two knits of ivory

So I decided I'm taking tomorrow off to get some things done that went undone last weekend and the weekend before. This way, this weekend coming up I might be more apt to get motivated to work on a couple of overdue projects, instead of attempt to play catch up and whine at my failure. Did I mention I was cranky? Well, I thought it was worth mentioning again. I always think it's worth mentioning. And this, really, is why I find being alone preferable. I wouldn't want to listen to anyone tell me they are cranky, but I have a congenital urge to share this information myself. So I blog it. Hopefully it doesn't do any damage out there in the cyberspacial innertubes. That's a cool word, cyberspatial. Yes, I made it up just now. That's what words are for, to communicate exactly what one is thinking or feeling. If there isn't a word to do that, I say, make it up. Language is the clay of communication. Molding it is one of my life's greatest ent...

Many, many, many moons ago I went through a Herman Hesse phase. I devoured, rather than savored, each book of his I read. So it is no wonder that I remember very little. Only one idea I came across in his writings took root in my chaotic mind and this was the supposition by a character that the act of biological reproduction is a necessary psychological step, or evolution, for man. The narcissism of youth must make way for the selfless devotion, an all important transformative experience, of parenthood. Now that I am an adult, and a little less naive, I can plainly see all around me that birthing babies doesn't cure narcissism. My birth sure as heck didn't cure it in my family. But that doesn't mean there is no truth to Hesse's belief. I still believe in his theory even though I was never able to test it out myself. By the time I was healed enough to embrace motherhood my body no longer could provide for me. I am both proud and angry about the four years I ...

It's been a roller coaster week. The good news is that it seems to be ending on a sweeter note than it began. I'm working on gift knitting, mostly. I expect to knit at least three pair of socks and one dishcloth for Christmas gifts. I would prefer if I could up the sock ante by two and the dishcloth ante by three, but I refuse to set myself up to fail. As long as I get the former amount done, any part of the latter finished will be gray-vay. So far I have one pair done: And a second pair on the needles (progress is from the weekend): Both are knit in heavyweight STR and knit up faster than one could say supercalifragilisticispyalidocious. Seriously, in the time it took you to read that word, I nearly completed one sock. The past two weeks have been spent working on a hat and mitt set for the deserving husbeast. We celebrated our 10 year anniversary a little over a month ago and I thought I'd knit him a hat and mitt set in heavenly Sundara ASM to show my appreciation ...

I cannot count how many times in the past two months I thought I finally was going to get ahead of the curve only to find myself behind a seemingly insurmountable mountain of work and life obligations. I'm in government finance and its budget season, so the forces in my world have been excessively engaging, at their best, and infuriatingly obtuse, at their worst. Ugh. But, you know there is an amazing silver lining, and one that I keep coming back to time and again. It's already February. That's right, February. I have been far too busy to even notice winter passing me by. Now, that is something to celebrate at chez yarn. Usually by the winter solstice, which is December 21st or 22nd, I am miserably counting down the hours and days and weeks and months left of the dark days of winter. This misery wallowing begins the moment we turn the clocks back. I'm in awe of how busy I've been to really, and I mean really, acknowledge the time of year. It's like ...

When I take pictures of my knitting, and my yarn, I really take it seriously. I really love looking at pictures of knitted items and yarn. I love seeing the colors and textures and the overall object. The more detailed the picture, the more natural the lighting, the more joy I get in looking at it. Pictures of the tiny little stitches of socks represent my most favorite type of knitting p0rn. I kinda feel weird about this fascination. Among knitters, I surmise, I may be in a minority, but probably not alone. Yet, it is not a topic I have ever seen discussed in the knitosphere. I'm sure, now that I am reflecting on it, there is a group on Ravelry for people like me. If I was more of a social creature, I would have flushed them out by now. In the meanwhile, though, my latest attempt to capture my own piece of pictorial heaven was done in poor light yesterday afternoon. These are a Christmas gift for my niece, Meaghan. Even though these are not my colors, I was still impell...

