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.

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

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!

 

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!

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.

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.