on one of them. Back in August, I ticked the first one of my list: Sunday in the Park with George, by Stephen Sondheim. I adore Sondheim, but especially that show. It has so much to say about art, creation, and relationships. If you're not familiar, ask a theatre person. They will respond with enthusiasm.

It was my first time mixing Sondheim, and it was fucking difficult. Until about halfway through the run, I had to read fifty pages of piano score in the dark to hit all my marks in one of the numbers. I hadn't read a score since high school. Art isn't easy, to quote the show, but all that hard work was exhilarating. Ideally, mixing should always be like that, since it requires using both sides of the brain, but some shows are just work. Sunday rarely felt like work (except for matinees, which I find unnatural), and the end result was so, so beautiful.

Right on the heels of Sunday, I went into tech on another show. It was my first time designing a show (instead of engineering or associate designing) in a very long time. There are some very interesting differences between engineering and designing. Designers have to think about the show much more closely, but they also get to leave the production when it opens. That is an itch I get on some productions when engineering, though I enjoy mixing shows too. I'd like to design more; I have a few new tricks up my sleeve. This was my first design using QLab. I'd run shows with it before, but never programmed in it. SFX seems more popular, perhaps since it will run on a Windows platform. I vastly prefer QLab now, even the stripped down free version. How far we've come from the days when changes in the design required a trip back to the studio!

On the knitting front, I have finished two cardigans in Peace Fleece, started and abandoned a couple of accessory projects, and have a polo shirt for my grandmother (who does not use the internet and has no great affection for computers) half finished. The first Peace Fleece sweater is an adaptation of the popular Zephyr Knits pattern, 28thirty. The pattern is for a cropped jacket, but as a short person, I do not do cropped anything. I extended it to a cozy, ass-covering length. Upon the advice of another knitter, I also re-engineered the sleeves, which as written would accommodate the Hulk's biceps. It quickly became my favorite sweater. The rustic Peace Fleece is the perfect weight for autumn, making a very cozy fabric. I am trying to choose garments that are more sophisticated and less cozy (well, less cozy-looking), but this cardigan is a win in both categories. One of these days, I may even sew on its buttons.

The second Peace Fleece cardigan is their Everyday Cardigan, in a lovely light aqua tweed. This is the second time I've knit this pattern. It was the first cardigan I ever knit, which lasted many years until it was loved to death. Also, styles have changed a bit since the turn of the century, and its short length left me tugging at its hem absently. Everyday Cardigan 2.0 is longer. It was curious making two Peace Fleece projects back to back. The yarn is a hard-wearing wool, which is to say, a little scratchy to work with. Some colors are scratchier than others. The pink that I used for the adapted 28thirty has a great hand and didn't need to be softened up in the blocking process. Maybe because it came from a store of yarn in which chipmunks made a nest while the Peace Fleecers were in Russia for the summer. The aqua tweed was untouched by rodent pals and a bit rougher. I've no doubt it will relax a bit in its initial bath, allowing the mohair content to bloom.

I've decided to take a break from Peace Fleece for a while, though I have enough stashed for another two cardigans. I'd like to make things that cannot be described as serviceable or hardy. So, I dipped into my stash again and pulled out some Dream in Color Classy that I bought at a seconds sale a few years back. I am knitting Hannah Fettig's Effortless Cardigan, which I suspect will be stylish and cozy. For those of you who can't access the Ravelry link (sorry), it's a top down raglan cardigan that can be worn crossed, a la Diane von Furstenburg, or left open in a devil-may-car Eileen Fisher fashion. Readers, if I had the cash, I would live in Eileen Fisher. The yarn is veil dyed in shades of grey, so I imagine the finished sweater will be worn to the theatre a lot. I've just put all the sleeve stitches onto holders--always a relief when knitting from the top down. Still, those rows of plain old stockinette are very long.

2010-08-26T00:06:00.000-05:00

I've been working for weeks on a sweater knit at 5 1/2 stitches to the inch. That's not super tiny, but I usually knit worsted weight sweaters more suitable to my wintry climate. That gauge in a sweater, especially in plain stockinette in the round, seems torturous and dull. When I got up this morning, I thought, I'm going to finish that motherfucking sweater today. And I did. It has no hanger appeal, despite having a charming inset lace panel at the neckline. Until I picked up a mind-numbing number of stitches around the neckline, it gaped in a most unpromising manner. And it looked like I was knitting a sack. It did not inspire me to keep at it, especially with my Singer calling my name from the dining room table. Sewing! You don't have to make the fabric when you sew! And you get to use gadgets! What's not to love?

Aside from weaving in a few ends and blocking, the sweater is done. It actually looks cute on, which was a big relief. If it turned out to be ugly or unflattering, I probably would have had a meltdown. I've got another boring stockinette WIP to whip into shape. I've been neglecting it because the yarn was dyed with real indigo, which loves to transfer to my hands and anything I touch, like some kind of smurf herpes. That sweater has to be knit monogamously, which is not my modus operandi. I like to bounce back and forth between a couple things, so that I am less likely to get bored. Usually, I have a pair of socks going, but that didn't seem like enough contrast in gauge to provide relief from the small gauge sweater. How people knit sweaters out of sock yarn, I do not know.

2010-07-19T15:29:00.002-05:00

Here I am, after a two month absence. And really, I'm typing to avoid the temptation of working on my current project, a flat panel v-neck tank with ribbed sides in Allhemp6. Hemp is a wondrous fiber, but it also really hurts my hands to knit with it for long periods. I like to knit for long periods and want to get that tank done in time to wear it this year, so that is a bit of a problem. The yarn is pretty stiff and a little splitty, which made my cabled cast-on a real headache. After twice (!) making accident mobius strips after using a long tail cast-on, I decided to take the time and extra effort not to fuck it up a third time. The temptation to throw it in the corner in disgust was great, except I'm trying to keep my house fairly neat (or at least not a ridiculous mess, it's all relative).
This is my second recent project in hemp. The first was a shawl made out of Hempathy, which is a hemp blend. The other fibers and its ply structure make it a lot easier to work with than the 100% hemp on my needles now. It might have spoiled regular hemp for me. Allhemp6 is supposed to be a DK weight yarn, but I cannot imagine knitting it such a tight gauge. I'm knitting it at 4.75 stitches to the inch, with no complaints about the look of the fabric. Still, it will probably be a while before I break out the rest of the hemp in my stash.

In other news, I recently discovered that my cat is an excellent birder. Not by catching a bird, thank god, but through his tenacious attack on houseflies. Songbirds, you are lucky that Winston is not allowed outside, or you'd have to flee for your lives! A month or so ago, I had the Orkin man out to attack my carpenter ant problem. They were quite active in my house, thanks to the renovation work. I suspect the Orkin treatment also killed my resident spider population. Spiders are not my favorite houseguest, but they keep the fly population in check. Now, there is only a twelve pound tabby who achieves surprising height and hang time in his jumps. He's very accurate too. Winston is a terrible mouser (never actually killing the mouse), so it's good to see that he has some hunting skills. I may still have to get some flypaper, though.

2010-05-30T17:26:00.001-05:00

Magic House Shit

2010-05-25T21:51:00.003-05:00

We've been very busy these last few weeks. The bathroom is a bathroom again, all the rooms have new flooring, and the kitchen is basically finished.
The bathroom may be my favorite room in the house. While the walls were down, the guys put in paper faced insulation, so there isn't any noise transmitted. The toilet was rebuilt, so that it no longer aggravates me by running forever after flushing. There's also a new, non-grody medicine cabinet set into the wall, soon to be joined by another storage cabinet over the john. Lewis had a stroke of genius and used the natural stone, yellow '60s California Casual subway tiles I bought last year at ReStore (for a dollar a piece!) as the border with a neutral wall tile. We'd planned to use it on the backsplash in the kitchen, but it's shown to much better of effect in bathroom.

You might recall that we had to take the walls down to remove the old tub. Well, the headache was totally worth it, since we replaced it with a soaking tub and European shower head. It's absolutely amazing. The slope of the tub walls is just perfect for reclining lazily. I've noticed that the plastic tub doesn't hold heat as well as the old cast iron one, but it also isn't so goddamn cold when you first get in. Maybe we should have slid some insulation in between its walls, but there wasn't any provision for doing so.

The bathroom balances out the other remodeling heartbreaks. I decided the ceiling fan in the kitchen had to go. When Lewis took it down, we discovered that the reason the fan has rocked and looked like it might fly off and guillotine us all was that it was not hanging from a rafter after all. And the reason that one of the sockets kept burning through light bulbs turned out to be a major wiring problem, not a short in the fixture as previously assumed. A couple of years ago, my aunt Maria found an awesome local electrician who is now rewiring the entire house. I knew the wiring was bad enough that I didn't want to replace any more switches or outlets, but I didn't understand the scope of the shittiness. The electrician seemed genuinely surprised that a couple of my outlets worked. Soon, all of my outlets will be grounded, the light fixtures replaced, and flickering gone.

The biggest change in the house has been the flooring. Lewis laid real ceramic tile in the kitchen and bathroom, replacing execrable vinyl flooring. The dander and allergy fortress/carpet was torn up. The original tile lurked underneath, and it was a bitch to tear up. All of the houses in my area were built in a hurry in the 1950s on the cheap, so the tile was a real gem: black and white acetate tile that suggested an orthodontist's office or chiropractor. To say that I am glad that it is gone is an understatement. Removing it was very labor intensive, involving a long handled floor scraper that Lewis tells me was designed for breaking ice off of sidewalks, swearing, and buckets of sweat.

Further complicating matters is this:

Lewis went home for a couple of days and came back with this cast and his husband Ricardo to make up for his limited mobility. This is a good injury for a knitter, but a nightmare for a contractor. The doctors refused to give him a walking cast, which is a major drag. We thought it was just a break in his foot, but it turns out that his ankle, which has felt "funny" is also broken. He's talking about a "spider cast" right now and drawing lines in soapstone on his black fiberglass cast where he'd like to vent it. He has some really great power tools, so it might happen.

If you peer closely at that photo, you might notice the new floor. It's a light oak laminate from IKEA, a total steal at $1.25 a square foot. It's so much nicer than the old flooring and it makes my bright green living room look less jarring. The realtor who walked through a few weeks ago called the color "trouble", but I find it restful and clarifying, like clary sage. The lighter floor makes a huge difference in the look and feel of the house.

I look forward to being able to set up my new den. The old one was a den of iniquity with lots of hand me down furniture, too many bookcases, and a clusterfuck of cables. The new den will be an empowered space for creation, with lots of storage for yarn, a red desk, art on the wall, and an extremely comfortable futon. I'm sitting on the newest addition to the den now, a booger green yoga ball (pictured above) that I picked up for $10 to use as a chair. My Uncle Roy has been using one as his desk chair for ages. Anything to quit slumping in front of the computer! I do not want a dowager's hump.

My House and its Magical Powers for Shit

2010-05-04T11:11:00.003-05:00

Please note: for the foreseeable future, this blog will feature renovation related content. Knitting just isn't isn't happening in the middle of this mess.

It all began when I couldn't flush the toilet. The tank would take so long to fill, that it was only possible to flush once, maybe twice a day. A temporary and depressing solution, throwing buckets of water down the toilet to force it to flush, was used until I realized that I essentially had an indoor outhouse. One day, I called my good friend Lewis in tears over the state of the bathroom. He agreed to help. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into then, or he might not have volunteered so quickly. What started as a two hour plumbing fix grew in scope to include the entire house.
As most of you already know, my esteemed grandparents died last summer. For the first six months, I felt unmoored. Then, I resolved to get the fuck out of this place. It doesn't make sense to stay anymore, when its biggest attraction was being able to walk to their house. Far, far away it is. And that means selling the house. And unless it was going to be sold as a gut rehab, work would have to be done. There isn't a huge market for houses with a disreputable air.

At the outset of this undertaking, we planned the following improvements:

complete remodel of the bathroom
new floor in the kitchen
laminate flooring throughout

About halfway through, this has telescoped into:

moving a wall
new cabinets, countertop, and sink in the kitchen
paint, paint everywhere
more plumbing than can be discussed in mixed company
mysterious plans for the laundry room that are currently unknown to me
walling over a door
replacing all the windows
the clerks at Home Depot not only recognizing me, but asking if we liked the movie we'd discussed renting a few days before (Pineapple Express. Awesome.)

2010-03-28T19:17:00.002-05:00

Sorry for the radio silence. I've been totally entranced by my new toy, a Roku, recently acquired with birthday cash. My good pal Meghan got one a couple months ago and has been singing its praises. I vaguely remembered when the Roku was launched as a Netflix box a few years ago, before they released the new, lower price-point model. Now I understand what the big fuss is about. If you have Netflix and eighty bucks, I strongly suggest that you check out the Roku. I can stream Netflix on my television now, allowing me to lounge on the couch instead of slumping in front of my steam-powered PC. I spent the first weekend I had it watching BBC programs obsessively. Pure bliss.

This has also done great things for my knitting output. I finally made the Wicked pullover for which I stashed three balls of Dream in Color Classy two years ago. It's a great pattern, likely to be repeated. My grandmother and aunt complemented me on it today when I wore it to brunch. The real secret of great knitwear is that it can look great and feel like an old sweatshirt at the same time. The DiC is a bit stiffer than the Malabrigo Wicked that I made over the holidays, but I haven't had a chance to wash and block it yet. Maybe it will soften up a bit.

Currently on the needles is another project that had languished in my queue. A year ago, I bought a couple skeins of Blue Moon Worsted Wear to make a Wicked. Now, I realize that a variegated yarn is all wrong for that pattern and am making another Summer Top Down Cardigan. What makes is summery? Short sleeves, though my previous interpretation of this pattern in some Noro yarn has long sleeves. We'll see how far the yarn will go.

In other knitting news, I tore out the February Lady Sweater I was working on. I love the pattern, but I think that a garter stitch yoke is inherently unflattering on anyone with a large chest. Or maybe just that garter stitch yoke, since its edge hit me in a really odd place. Too bad, since it has a lovely lace pattern. Now I must decide what to do with six skeins of Malabrigo Worsted yarn. I am considering Wendy Bernard's Favorite Cardigan, a cardigan-ized version of the Wicked (see? obsessed!), or a Top Down Wrap Cardigan. The last on the list would be super cozy, but I am concerned about pilling caused by the wrap action. Malabrigo pills like a mo-fo in stockinette! Such is the price of softness.

2010-03-02T15:27:00.004-06:00

The first Shamrock Shake of the year! Strangely fancy this year, but that whipped cream and maraschino cherry do not hide its minty goodness (or that it matches my living room walls). Even though they can be a little disgusting, I love Shamrock Shakes because they're only available around my birthday. After I saw a crazy, all-green display in the windows of Hollywood Mirror today, I realized that it was shamrock season. McDonalds sucked me in yet again.

I'm Tired, So Tired

2010-02-21T22:46:00.004-06:00

Remember all that talk about redoing my house over the summer. Well, after poring over design sites, IKEA catalogs, and paint chips, Phase I has begun. Lewis and Ariel were here last week to work on the living room and the hall. Afterwards, I needed a week to recover. I now have a new couch, chair, shelving, chandelier, and china cabinet.

The china cabinet and chandelier were real finds. I really had no idea where to find a china cabinet, as it seems an old-fashioned piece of furniture. Most of the cabinets available today did not meet my standards: too big, too modern, too expensive. Also, my dishes are large, so I need one that can accomodate eleven inch plates and look good doing it. Ideally, I'd find the perfect one at a flea market, something shabby, chic, and French. I don't go to flea markets, so that seemed an unlikely find. Two days before I had to hand over my mom's china cabinet (which is lovely, but too big for my living room), I found the perfect solution. Lewis and I were at the local ReStore, a great resource for renovation supplies, when I found the china cabinet of my dreams. It's about six feet tall, in golden oak, with elegant details but not excessive ornamentation. My china looks charming in it, as though they were meant to be together, and there is plenty of storage underneath for linens and serving pieces. I could have swooned when I saw it. The best part? It only cost $140! A total steal!

The chandelier was another lucky find. I had to return some shelving to Target, when I spotted the chandelier in one of the carts they keep in customer service for returns. Whoever returned it must have had it for a while, because I later found that it was released in 2008. My expectations for lighting fixtures are about as high as those for china cabinets, so you can imagine how happy I was to snap up a floral chandelier for ten dollars. It has a white enamel finish, with pale pink flowers, and three bulbs. It looks lovely with my black and white floral curtains, but could look just as nice with my painted bedroom set.

