Some Updates

(First some technical business: What this means is that I’ve forgotten to buy camera batteries, so this shall once again be a photoless blog, like a lot of mine are.)

I have something important to tell you. Something big.

I have a new lover.

Yes you read that right. Me, lover. The two of us happy ever after.

My father was the one who introduced us. I first saw him in the backseat of his car.

I am in love, I must admit it. I didn’t think I could love anyone this much. But I really do love him. He’s quiet, but so thoughtful, he keeps things clean, lives to dishes. He does what you tell him to do, and he likes it to. He takes a little while to get there, but it’s so wonderful when he does. And makes every thing so warm. I want to rub it all over my body.

His name. Frigidaire. His face is stainless steel with a butcher block on top. (I have a thing for men with a butcher block.) He even remembers what cycle I like best, which is more than I can say for anyone else I’ve ever dated. I have to hit two buttons and he does the rest. He’s certainly not a selfish lover.

And he brought his friend, the garbage disposal with him.

We’re going to have a threesome.

 . . . . . . . .

I got the dreaded knit guilt this morning. Oh, why does this happen to me. I started looking around and seeing, really seeing the UFO’s lying about. Okay, there’s only like three of them. Maybe four. But it got me thinking.

I need to finish things.

I could probably finish off the Traditional Shetland Lace Shawl in a week if I really wanted to. I’ve got a pair of socks that need a toe. That’s it, they need a toe. They need an hours knitting and they’d be done. But did I knit the toe. No, I didn’t, and I’m still not sold on the idea. Who needs socks? It’s summer. (We are over looking the fact that it’s rained for the past week or so.)

The Epaulet sweater just needs a body, and not even a whole body, but like 7\8 of one, if we are being honest. I think I could do that in a week if I set my mind to it, and gave up carrying anything else around and using the largest man purse at my defense. Maybe now that it’s a touch cooler I’ll finish up this one. I really do like it and I think it’ll make a great fall coat for this fall, before I’m able to come home and get all my winder things. (Kent is farther north, granted, about ten minutes farther north, but with the lake there (if you ask me what lake I will internet smack you) those few miles make a big difference. And I’ve been told that next year will be a brutal winter, which sounds like both a good thing and a bad thing.

What was I talking about? Right knitting. (I worry, with my bad memory, what I’ll be like when I get older. It makes me think of Nora Ephron’s I Remember Nothing. However, a ray of hope is provided because, at the clothing store, if a person wants to shop, I have to pull their information up out of the little file boxes, by their last name. I realized the other day that I waited on more people who’s name I knew then who’s name I didn’t know. Yet, I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night.)

Again, knitting. My Pi shawl is in the 500+ stitches range, so we are down the home stretch. I’ve just got about 80 more rounds to go. I’m sure that sounds like a lot, but I really don’t think it’s that much. I get to burst into a lace pattern here really soon and then have fun. I’ll be heading up to the library soon and picking out a Barbara Walker. (I know, are you shocked? I don’t own any Barbara Walkers.)I’m also thinking about doing a wide border. Really wide, like 10 inches. (I don’t know why I do this to myself.) Or maybe like 5. That sounds more doable. I’ll do a little more looking later. It’s a cashmere shawl, I’d be crazy if I didn’t want to spend more time with it.


Cadbury’s marketing once again wrecks it’s vengence on me

Well, my father has returned from his adventure up north, and guess what he brought back with him

Cadbury Toffee Cruchies

I don’t know how I’ve lived this long without them. One bite and I believed in heaven. All my spiritual juggling was solved and I suddenly felt like life itself had been given its meaning. Oh, and that was just with the first bite. The second was even better.

And now, a few days later, I’ve worked my way through the bag of 18 and have only one left. I don’t want to eat this one because I’m afraid what will happen to me if I run out. I’m naturally a very high strung person, and not having that will likely make it worse. Maybe I’ll end up taking herion or something. I hear that’s nice and mellowing. Or maybe I’ll do some digging to see if I can order them.

I’m tempted to truck back up there to find some, but I’ve halted this plan for several reasons. One, I don’t have a driver’s license. Two, I don’t have a place to stay, and I don’t think that I’d want to hitchhike at night on the way back. Three, I don’t have a passport, and while I really do like these things, I don’t think that it really is worth illegally sneaking over the border. However, I could always send dad back up there. But, he just got back, and I know he does love me and think highly of me, I think I might be crossing that line.

Well, more household news, not of the knitting variety. I am getting closer to having a dishwasher. Yes, a dishwasher. I am finally going to be one of those people that I have no sympathy for. A dishwasher! I can’t stop thinking about it. (It burns me a little that I am moving away in less than two months.) But I still will have tons of quality time with the new dishwasher, and considering that I’m the only one likely to unload the thing, I think we’ll get to know each other really well. I already love him.

