The men are all wearing panty-hose*

Is there anything better than good news in the mail? I think not. I just got a letter from Kohls Cares, which is essentially a scholarship program, telling me that I’m moving on to what they term as “regionals”. That means I’m a lot closer to, you know, winning. I was so thrilled because of this, as you can well imagine. It’s for exemplary service in a volunteer position, which people, if I haven’t been exemplary, I don’t know what is.

Not only is this for 1,000 dollars, but I also can extract another 1,000 from KSU due to their matching program. Awesome right? Well, we can see if I win.

But I will win, because I well, have got more volunteer hours in one year, than most people do in their life. I had over 250 last year at one place, and over 100 at the other. The year prior I was over 50 at the one place, and probably close to 50 at the other. This year, I’ve gotten over 150, so people, I do a lot. So, I’m pretty optimistic. Granted, I was raised Methodist, so that may be related. Anyway, I still think I’ve got a good chance.

And, even if I don’t win, they still sent me a $50 dollar gift card. I’ll take what I can get. (I do need new underwear . . . ) And it is an honor. (He says in British accent, while making sweeping gesture.)

So, the knitting. Sigh, that’s really all that I can say on the subject. Sigh. I’ve been knitting some, but not really anything amounting to anything. I’m at that phase of my knitting where I’m knee-deep in a lot of stuff, and that means that it will be a while before I finish anything. The TSLS — that’ll be several more weeks, at the rate that I’m going. The top-down epaulet sweater — still on the first sleeve, no body. The socks, if I would ever work on them, could be done in a few days, they only need half a foot and a small toe. Sadie’s sweater is about half done, but I’m not working on it till I see her next and make sure that this half fits. So, that’s where I am, Project summary in less than 100 words.

Now, off to go online shopping. I would go to a store, but I really, really love packages. (Like enough to pay for shipping.)

*I couldn’t think of anything else for a title.

 

Monday

I’m starting to feel a little bit better, but that may very well just be the Advil talking. I took three yesterday, and felt pretty good till the evening, so today, I’m talking two, and we are just going to see how well this goes. The fact that it is slowly starting to feel a little bit better, leads me to think that it is indeed just a virus, that a doctor is unnecessary and a waste of money, and I’ll do just fine on my own. Granted, this is just my feeble attempt to avoid having them shove a tongue depressor down my throat. I hate that. I loathe that. There has got to be an easier way. Can’t they just look and see? It seems like an awful lot of fuss. “Yes, I can see the back of your throat. Now I need to feel it.”

My father is working second shift this week, which means I’ve got him underfoot all week till two o’clock. He is pretty easy to work around, not like my mother who doesn’t know the meaning of “Why are you breathing like that?” (It really means “If I don’t get two seconds away from you in the next two seconds, than I shall start to internally combust and light the house on fire.”) Granted, this morning, I’m sitting at my desk doing something, he comes out of his room, and without so much as a “good morning,” he asks me, “Could you make up some coffee?”

My inner bitch wanted to retaliate with “Make your own coffee,” but I have learned that people do not often take kindly to the IB. She is crude, loud, she smokes in inappropriate places, swears about every third word, and just generally acts in a way that most people I know would not let me get away with. And had I not made coffee that morning, that’s probably what I would have said. Also, I couldn’t say that, namely because I, well, I had coffee made. Anyway, all this is merely a round about way of saying I’ll be a little frazzled this week.
(Also, spending the evenings with just my mother and the baby will probably drive me into becoming some raging psychopath that doctor Freud would have a field day with.)

I’m almost finished with the first half of the body on Sadie’s Sweater. I’m going to do a little I-cord around the cuff of the sleeve, sew the sleeve seem, graft the body together, and wet block it to get a full view of what it would look like. Then I plan to try it on her, to see how it fits. Hopefully all will go well.

I probably won’t see her till Thursday at the earliest, so I’ve got a week free, essentially, from working on her sweater. (Which is fun to knit, sure, but it’s not for me, so I really can only devote a certain amount of interest to it.) I’ll probably use this as a chance to return to my Epaulet sweater, because a week of 80+ temps really makes me see the sense of knitting a thick wool sweater. (I keep telling myself that Kent is closer to the snow belt than Wadsworth, but not by that much.)

That will do for today.

 

Death on a Biscuit

While I am not 100% sure that I’ll have the mental strength to make it through 4+ years of college, I really am beginning to doubt that I’ll be able to get through it physically.

All of that is a complicated way of saying that I’m sick, again. Yes again, at least this time it’s a different part of me that I want to cut out and sacrifice to the god Apollo, god of healing and medicine. (Only I don’t really think I could live without it.)