The biggest change, though, is the color of the room. Before, it was a sort of colonial blue, which had become kind of sad looking. Now it is a spring green of medium saturation, the sort of color that art directors of independent films love. I call it Zooey Deschanel green. It turned out brighter than I expected, but will look great once I've hung some art and mirrors. With the china cabinet and floral elements, the overall effect is feminine without being pink, pink, pink. Sure, I fell in love with Midcentury Modern, but my personal style is more vintage eclectic.

This is my excuse for not starting my Knitting Olympics project. I'm sitting this one out. I'd planned to work on a cardigan in Manos del Uruguay wool that I stashed away a couple of years ago, but was otherwise occupied. While working on the living room, I found several unfinished knitting projects, which I plan to pick up again. I just finished a Wicked tee in Malabrigo worsted that only needed a sleeve cuff. Let's hope the rest of these UFOs are as easy.

2010-01-16T21:35:00.002-06:00

I was looking forward to seeing the Waco Brothers play Martyrs. I recently worked on a show based on Jon Langford's work, so it was an exciting prospect. I told all my friends. My mental note to attend might as well have been in all caps, italics, and circled. This afternoon, I spent forever in the bathroom, putting on my makeup and practically singing Anita's part from the Tonight quintet in West Side Story (Yes, I am a nerd, but that is Sondheim and Bernstein.). I rushed through errands and dinner, afraid of being late for the show. Well, I was. Twenty-four hours late. Fuck. What a stupid mistake. I'd hoped to listen to great music and perhaps swap bodily fluids with a charming man and instead found a totally dead bar. At least I looked fabulous in my disappointment. What was I doing last night, when I should have been at Martyrs? Watching Project Runway and knitting a fucking mitten, unwittingly suffering the lingering effects of mercury retrograde. Friends that I inadvertently blew off, I apologize. I lift a glass of Courvoisier and wish that you were here, and that I had been there.

2010-01-01T13:18:00.002-06:00

After writing that introspective New Year's Eve post, I had a dramatic reversal of fortune. Nothing permanent, but damned inconvenient.

After I picked up Winston from the vet, I noticed that he smelled like pee. Winston is particular about his hygiene, never smelling like pee, and certainly not near his head. I have no idea what happened while he was at the vet, but quickly realized that I'd have to give him a bath. Happy New Year, Winston! He was thoroughly unhappy with this turn of events. Can't say I really blame him. Soon, he and I were both cold and miserable, huddled under my new electric blanket.

Around this time, I discovered that my hot water heater had crapped out. It still made hot water, but it also made it all over the utility room floor. Bad news. My mom called my uncle Roy, who advised cutting off the valve to the heater and bleeding it. She came over, bled the water heater, and hustled me and a still quite damp cat out of the house. Poor Winston!

Fortunately, we were able to stay at my grandparents' house, where there are many heat ducts for Winston to hover, a heat lamp, and many, many places for a cat to explore. I would often stop over here to have a drink with my Grandfather on New Year's Eve, so it was a bit ironic that I ended up here. No countdowns or toasts for us, just curling up in a warm bed while the neighbors set off fire crackers.

Winston is curled up under a bed, and I am watching a Law and Order marathon, working on my Daybreak shawl. I am about two thirds done, which means many, many stripes. I decided to use Noro Silk Garden Sock, so most of the work is done in the striping for me, but I've been working from two balls to make single color stripes as the rows get longer and longer. This also allows me to cut out the colors that I don't like from the skeins without having to worry about the yardage. As my crazy color matching sleeves on my summer cardigan last year prove, I can never leave well enough alone where Noro is concerned.

Young and Foolish

2009-12-31T14:27:00.002-06:00

Today is the last day of an awful year and a horrible decade. Part of me can't wait for it to be over, but mostly, I don't care. I feel unmoored, which is a strange way to start a new year. If anything, it serves to highlight how arbitrary new year's is; one more mark on the calendar. Most of you probably know why this year has been so difficult, but the decade is more complex. It's hard to separate the wreck of this nameless decade from my twenties. They both started bright and burned fast, full of heartbreak and flagging optimism. Then, I was young and foolish, ready to fly off the handle all the time. Now I am more circumspect and cynical.

This was my first Christmas without my maternal grandparents. I didn't really feel like celebrating. I never caught the holiday spirit (just gastroenteritis and two colds), since I was working on a show that closed only a few days before Christmas. Most of the items on that overly ambitious knitting list went unfinished or unmade. Normally, that would make me feel guilty, but this year, people got purchased gifts of indifference. Not shitty or thoughtless, but not up to my usual standards. I wonder when that will return, or if that line drawn through my life of before and after is impermeable.

Christmas itself was fine. I came down with a cold, which made my favorite dinner of the year pretty flavorless. My gifts were well received, I think. It was a capital year for knitting gadgets. My Aunt Maria gave me a Knit Kit, which is like a swiss army knife for knitters that looks like a pack of birth control pills. My mom gave me a swift, ball winder, sweater stone, and blocking tiles. It must have been a capital month for Knitpicks. I can wind yarn whenever I want now, if the cat is otherwise occupied. I also got a Borders gift card, which I used today to get a knitting daily calendar (at 50% off, I'm less irritated by the ratio of bad to good patterns), the latest issue of Mental Floss, and two L.M. Montgomery books to replace copies that were loved to death in my childhood. Ninety-seven cents remain on the card, which delights me more than that amount in change possibly could.

Perhaps I will curl up in my bed with one of the books, under my new electric blanket. A mug of cocoa might be nice. I received a few NYE party invites, but I think they will fall to the wayside. I'm generally wary of events requiring universal felicity. No matter what you do, they're almost always a letdown. This year, I think a good wallow is required, which is how I rang in 2000. Well, that and a pretentious black and white art film, but I'll skip that part of the evening. Maybe I'll catch a good Law and Order or House marathon and get some serious knitting done. I overheard my mom and Aunt Holly making plans to exchange gifts in a couple weeks, and my gifts for them are as yet unmade.

2009-12-04T15:13:00.002-06:00

Here's a lovely, visual version of my 2009 xmas list:

my wists | clone this

It was hard to come up with a list this year, since I mainly want to be able to breathe through my nose again and for this year to be over. Or the decade to be over, since it's been so lousy. Can't wrap a bow around that, can you?

2009-11-17T16:49:00.002-06:00

I am cold and damp. Today, I thought it would be a good idea to go shopping, even though it was raining. Ha. Wouldn't you know, just as I was coming out of Target, with my cart full of Christmas wrapping supplies and other goodies, the sky opened up. As soon as I got home, it had slowed to a drizzle, but I was already soaked to the skin. Guess we've reverted to typical November weather after that lovely week of Indian summer.

Isn't it early for Christmas? Well, yes. I nearly burst into tears in the middle of a Christmas display today. It was not a high self-esteem moment. I am working on a show now that closes mere days before Christmas, which means that I have to gather all my supplies early, like a squirrel with acorns. I've got paper, tags, and boxes. Now all I have to do is knit the gifts to go inside them! This year, I made a really ambitious list of Christmas knitting. Some would call it crazy. It is crazy. Who else would think they could knit a sweater, blanket, two shawls, four hats, two sets of fingerless gloves, and a sock monkey between now and Christmas? Guess what I'll be doing with every spare moment between now and the 24th?

Today is the first full day I've had off and been conscious since tech. Tech was epic and hard. What a perfect time to come down with gastroenteritis! I was so tired that I wanted to take a nap half an hour after getting out of bed, but soldiered on. The Monday after tech was nothing but naps. I had envisioned making great strides on my Hap Blanket, maybe taking a bubble bath. Nope. In the past, I've flippantly said that I'd sleep when I'm dead, but I don't want to die anytime soon. I'm even going to the doctor tomorrow to talk about what I can do to help boost my immune system. Within the past three months, I've had the flu and this GI debacle, and I can't take anymore. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.

2009-10-29T01:15:00.002-05:00

Tonight, I did something that I haven't done in ages. I watched NBC. Since they moved Leno into primetime, I haven't. 30 Rock and I have a standing date on Hulu on Friday mornings. 9 pm used to belong to NBC on my tv, but the shows that used to air at 9 are on at 8 now. There are other things that I watch at 8. This week, however, there are mysterious baseball games pre-empting Glee and other excellent shows. So I decided to give my old friend another chance and caught an episode of Law and Order SVU. I reached for the remote promptly at 8:59 to change the channel. NBC, we are broken up. I might still check up on you online, but it would take something pretty special to get me back. I'll act like we're reconciling for the Olympics, but I'll go back to the good time gals of cable right after the closing ceremonies. Try to look surprised when it happens.

2009-10-27T21:26:00.002-05:00

I tried on the February Lady Sweater after some serious power knitting and discovered that it looks like shit on my breasts. I love the pattern and it wasn't too small, exactly, it just looked weird in the chest. This was disappointing, since I've been looking forward to wearing it. Instead, I've decided to give it to my grandmother who is less buxom. She has the same size shoulders as I do, so it will fit her well. After the holidays, I'll make another one for myself. Not identical, though, because that would be strange.

Speaking of holidays, I went to my aunt's birthday party last week. It was like a Pinter play with Chinese food. A lot of Chinese food; they had it waiting in a big, heavy box when we went to pick it up. The sassy owner asked us how many people we'd ordered for and my aunt answered truthfully. After we got out to the car, I told her we should have told her it was just for us to see the look on her face.

My mother was feeling rather generous on Sunday and gave me four skeins of Malabrigo Worsted. I thought that it was enough to make a February Lady Sweater of my own, but I was mistaken. Instead, I am busily knitting it into a Wicked pullover. The yarn is a rich chianti color, so the sweater may get a lot of wear during the holidays, provided I finish it in time. I'm feeling optimistic, since I'm spending a lot of time streaming video from Netflix these days. My latest addiction is Dexter. There's really no way to describe the show that does it justice. Let's just say that it's highly excellent and leave it at that.

Last night, I spent an hour or two reading my Grandmother's diaries from the year before and the year that I was born. It was an interesting read. I'd found her old date books, in which she'd made comments about the day's events, but hadn't realized that she used to be an actual diarist. I learned a lot of little things, like that the photographer was a no-show at my parents' wedding. I'd assumed that the pictures were lost or destroyed. Also, Grandma misspelled my name on the day that I was born, which made me laugh. I doubt my dad spelled it out for her when he called from the hospital, but she had it correct the next day. It was really wonderful to see how excited she was about my birth and how much she loved me from the beginning. It also made me miss her terribly. Hell, I'm crying now, just writing about it. She was my favorite person in the world.

On a cheerier note, my favorite band released a new album today. Apparently, they were interviewed about it on NPR recently, but I didn't hear it. Surprising, since I listen to NPR most of the time. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the album in the new releases on the iTunes home page. If you don't listen to Pink Martini, you should. They're incredibly live. Look at that album cover art; what a lovely homage to the jazz albums of the fifties and early sixties. The album is more reflective than their previous ones, but perfect for a rainy autumn afternoon.

Knit Faster

2009-10-18T14:22:00.002-05:00

That's what I keep telling myself, because it is sweater weather. In other years, I have been happy to see my beloved sweaters back in rotation, but not this year. I do not like feeling cold. I have taken to wearing undershirts like a little kid again. And it's not just me. Winston is feeling the cold as well. His winter coat came in a couple months ago (which has me a little concerned about the severity of the upcoming winter), and now it is puffed up a little. He sleeps in a ball, instead of his usual sprawl. It occurred to me that he may not actually gain weight in the winter, but might only appear bigger by puffing up his coat to trap heat in its layers. Once it really gets cold, he'll stand over the heat ducts like a Victorian match seller, which gives the place a distinct eau du chat.

The other day, I noticed that my car smelled funky. Funky is an understatement. It stunk. I hadn't driven it in several days, and the smell nearly knocked me over. Fortunately, nothing died in there. A month or so ago, I had a mildew/mold incident and apparently hadn't eradicated it. That black carpeting fooled me. When I went to clean it, I discovered a colony of mustard yellow mold that looked like it was ready to hold free elections. WTF? The mildew incident didn't even happen where the mold had bloomed. Well, Oxiclean to the rescue. Today, I went to the do it yourself carwash and shampooed and vacuumed it out. Now the car smells like carpet shampoo, but I'm not complaining. I also took the contents of my glitter Virgin Mary coin bank, minus quarters, to the Coinstar today. It was a day for boring errands. It did net me a $7 gift certificate to iTunes, so not all bad.

I am currently knitting a February Lady Sweater, which was a succes fou on Ravelry last year. It is a garter yoked top down sweater with a lace body. The lace pattern is fairly mindless, so I don't have to devote a lot of attention to it. Perfect. I just need to knit faster. I really should be working on my Christmas knitting, but I'm not very motivated in that direction. I don't really feel like making anything for anybody right now. Not out of hatefulness, but a real lack of interest in putting that much effort into projects for other people. I want to knit lots of cozy, warm sweaters for ME. I've scaled back the list a little, to make it more attainable. Not fewer people, but smaller projects, but it's still a long list.

Yessssssss

2009-10-10T22:50:00.000-05:00

I love a good medley.

2009-10-08T01:48:00.002-05:00

You may be aware that I have had some difficulties lately. My grandfather had a very strong sense of right and wrong; I was raised to do the right thing and expect the same of others. Clearly, that was a naive view of the world. That expectation has lately caused me much disappointment and pain. Beneath my cynical exterior lives a sensitive person.

Though it may seem extreme, I have decided to have no further contact with those dishonorable people. Otherwise, scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.

I hope to return to my regular content soon. I've buried myself in knitting lately: even knitting monogamously for the first time in years. Dancers have their barre when times are hard and I have my needles.

2009-10-05T01:39:00.002-05:00

I've had a couple of really hard days in the past week. I'm tired of it. Hear that universe? I could use a really good day sometime soon. Today, though, my mom told me that she was proud of me for standing up for myself. She's never done that before, and I'm thirty. Maybe she's never seen it, or maybe this is part of my new refusal to take shit from anyone, but it felt good. Not taking shit from anyone? Well, that's a struggle these days, but what isn't. I wish I could tell you more, but that would be indiscreet.

Yesterday, my mom and I had hair appointments together. I drove and took a couple of unfortunate wrong turns (even though I have been there many times before), which stressed me out. They only hold appointments for five minutes on Saturdays, so I pretty much blew it with the misdirection. When we arrived, they said they'd make an exception, had me fill out the paperwork, and wait. And wait. And wait. I figured that I would have to wait a while, since I'd come in late. Then I began to feel like Eeyore, sure that I'd been forgotten, but afraid to push my luck by complaining. Except they had forgotten me and I should have complained after fifteen minutes instead of forty-five. I meekly asked if it would be better to reschedule and they were quite surprised. I'd been lost in the shuffle. Even though I was really looking forward to getting a haircut, I wasn't too pissed. I'd shot my bolt already freaking out about being late. Instead, I am getting a free haircut on Tuesday! All for the best. I would like something like Sienna Miller's youthful graduated bob (Jude Law, married men, and questionable reputation not included). This is several inches shorter than my current badly grown out, round layered bob. I'm tired of the Carol Brady long layer in the back and would really love a low maintenance 'do. I recently brushed my hair with a carding comb when I couldn't find my hairbrush, to give you an idea of how important coiffure is to me. This isn't too mumsy, is it? Picture it in red, with a pair of cats eye glasses.

Random observations:

* The Radiohead station on Pandora plays a lot of Coldplay and Keane. I like both of those bands, but they're a little too easy listening when I want to get a good sulk on.
* One of my college roommates and I spent an entire afternoon conversing in Radiohead lyrics.
* I am such a fiber addict that I can smell yarn through a package. Well, hand-dyed yarns, because they tend to reek of mordant. That's how you know they're fresh.
* Spiders in the bathroom freak me out, and I can't call Woody Allen to come kill them. When I was in college, I thought living in New York would be like Annie Hall and that I would go to all of the events that I read about in the New Yorker. I was sadly mistaken.
* The credits music on The West Wing is awful. How did I never notice that before having a WW marathon with my mom? Also, Alan Alda's crinkly eyed smile still makes me swoon a little. Who would have thought that crow's feet could be so appealing? I attribute this to watching a lot of MASH.
* I really hope Joan remains a regular on Mad Men. She's like a dash of paprika.