And he is also brining his new friend with him, Mr. Garbage Disposal. Yep, I’m going to have a garbage disposal too. (I hear the theme from The Jefferson’s in my head right now, do you?) When it rains it pours, only I could use this kind of rain. The really odd part is now, I’ve got a sink drain that I actually can find a stopper to fit in, but I’m not going to need it. Isn’t that odd, but in a good way.

I’ve tons of work to do out in the garden today. Staking and caging the tomatoes, weeding, picking berries, the works. I’m not thrilled about this, but at least it’s not terribly hot out. I keep hearing thunder, and a minute ago it sprinkled, so I’m not really sure if this will happen today, but it stopped there for a while. That’s fine, I’ve got tons of indoor work to keep myself busy.


No Knitting Really

It has become that time of year. That golden time of summer when you wake up at five am out of sheer anticipation at the day that it’s going to be. Granted, I usually just go back to bed for a few hours like any sane person would do, but I’m still up and doing things at a reasonable hour. This morning I’ve been up and running. (Well, running is a bit of a stretch, I put on spandex and sort of sprint.) Then I came home, picked the strawberries, picked the raspberries, pulled some weeds, and then staked and caged some tomatoes. (I’ve started referring to my garden as “my annual bought of insanity”). Then I took a shower, played around on the internet for a while and now here I am writing this while listening to “disco’s greatest hits”.

It might not be known to you my gentle reader, but my father has headed for the hills, the hills being in this case, Canada. On a fishing trip. I don’t get this. If I were to go to Canada I would go to Toronto, and take myself on a tour of wool shops, that sort of thing. Eat Poutine. You know, Canadian stuff. Buy things with a two dollar coin. Have a beer. What is he doing? He’s fishing. He goes all that way to put on pleather waders and stand a river.

(Non-knitters, this is sort of like a knitter joke. When you tell people that you’re going off to a wool festival, which I haven’t had the privilege of doing, they always say, “What, are you going to do, just sit around and knit?” You always have to answer ” No, we drink and spin too!” And then you have to compare it to a fishing trip, which, when you boil it down is really just holding a stick and standing in a river, that no one ridicules. That’s knitting humor for you.”

So it’s just Ma and the baby around here for a little while. I find I let my standards of housekeeping down when there isn’t much of an audience, and my audience has decreased by a third. Or maybe I’m just getting lazy. Of course, now that it’s just the two of us, we can allow something like Spanish rice, or tuna hot-dish to pass as dinner — which is nice. (My father is one of those meat eating types, who likes to sit down to a hunk of broiled flesh and if it doesn’t have that, then it’s not a meal. Never mind that the two above both have meat in them, they still aren’t a meal. Don’t ask.)

And we’re watching tons of movies too. One recently was a re-screening of “Under the Tuscan Sun”. Have you ever seen that one? I don’t know what came over me as I watched it this time, I usually get a little choked up at that part where there old man waves, but this time it was positively ridiculous. I cried for the last half hour of that movie, and tons of parts in the middle. Oh, bring on the water works. Ah, at least I’m not one of those men who are afraid to cry. Hell, I’m afraid not to.

Anyway, I’m started to do a little pre-college packing. This isn’t really so much packing, but paring down myself, and reducing my possessions to the lowest common denominator. I don’t need that, I don’t need this. You know the drill. I got rid of tons of shoes, sweat shirts, and jeans. Tons of stuff that didn’t fit me. (Either clothes from when I was fat, or “hopeful thinking”.) I work in a used clothing store so you can imagine how the clothes have piled up. I cleaned out my books and my bags, and my yarn. Yarn was the hard one. I’ve got a lot of stuff that I will, to be perfectly honest, never use. (Sounds snobbish, but I don’t really care.) I would rather rip out a wool sweater than knit with acrylic yarn, at least for the most part. And as long as I’ve got access to a five dollar bill and a thrift store, I can knit a sweater. (And my needles and Elizabeth.) So you have that. I’m starting to think about how I want to store my things, both at home and at college. What to take and what to leave? (Smaller needles and the interchangeable set can come, leave the rest, maybe a few straight needles, my EZ books and a stitch dictionary, that sounds about right. Anything else I can live without, and it’s not like I’m going to the ends of the earth, Kent is an hour away if you hit heavy traffic. Some sock yarn and a few sweater’s worth. I will be at home at least once or twice in a month. I’ll be fine.)

And now I need to go clean up a bit. The dust buffalo look like they are planning a revolt.