Let’s just have a little review of the illnesses I’ve had over the past six months.

December — Which shall forever be known as the time when I really honestly thought that I was going to die and I was perfectly fine with that. The weekend that I couldn’t stand. That night at work when I nearly gave into my natural urge to tell Carolyn to f*ck off. The night when I remember listening to A Prairie Home Companion, but I really cannot remember for the life of me what and who were on the show that night, and I really wanted to do was sleep. That night when I went into the kitchen at four in the morning for a bowl of soup and my sister was still up and trying to make conversation with a sick, tired, and hungry person. (I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not because of that night that I don’t want anything to do with her.) The day when I’d sit in bed and read for ten minutes and that would exhaust me so much that I would have to sleep for the next half hour. And than on Sunday night I got up, got a shower, and headed to tax class, felt just fine. Sometimes it’s feeling like a human again.

And then when I had the flu again in February. I lost all of Friday then, but was pretty much better by Sunday. The worst part was that I had to watch Oliver for about three hours that morning. He was a lot lighter then though.

Then you have the thousands of little colds and coughs that I’ve had on and off this spring. Nothing to really take me out of commission, but enough to just make every moment a lot harder.

And now I’ve got some really dehablitating sore throat. Oh, this is terrible. Swallowing fills me with an unholy sense of dread. Breathing makes me wonder why that really is necessary? I mean, they can come up with fat free cake, but yet they can’t figure out how to keep a human being alive without oxygen. I don’t think they’re trying enough. It may be strep throat, but I don’t know, and I really, really hope not, simply because that would require me to go to a doctor and get an antibiotic. (I think. I had that once when I was like 11, and all I remember is that I was miserable, and that my mother wouldn’t leave me alone.)

So I’m pretty much lazing about the house these days, occasionally drinking some tea and reading a book, thinking fondly about the days when I was able to do things like write books and knit sweaters. Those were good days. And do you remember when I was able to exercise? Oh, I was so thin. I miss being thin. (I’m still pretty thin . . .  as long as I’m standing up.)

Anyway, back before I contracted the plague. (Which I think was, maybe Tuesday?) I became a minister. Yep, you read that right. The Universal Church of Life (as opposed to the Universal Church of Death, which I think I’m closer to today) recognizes me as a minister. Granted, The Universal Church of Life makes Unitarians look conservative, and Lutherans look downright fundamentalist. Seriously, these people’s slogan is “Promoting the Freedom of Religion.” Anyway, I can now preside at marriages, baptisms and funerals. Actually, I have to order a certificate if I want to preform marriages in the state of Ohio. But I can marry residents of Washington State if I want to.

And last night was the last episode of The Office. Let me tell you, that having worked for a crazy person in an office setting, that show couldn’t be more true. I cried and cried though, I just couldn’t help myself. I still can’t really believe that it’s over. I feel like I know the people on it, doesn’t that sound silly? I’m sure it does.

I’ve knit a few rows on Sadie’s sweater. Not much to really speak of, but I did make it to the sleeve. I can’t wait to finish this one off, and move back to the knitting for my favorite person to knit for . . . ME. (Or, when I’m in a certain mood, my mother. She’s just so little, I can’t get over the difference between a 40 inch sweater and a 34 inch one. It’s amazing.

Sharing Gonorrhea

Okay, I have this friend, we’ll call her Sadie, mostly because that’s her name. She’s blond, with a pointy nose and an hourglass figure.  She’s  a sweet girl, and the kind that I would usually force teach to knit. She gave me the old “I’d love to but I don’t have time.” That usually pisses me off, but considering that she’s a single mother with two jobs, I was willing to accept that she probably doesn’t have time. Anyway, about two weeks ago, I went down to the coffeehouse and I was wearing my Gonorrhea sweater ( or Rorschach sweater), and when she saw me wearing a sweater that I had made, she flipped out.

Now, the phrase “flipped out” can mean many things, and really it leaves the reader with more questions than answers. Let me just say that she really liked this sweater. She loved my Gonorrhea (you knew that was coming), what can I say? Like, made me take it off so she could try it on, and then walked around the store wearing it for a about a half hour. There was a brief period where I seriously thought that I wasn’t going to get it back. Anyway she pressured and cajoled and bribed me into knitting her one. I am not thrilled about this, but she is a friend, and, it being at 4 to the inch, is relatively quick knitting.