2009-09-17T12:15:00.002-05:00

My Moo cards arrived today, just as I'd begun to despair of them ever arriving. They don't look like the picture in my previous post. The design is the same, but the colors are more muted. Probably a blessing in disguise, as I am not really a bright, neon colors person. Muted is much more my palette. The color discrepancy was a real surprise, as I have previously been very pleased with their color reproduction. Moo's photo printing is amazing, almost as good as National Geographic, which still uses a photogravure process. Other things I like about Moo: they track customer histories really well (including a welcome back card with my order), have awesome packaging, and are very distinctive. No one throws out a Moo minicard.

In other news, I am working through my procrastination list. It's been very easy to let things slide this summer, some of which has bitten me in the ass. For example, I needed new tires for my car. Four of 'em. Needed them for a while. If I had gone out and bought new tires when my mechanic told me, I would still have been able to get a free alignment at Pep Boys under the service agreement from my last one. Because I waited those extra three months, I get to pay all over again. I also won't be going back there, since they didn't tell me that my car didn't need realignment, but did the work anyway, which cost me $100. Unnecessary repairs? Screw that. In my adventures in adulthood, I learned that you always need a realignment after you get new tires. I had no idea, having only replaced one or two tires at a time before. If that had been explained to me when I picked up my car, I would have been less pissed about it pulling to the left. It was a very tiring day.

Other adult type things I have done lately: attempted stain removal (a mysteriously new pursuit), a trip to the dry cleaners (as I could not remove said stains myself), the acquisition of three new pillows, and getting all of the yarn that I need to xmas knitting early enough to be able to make all the gifts without crippling myself. Maybe that's overly optimistic, but I managed to get almost all of the yarn that I needed at the recent Malabrigo sale at Nina. Absolutely beautiful yarns to make scarves and shawls aplenty, already wound into cakes and waiting to go.

I am currently knitting a Damson shawl in Malabrigo sock, archangel colorway. My mother informs me that this type of shawl is a shetland, as it is shaped to match the slope of the neck and shoulders. She is unaware that she will be getting one as a gift in a different color. The yarn is really breathtaking in the garter stitch pattern, which almost makes the tedium of garter worthwhile. It was a darker skein, with very saturated purples. Knit up, it reminds me of one of Monet's haystacks at dusk.

2009-09-07T19:49:00.001-05:00

This is my new card. Or it will be, when they arrive in the mail. They're held up in a British postal strike at the moment. Labor Day? No more white shoes, handbags, or exciting little packages in the mail for a while. Go fall in love with another design, or use one of your own images at Moo.com.

2009-08-24T13:48:00.001-05:00

2009-08-18T19:58:00.001-05:00

I've got a lot going on, but I don't want to blog about it. Some things I don't want to broadcast. So, I'm taking a blogging sabbatical. Watch this space for new content in the fall.

Everything is Harder for Me

2009-08-06T05:56:00.003-05:00

Or at least, that feels like a recurrent theme. I realize that other people have it harder, but it often feels that things are unnecessarily difficult for me. For example, laundry woes. Everybody does laundry, with varying degrees of success. But there has to be drama involved if it's my laundry.
Last night, I was relaxing in my comfy recliner, knitting lazily on my CeCe cardigan (almost finished), watching the Tudors on DVD, and sipping away on a Big Gulp. I look down to discover a mysterious round stain right over my left ta-ta. Apparently, I'd set my sweaty drink down on something inky (a People magazine? A yarn catalog? Who knows.), which lovingly transferred to my shirt. I proceeded to panic. Normally, this would be a minor disaster at best. It's not as though I was wearing the Shroud of Turin. The shirt in question, a yellow t-shirt with floral and butterfly design, doesn't even look that great with my coloring. It was, however, my grandmother's, so it was upsetting to me to get an obvious stain on it.
Apparently, there are a lot of different things you can use to try to remove ink. This is what I tried: detergent. I put a ridiculous amount on to spot clean it, which didn't do anything except make a humorous amount of bubbles in the machine. Not I Love Lucy bad, but way more than normal. Next, I tried rubbing alcohol, reasoning that the alcohol is what makes hairspray work in these circumstances. Fun fumes, but no luck. Third: a paste made of baking soda and water. I found that on the internet. This might work if the ink is freshly wet, but just made me feel like I was making a failing science experiment. At this point, I decided to raid my secret stash of product for hairspray. I don't use hairspray that often, but I've got a ton of fancy product from Aveda. It smelled fancy. And it sort of worked. The ink definitely faded, but it still looks like I put down a glass of something on my chest. And I didn't, I swear. I had a couple of samples of Volumizing Tonic and Brilliant Hold, that had apparently been kicking around for a while. I can't remember the last time I used them, but a semi-solid substance that looked like cum issued forth. How absurd.
So, the shirt is soaking now, so that the stain isn't totally set in. I am determined to get it out. My google-fu tells me that Oxiclean is good at getting ink out (?). I have friends who swear by the stuff, and at this point I am desperate enough to overcome my natural distrust of anything with its own infomercial.

2009-07-12T00:40:00.000-05:00

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

2009-07-09T23:09:00.003-05:00

I'm having a hard time at the moment. There are some stressful, serious things happening now that I don't really want to blog about. If you'd like to know more, please email me and I'll try to respond.
If anything, I'd like to think about anything but what's going on. Please send jokes, newsy emails, snarky ecards, whatever. In that vein, I give you some fan art that I found online. Guess I'm not the only one dying to see the new Harry Potter film!

2009-07-03T16:24:00.002-05:00

Last night, I spent the evening with the delightful Miss B. I may have had too much Jim Beam to drink. It sneaks up on me. Actually, most alcohol sneaks up on me, because I am an amateur drinker.

Besides discovering how delightful JB is in punch, I also discovered that B and I have something in common: a love of Are You Being Served? You might think that it's a hoary old English comedy, but it's actually quite brilliant. Sadly, it was a topic of conversation because Mollie Sugden, the excellent Mrs. Slocombe, died this week. Oh Mrs. Slocombe, with the frilly collars that have inexplicably come back into fashion, the technicolor hair, and constant double entendres involving your cat, you provided me many a laugh on Sunday evenings and during PBS pledge weeks. What a dame. I wish I had the balls to wear my hair like that.

There was a furor a few years ago in some of the more *conservative* states about Mrs. Slocombe's pussy jokes. Apparently, PBS should only show Lawrence Welk. Sure, it's not the most sophisticated humor, but still damned funny. It amazes me that people can still get upset about jokes that were written in the early 70s. Here's a compilation. Raise a glass and have a laugh.

2009-07-01T02:18:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry that I've been neglecting my little corner of the internet lately. I've been busy. I've been rundown. I've been tilting at windmills, and it hasn't left me feeling very creative.

Since we last met, some small amount of progress has been made on the sweeping house project. There is a resolution to the long sad tale of the sink. I fell in love with a sink in the IKEA catalog. We met in the stylish display at the local IKEA, where I realized the sink was deep enough for handwashing of small knitted items. I am not impressed by the trend towards shallow sink basins. The sink was out of stock, with no projected arrival date or raincheck offered. Sadness and phone calls ensued. There are two IKEAS in the states that do phone orders, so I left a message with IKEA Houston, feeling assured a sink would soon be on its way to me. The next day, I received an apologetic phone call, explaining that my sink could not be shipped, due to 100% breakage rates. Yikes. I checked the inventory of the two local IKEAs until one day, miraculously, the sink arrived.

This provided the perfect excuse to visit the new IKEA in Bolingbrook. It's on a more manageable scale than their Schaumburg location. My mother and I even avoided our traditional IKEA argument, possibly because we weren't worn out from walking around a store the size of the international terminal at O'Hare. A clock, some batteries, three boxes of lightbulbs, a bathmat, and faucet also followed me home.

I've also found the tile for the bathroom. I remeasured the bathroom after my initial tile bargain at ReStore and discovered that I didn't have enough tile (and no source for more). How interior design is like theatrical design! Already, I have to let go of beloved ideas in order to complete a project. After looking at a lot of interesting designer tile, uninteresting trend stuff, and many warehouses with terrible neck crick inducing displays, I found a plain old glazed ceramic tile. More precisely, my mother found it while we were looking at tile in one of those big home renovation warehouse stores. The store had exactly three of those tiles and a less than helpful salesman. Maybe it wasn't his department, but I left with a single tile, determined to find another source for the tile. Within two hours, I had located it cheaper about ten miles from the house.

Yes, blue. I looked for something more neutral, but wasn't happy with anything I saw. In person, it is a lovely, watery blue with the slightest green tint. The color manages to be modern and Mid-Century at the same time, which pleases me greatly. If it looks dated later, it will look as though it dates from the 1950s instead of early 21st Century. For the floor, a white gloss finish penny round. Now, I just have to put together the tile order. Lewis has encouraged me to draw elevations to determine what type of trim and how much I need, but that doesn't appeal to me. Apparently, he doesn't know that most drafting for sound is done on cocktail napkins. Most of the original tile is still on the wall, so that can answer most of the technical questions.

I am very lucky to have Lewis on this project. Lucky because he is my friend and good at all of these things that I am not, but also because he is another designer. We speak the same language, which cuts down on the amount of time spent explaining things. A recent conversation:

Me: So, this is the color that I want to paint the living room (showing him a chip of medium saturation, clean green).
Lewis: That will look great with the new curtains you just hung.
Me: That is no accident. I already had that green in my head when I bought the curtains. I just had to find it in paint.
Lewis nods and sips his beer.
Me: You know how Mormons believe that things are created in the spiritual world before they're created on Earth? That is how I found this green.
Lewis: Yes.

We must sound crazy to other people. Our both being designers also makes for hour long conversations about doors. Interior, non-decorative doors. It can be hard to make any sort of throw away decision, because the details make the whole.

I put my Netflix account on vacation to save a bit of cash and quickly realized how truly awful television is. I am reacquainting myself with the interlibrary loan system. As long as I return the DVDs on time, it's free, but they're not delivered to my door. And they can't linger on the coffee table the way that my Netflix DVDs often did. This resulted in a marathon of The War, by Ken Burns. I watched a seven disc documentary about World War II in a week. Two hours on Japanese attrocities and the Bataan Death March certainly helped me gain a bit of perspective on my own problems. I might go AWOL again soon, because I have the Leonard Bernstein's Yound People's Concerts coming (swoon! ) and To Serve Them All My Days. I printed off my Netflix queue and hope to cross off a number of titles before restarting my account.

Specs! Toilets! Tile!

2009-06-06T22:39:00.003-05:00

I've been busy, readers: too busy to stare obsessively at my computer screen for hours on end. I realized about two weeks ago that my sleep cycle was totally ruined. I was getting an average of nine hours sleep, but still felt tired. Also, I had the sleep cycle of a koala, frequently sleeping until 2 pm. Sure, I'm not a morning person, but waking at two or three in the afternoon is a real obstacle to getting anything done. If that trend continued, I would soon have become completely nocturnal, which I have no desire to be.

Around the same time, the condition of the plumbing in my house caused me to snap. My toilet had died a slow death. The tank filled so slowly that it would only flush under its own power once a day, forcing me to add water every time I wanted to flush. This is why I have indoor plumbing? Finally, it reduced me to tears. Change was needed. I called one of my good friends, bemoaning the state of my WC and he pledged his help. I called my mom, who agreed that some improvements were in order. The scales have fallen from my eyes.

So, I'm renovating the house. It's a project that I can be excited about, use some of my design skills, and shop for bargains. Did you know that Habitat for Humanity runs stores full of construction/renovation materials? I bought enough tile to do my bathroom floor for $15, beautiful ceramic tile that looks like stone. Enough tile for the quite large kitchen backsplash? A cool $100 for incredible, California casual rough finish subway tile to replace the frankly dated 70s renovation a previous owner did in the kitchen.

A couple of days after the toilet realization, I was still awake at 5.30 am. I decided to stay awake until a normal bedtime, in order to reset my internal clock. I also decided to go see Lewis, who lives about two and half hours away, to talk about the bathroom. He kept me moving when I was ready to crash, was excited about my ideas, and turned me on to Habitat ReSale. He also woke me up at 9.30 the next day so that I wouldn't fall back into my regular sleep schedule. He's a really great friend.

What happens when two designers sink their teeth into a project like this? A field trip to IKEA, of course. I find it hard to resist the siren song of affordable European design and damn good Swedish meatballs. IKEA even has a line of bathroom fixtures and furniture designed for small bathrooms that isn't horribly ugly. Lewis and I had a wonderful time looking at all of the staged room displays and making up stories about who we thought worked or lived in them. It was a great creative exercise that really started me thinking about the different ways you can tell a story with interior design.

My house was built in 1950 or '51, which led me to think about design in that period. If the original owners were sophisticated design fans who followed the latest crack of fashion, it would have been done in Mid-Century Modern. If you grew up in a post war building boom suburb, you probably saw a lot of Mid-Century Modern without realizing it. The contractors who built the place used the cheapest fixtures, so it wasn't terribly stylish at the time (and definitely not now) and hasn't aged well. A virtual visit to the local house museum also convinced me that I DO NOT WANT an authentic 1950s bathroom. Ugh. Instead, I'm going for a contemporary vision of Mid-Century Modern, which is really difficult to explain to people who aren't design nerds. If you're curious, I'd suggest a visit to the Mid-Century Modernist. There are a lot of drool worthy websites devoted to Mid-Century Modern and California Casual.

This week, Lewis and Ariel came to work on the house. I was very nervous about having people in the house, because I am not used to having other people in my space and it was in a serious state. Fortunately, they didn't care and I was at ease leaving them for a few hours while I went to an appointment. The progress on the yard while I was gone was nothing short of miraculous. Apparently the weeds I had bemoaned were actually wild violets. Think of all of the salads I can eat now that I know that! They also bleached the concrete pad on the patio and moved my mulch pile. After Ariel put out some chic solar lights in the front yard (very similar to the neighbors' lights, adding a nice unifying element to the properties), I felt the house no longer looked like it was inhabited by a crazy person.

Several trips to different hardware stores and almost an entire day were devoted to Lewis's much appreciated resurrection of my toilet. The problem turned out not to be the toilet at all, but the plumbing leading to the tank. He pulled out a section of the pipe to show me. It looked like an illustration for a cholesterol lowering medication. Honestly, I'm amazed that any water got through it. I realize that a working toilet is probably not that exciting to most of you, but I was really tired of the Laura Ingalls Wilder method of flushing.

Perhaps you are not that interested in home renovation. I apologize in advance, as this will probably be a recurring theme in the blog for the next year. The house needs a lot of work, but it feels a lot less overwhelming with Lewis and Ariel's help.

In other news, my glasses arrived today. The mailman actually rang the bell to hand deliver the package, which was greeted with a squeal of excitement. Zenni Optical had sent me an email earlier in the week to let me know they'd arrive soon, but I didn't think they'd come until Monday. I tore into the package and my heart sunk. The cases were tiny, leading me to wonder if I had accidentally ordered reading glasses. The sizes were given in metric, which I do understand but have a harder time visualizing than imperial measure. I thought about the tiny Stonehenge set in Spinal Tap and proceeded with cautious optimism. The lab that made the glasses didn't use those big, standard size cases, which is why they looked so small. The smaller case revealed my naughty librarian frames. They're smaller than my last pair of frames, which may take some adjustment, but I really like them. Definitely worth the $12 I paid for them. The Janeane Garafolo frames that had captured my heart turned out to be a different story. They're too small for my enormous noggin. Sure, they look normal sized in their case, but look like children's frames on. They only cost $25, so I'm not heartbroken. I might even order a larger, similar frame. Overall, I am very pleased with my interactions with Zenni. The Rx in the glasses is correct, which had concerned my mother. Not bad at all, considering what a crapshoot online shopping can be. Once I have taken a shower and done other beautifying things, I might even post a picture of me and the naughty librarian glasses.

2009-05-27T03:54:00.002-05:00

Recent Conversation With My Mother:

Mom: I thought that baking parchment was supposed to be better than waxed paper, but when I used it to make cookies, it came out all scorched and stuck to the baking sheet. It's supposed to be good at cookie baking temperatures.

Me: What temperature were you baking your cookies at? (I know, bad grammar, but actually what I said. I sound like a toff when I make an effort to be grammatically correct.)

Mom: 450 (Fahrenheit)

Me: And at what temperature does paper burn?