Back in September I went up north to spend the weekend with my Dad's wife, Chris. The reason was the Vermont Sheep and Wool festival. VT Sheep and Wool is a small festival that held several delights. One of these delights was a sheep shearing demonstration. The demonstration sought to illustrate how old "skool" tools work, rather than the art of shearing. The docents used a hand cranked shearing tool. It was extremely labor intensive. While the demonstration was fun, Chris's being able to walk away with the fleece, free of charge, was priceless. That they gave it away surprised us so much, I realized later I never got a decent picture of the completely shorn (shorn is so a word, blogger!) fleece. I was further surprised, and deeply impressed, that Chris was over the moon with the prospect of transforming that greasy, feces encrusted pile of mess into spinning fiber. My sensory idiosyncrasies bar the thought of such a thing, never mind the the deed. Througho...

Did I scare you away? Never in a zillion quadrillion years would I ever expect to knit with fun fur . Three or four years ago, when scarves made of this stuff were all the rage, I knit a scarf on request from my MIL. As soon as this project was done I threw the scraps out and never looked back. Novelty yarns have never been a draw for me. You know how saying "never" never works out for me? (As in I'm now on my second triangular shawl after saying never again?) Well, last winter one of my favorite bloggers, Maryse of bag 'n' trash/monster yarn , designed a cute little fun fur xmas tree and I fell in love. Kitschy yarn and kitschy Christmas decor; it's like two wrongs making the most perfect right. I didn't find the exact color Maryse used, but I'm not too concerned. If it comes out horrific, I'll just break down and find the exact green Maryse used online. I hope to start this project in the upcoming week, when I need a break from my curre...

I actually like memes, but most wind up in my draft folder. This one I couldn't resist for the mere fact the very quiet life I've led for the past 15 or so years is in direct contrast to a crazy childhood. This stroll down memory lane was inspired by Maryse 's posting . Who was your first prom date? I went with a school friend, Eric Barbasso. I was asked the year before at a different school, but I was so shocked to be asked that I said no. The guy was wicked cute too. I am sad to report my interpersonal skills haven't much improved. Do you still talk to your first love? Very rarely, but oddly just two weeks ago. What was your first alcoholic drink? I don't recall but it was probably beer. What was your first job for pay? I started a paper route at age 11. I think the legal age for the job was 12 so I had to get some kind of special dispensation of sorts, but I don't remember what it was. Maybe they just looked the other way? What was your first car? I have ne...

I'm venturing back to blogland and all those sweet comments have given me the tearies. Thanks for the sweet thoughts on my travails and my Digitessa . I wish I had something to show for myself this weekend but my camera isn't cooperating. I'm not worried. Yet. Here's a gratuitous Wii picture: His and hers GHIII guitars for the Wii, differentiated only by our sticker preferences. Oh, and I sewed that pillow that they are leaning against. From scratch, with no pattern. (Eat your heart out Martha!) That's the only crafty angle I have here today. Or is it? That rocker is a recent acquisition. This winter, my Aunt Nan gave me some of my grandmother's things. The rocker was one, as was this crocheted coverlet I have draped over a bench. (The bench I received after she died in 1999). According to my Aunt, my grandmother began this project when her youngest, my father, left for college. I can't imagine the time it took to crochet all these squares. I'm pretty ...

My sister received her socks, the Christmas Balls socks , and she wont try them just yet, even though I need her to tell me if they are too tight. She's parsimonious like that. Me, I have to jump right into things immediately, or they lose their charm. Not my sister, she is doomed to save, save, save. Being the opposite, I've always assumed she's missing out by being frugal, hence the "doomed," but maybe she enjoys the savoring, more than the wearing. I can't believe I'm just realizing this possibility now, as in right this minute as I write. The first real socks (real-life, foot-shaped socks in sport weight yarn, as opposed to christmas-stocking size socks, in worsted weight yarn, the likes of which hubby still wears around the house) I ever made were for her. And you know after I sent her the pair I realized she might never wear them. Why? She's a hoarder. It's just her way. So you know what I did? I made a second pair immediately and...