And she is paying me, and I say, that because it was money earned by knitting, I therefore should be able to spend it on knitting. It only makes sense. I told her that I would do it for $50, really just to cover the cost of my yarn, so I wouldn’t be losing money on it. I got home and looked at my stash and saw that the only yarns I had that would fit the bill (she said she wanted Reggae colors so she could smoke pot in it.) (I swear I just meet these people.) were from an unraveled sweater (Wouldn’t be enough for a sweater for me, but would be for her), a gift from Cindy, and some leftovers (it’s kind of stripy.) So, I actually will be making money. Cool!

Anyway, I am flying with this one. Namely because I have pretty much dedicated about 90% of my knitting time to it. I’m about ready to finish the left body, and start the left sleeve. The sweater starts in the center of it, and each half is worked outwards from there. It’s an unusual way of making a sweater, but a nice change from the standard bottom up, with all the percentages and grafting. I’m not adding that little strip at the bottom, which is cute but kind of pointless if you don’t decrease at “A” and “F”. If you’ve ever made it, that will make sense, if not, don’t worry about it.

The blurry photo means it looks like a pot-smoking sweater to me. I actually am enjoying the knitting of this one, but still, I can’t wait for it to be done.

Yarn? What Yarn?*

Okay, I wasn’t going to post today, but I have to say something.

I may have to much yarn.

Pick yourself up off the floor.

You, in the back, stop laughing, that’s not nice, and you have the laugh of a hamster on meth.

Anyway, yes, I may have to much yarn. I was sorting was cleaning up the stash today when this thing hit me. I’m making a little sweater for Sadie at the coffeehouse. I’m charging her $50. I told her that was just to cover the cost of the yarn, but that isn’t entirely true considering I’ll be using leftovers, unraveled store bought sweaters (which, being pretty high up at a consignment clothing store, means I get them for free) and two skeins that were a present from Cindy. Anyway, some of that stuff was stored in the Rubbermaid capsule, which is buried underneath more fiber, so that kind of meant that I had to do a little bit of stash diving. And it is odd how you forget getting things. Like there was this one big mound of roving, an alpaca and wool blend, and it took me about five minutes to figure it out. Really, I get fiber from about two places — The shop, and Wooster (Two weeks people!) Anyway, I sat there looking at it. I have no recollection of buying a wool/ Alpaca blend. None. I would never buy that — it is so much cheaper now to buy just Alpaca (the bottom fell out  of the market. I bought two pounds of fiber from this independent grower for about 20 dollars. )

Oh, right, that was a present from Fay. Right. That was the one that I dropped on my way back from knitting on a really rainy night, with the wind blowing, and by the time I realized it was gone it was already in the neighbors yard and kept blowing as I chased it. How could I forget that?

Anyway, A lot of it are single skeins, or maybe two of a color. Great for scarves and mittens and things, but not so good for garmets — which is mostly what I knit. Anyway, I guess that is just the way things go. But I am picturing a lot of phone conversations over the next few years that go something like this: “Hi Dad, how are you? I’m fine? Real busy here at college. Yeah. Could you come get me for the weekend? Great. Oh, maybe go out to dinner, see a movie, you know.  I need to do some laundry, all out of yarn . . . . “

Anyway, I’ve thought about it, and well, most of the cheap acrylic nonsense is on it’s way out to a charity. I don’t have the room to store it, and really, if it comes down to it, I’ll unravel old sweaters for yarn. Even the cheap cotton ones are better than the Red Heart.

Okay, I think you all will appreciate this. I was just sitting here, typing this, and I took a little break to go out and get the mail. Lo and behold, my Knit Picks order is here. (Thanks Silvia!!)  Holy shit that was fast! I ordered that, Tuesday I think. I don’t think it even left them until Wednesday. This is Friday. Wow. I didn’t get fancy shipping either.  Great!

Of course, now all I want to do is start something with it. Never mind I’ve got two sweaters on the needles, one with a deadline, a shawl, and a pair of socks.

I can do something with it when I finish Sadie’s Sweater. (The Gonarreah Sweater if you must ask. Or Rorschach.) That’s just what I’m saying to light a fire under me.

*And yes, that title is related to an old Yarn Harlot Joke. I’m feeling pretty harlot-y now, considering I just want to go slide around naked in the Peruvian Wool downstairs. I’ll resist that urge.

Epaulet Sweater

Okay, a lot of my knitting time here recently has been dedicated to the Epaulet Sweater — at least my at home knitting. I always try to have two things on the go — one of them portable and one of them not so, and when they both end up to big into fit into my man purse that’s when socks come into the picture. Anyway, this one is pretty much no longer portable, so it’s just an at home thing. (And my main at-home thing too, considering that I’m finally done with the body of TSLS and the edging for that is light and small.)