Mom: 451. Ohhhhh.....

Me: That's cutting it close.

Yes, we both knew that fact thanks to Ray Bradbury. My mother disapproves of the fact that I've only seen the movie and never actually read Fahrenheit 451. The film has a score by Bernard Hermann and the book does not.

I ordered both sets of glasses mentioned in my last post. Since they were so cheap, I figured, what the hell? Scott talked me out of getting red frames, with the simple mention of Sally Jessy Rafael. He also believes the brown will go well with my hair. I'm not sure if he was thinking of my current hair color (a Weasley-ish red) or my natural color, as he has known me long enough to remember that most guarded of secrets.

A trip to the buffet at a local pizza place made me think of Darren Nichols tonight. A bit of auto-anthropology, really, listening to all of the conversations around me as I paged through the IKEA 2009 catalog. Things I realized: Parents really will tell their kids any old shit if they don't know the answer to a question. Kate's hairstyle on Jon and Kate Plus 8 is not that uncommon. Think of it as a reverse mullet: longer in front, super short in the back. Bonus points if it is frosted in the front. This hairstyle was popular when I was a freshman in college, aka last century. I briefly considered chopping off my waist length locks for such a do-nothing hairstyle and am very glad I did not. Spiky hair does not look good on anyone. Really. Oh, and two color hair? Also bad. You've seen it in a magazine, you say? That's an editorial look. They don't look good on anyone, not even the patron saint of jolie laide, Sarah Jessica Parker. See also the sideways mullet of 2006 and the half shaved/half long cut making waves through the hip hop scene. Please, ladies, let that reverse mullet grow out into a pageboy or go Mia Farrow pixie short and keep up with the touch ups. That is all.

My mom gave me a tub of catnip for Winston, who has taken to it like a flapper to naughty salt. I keep it on a shelf over my desk that he cannot reach without extraordinary measures. He can smell it though, like a pig searching for truffles. He will balance perilously on the back of my chair (which is not lowbacked. Think Inspector Gadget evil villain chair height) and sniff. He gives high entertainment value. I sprinkled some catnip on him the other day and he didn't notice at all, continuing to beg until I poured some under his nose. When I saw him passed out on the bed later, he was still covered in it. What a little dope!

I was glad to see a couple people voted in my poll. I was beginning to think that this blog was dead, having been neglected for too long. That, or read only by non-joiners like me. Thank you for sticking with me through my creative dry spells, dear reader.

2009-05-20T17:40:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was an action packed day. Most of that action involved me driving around in my car, but still counts, right? Yes, the car. I drive in the city, even though there is public transportation. A little green voice in my head tells me that is bad, wasteful, and injurious to the environment. Well, for me to use public transportation to get to Boystown/Wrigleyville from my place costs me a minimum of $14.40. I can buy five and a half gallons of gas for that, which allows me to travel on my own schedule, to varying destinations. And that trip doesn't take five gallons of gas. I think this is a basic failure on the part of the RTA/CTA. I understand that the trains and buses don't run on rainbows and unicorn farts. Someone has to pay for it. If they want to attract ridership (other than jacking up all of the parking meter rates), they need to make public transportation cheaper than driving. It will get cars off the road, which is better for the environment. That's my rant for the day.

So, I was drove around the city, enjoying the sun and cool breeze whipping through the moon roof, my car emitting CO2 and causing at least one slug bug punch. It's easier for me to do things on lovely days like these in the late spring. Yesterday involved a trip to Trader Joe's, a yarn store, Goose Island Brewery, Bianca's, and Hyde Park. Of course, I forgot one of the three things on my list (as well as my list) when I went to TJ's, but I did find a six pack of blueberry wheat ale to give to my Grandfather. This is what my aunt would call a breakfast beer. I have no idea what blueberry beer tastes like, but my grandfather loves blueberries and it didn't cost an arm and a leg like the four pack of Fin du Monde that sorely tempted me. I don't want to pay $10 for four beers, especially ones I've never tasted.

That line of thinking led me to wander over to Goose Island's Wrigleyville outlet to try their Matilda belgian ale. The Cubs were on the road yesterday, so the bar was blissfully empty. The Matilda was good, but not extraordinary. I've had real Belgians that were better for less. It was also strong yesterday, because I somehow forgot that you aren't supposed to drink while you are taking antibiotics. Admitting that embarrasses me, because I've been drinking responsibly for ten years now and really do know better. It just slipped my mind. After about a third of the lovely goblet of ale, I felt a little looped. I ordered food (and burned my mouth in my haste to eat hot fries), drank water, and hung out for a while. The windows at the front of the bar were open, allowing a lovely breeze and plenty of natural light into the bar, giving the place the air of a high-ceilinged European cafe. I was perfectly content to pass the time there until I was ready to drive, which is fortunate since the bartender disappeared into that Wrigleyville black hole where they go whenever you want the check. I appreciate not being rushed, but Jesus.

Afterwards, I headed up to Bianca's to chat and get some tea tree oil, which I forgot to buy earlier, to treat my foot. I tore the corner of my big toenail and cuticle again and it was instantly infected. Pretty much as soon as it stopped bleeding, hence the antibiotics that weren't doing anything but making me the world's cheapeast drunk. If I had smelled a shot of tequila, I probably would have fallen over. So, I soaked my foot and we gossiped. Sometimes the old cures are the best. Today, I went over to the local natural foods market to pick up my own bottle of tea tree oil to keep in the medicine cabinet. Think old school 70s food co-op: none of that pretty, Whole Foods gloss, but shockingly high prices. I'd love to support local places like this (especially since they're the only game in town), but their prices discouraged me from buying anything other than the oil.

Afterwards, I stopped off in Hyde Park on my way home. Well, not really on the way home, but in the same general direction. This provided an excuse to drive down the southern part of Lake Shore Drive, which is a rare treat. The lake shore looks completely different south of the Loop, with out the packed beaches, just rocks and water. Hyde Park is one of my favorite neighborhoods. It's so cosmopolitan and you can eavesdrop on the most interesting conversations there. Predictably, I went to a used book store, where I managed to follow my rule of not buying more books than I can comfortably carry. A collection of Chekhov short stories, a book about the Beetle, and a couple of novels followed me home. Several lazy afternoons of reading await me. Afterwards, I went to a little coffee house nestled under the train tracks, where I sat in their sidewalk cafe and paged through the VW history. While there, I heard a spirited discussion of foreign policy, German speakers rushing for the train, a couple of Asian girls gossiping in their native language, and a little dog barking impatiently as its owner bought a gelato inside. It was heavenly.

While admiring a bohemian looking student scribbling away in a notebook, I decided that I'd like to get a new pair of intellectual-looking glasses. Not nerdy, but sort of European, serious frams with a bit of style. A lot of the LSG crowd on Ravelry have great glasses, so I looked into a few of the places they recommended. Cheap, online places, so that I won't be out much if they turn out to be crap. Here are a couple of frames that caught my eye:

I like the shape of these, and the lighter blue interior. I wonder if the black might be too dark against my pale skin, but figure that $25 wouldn't be a big setback if they're less than flattering.

I also love these, in red. They have a retro, sexy librarian feel that I really dig. Also, they cost $9. They remind me of a pair of frames my friend Lisa used to have, that had tiny crystals in the corners of the cats eyes. I'm pretty sure hers were vintage, though. Hipsters have snapped up all the good vintage frames. All the hidden gems have been found.

Thoughts? I'm going to put up a poll in the sidebar so people can vote, but comments would also be appreciated.

2009-05-13T20:56:00.002-05:00

Sorry for all the aggravating aggregation lately. I'd like to have more original content, but my life hasn't been that inspiring lately. I worked a couple of shows, but never wrote about them. I made lace, which I might address later. But mostly, I putzed around on the internet.
About a week after I lost my job last year, I realized that I had a lot of time on my hands. Almost too much time to fill, really. Sure, I could read great works of literature, work my way through all of Upstairs Downstairs on Netflix, or finally get through Proust. Sounds great, but not very realistic. We all have fantasies about what we would do if we had all the time in the world, but how many of us actually do them? So, I'm living a primarily interior life at the moment. My acting teacher in college observed the same thing. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's solitary. I have plenty of time to devour my New Yorkers, reading them in one sitting as I did in college.

Things I've Done Recently, After Some Procrastination:
* Found the cable for my camera. If I get some natural light, I might post photographs of knitting soon.
* Renewed my license plates. It made me feel so adult.
* Got a new sock blocker. The previous one was given as a gift to my Grandfather after I lost one of his Xmas socks. The socks were later found and given to him for his birthday.
* Purchased a detailing kit for my car. Okay, those wipe things for cleaning "surfaces" (an ambiguous term) and leather. I draw the line at leather oil that smells like coconut. This is indirectly related to accidentally dumping a giant Coke in my lap as I was driving. It was one of the rare occasions that I am grateful for having leather seats. Sunny, warm days, less so.
* Finished and blocked my Mother's Day presents with moments to spare. Lace is not a last minute gift. I managed to crank out all of the lace in an Ishbel in twelve hours, but there was still another couple hours required for blocking. My body ached afterwards.

This season of ANTM was disappointing. None of the ladies were that fabulous or likely to become top models. The winner from last season, that chick with the cockeyed toupee haircut, isn't exactly setting the world on fire. To quote Bianca, "Another Saliesha season". I would have loved to see Alison or Aminat win, but Teyona had it locked away. I predict Alison will get a lot of work and laugh all the way to the bank. Also, why did Tyra make them come to final judging in bikinis? Weren't they vulnerable enough already?

There should be an age cutoff on emoticons. Over forty? Think hard about using that winking eye. By that age, you should be able to convey it through your writing.

This weather has been a big tease. Beautiful, warm, fun days alternating with shitty, cold rain. It's rained enough for the dandelions in my front yard to pop back up like Homer Simpson's beard after I cut the grass. I made a new playlist for my ipod of happy, Spring songs to listen to while driving my little prozac on wheels. Things that say sunny, warm days filled with light and free parking places very near where you are going. Instead, we keep getting Decemberists weather.

Oh, I mowed the front yard after a local grifter approached me about cutting the grass. He's done this several times before and I do not like it. He must live nearby, so he can see my comings and goings, because he always approaches me when I am getting out of my car. Call me skittish, but a man approaching me from my blindspot does not give me the warm fuzzies. He also insists that he's done it regularly in the past. He hasn't. I even told him that this time. After he left, I realized that I left the door open to such shake downs by not taking care of it myself sooner. So, I listened to that Spring playlist and cut the grass. It's very easy for me to procrastinate on this front, because I have a narrow window in which to mow. I am very fair skinned and tan like an Irishman, so I have to wait until after 4 pm. Also, it cannot be raining or have recently rained, because wet clippings clog up the mower. I'd love to just plant wildflowers in the backyard and forget about it, but I suspect the local by-laws forbid such things.

2009-04-27T22:33:00.001-05:00

I'm transfixed. But transfixed enough to solder? Hmmmm.........

I Really Want to See This

2009-04-23T15:01:00.004-05:00

Maybe I'll brush up on my listening skills in French first.

2009-04-23T00:54:00.003-05:00

2009-04-05T22:50:00.002-05:00

Please have the Olympics in Chicago. We have everything here! Crime, corruption, pee on the trains, and shitty fucking weather! The IOC committee is visiting our fair city this week, and I doubt that they're going to pick us. Big sigh of relief. Political scandals have dominated the news for the past several days and the weather has taken a dramatic, yet typical, turn for the worse. It was pleasant this morning, but that rapidly turned into rain, hail, sleet, and snow. And there was nary a snow plow in sight as I cautiously drove home. If you're not from here, that might seem unremarkable, but it's shocking to see snow stick on the expressways here. Usually the plows are out before the flakes fly. I'm sure the city had other things on its mind.... Makes Rio look better and better.

I've been AWOL lately, due to an intense schedule. Rehearsals starting for an upcoming show, as well as two two-show days in a row on the current one. Not matinee and evening performances, but morning and evening performances, with a good six hour gap in between calls. I've worked a similar schedule before, but I don't remember how I pulled that off. I had to get up while it was still dark out, which is really rough for me. Then, there were those six hours to kill in between shows. One of my friends let me crash at her apartment, where I chilled for a while. I stumbled upon a Sigur Ros concert on Current tv (a very awesome channel and website. I highly recommend it.), which lulled me to sleep. I needed that nap, but getting out of the theatre did wonders for my morale as well.

On the knitting front, I am working on a couple of lace projects. This might not seem ideal for travel/ mid-show knitting, but they are very portable. My lace-reading skills have also improved. The first project is a pair of lace socks, Vog-On from Knitty. The lace pattern is an easily memorized seven stitch, four row repeat. I can even knit it while drinking, with a minimum of mistakes!

The second project is Ysolda Teague's Ishbel shawl (pictured right). I am knitting the smaller size, out of Socks That Rock lightweight. The yarn is a pale blue, with shades of silver, which should make the lace look more delicate. This pattern seems to have really taken off on Ravelry, leading me to believe that it will go viral like the Clapotis did a few years ago. Ysolda is an awesome designer, so it couldn't have happened to a nicer person. That's her modeling her design. If you're a knitter and you're not familiar with her work, I strongly suggest checking out her website. Beautiful, well-well written designs with excellent pattern support. You may recall that I knit three versions of her Liesl sweater for Christmas last year. There are very few patterns I'd knit twice, let alone three times.

2009-04-01T01:55:00.002-05:00

I just tore out half of a sweater. The temptation to just keep going was strong. The sweater was half-done. One big push (like a Grey's marathon) would have gotten me through it. When I stopped to look at it, and really thought, I realized that I would never be happy with it. I could finish it, but probably wouldn't wear it. So much work to be wasted, but I am confident that I made the right decision. I should have pulled it out sooner, instead of steadily knitting on with a nagging doubt about the design. All that remains is the collar, and that may marinate for a while until I figure out how I want to proceed. What about the design made me rip out so many hours of work? Details. Proportion. Art school adjectives. Without ever trying it on, I knew that it wouldn't be flattering.
Fortunately, I have a few other projects to occupy my time. A cotton sweater, for example. I keep forgetting that I hate cotton. It has no memory. The fabric gets heavy, dragging the garment out of shape. It's pretty punishing on the environment, and my hands as I knit it. But somehow, I keep knitting with cotton. This is even the second time that I've knit this pattern, even though the first one got stretched out and pilly. Hope springs eternal. This time, I mean business. Cotton on bamboo needles? No. I went down a size and switched to Addis instead. Firm gauge, solid but not stiff fabric, and cotton ball soft hand. It might need a couple of visits from the pill shaver after I've worn it a few times, but I'm okay with that. That said, I doubt I'll buy a worsted-weight cotton yarn again.

I'm reading a lot of non-fiction these days. Not a conscious choice, but what followed me home from the library. Last week, I read a book about Roald Dahl's intelligence work during World War II. While I learned more about British Intelligence, it wasn't as dashing as I thought it would be. Dahl seems to have cut quite a swath through Washington society, but he was hardly James Bond.
Currently, I am reading a biography of Edward VII of England. It's disappointingly discreet. Was I looking for something salacious, like a historic tabloid? No, but a little more bon vivant, some of that famed Edwardian naughtiness. I am determined to read the entire book, even though I am quite tempted to start Antonia Fraser's The Wives of Henry VIII. Her biography of Marie Antoinette was excellent, and I doubt it will be a dull read. I need something engaging to read as I lie in bed, ride the train, or just want to give my hands a rest.

2009-03-28T17:18:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I forget to brush my teeth.

2009-03-14T21:34:00.003-05:00

Middle of the night clarity

2009-03-12T23:14:00.003-05:00

I was looking at another knitter's blog the other day, which has not been updated in ages. I even felt a little irked about the lack of new material. Then I realized it was time to take a good long look in the mirror. It's been almost a month since my last post. Prolific isn't a word that describes me anymore. Maybe it's because I'm a part time hermit. Not much happening Chez Ash. I doubt that anyone wants to read about my Mah Jongg marathons, fascination with British television, or giving the mailman the side eye (which turned out to be a mistake). These things aren't that compelling to me, and it's my life. So I scribble lists of ideas on scraps of graph paper, hoping that they'll make an entertaining post, but I can't put my back into it these days.

I am having a one of those big, round number birthdays this weekend and I don't know how I feel about it. Everyone else seems freaked out, including my grandmother, who didn't tell anyone that she was turning eighty last year. Oh, and when I tell people, they make a face and react as though I'd just told them that I have a potentially fatal tropical disease. Every birthday is just another step towards the undiscovered country.