Last month, my Dad and his wife, Chris, came to stay, and wouldn't you know it I was charged with planning a yarn crawl for her and myself. We hit my three fave LYSses that Saturday, and then braved a morning squall on Sunday to visit a not-so-local LYS that I had yet to see, The Woolpack , in Littleton, MA. Even with the fabulous sale at Wild and Woolly, I bought nary a thing that Saturday. Luckily, I had just finished Project Stole , as I don't think I would have had the fortitude to resist the 20 skeins of forest green Jo Sharp Silkroad Aran they had on sale for $120 (that's $6 bucks a skein!) otherwise. I was a good girl, I lived vicariously through Chris, ogling in safety as she purchased a couple of sweater kits. On Sunday, though, I succumbed. The Woolpack was a great shop. They have a huge book section, as well as an expansive yarn selection. There were oodles of new to me yarns, and a goodly number of novelty yarns which were easy for me to resist. It wasn...

Just the other day, when I was outside photographing my Firestarter socks to no end, I finally had the opportunity to get a snapshot of Ripley in the sweater I knit on the Rhinebeck road trip. The tight knit means it is a great outdoor sweater since it's snugness will reduce the amount of snagging that is bound to occur when he goes traipsing off into the woods. The good news, I now have photographic proof of my effort for all posterity. The bad news, just a few hours later this sweater, knit in the most luscious malabrigo merino yarn, was transformed into this: Can you see that wide black scorch mark? It's a desecration and of my own making. I nuked it in the microwave with a cotton bandanna. Who knew cotton bandanna's combust in the microwave? Well you can thank a crazy knitter in the blogosphere for clearing up that little housekeeping mystery. You may be wondering to yourself why someone would nuke a knitted item. Really, I have a good excuse but before I get to it, a ...

We had beautiful, if unseasonably warm, weather for our trip west to the New York Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY. Although it didn't start out as well as it finished. When we left our house around 5:15 am it was very dark, 60 degrees, and muggy. Bleh. Hubby was understanding and let me knit by car light until the sun came up. We were deeply rewarded when in full sun we could see the blaring fall visage of the Berkshires. I forget, from lack of travelling, how fabulous the view is from the Massachusetts Turnpike (I-90). The mountains sported every vibrant, fall shade imaginable, moss green, yellow cab yellow, fiery red, and a panoply of every hue in between. The Taconic Expressway in New York was as beautiful, if not moreso, since the woods and rolling hills were much closer and gave us a far more intimate view than the Turnpike. Even with one missed turn, we made it to my Aunt's house by 8:00 am. Her favorite pastime is rug hooking. She's really good. She won a r...

Working on the Summer Set cardigan this weekend has definitely helped me get out of my funk. As of a week from yesterday I was at this point: But then, I somehow lost a stitch at the end of the row and had to frog a third of the way back. That's not something that's happened to me a great deal. Here I was earlier last night at the end of the third skein: I'm about ready to move the sleeves off the needles and connect the body. While I toiled away, some lounged. The nerve, eh? *Finally could edit post to include title. Removed reference of same from beginning post.

Saturday the hubster and I took the ferry from New London, CT to Orient, NY (the north fork of LI) for a birthday luncheon. My grandmother turns 85 this year and my Aunt and Uncle put together a surprise lunch at a pub style restaurant in Riverhead, NY. As is my aspy way, I failed to mention to her that she looked great and not a day over 65. This is not hyperbole. We arrived at my Uncle's and she was fotzing around in the pool with her great grandson. The ferry ride down was brisk. We sat on the upper deck and breathed deep the salty sea hair for approximately one and a half hours. It was all knitting, all the time. I worked on the Brights socks which I've decided to call Sweet Tarts. The stitch markers are to keep track of the purl stitch decreases I'm making every six rows. The evening ferry ride back is always colder so I took the opportunity to work on the Burgundy throw. I definitely made some headway into the final set of skeins. Unfortunately, all did not remain pea...