I’m pretty happy with it, at least for the most part. It is a very dense piece of knitting, so it isn’t exactly easy on the wrists, but that isn’t that big of an issue. It’s a worsted weight yarn, and that means that it knits up at around 5 stitches to the inch, which is pretty standard for a worsted, and I get that on a U.S. 2 (I know, I am the world’s loosest knitter — it’ll make me very popular during college) (Also, as an aside, I would just like to point out to you that I am writing this while on hold with Student Career Services, so it may be a little . . . . odd.)

It’s a top down piece of knitting, which is a very unusual method for me to make a sweater. I understand all the ways that it is convient and makes more sense than bottom up, but the thing is, I like the aesthetics of bottom up knitting better, and the thing is, if you make all your sweaters in the round (as all mine are) you really can try yours on as you go, which is pretty much the biggest pro-top down knitting argument. And the thing is, all my top-down knitting has ended badly. Bottom up — I’ve had a few failures, but that is to be expected. Anyway, the Epaulet Sweater is knit from the top down, and is really just, and I really didn’t see that till after I knit it, a hybrid sweater from the top down, with a smaller back saddle. (That probably sounded like gibberish to you. Don’t worry, it makes so much more sense than it sounds)

Well, last night I finished the yoke part of it, and am now working on the sleeves. I think it’s a good idea, on a top down sweater, to do the sleeves first. No matter what you do, you’re going to feel like your knitting an octopus at the end of it, but with the sleeve already done it feels less like one. Think about it, Which is better, to have 95% of a sweater hanging off 30 sleeve stitches at the cuff, or 200 stitches at the hem. Take the body, it just makes more sense, you have more control over it, and the weight of the sweater effects your gauge less. It makes sense.

Here’s a picture where I look either, drunk, high, crazy, or a combination of all three. (I took about twenty, this is the pick of the lot.)

Vogue will be calling any day now. And yes, I do need to shave. And ignore the clothes in the background that I need to put away.

Anyway, only 14 things left to knit in KW. I just counted on the list that I’ve had taped over my desk for almost a year. Oh my god, I’ve almost been knitting from KW for a year. June 1st is my official start date. It’ll be one year in three weeks. Given the current rate of progress, I estimate, maybe a year and a half total for this thing. Sweet!

 

White Blob

Last night, I hit a mile stone in my knitting.

I finished the white body of the Traditional Shetland Lace Shawl. (And you know this is big, I don’t type out this shawl’s full name for nothing.)  It still isn’t quite a full square, but I ran out of yarn, and peoples, I am really ready to see the tail end of this one. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s easy knitting, it’s wonderfully soft. (An Angora/Wool/Nylon blend that I ripped out of a store bought sweater.) It’s easy knitting, making it great for dimly lit coffeehouses (though here lately it hasn’t been really portable), knitting in the darkened room while the baby’s about ready to fall asleep, wonderful to knit while watching Oliver too — no pattern and it can be thrown aside quickly as he totters toward the coffee table, and this thing was wonderful to knit on through the throws of Downton Abbey. However, during all those other times, it was very dull knitting. And it’s huge. Let me do a little math . . . . to the best of my knowledge the white center of this shawl has . . . . 62,160 stitches. That’s a lot of knitting, and that’s just the white part. With the rest of it, it is certainly is in the neighborhood of 150,000 stitches, or will be by the time I get through with it.

One of the biggest drawbacks to this shawl is that towards the end, I could only work on it at home. Not only is the thing the size of some small country in the middle east, but it is also sheds. I could only work on it at the end of the day, before bed, because I would always end up with a halo of white fuzz on me. Last night, I wore black when I worked on it, and I swear that my shirt looked patterned with all the white fuzz. (And about 90% of my clothes are either black or grey.) I would occasionally work on it in the mornings, but I was naked then, so it didn’t count. The chair that I sat in while I worked on it, it is covered in white fuzz, that and cat hair. I never knew a yarn to shed so much.

But it is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo soft. I don’t think I’ve ever had a yarn this soft, not even a cashmere. I want to roll around in it naked, and with the size of this thing, I will be able to do so. When it’s all said and done, all the edges and blocked, it will be about as tall as I am. Maybe even more, and that’s saying something because I am, exactly, six feet tall. (All muscle.)

However, I am so ready to move on to the feather and fan edging on this puppy. Purling, I wonder if I can remember how to do it . . .

P.S. Here’s a bonus picture of Oliver playing with my yarn last night. We have to make the knitters while they’re young. And yes, my yarn was all slobbery