My birthday gift to myself this year? No longer giving a shit. I've been thinking about all of the drama of the last year, all of the calamities that befell me and I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Fuck that shit and feeling that I somehow deserved any of it. I'm done with my low self esteem decade. I've decided that I'm going to enjoy being an adult, despite all of its less than fun elements. I like being old enough to drink, smoke, drive my own car, not treat my body like a temple as I promised to in DARE, make my own decisions and live with them, feel confident in my skills, have a passport with stamps in it, and have "colorful" friends. I'm tired of feeling like a pathetic shit magnet. I don't want to hesitate to dream or live anymore, to not feel good enough to try to obtain or achieve anything I want.

So, I'll celebrate my birthday how I want this year, with whom I please. I'll have my traditional Shamrock shake and eat and drink too much. I decided to put my frankly large foot down this year, because I want to enjoy myself, instead of pleasing everyone else and being miserable. And, yes, I do know that Shamrock shakes are disgusting.

Reluctant Tweet

2009-02-17T23:30:00.004-06:00

Sorry for the cut and paste posts lately. I know that I am capable of better, and more, but lately I haven't had the creativity or material to write a good blog post. I actually had a five minute conversation about my cat the other day, which I realize is not terribly interesting to most people. Although he did have to have a bath recently, resulting in a patchouli scented cat.... I digress.
Maybe the little sparks that make up my weaker posts have become tweets instead. I will admit that I like twitter, because it's lazy blogging. I'm following a few people now and can see how twitter can be fun sometimes. I still think that it's superficial due to its constraints and throw away culture. I also don't want everyone to know everything all the time. All of the new technologies that are supposed to bring us together freak me out. For example, GPS friend locating software. For the discriminating stalker? I don't want to sound like a tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorist, but I really believe discretion is the better part of valor. Let's leave a bit of mystery.

I have a small start of startitis. Not to be confused with salmonella, against which my cousin reminded me after I ate some peanut butter. It didn't kill me. The misplaced knitting motivation is season related. When we had the amazing warm spell, I started a short sleeve cardigan in Dream in Color. It's adapted from the wildly popular Wicked pattern, but referred to as "peachy keen" in the project list. The ladies of Dream in Color named the colorway "giant peach" after the Roald Dahl book, which I find amusing. I'm not amused by the word giant in reference to any of my garments.
Once the weather returned to a more seasonal attitude, I cast on for a chunky alpaca cardigan with big ribbed collar and seed stitch texture. It's a free pattern I found on Ravelry, Sedum, but my version is called berlinale. The alpaca feels like butter, but has a surprising amount of plant matter in it. It isn't a Noro yarn. I don't know how long I'll be on this project, but I'd like to finish it while it's still cold enough to wear alpaca.
I spent a good hour grading the Sedum pattern the other day. I'm not bad at math (just trig, who knew that it would be so helpful in sound engineering?), but all of the math involved in resizing a top down raglan by 20% made my head hurt. It might seem as though the numbers would be fairly straightforward, but as knitting creates a three dimensional object, that is not always the case. I decided to knit it from the hem up instead and used Elizabeth Zimmerman's percentage system to work out the math on the yoke.
You might also have noticed that most of my projects are adaptations or alterations of published patterns. I think I may be moving towards not using patterns or writing my own. When I first started knitting, I found the European knitters who didn't use patterns so intimidating, but now I understand that patterns aren't always necessary. I talked to my pal Kristen, who is a professional designer, about it the other day. She was very encouraging, though she did say that being able to grade a pattern is a huge part of pattern writing. Further study is definitely required.

2009-02-17T16:48:00.001-06:00

2009-02-14T14:03:00.001-06:00

Show Business.

2009-02-13T01:41:00.006-06:00

Look at this amazing found space performance hall in Berlin:

The artists who live and work here, at the Tacheles, may be evicted soon. It's a complicated story involving the fall of the Berlin Wall, squatters, real estate speculation, and the economic downturn. The people who own it (and the bank to whom they owe a king's ransom) want to gentrify the place. I have a love/hate relationship with gentrification. I'm not pro-slum, and I respect people who work hard to improve their community. But I hate how gentrification raises the rents to the point of pricing out long-term residents and kills whatever charm was there before the hipsters moved in. Tearing down an artist's commune to put up luxury condos in this economy? Seriously? Who are they fooling?

What really bothers me about this story is how easily disregarded the arts are in a bad economy. The arts are not a luxury, but I can see how they might seem so when money is tight. Still, politicians might think about the economic might of the arts. Artists pay taxes like everyone else, and our work is often taxed. We contribute to the economy and society, but are considered frivolous. If only we had the political will to support programs like the Federal Theatre Project, employ artists to create public art, and support reportage photography like the Farm Security Administration did with Ansel Adams and Dorothea Lange. But it won't happen. Too many people think that we're a bunch of degenerates (Thanks, Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano.) and there are so many other, pressing problems that need funding.

Well, that's the Reader's Digest version of that tirade. I'm tired, so I'll link to the eloquent, persuasive words of fellow knitter, blogger, and amazing lady Yarn Harlot on the topic of arts funding. I couldn't have said it better myself.

2009-02-10T17:56:00.002-06:00

Is that you, Spring, teasing me again? I opened the windows today to enjoy your balmy breezes and ended up locking myself out of the house when I went outside to enjoy your unseasonal temperatures. While I was outside, inwardly cursing myself, my big bohemian cat inhaled snootfuls of your fresh air through the screens. Instead of going for a drive with the moon roof open, I ended up going for a long walk to get my spare key. There were kids playing in their yards and the smell of barbecue, which I wouldn't have noticed if I'd been in my car. I even wore a summery dress, which probably could have used a jacket over it, but I wasn't cold without one.

Just a few days ago, I was miserably stomping through the snow on these Chicago streets, carrying all my truc, legs near frozen. That is the February I know. Once, when I was in elementary school, I remember temperatures like this in the middle of winter. My classmates and I all wore shorts to school and had little blue legs when we came in from recess. I know you're going away again Spring, probably right after I take my car to the car wash so that the doors will freeze shut again. You'll slink off like some emo boy, and you won't come back until the end of March. So I won't get used to you being around, okay?

2009-02-05T22:17:00.002-06:00

Have you ever worked on a project that got to be so cumbersome that it seemed it would never end? I've had a couple of them in the works lately. The first was a shawl that grew exponentially larger. Seriously, it grew a half an inch every row, getting to the point that I couldn't even tell how large it was because it was so bunched up on the needle. Well, it's done. How did I know it was almost finished? Well, I got down to the last few yards of yarn and had to call it quits. After I cast it off (in more ways that one), it quickly because apparent why the rows seemed so goddamn long: they were. What I thought was a straight row across the top of a triangular piece was actually the two angled sides of a 45/45/90 triangle. Wow.

After I finished that, I rested my hands for a little while, pausing to watch some telly without knitting anything. Shocking behavior. I was immobilized by a large tabby cat snoring away on my lap under the newly completed shawl. He strictly enforces knitting breaks to prevent me from developing carpal tunnel syndrome (or ever wearing an item of clothing without cat hair on it). Once he decamped, I cast on for a top down raglan cardigan in Malabrigo worsted, with the same pair of needles. It grew and grew and grew, as raglans do. Each row seemed to take forever as I neared the armpits. Strangely, that part of the sweater is the widest point in a yoked sweater, since it includes all of the sleeve stitches as well as the body. My enthusiasm for a top down sweater can be expressed as an inverse ratio to the number of stitches. Fortunately, I managed to push my way through and have finally put the sleeves onto waste yarn. My relief at getting those 134 stitches out of the way is palpable.

2009-02-02T01:19:00.003-06:00

It's been a while. Please don't take it personally. Nothing noteworthy has happened, and it's hard to blog when you lack material. You might notice on the sidebar that I've started twittering, despite being anti-twitter. I haven't given up my ideals; you won't see me running down the street eating Nestle candy bars and swinging around Walmart bags. It's just a lot easier to come up with a few words for twitter than a blog post up to my standards. So, I have that twitter widget so you can read whatever doggerel I've written. Most of it will probably be knitting related. The excellent codemonkey at Ravelry magically integrated twitter feeds into Ravelry profiles, which caused me to finally join. I'm not giving up on the blog. Perhaps I should put myself on a writing schedule, but if I were capable of that, I'd work on the Great American Novel. More likely, the Great American Short Story.

One meets a better class of person

2009-01-16T16:54:00.003-06:00

Sorry for the radio silence. I've been busy with really boring things. More accurately, I haven't been busy at all. The wretchedly cold weather provides an excellent excuse to stay in, knitting madly and rereading the same books for the dozenth time.

Netflix and I have become good friends. With some experimentation, I've discovered which of the local post offices has the best service, so I've been able to cycle through my DVDs faster. I'd been irked at them for a while, since the Watch Instantly feature doesn't work on my PC laptop (wrong OS-- I refused to "upgrade" to XP.) or on my Mac (which I bought before they rolled out the Intel models, on my Dad's advice. Got a great deal, but wish that I'd waited). That is, until it dawned on me that my mom's old steam-powered POS PC, sitting abandoned and unloved, runs XP. Sweet! It takes an eternity to boot, leaving ample time for a trip to the kitchen or the petit coin, but it will stream Netflix. So far, I have ODed on BBC period pieces (I highly recommend The Duchess of Duke Street. It's Edwardian!), caught the first season of 30 Rock, and rewatched some old favorites. I had really forgotten how bad the drag is in Tootsie. It's a great movie, but Dustin Hoffman makes one ugly lady.

So I'm a total mouse potato now. Thank god I have a comfortable desk chair. Since it's on wheels, I can just scoot back and forth between my computers. I think the cat should be a bit more concerned about this than he is. All of this has been great for my knitting, since I find it hard to not knit while staring at a screen for hours. I have been tempted to knit at the movies, even, though fear of popcorn hands has prevented me. A more serious knitter might suggest not eating the popcorn in order to have unsullied wool, but that is impossible for me.

I decided to take a victory lap after finishing all of those Liesl sweaters for xmas. There were three in all, with a fourth in the offing. No deadline, since it's for me, but maybe before my birthday. I wish that I'd taken pictures of them before they went off to their recipients, because they all turned out well. Each was a variation on the pattern: high neck and 3/4 sleeves, wide neck and elbow-length sleeves, and wide neck and full length sleeves. It's an easily adapted pattern. After all of that, I needed a breather, so I've been working on socks. I have scads of sock yarn and this is the time of year that I want to wear them.

I woke at 8 am this morning. I'm not sure why. At 8.30, I was wide awake, with no likelihood of drifting back into sleep while listening to NPR. I'm not a morning person, so I had no idea what to do with all of this new-found time. I managed to get some paperwork done, which is so easily put-off, and de-pilled a very hairy sweater. I had to change the batteries in my pill shaver half way through. It could probably use another pass, but I don't have the energy. Then, I decided to go out, despite the below zero temps outside. I have a really great heater in my car and can dress in layers of wool. Two hats at once? Unflattering. Naturally, I ran into one of my friends from high school while wearing my bag lady get-up. After checking their stock online, I headed over to the local Borders to pick up a copy of Coraline. Yes, I know everyone else has already read it, but I've been busy dreaming about Professor Snape. The only copy they had of Coraline was in the independent reader section of the children's department. I've been an independent reader for a good twenty years, so that was less than thrilling. Lesson learned: likely in stock means nowhere to be found. Also, any moisture in your nose will freeze in this weather, no matter how well bundled you are.

How the light gets in

2009-01-03T19:27:00.005-06:00

A list of films I have seen recently:
Perfume, screenplay and direction by Tom Tykwer. I read this novel a couple of years ago at the suggestion of my trainer at Lush, for its excellent, accurate descriptions of the distillation of essential oils. I found it unbelievably disturbing, so I was in no rush to see the film at the cinema. When I saw it on the shelf at the video store, I changed my mind. An excellent adaptation. It manages to evoke the intoxicating world of scent that Grenouille inhabits, as the book did, without resorting to scratch and sniff cards a la John Waters. Somehow, its synthesis of the novel surpasses the original. Tykwer manages to express Grenouille's unknown desire in a way that was unclear if not unwritten in the novel without hitting the viewer over the head with it.

Doubt. Wow. I really can't say much about this film without spoiling it. An incredible stage to screen adaptation that manages to retain incredible dialog without being too stagey. The use of feathers scattered by the wind from a tenement roof as a metaphor for gossip was incredible. I would like to discuss this film with someone else who has seen it. If you're interested, please email me.

An Awfully Big Adventure. I saw this film years ago, around the time that it came out. It's a period film about a rep company in England doing a production of Peter Pan and its exploitation of a couple of young apprentices. I'm a sucker for backstage dramas, but this has more in common with Greek tragedy than Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney. Depressing, but worth seeking out.

Hamlet 2. Seriously awesome, despite being chock full of cliches. What backstage picture isn't? Steve Coogan plays his usual bumbling character, this time a frustrated actor/drama teacher who manages to put on a controversial show with suspiciously high production values. It definitely has that in common with the old Judy and Mickey pics. Much more irony and tongue in cheek. Oh, and a whole lot of bad ideas that somehow, improbably, pan out in the end.

Ira and Abby, another Jennifer Westfeld film (she also developed and starred in Kissing Jessica Stein). This came highly recommended by Zoe, so I bumped it to the top of my Netflix queue. I'm not sure that I agree with the film's message about marriage, but the other plots involving therapy and the excellent Judith Light. I've grown so used to seeing her in her supporting role on Law and Order SVU that I hadn't noticed that she's aged like a French actress. Why doesn't America produce more women of a certain age?

Becoming Jane. A total whim at the video store, like a box of lemonheads by the cash register. Well, I love Jane Austen and I like Anne Hathaway. My love of Austen is what kept me away from this when it was in theatres. It is well acted, well written, well art-directed. Looks like something off the Beeb. If you love Jane Austen, you will love/hate this film. Hate it for making Jane into a character in one of her own novels and love all of the little a-has buried in the dialog, like the Shakespeare jokes in Shakespeare in Love.

I'm trying to find a good balance between highbrow and lowbrow, art house and blockbuster in my viewing in the new year. It's not a resolution, because I don't make any, but a goal. All things in moderation, including moderation. I was watching the Anthony Bourdain marathon on the Travel network today, when I saw something that I really wish we had in North America: movie rooms. He went to one in Seoul and it looked ideal to me. Basically, it was a little screening room, showing a film that he picked on the way in. It looked cozy, but not too poky, like the screen at Film Forum or the small theatre at the Music Box.

Following my amazing experience of having the theatre to myself for Nobel Son (meh), I was overconfident in going to see Doubt the day after New Year's. The cinema's always packed on New Year's Day, but I'd really hoped for a sparsely attended screening on the second. What I got was exactly the opposite. I guess a lot of people took a long weekend for the holiday. I'm not as snobbish as I used to be, but I felt like a total curmudgeon. The theatre was about 2/3rds full, but the comments were almost incessant. I heard enough "mm-mms" and "oh no she didn'ts" to last a lifetime, which made me resolve not to go to that theatre again. I doubt I'll trek up to Cine Arts in Evanston (No annoying preshow ads, but thoughtfully chosen trailers and classical music! Swoon!), but I might head to a more upscale location the next time I want to see something on the big screen.

I can even follow my new sat-nav to that more upscale theatre. My grandparents gave me a TomTom for Christmas. I really like it, even though I hate their advertising. They should get a less annoying campaign, because they have a great product. I put it to the test on my annual trip to The Fold, a pilgrimage worthy LYS in the middle of nowhere. Serious nowhere, and I've gotten terribly lost going there before. The TomTom proved quirky but trustworthy. Some of the routing wasn't my natural inclination, but the user interface is fantastic. The turn warnings actually give you enough time to get over if you need to, which is my Mom's complaint about her Magellan. Hers is more like that annoying friend who tells you to turn just as you're almost across the intersection. You know, the friend that you mentally vow not to give a ride again. I think it's kind of funny, because her GPS got higher ratings in Consumer Reports and a better recommendation from the guy at Best Buy.

The reason for the annual trip to The Fold is the annual New Year's Day sale. Also, The Fold is the only LYS in the state that carries my fiber heroin, Socks that Rock. I talked my Mom into going, which took very little persuasion. She'd never been before and even braved the crowds of the sale on a sprained ankle. That's the mark of a true fiber enthusiast. It was a very polite, kind crowd, being full of knitters and spinners. Rarely will you see people wait so patiently and sociably in a half hour plus long line. I'm not really sure what my Mom bought, though she did give me a STR sock monkey kit afterward. If you haven't seen the STR sock monkey, you should definitely check it out. They are crazy, and everyone seems to end up making little monkey avatars. Mine will be pink and purple, because I'm apparently a real girly-girl. I happen to like pink and purple, but I'm sort of a professional tomboy. And no, that is not code for gym teacher. I spent conservatively, purchasing a skein of BMFA Twisted to make another clapotis (coincidentally in shades of magenta) and some STR medium weight.

One of my goals for the new year is to stash slowly. I know better than to say no new yarn, but when I survey my stash, I know that it is extremely unlikely that I will truly need yarn in 2009. I don't really make New Year's resolutions because I think they're kind of pointless. New Year's is an arbitrary marker that people use to contemplate their lives. Really, the year could start at any time on the calendar, as can life changes or those daunting "is this really my life?" middle of the night thoughts. Honestly, I couldn't wait for 2008 to end. It was, all hyperbole aside, the worst year of my life. When I stop to reflect, I realize that it was a lesson on all of the things in my life that I could live without. As Leonard Cohen writes, "There is a crack in everything; that's how the light gets in.". Well, 2008 put one hell of a crack in my life, in my ideas about my self and the world. For 2009, the light.

2009-01-01T23:56:00.000-06:00

More later.

I'm tired and full of meatballs

2008-12-24T22:23:00.003-06:00

I'm going to sleep hard tonight. Christmas hasn't worn me out since I was a kid, but it definitely wore me out today. My Grandmother has some pneumonia-like infection, so she wasn't up to making the traditional Swedish Christmas dinner this year. And since my family loves to eat, we weren't about to cancel Christmas. I got a call on Monday from my aunt, a restaurant manager, declaring that we would have to take over Christmas. After doing it with the help of two other people, I don't know how my eighty year old Grandmother has done it alone before. The whole production took two days and many phone calls to accomplish. Yesterday, there was a rice pudding debacle. Yet another reminder that no one in the family speaks Swedish anymore, so maybe making things out of a recipe book with Swedish names is not the best bet. Fortunately, Grandma had hidden away in her recipe box a different, English recipe that I gave her when I was in college. It only took two people fifteen minutes to find.

Today, there were several hours of cooking and drinking. Booze is essential when making a monumental meal. We cooked Swedish meatballs (Grandma's recipe, without the recipe, in Grandma's kitchen. No stress there.), German sausage, combination mashed potatoes and rutabaga, and special spicy mustard. At the same time, I had to secretly do a sewn bind-off and run in the ends on a pair of socks that I made for my Grandmother, hiding them every time that she came into the kitchen. The socks were finished and wrapped just in time to furiously plate everything for dinner.

My aunt and I swore that anyone who made jokes or complaints about our cooking would get a carving fork in the eye. Fortunately, no one in the family requires a trip to the opthomologist. The meal was a success. Everyone ate happily, with compliments to the chefs. I even overheard my Grandmother telling someone, "Yes, Kirstin can make meatballs". I felt so proud. I was also really glad that I was free to cook this year, since my Grandmother and I are the only ones who know the recipe!

I think that the gifts were well received. All but one were knitted. Perhaps the awesome modern fair isle hat that I made for my cousin Chris was a bit too big. I made it big enough to accommodate my Dad's big noggin, reasoning that large heads run in the family. Maybe if Chris had bigger hair to fill it out.... Maria was really excited about the fingerless gloves that I made for her. They're really popular now, but I made them not for fashion, but for practical purposes. Fingerless gloves are better for smokers. My Grandmother held up her socks for everyone to see and said "Oh goody!" when she unwrapped them. I'd also made a shrug/bed jacket for her out of Malabrigo chunky with a bit of a shawl collar to keep her neck warm. Of course, I didn't know that she would be sick at Christmas when I made it for her, but it seemed an especially good present for someone who will be lying in bed a lot the next few days. I got a few books, a brightly colored, glittery St. Mary coin bank, and a digital kitchen scale for measuring yarn. My uncle seemed very confused by that explanation, suspecting that "yarn" was code for something else. Not wanting to seem shady, I explained to him the whole weight/length conversion. The scale will be very handy, since I have yarn to split for the sleeves on my Mom's belated Christmas sweater.

Well, I'm off to curl up under a heap of blankets. Hope that everyone is having great holidays, with family, friends, and good food.

2008-12-20T19:01:00.002-06:00

I just realized how close Christmas is, so I'm on another Mad Men fueled knitting marathon. Amuse yourself with this while I weave in some ends.

2008-12-19T21:14:00.002-06:00

I am finished with my xmas shopping. Not the knitting, but the shopping. The only painful part about today's shopping trip was the parking. Well, that and the carapace of ice on my car. The weather has finally decided to act like winter: cold, wet, and miserable. Fortunately, I was none of those things.

In search of the new issue of Knit.1 magazine, I went to Borders and Michaels. Ugh. Borders was a zoo, but their magazines are near the door, so it was a quick in and out. Michaels was another story. I'm not a huge fan of big box craft stores. I know that they serve a pretty wide market and they are good for somethings, like emergency notions and guilty pleasures like Cotton-Ease. Well, I discovered that my local Michaels is closing. Soon, by the looks of it, since they were packing everything up while people were trying to shop. I was a little vexed that they'd already packed up all of the yarns that were on sale, but since I don't really need yarn now, I guess it was a removal of temptation. It's all part of a trend. All of the fabric stores in my area closed in the past couple of years, and now Michaels is leaving too. Now I'll have to drive half an hour just to pick up some thread or a crochet hook. How inconvenient.

It's the Holidaze

2008-12-18T21:24:00.002-06:00

I have a problem with anything that requires general jollity, so the holidays can be hard. I'm no Scrooge, but I don't always have the holiday spirit. I can maybe sustain a fortnight of holiday cheer, and it's a low-grade cheer at that. Well, it's started to kick in.

I kicked off my holiday season with a tea thrown by my pal Sam. She and her husband Ben really went all out in the pastry department, and there was a sneaky white sangria. I was careful not to let it sneak up on me, as I am still a bit tentative about driving the Beetle in the snow. Also, only assholes drive drunk. I digress... It was a marvelous party, with many knitters and interesting non-knitters, very good conversation, and an excellent book exchange. Sam wore a pink Malabrigo Wicked sweater that made me want to run home and knit the one that I stashed in Dream in Color. She always has the best knitwear, like the multicolor February Lady Sweater in Lorna's Laces Edgewater that she wore in her engagement photos. She also wore a white satin skirt and kicky red striped stockings, which gave an overall "I sing in The Decemberists" vibe. Mental note: must make striped knee high socks in two shades of purple Jitterbug. I wore my Matsuri cardigan, which I am wearing like crazy. It was admired by knitters and non-knitters, and declared surprisingly soft for Noro. I consider it a hit.

The next day, I managed to talk my way out of a Holiday concert. That is too much for me. Also, I've become a music snob since I started attending the opera. A concert and party in one weekend seemed like too much. It's important to pace yourself around the holidays, as it is quite tempting to try to squeeze in too many events.

Tuesday, I went over to my Grandmother's and set up her tree. She always had live trees for as long as I could remember, until one dropped all of its needles in her house a couple of years ago. We then spent a couple of hours decorating the tree with a mind-boggling number of ornaments. The tree was saturated with sparkly, glass goodies. Well, I thought it was saturated, but there was even more on the tree when I went over there this afternoon! Grandma somehow managed to weave garland through all of the decorations and added hanging icicles. It really looks magnificent now, but I am still amazed at the sheer number of things on the tree. There's a lifetime of Christmases on it.

Yesterday, I had an almost perfect day. It didn't have the most auspicious start (an alarm clock, instead of sleeping until I wake). I had an appointment in Wrigleyville until two, then an opera at 7.30, but nothing to do in between. That's a lot of time to kill. Fortunately, I decided on a whim to invite Miss B. out for a drink. I'd begged out of going to a burlesque show with her on Monday, so I wanted to prove that I'm not a big flake. Well, we spent most of the afternoon at my (non) local pub, drinking and crafting. I knitted a sock while she embroidered a penis motif, which was an amusing contrast to the regular crowd, a bunch of Irish guys. Afterward, we headed downtown so that I could park in the cheap but precarious lot and we could hit a really chic bar in the West Loop for a review before I headed off to the Lyric. The cocktails were inspired, really high-end culinary drinks. They were off-menu creations featuring floral motifs. B had a rose cocktail, with a couple of dried rosebuds soaked in rose liqueur gaily bobbing around. Mine was a lavender gin cocktail. Sounds old lady-ish, I know, but it was the essence of the cocktail. It was sparkly and chic and made me feel sparkly and bright. Also, I love lavender (and gin, apparently, but not vermouth. ever.). They were served in lovely, old fashioned round stemmed cocktail glasses that made me think of Wodehouse and Dorothy Parker.

Fortunately, the bar was relatively close to the opera house, because they were ringing the ten minute bell when I arrived. I had looked forward to seeing Madama Butterfly since I bought the tickets last spring, and I wasn't disappointed. The woman who has the seat next to mine was clearly disappointed when I showed up and politely made her move from my seat. I suspect that she's sat there every time I donated my seat back. Her elbow never left my side during the first act, though it might have bothered me more had I not been wearing such a thick sweater. She disappeared during intermission, saying that she'd found another seat and I can't say that I missed her. The performance itself was so wonderful that the obnoxious neighbor was the merest annoyance. The set was a very intelligent design, featuring Pinkerton's house and its landscaping on a giant revolve in front of a drop. The set was so versatile that the turning of the revolve never seemed gimmicky. Of course, opera has the budgets to get all of the elements right. The soprano singing Butterfly was astonishing. When she sang my favorite aria, a chill ran down my spine completely unrelated to the temperature up in the balcony. I can only hope that I Pagliacci, Tristan und Isolde, and Abduction from the Seraglio can live up to it.

About the cheap, perilous garage-- I've joked that it would collapse for months because of the banged up look of the support beams in it. Well, apparently someone else noticed, maybe a structural engineer. When I parked there on Wednesday, about half of the spaces had been killed to make room for some heavy duty looking scaffolding that went from floor to ceiling. The especially flimsy looking column had been encased in wood. Why would I park my car someplace that looks like it might fall down? Well... I might not again for a while, until it looks a little more sound, but they have a special 5pm to midnight $5 special. A total steal compared to the $30 they charge across from the opera house, even if it requires a brief ride on the El.

On the knitting front, I've been taking a breather from the xmas knitting. This will undoubtedly lead to another exhaustion-inducing finishing marathon. Some of that will be literal last minute knitting, but there will probably be a couple hours of swearing like a sailor while quickly manipulating a tapestry needle. Yes, I realize that would be prevented by weaving in ends as I go, but I operate an assembly line of knits: one step at a time, until everything looks like a finished object. Fortunately, I have the steamer now, so my blocking will go a lot quicker. That may aid in further procrastination. I finished the hat for my cousin, the Sheep & Wool hat by Emily Spence, which turned out really well and very cushy. I don't know how a non-knitter will react to all the floats on the inside, but I pleased with it inside and out. I might even make another one for myself after xmas. Other than that, I still have to knit the sleeves onto my three Liesls. I'll have to settle in with a few DVDs and my dpns and get to work.

I've also picked up my Weekend sweater again, with the thought of making it this year's Christmas sweater. No, it won't have sequined candy canes on it, but it is green. I wore the Matsuri cardigan to decorate the tree (I don't know which was busier!), so maybe I'll let it rest on xmas. Fortunately, the Weekend cardigan is knit on size eleven needles and has all of the body parts done. Unfortunately, I thought that I'd already knit one of the sleeves during the show, but it turns out that I hadn't. I think that I can pull this off. If not, I will wear my Liesl, once it has its sleeves. I hear we're going to have a big snow/ice storm, so I may have a couple of good knitting days, with breaks for cocoa, Harry Potter reading, and Winston.

2008-12-12T21:59:00.006-06:00

My name is Winston

And I approve of this sweater.

Adventures in Blocking

2008-12-12T16:36:00.003-06:00

Sometimes, it is necessary to block a garment once you're done knitting it. Or, you've got an older sweater that isn't its perky self anymore. Blocking. I resisted for a long time, but it really does help. Here is an example of rights and wrongs in blocking:
1. Soak the garment thoroughly, using a wool wash like Soak or Eucalan. Some knitters just spritz water onto the garment, but it doesn't yield the same results.
2. Gently blot or squeeze water from garment. The temptation to wring is high, but don't do it!
3. Lay the garment out on some towels on the rug or your bed. Remember, this will take twenty four hours, so you might have to sleep on the couch.
4. Massage the garment into its desired shape. Want it a little bigger? Well, now is the time to stretch it! For sweaters, I like to make them sweater shaped, checking that the sleeves don't look weird and are the same length and making sure that the hem isn't wonky from shaping.
5. Let dry. Admire your handiwork as it dries, while looking forward to wearing said garment.
6. Once it is dry, try it on. If it is wonky, you may want to dampen it and make corrections. Dry flat if needed.

So, that is the ideal process. Here's what I did with my Matsuri cardigan. I laid it out to dry on the bed, but it was still soaking 48 hours later. I moved it to another location to dry, where it was lain upon by my cat. The areas covered by cat dried fully, but with cat shaped dent. Disgusted, I put the still damp sweater in the dryer on fluff. Fluff. It doesn't have any heat, just air, I reasoned. Will definitely be safe. Was not safe. Upon removing sweater from dryer, noticed that it was pleasantly fluffy. Fluff came at expense of size. Yes, without any heat, I managed somehow to shrink my sweater about ten percent. That ten percent was needed to get the cardigan to button across my big tickets. Sigh. I thought longingly of a drying rack, which would allow air to circulate around or through the sweater as it dried. Maybe it would dry in a timely fashion on a drying rack. So, I headed over the local sheets and shit, which is having a big going out of business sale. They had no drying racks, but they did have a Rowenta steamer that should sell for $100 marked down to $38 after taxes. This is so much better than a drying rack. Now I can freshen up my sweaters without having to soak them in the tub (unless they need it), make my scarves look crisp and professional, and fog up my glasses. I am nerdily excited!

I quickly realized the problem, as I looked at the sweater laying on the bed. I knit the yarn over-gauge. No biggie, because it wasn't a big gauge difference, except when I fluffed it, the yarn reverted to its natural, smaller gauge. Steam to the rescue! The sweater has now been steamed, allowed to set, and lays on the bed awaiting some revisions around the hem. I could have added an additional increase in the waist shaping. If you do decide to steam block, remember that you have to allow the garment to set before moving it, or the blocking will fall out. I learned that the hard way on a silk gown when I was in college.

2008-12-11T15:49:00.002-06:00

There are only fourteen days until xmas, and I am seriously procrastinating on the gift-making front. I want to do almost anything but knit those last couple presents. There have been a couple of false starts on the hats (now cut back to only two from three) having to due with gauge. Well, gauge and lack of motivation.
Unsure about the third hat, I called my godmother for advice. She quickly informed me that my uncle never wears hats (How is that possible in this climate?), which would make a hat a wasted effort. His feet are cold all the time, she added, so why not make him a pair of socks? Groan. Actually, something more like a guttural "Ha!" escaped my lips, completely surpassing any internal filters of manners or respect. My godmother doesn't knit, so I had to explain to her that a pair of socks is as much work as a sweater. I like my uncle, but no. Back to the drawing board.

My Matsuri cardigan is currently drying on the spare bed, with an obvious paw print in the middle of the chest. My cat cannot resist knitwear in the blocking stage. Last xmas, he lay diagonally across a scarf for my aunt, leaving a cat shaped dent in the finished garment. Even though the cardigan is still damp, I can tell that the blocking helped. I'm not a professional blocker or anything approaching. For years, I never blocked my knitwear until my Peace Fleece cardigan demonstrated the miracle of blocking. Maybe miracle is an overstatement, unless you're blocking lace. Blocking can really make the difference between homemade and handmade. I live in dread of anything I make looking homemade. I don't use a blocking board or wires and rarely pins. I take the Yarn Harlot approach: I just make it sweater shaped. This works really well. You don't have to knock yourself out blocking.

2008-12-09T17:34:00.002-06:00

I was immersed in wintertime ennui when I got an unexpected pick me up today. Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich finally got busted for corruption today. Why is that exciting? Well, it's the details. The Feds have been sniffing around him for months, trying to find something that would stick. Seems like a good time to lay low, eh? Well, not for Blago. Instead of playing it cool, he decided to auction off the now vacant Senate seat to the highest bidder. He must have known that he was being investigated, so he is either incredibly stupid (doubtful) or unbelievably ballsy to try and pull this off now. I'd suggest watching the news this evening to see if you can catch the courtroom artist's sketch of the disgraced governor and his enormous hair. It's truly a wonder to behold, and especially amusing in cartoon form.

So, I must sound like a real hater, since I find this all amusing. Well, that's Chicago politics for you. We're jaded. We put up with a lot of shit: the CTA is a disgrace, but we have to pay even more for it starting in January; the city just issued a big F-U to drivers by renting all of the parking meters in the city to a private company that will charge 24-7, with no more free Sundays or meter holidays; and it is so goddamn cold. All this and more is treated with an air of resignation. Yes, the CTA sucks, but what did you expect? $6.50 to park at a meter downtown? You might as well take the El, if it ever shows up and doesn't break down on the way there. Meh.

I haven't felt like knitting much, but I am trying to stick to a schedule like the Yarn Harlot. That hasn't exactly worked out. I've always been disgusted by Noro projects where the stripes weren't matched up. Even the samples that Noro sends out don't have their pieces matched. That always struck me as lazy. Now, I know why so many people don't bother. Matching up all of those stripes is a total pain in the ass! The skeins aren't identical, or anything approaching, which means you may have to spend hours searching for the color repeat that you need, winding your skeins into tiny balls that will get lost or patted by helpful cats. I've had to tear out the sleeves on my Matsuri cardigan twice (once each sleeve) to get the color progression right. The second sleeve has been much harder. Serious McGuyver-ing of yarn was involved to get the stripes to almost match. Sigh. I am probably the only person who will ever notice, since the sweater is so busy. I hoped to take a photo to illustrate, but there was absolutely no natural light today. Maybe when it's done.

I still have a couple of hats to make for xmas. I plan to start on them after I'm done torturing myself with this Noro madness. There will be no stripes, nothing to match up, and only comfortable Malabrigo involved in the hats. They'll feel like a vacation, even though they're for heads of Kennedy proportions.

2008-12-04T01:23:00.002-06:00

I've spent the past couple of days feeling sorry for myself. Lying in bed mostly and feeling sorry for myself, when not engrossed in knitting and Slings and Arrows. My back was killing me after some emergency raking on Sunday, so I decided to take it easy. Later, I learned that lying in bed is one of the worst things that you can do for a back ache. Not surprisingly, spending a day in bed did not make it feel better, but a long soak in the tub certainly helped.

Maybe it's just not my week. My eyes were itchy a couple of days ago, so I decided to toss my disposable contacts and wear my specs. It's good to give the eyes a break every once in a while (coincidentally, the same days that I was laid up with my aching back). Today, I was off to meet a couple of friends that I hadn't seen in a while, so I decided to switch back to the contacts. I grabbed the bag from under the sink where my contacts were stashed and discovered that instead of containing two boxes of contacts, it held a starter kit of solution. Shit. I have no contacts and I really like having peripheral vision. And the hot/cold glasses fog that happens this time of year? Hate it. I had dinner with my mom at Ikea and suggested contacts as an xmas present. Hopefully, an early xmas present. I have Madama Butterfly coming up and I don't think I can work my opera glasses while wearing regular glasses. Hell, I can barely work my opera glasses while wearing my contacts.

I had dinner with my mom at Ikea. That might seem weird to some, Ikea as a dinner destination, but they have the best Swedish meatballs. Well, the best not made by a member of my immediate family. I got the new 2009 catalog and visited their xmas section. The trip to Swede-o-rama made it feel like the holidays. Ikea has the best stuff for xmas: several different design concepts in tree decor and gift wrapping. I was kind of sorry that I'd already bought my wrapping paper for the year, but strong armed my mom into buying a very sharp set of metallic tone-on-tone patterned paper. Xmas paper doesn't need to look so Christmassy, all Santa Clauses and candy canes. It should look refined and rich, like the present it encloses is a wonderful, well thought-out treasure.

While searching for a present for my cousin Chris and killing a bit of time this afternoon, I wandered into a certain used bookstore at the corner of Clark and Sheffield that shall remain nameless. I will not return there. They always have interesting books in their window display and the occasional copy of Tin Tin, but in the future, I'll just window shop. What did they do to piss me off? Well, they insisted that I check my purse. My purse. Not some voluminous, Lady Bracknell type handbag or giant sack, but one of the smallest bags that I own. Not useful for shoplifting. When I explained that the bag in question was my purse, they still insisted. They kindly offered to let me take my wallet out first (ironically, not in the purse), but I didn't have room in my pockets for the equally valuable ipod and checkbook. I don't like being separated from my purse. I should have left then, but instead I seethed for a few minutes and decided not to buy anything there. I understand that they are concerned about theft, but they could handle it a lot better. So, it's Powell's for me from now on.

In an attempt to expand my wardrobe and break up the xmas knitting marathon, I've picked up one of my UFOs again. I'm putting the sleeves on my Matsuri cardigan. It's a gaily colored cotton and wool blend yarn from Noro, which stripes. Boy, does it stripe. I can't decide if it's ugly or not. It has a definite Noro look, which isn't for everyone. At least it isn't as bad as the garment that one of my former co-workers described as looking like the time that she fed the dog crayons when she was a kid. I want to get the cardigan done in time to wear to a couple of holiday events, which I think is a very attainable goal. I'm in good shape on the present front. Just a few hats to make still. Hats for people with Ted Kennedy sized heads, but that's nothing new. My mother always says that "my" side of the family has thick skulls. It wasn't until I was in my late teens that I understood that to be a double entendre.

2008-11-29T23:36:00.004-06:00

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming after the holiday weekend. In the meantime, here's a little quiz.

A literary meme, taken from Eliza:

Apparently most people will have only read 6 of the 100 in this list. I find that hard to believe. Well, maybe not so hard, but I don't think that I know "most people".

Instructions:

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Underline those you intend to read.
3) Italicise the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list so we can try and track down these people who’ve read 6 and force books upon them.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (see 35.)
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling (A great revisiting of the traditional boarding school novel. If you like these, I highly recommend Stalky & Co. by Rudyard Kipling.)
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee (When I read this in high school, my English teacher told me that he envied me the ability to read it for the first time. Now I understand.)
6. The Bible (I went to parochial school, but the whole thing? no.)
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte(Read it for an English Lit class in college and found that I prefer Austen to Bronte.)
8.Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell (This book made me cry.)
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy (blurg)
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare (Complete? no. How many people have really read Timon of Athens? I do really love Henry IV, pt.1, a great riff on St. Augustine's story, one of the basic themes of Western literature.)
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier (I also recommd the Hitchcock adaptation. The cinematography alone makes it a classic!)
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - J D Salinger
19. The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger (Wants to be Proust. Isn't.)
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald (Isn't this everyone's favorite American novel? Strangely, few people read it as an adult. It has much more depth if you re-read it once you've done a bit of living.)
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck Meh.
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy (I couldn't believe that Oprah put this on her book list. The pacing makes Pasternak look like a Reader's Digest Condensed Book.)
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis (I loved these books when I was a kid, until I caught on to the blatant Christian imagery.)
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins (I just read this. Very engrossing. Apparently one of the first books to use multiple narrators in Western literature.)
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery (I'm a big Montgomery fan)
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan (The end of this novel is absolutely heartbreaking.)
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen (If you meet any Colonel Brandons, please send them my way.)
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov (Not as good as its rep would lead you to believe, sadly.)
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt (I found the ending of this novel unsatisfying.)
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold (Incredible narration.)
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas (in English and French. I'm an overachiever.)
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac (I agree with Truman Capote: "That's not writing. That's typing.")
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy (I'd recommend the Mayor of Casterbridge before this.)
68. Bridget Jones’ Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole (started)
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (This novel was hugely popular during the American Civil War)

I've read an improbable 50% of this list. Apparently, all I did was read when I was a kid. That probably accounts for my total lack of coordination. Other books that I recommend without reservation:

* The Portrait of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde. Wit beyond measure, in rare prose form. Thank God Wilde wrote in English.
* The Song of the Lark, by Willa Cather. Not her usual dreck about Scandinavian immigrants fighting it out on the dusty plains. This novel deals with the emotional and artistic development of a young artist, which leads her away from home towards greatness.
* I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith. The development of the narrator's voice in this novel is nothing short of incredible. Possibly the best first person limited I've read.
* Einstein's Dreams, by Alan Lightman. I read this book in college and it changed my life. I cannot tell you how many times I have given this as a gift.
* Forever Amber, by Kathleen Winsor. Possibly the best researched romance novel ever, it is the classiest trash. A real page turner good for transatlantic flights, rainy weekends, and trips to the beach. Often compared to Gone With the Wind for scope and sauciness.
* All of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. I adored these books when I was a kid, and I thought it was the coolest thing that one of my mom's quilting books was written by her daughter. Full of great anecdotes like the ox putting its foot through the top of their dugout house and the infamous fight with Nellie in the creek full of leeches. Nellie clearly needed to be taken down a peg or two.
* Time and Again and From Time to Time, by Jack Finney. Time travel similar to the movie Somewhere in Time. I should re-read these again soon....
* The Forsyte Saga, by John Galsworthy. Epic, multi-generational love affairs and scandal within the august Forsyte family. It's a thick book, but quickly draws the reader in. My mother recently told me that there are more books following the Forsytes, which I intend to look for the next time I'm at Powell's.
* Maus, by Art Spiegelman. Yes, it's a graphic novel about the Second World War using cars and mice, but that's just the surface. Beautiful layout and art as well as an incredible story.
* Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi. A distinctive voice and vivid design used to describe the Islamic Revolution from the viewpoint of a teenage girl.
* A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway. One of the few Hemingway books I really love (please everyone stop recommending The Sun Also Rises), this is an autobiographical treatment of his early years in Paris. If for nothing else, read for the anecdote involving Zelda Fitzgerald telling F. Scott Fitzgerald he has a small penis.

If you copy this meme, please drop me a link in the comments. I'm always interested in good book recommendations!

Everything's Fine

2008-11-27T00:53:00.002-06:00

I apparently needed to have a fiber related freak out. Well, a couple of knitting related ones. The Malabrigo is fine. Wet Malabrigo smells remarkably like wet cat. Winston had to investigate the matter and ended up making a little nest for himself near the drying yarn. It is now unkinked. Having compared it to two recently wound skeins of Malabrigo, I have decided that it will knit to gauge. Maybe I can even go down a needle size. There will definitely be swatches in its future.

I spent at least an hour looking for buttons online this evening. Buying buttons online is far from ideal. The project in need of buttons should go to the shop selling notions for the fiber equivalent of speed dating. Holding the yarn up to my monitor is not the same. Still, I squinted away. I have three projects that must have buttons before xmas, and no suitable buttons in the button jar. That thought made me realize that I had no idea where the amazing ceramic buttons that I bought from Jennie the Potter were. The safe place strikes again! They were located in less than fifteen minutes, in a stack of mail. Must have made sense at the time. While searching for them, I found other buttons that had been assumed missing or lost, including a set that I bought from Jennie at the first YarnCon. Those rediscovered buttons look smashing with the revitalized Malabrigo! So, the next time that I decide to put something in a "safe place", I've got to stop myself and put it in a sensible place. Otherwise, I will keep St. Anthony very, very busy.

According to the sign in front of a local firehouse, Thanksgiving has the most fires of any day out of the year. Hmmm...booze, relatives, and questionable cooking? I can see how that might start a few fires. My Grandmother and I were discussing deep-fat frying turkeys. Apparently, both my dad and uncle somehow acquired a device that allows you to deep fat fry a turkey on a grill. This must have been invented by one of those guys who lights a fire in a grill with rocket fuel (no shit, there's a video somewhere on the web. I vaguely recall a bet and NASA employees involved) or some woman who had had enough of her husband wrecking the kitchen. Potential for burning down the house, or at least singeing off arm hair: high. Please be safe this Thanksgiving. Don't drive drunk, burn down any houses, or aggravate more conservative relatives with your Obama love. Perhaps you will be thankful that these big family holidays come but twice a year.

2008-11-23T00:24:00.003-06:00

Random Thoughts:

When will Blogger learn the word Obama? I know it doesn't like proper nouns, but come on!

The song in the ads for the new Dido CD is the only good one on the CD.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is such a delightful movie that it made me want to read the book. How often does that happen?

My grandfather tells me that it takes 3-5 years to get a car from the drawing board to production. Three years ago, Detroit was selling heaps of SUVs and other gas guzzlers, so there was no economic incentive to design smaller, more fuel efficient cars (which would be available now). There should have been a bigger push to get people to give up larger vehicles to decrease our dependence on foreign oil when the War on Terror(ism) began. We haven't been asked to sacrifice anything here on the homefront. Maybe members of the Bush administration were asleep during the "guns or butter" discussion in econ, because we've been stuck with shitty guns* and margarine.

My friends list on Facebook has become somewhat unmanageable, and I know people whose lists are larger than mine by a power of ten.

I like cover albums.

I once saw a defaced Dido poster on the subway in New York. They had simply added an L. So brilliant I remember it years later.

Etsy is a sponsor of NPR. I didn't think it was possible to love etsy more until I heard that.

I never catch the first half of The Play's The Thing. It's like the opposite of my evenings at the opera.

I'm getting more annoying calls since I renewed my enrollment on the Do Not Call Registry than I did before. They're all robocalls, so there's no one to tell to remove me from their list.

I think that my Malabrigo is dead. It isn't recommended to wind yarn into balls until you're ready to use it. I know this. I have advised people of this many times. That is what I did. I wound three skeins of Malabrigo into balls a while ago and never got around to making the intended project. No biggie, except the balls were wound really tight. I must have been in a hurry at the time, and cranked the hell out of the ball winder. The Malabrigo was co-opted for the Liesl marathon, because somehow three skeins is enough for an adult sweater in that pattern. Well, I cast on this evening and noticed that the yarn wasn't as cushy as usual. It was far more compact and kind of kinky, as though I had frogged a project, and looked more like DK than worsted weight. So, I decided to take drastic measures, reskeining the yarn by hand over a couple of kitchen chairs. But that wasn't enough. I proceeded to give the yarn a bath, with a liberal dose of Soak wash thrown in to help relax the fiber. Whether or not this works remains to be seen. The skeins are laid out to dry on the bed now, atop a pile of towels and blankets. Fiber revival is my hope, though if it doesn't recover, it won't be the end of the world. Disappointing, yes.

*Shitty guns? Well, more like overpriced supplies due to bad DoD contracts, and a scarcity of armor and gear.

2008-11-22T23:38:00.002-06:00

Today was not my day for transportation. The lights were turned on downtown for the holiday season, with much fuss and crowds, so I decided to take the train in. Except the train still hadn't left the depot ten minutes after it was supposed to have arrived at the station. The announcement offered no hints as to when it might arrive, so I decided to drive in instead and stash the bug in one of my secret parking lots. Cheap parking never puts you near where you're going, so I had to take the bus to the theatre. I waited half an hour for a bus, which meant that I had to run through the crowds of people wandering aimlessly after the parade to get there before the curtain.
On the way home, I was nearly broadsided by a panel van who didn't see me changing lanes. We must have decided to get into that lane at the same time from its neighboring lanes. I was doing seventy at the time, which made things exciting. The van driver never saw me, because he didn't try to avoid hitting me. Thank god for my desire to live and well-engineered car!

Where was I so determined to go, despite all of these obstacles? A Lar Lubovitch dance concert, which was incredible. Amazing. Difficult to describe. I have decided that I love Lar Lubovitch. Well, I love his work; I've never met him. His choreography, his company, the incredibly strong male dancing, all of the lifts were riveting. There was an all male piece in the program that blew me away. Even the fog was sublime, which is difficult. It hung over the stage at the beginning of the piece and the movement of the dancers drew it into the dancing space. It was so well done that I wasn't distracted by technical thoughts, which are hard for me to turn off.
The seat was a surprise. I don't remember it being so close to the stage when I bought my tickets for the year. I prefer to sit near where the tech table sits in the house: about half to two thirds of the way back. Better sight lines. My seat this evening was in the third row, between a man who looked uncannily like one of my female college professors and an older woman whose elbow poked me throughout the entire evening. I should have known she would be trouble when she and her husband made no effort to move when I wanted to get to my seat, as though I could just levitate into it. The change in perspective was interesting. There were times when I wish that I could have taken in the whole stage more easily, but there was so much more detail. I could hear their feet on the stage, see the texture of the costumes and the musculature in the dancers' legs. There was even a brief moment when I met eyes with one of the dancers during an intense solo, which was electrifying. Isn't that we want in every performance, as an audience member?

On the knitting front, I am still working on Liesl #2, which I am calling Raspberry Truffle on Ravelry. I happened upon one of the tags for the yarn since my last post and realized that I am using Big Blue instead of BFL Chunky. Either way, it is cushy and rich and a delight to knit. The color distribution in the skeins worked out well, with no noticeable pooling. The lace isn't as prominent a feature as it was in Liesl #1, but this one has much more depth to it. Maybe when I'm out from under all of this xmas knitting, I'll have a chance to put up some pics.

I Spent Twelve Hours Outside the House Yesterday

2008-11-20T15:18:00.002-06:00

See, I'm not really a shut-in. I hit the road at an hour usually devoted to sleep to get a start on a very long day. I planned all of my errands and appointments in the city for the same day, to be more efficient in my movements. So, I had a doctor's appointment, my standing appointment, a hair appointment (the back was getting a little mullet-y), and swung by the Weimar Republic. A very full day.

I may have discovered the only place in the world where hot air does not rise. Yes, the Lyric Opera's top balcony defies the laws of physics. I subscribed this year, but missed the first two operas in my series due to scheduling conflicts. I was pleasantly surprised by my seat for the season, which is at the front of its section. I'd expected something in the last row, like the first year that my mother subscribed. By chance, I made the difficult opera of the season my first of the year. Lulu was something I'd looked forward to seeing. I love the Weimar aesthetic, and one of the sopranos featured in Fliedermaus two seasons back was starring. She was excellent, and the design was spot-on. However, I can only suffer so much for art. This may seem like hyperbole, but I felt warmer standing under the lamps on an exposed El platform than I did in my seat at the opera house. So, I've seen the first act of yet another opera. The next time I go, I will have to bring at least one shawl.

I seem to be in a Feather and Fan period. That easiest of lace patterns continually flows from my needles. It began with a quick scarf in Colinette Tagliatelli, which my cat has adopted as a blanket for his nest. He only likes the good yarn. Then, I began a series of four Liesl cardigans. The first was knit in RYC Soft Tweed, which I definitely recommend for anyone else interested in making this sweater. It's soft, shows off the lace well, and has just enough visual texture to keep things interesting without overpowering the pattern. The second one is in progress, in Fleece Artist BFL Aran. It's not as lofty as the Soft Tweed, so it has a different look. The other two will be knit in Malabrigo Worsted. It will be an excellent illustration in how yarn choice can make a pattern turn out differently.

Thanks for the comments on my previous pity party post. I feel much better about the whole thing now, possibly because I sold the yarn shortly after I wrote it. Ravelry will provide. I've had a few good trades through Ravelry: snagging a sweater's worth of Tagliatelli, some Madelinetosh, and a skein of Kureyon sock. My destash sales have gone well and relatively quickly. I even found a Colinette book (for the Tagliatelli) for $2. You can't beat that. Yes, there are some bossy knitters who like to throw in their $5 on Ravelry, but that's no different than the knitting klatch at most LYSes.

Mo-om! All the other kids are being mean to me!

2008-11-18T17:53:00.002-06:00

It is hard to determine tone on the internet. This probably leads to a lot of unnecessary flame wars. I'm not in one, but I am frustrated and my feelings are a little hurt. I should explain. I am trying to sell some unloved yarn from my stash, fourteen skeins of alpaca that just don't interest me anymore. So, I posted them on Ravelry for $50, which is the wholesale price. Shortly afterward, a new member wrote a post saying that the price was "the problem". Seems critical, eh? I explained that the price I am asking is a 50% discount, at which point other people tried to "help" me understand. I understand that the economy is in the shitter. One of the reasons that I am selling the yarn is that I need the money! I know that a lot of people are losing their jobs (like me) and can't afford my asking price. I wrote a post saying that I am willing to give the criticizing poster the benefit of the doubt, which apparently only encouraged her to belabor the point. Ugh. Being the bigger person so rarely pays off. Now, I just want to take my marbles and go home. Maybe someone will buy my yarn, or maybe they won't.

2008-11-17T18:04:00.003-06:00

The past couple of days have gone really well. I've gotten a lot accomplished: made a trip to an LYS, knit most of a sweater, made baked goods, went to a dinner party, and finally got to the post office while it was open. Woot!

My mother and I spent the weekend together. I let the cat out of the bag about her xmas present (matching sweaters-- she was appropriately speechless), leading to an hour long teleconference about yarn. Finally, we decided to meet at Chix With Stix to investigate their wall of Malabrigo. They're also my favorite Jitterbug pushers. They're not pushy, but that yarn is crazy addictive. Maybe the wool is plied with heroin. An appropriate shade of pink Malabrigo was chosen, and we set off to wind and strategize.

I promised to bring a dessert to a dinner party without any idea of what I would bring. Unfortunately, everyone already knew that I could cook, having eaten my red velvet cake, so replating something from Whole Foods was out of the question. My mom pulled a recipe for lemon bars out the Joy of Cooking for me. I am embarrassed to admit that I still need some adult supervision in the kitchen. I'm not going to burn the house down (knock on wood), but I planned to peel the lemon in one long continuous strip, as though I was garnishing a $20 martini. No, it was time for the old knuckle grater instead. My mother managed not to laugh while explaining the zest-making process. Basically, you just go to town on a lemon with a grater. As lemons are much larger than nutmegs (which I grate at least once a year. Must have freshly grated nutmeg), there was no additional protein in the lemon bars.

While planning and cooking, my mother popped in her current selection from Netflix: the first season of Slings and Arrows. I'd heard many good things about the show, but had also noticed that an alarming number of its fans are assholes. Fearing that it was an asshole magnet, and that liking it might make me an asshole, I had avoided it. Well, we watched it. It was good. Neither of us are assholes as a result. I have a love/hate relationship with backstage dramas. Either they're in the Judy Garland/Andy Rooney vein, putting on a show in a borrowed barn through the magic of a snappy montage, or so realistic as to feel like work, making them too painful to watch. Slings and Arrows manages to be neither, perhaps because it is Canadian. Realistic without being horrid, clever, well written and acted. I've bumped the second season up to the top of my Netflix list.

On the knitting front: I was a little too cocky about my progress on the first Liesl sweater. I knit half of it in one day, which is always impressive. You may recall from physics class that small deviations in initial conditions can cause wild divergences in eventual outcome. There was probably a diagram involving a a crazy looking, almost Fibonacci spiral in the book to illustrate this theory. Well, that is definitely true of feather and fan lace. I made an extra increase under the arm that quickly became seven extra stitches. If only I had caught it sooner, I might not have had to rip out five inches of work. Perhaps I will have to institute a lace knitting curfew. My mother used to tell me about the time of day that quilters put down their needles, which has more to do with the availability of natural light. Maybe there's a time when my mind just stops following lace.

2008-11-12T17:13:00.002-06:00

The past couple of days have been pretty mundane. I'm doing exciting things like getting a new widget, topping off the coolant in the bug in the rain, looking at paperwork, going to the bank, and staying up too late. Oh, and using the Oxford comma. Resistance is futile, grammar contrarians!

In the throes of terrible boredom, I came across a European Pez website. They have other flavors of Pez there. Some of them aren't even fruit flavors! When I saw a multipack of Pez at Walgreens with an unfamiliar flavor, I pounced. Naturally, I forgot what I'd gone in for, but I found raspberry Pez. Raspberry Pez are gross. They don't taste like Pez, but like real raspberries. Normally, that would be good, but I have clear expectations of Pez, and realistic flavor isn't one of them.

I'm on to another knitting project now, in the big countdown to xmas. It's a feather and fan scarf, knit out of a wonderful wool tape made by Colinette on big needles. The lace pattern is one of the simplest ones around, but it always manages to trip me up. I mess up the initial math for it, or forget that the decreases are directional. Sometimes, I purl a knit row. It's really not that hard, but it is at three in the morning. So, no more lace in the wee hours. The project was also started on the wrong needles. Wool tape on Bryspun needles? No. It dragged big time, leading me to give the side eye to the bag of the same yarn I'd just gotten in a trade on Ravelry. It's not the yarn's fault! Fortunately, Tyler just lent me a pair of Addis in the appropriate size. They are long and shiny and slick. The scarf is moving along lickety-split now, and the yarn has been redeemed.

2008-11-11T13:45:00.000-06:00

A picture poached from the BBC. Go hug a veteran.

2008-11-10T20:58:00.001-06:00

Wow, someone's already voted that they don't like the blog redesign. Awesome!

2008-11-10T20:42:00.003-06:00

I slept for twelve hours and woke up tired. Either I slept too much or not enough. Since I'm working off a sleep deficit rivaling that of the national debt, I think that I could use a nap. Maybe I'll have a soak in the tub and go to bed early. Yes, I have the usual post-closing funk. I didn't expect it to kick in until Thursday, the first time that I will have a phantom show twitch. Sigh.

Today has not been the most productive day. That is okay. People seem overly concerned with productivity these days. At least, the status updates of my friends on Facebook seem to mention being productive a lot. Being productive, wanting to feel productive, not being productive. Maybe it's the economy bearing down on everyone, or the basic need we have to create. Today, I put my test skein of Malabrigo sock up for trade on Ravelry and proceeded to watch the pot not boil. There is something about the internet that creates expectations of immediate results.

I did a bit of knitting, too, while watching Gossip Girl. I was really surprised to see Wallace Shawn as one of the guest stars. He's a genius of the theatre, but somehow always ends up in roles like the unwanted set-up for Candace Bergen on Sex and the City. The parents' plot lines don't get a lot of time on the show (a mistake), but I hope to see him in a few more episodes.

Daily Blogging? Fail!

2008-11-09T22:40:00.004-06:00

Experts say that it takes a month of doing something for it to become a habit. I'd assume that excludes hard drugs. Well, I couldn't make it a week with the daily blogging. In my defense, the last two days felt like one, as I only got a three hour nap between them. Yes, I was busy. Busy doing interesting things, like seething at the CTA again, closing my show, drinking Jack Daniels out of a paper cup, and taking both the late and the early train.

The CTA is such an easy target. It's dirty and lousy and we're lucky to have anything. But I was especially pissed when my train (to catch the last commuter train of the night) came to a stop due to single track schemes for what seemed like an eternity. Actually, I have no idea how long it sat there, because I bailed, fearing a missed connection with my other train. So, in addition to paying $1.75 not to get where I was going, I had to take a $9 cab ride. Service was still shitty today. The blue line moved with a rapidity that would have been impressive during the Lincoln administration. It made noises like it was dragging a muffler behind it and was perhaps held together with metal hangers from the dry cleaners.

I'd made a deal with myself that I could sleep on the commuter train, which was a lie. I've slept on Metra once. I was sick as a dog and jet lagged at the time. One of my biggest fears is missing my stop, as they're fairly far apart, so I try very hard to stay awake on the way home. The way there seems perfectly safe, but is always somehow impossible. The Bears were playing a home game today, so there were plenty of obnoxious fans on the train. Still drunk at eight? Well, that happens. But already drunk at eight am and working your way through a suitcase of Icehouse? Impressive. If that describes you, please do not attempt eye contact or any other forms of flirtation with me. Cary Grant is more my type.

While desperately trying to stay awake on the ride home this evening, I paged through the new Vanity Fair. I wasn't impressed with the Belle du Jour inspired photo spread with Kate Winslet. There was the unexpected delight of Jon Hamm in the new Gap holiday campaign (pictured above). It is sort of strange to seen him in modern clothes instead of his chic Mad Men suits. Still, very handsome. I wish that AMC would order longer seasons of Mad Men. Sure, 30 Rock has new episodes now, so it's not a total television wasteland, but it's not really the same. Kind of like carob and chocolate.

2008-11-08T00:11:00.003-06:00

I had a fairly busy day today, including a wake up call from my mom, lunch with Tyler, a regular appointment, the show, a visit to Zoe at work, and a call to the police.

I realize that it is not unreasonable to think someone might be awake at ten A.M., however, the someone was me. I was not, but I'd decided the night before that I wanted to wake up around that time. The previous night (well, very early this morning), I'd sent my mom an email asking her advice. The house next door has been vacant for a while and is now clearly abandoned. At first, there was a sign in the window and the grass in the yard was mown. Now, no signs, the back gate hanging at a drunken angle from its hinge, and the front door standing wide open. I'd assumed there was an agent in the house when I first saw the door ajar, but when it was still open at midnight two days later, I became concerned. I don't want to live next to a crack house. Most people don't. But I didn't know who to contact. Well, the police were happy to take care of it. I called their non-emergency line (which I had to look up. When I was a kid, they made us memorize the emergency and non-emergency numbers in Girl Scouts. Obviously, pre-911) and an officer showed up ten or fifteen minutes later. The door was closed when I came home tonight.

Winston alerted me to the police presence. Or maybe it was the mailman, who arrived at the same time. The sock patterns that I ordered from Blue Moon were waiting in a cardboard mailer between the doors. You can see how that would distract me from being a nosy neighbor. Since I have, as my mother put it, all of the sock yarn in the world, I've been looking for good sock patterns. Blue Moon has some really fabulous ones, including a couple that were just released from sock club exclusivity. When I'm done with all of my xmas knitting and have made a couple of warm sweaters, I plan to make the Cedar Creek Socks and Lenore, designed by the Yarn Harlot. How incredibly nerdy and fabulous are socks inspired by Edgar Allen Poe?

I'd hoped to catch Mamablue's etsy update this afternoon, but I was on the go. I even took my heavy old laptop with me to try to catch some free wi-fi. Since I don't *need* any more yarn, it's just as well that I missed it. I was hanging out with Zoe instead, and all of the wifi networks near her store required a key. When I checked after the show, everything had already been sold! Crazy. The Squid and Ink kit had piqued my interest, but I guess I'll just have to wait until they're released separately in 2009. And keep my fingers crossed that I can get them. The pattern, from what I can surmise while squinting intently at my monitor, looks like it would also work well from Malabrigo sock. I've had a skein of it sitting on my kitchen table for ages. It's just not my color, so I haven't been inspired, even though it is heavenly Malabrigo. I tried giving it to Tyler when I first got it, since he like manly colors like deep rust, but he doesn't do knitted socks and gave it back. Maybe I'll put it up for trade on Ravelry.

Wow.

2008-11-06T12:28:00.004-06:00

The title says it all. I don't know what we'll talk about at work now, since the election has been our most popular topic of conversation. I got a text message from an octogenarian friend in England about Obama's victory, which charmed me to no end. Maybe texts are still a novelty to her, or she just didn't want to type out his name, but she called him Mr. B.O. I had to laugh. I've never smelled our president-elect, but I imagine he smells very nice. He seems like a sandalwood and lime peel man. My stepmother also sent out a celebratory email. She grew up in Hawaii and remembers all the excitement when the islands became a state. Who could have imagined that less than fifty years later there would be a Hawaiian in the White House? Of course, we like to think of him as one of our own in Chicago. It's really incredible how many people identify with Obama and claim his as one of their own. I'm missing out on part of the celebration. I know that his election is incredibly important to African-Americans. Obama's race is a bit of a non-issue for me, which is probably a sign of something much larger happening in American society.

I've decided not to rub salt in the wounds of the few McCain supporters that I know. I called to talk to my Grandmother about it yesterday, and she seemed upbeat, hopeful about the outcome. She also told me that my Grandfather has decided not to comment on it. I can only imagine how this seems to them. The next president is younger than their children. Obama is my generation's Kennedy and I think that my grandparents liked Ike.

On the knitting front-- I'm plugging away at the xmas presents. I am especially pleased with the wrist warmers currently on the needles. Just look at that thumb gusset, in established rib pattern. Ill! I designed it myself. I feel confident about my progress, even though I have a couple of big projects left to knit.