Breaking the Code and brief knitting

Just a few minutes ago, I violated the receptionists code. To those of you who haven’t answered phones for a living, there is an unwritten code within all receptionists that you will be as calm and polite as possible when dealing with people on the phone. I truly believe that everybody should have to work the phones at some point in their life, because they then learn that the person at the other end of the line is a real person with real feelings and that they don’t have this magic wand that they wave to make everything better. Often times they are drones who are paid minimum wage and often don’t receive the information that they need to properly do their job, especially if they work at a Tax preparation firm. Anyway, I’ve been working on work-study for a while now, just to fill in the 18,000 dollar gap that I’ll need to fill this fall. And I’ve been getting pulled around for a while by the FA office. Today, after twenty minutes on hold (relax, I knit) I finally talked to a person, and one who knew what she was doing. I told her what I was looking for, and then she proceeded to give the e-mail address of the work-study guy. Then something snapped. I said something mean, something about wanting a phone number, something that may, MAY have involved some four letter words. Anyway, all I got was the e-mail address. (And I’d like to apologize to the poor student worker. It was not her fault.)

The main reason I wanted the phone number is because I really need that money (I don’t know why, but money I have to work for, instead of borrow, seems more like free money — don’t ask me why) and it is much easier to ignore and email then a phone call. And, having been a receptionist, and a Waugh to boot, I am wonderful on the phones — provided that I’m making the outbound call.

Anyway.  Last night I folded the TSLS on its center square to see how close it is to being square. Pretty close. At least I think, if you can fold a square on the diagonal then it’s a perfect triangle, (and I think I’m college material) right? I think so. However, I was going my the Zimmermann thing where, in garter stitch the same number of stitches is equal to the same number of ridges. Going by that definition, I still have a lot to go. But a square is a square, right? That’s what I think, probably just because it means less knitting. Judges, can I get a ruling on this one? The thing is already big enough, and I certainly am ready to see the tail end of this one.

However, for all of its bigness, it still is very light, and very warm. This thing would be perfect for reading on the porch in the fall. However, this fall I won’t have a porch. Ah well, it will still be warm and beautiful. I’ve started the edging for the other edge, just three to go. Maybe I’ll see this one done before my birthday.

There’s some wishful thinking if I ever saw it. My birthday is in 11 days, so unless I suddenly grow two more hands, that isn’t going to happen, unless it’s my birthday next year.

Without Certain Letter

Here I am writing on the home computer, I would tell you what I cannot type, but I can’t type them, ergo I can’t tell you them. There could be a chance that my writing here will be a odd piece of literature indeed. (I never thought how much I needed that letter.)

I went into the library to write an entry here in the morning today. (Forgive my grammar, you try and be proper without that letter between a and d.) I get up, drink my morning coffee, run into town (And yeah, I did plan to write an entry in public, all yucky from running.) I get into the library, and realized that then, I had forgotten my library card at home.

I would tell you what word I ejaculated then and there, but I need a certain letter to do it.

I will tell you that I find I get  a lot more done when I am unable to type, write the blog, and you know, work. My home . . .  be cleaner, I knit more, I cook more,  you get the picture.

And let me tell you, I am REALLY ready to have that letter back. However, I don’t think that it’ll be back any time in the near future. In reply to that, I’ll buy a new damn keyboard when I get the chance to do that. My computer . . . be pretty new, meaning, that I don’t have that little round hole that the majority of keyboard need. I need one of the newer keyboard (meant to be plural) that have U*B not the little round hole.

Anyway here  . . . be the new Icelandic  . . . Cardigan. (It  . . . be a pullover now, but I plan to hack it up with . . . cutting implement (plural).)

Man purse woes leading to Hats

I know that not a lot of men will admit this, but I love me a man-purse. (No, not a murse, I don’t like two words being pushed together like that.) I don’t call it a messenger bag, because it isn’t always a messenger bag. I don’t call it a back-pack because it usually isn’t that. It is a man-purse, be a man and own up to it. Man. Purse.

Anyway, the man-purse that I usually favor is a little half-backpack one strap dealie that I picked up from a thrift store. I found out, once I got home, pleased with its shape and single strap, that it was made by Similac. I wasn’t really bothered by that, even though I’m not a big fan of them and their stuff. (What can I say, when I was a baby I seem to remember that I got my milk elsewhere. Anyway.) It always made for a funny story. (And by the way, the man-purse is so handy for knitting, a little sleeve or a sock in progress, throw in a book, a sandwich, water bottle, and the usual amount junk I carry, and it is still pretty roomy, without being a huge bag.)

Well, I apparently forgot to screw the cap on aforementioned water bottle. (In the summer I don’t put it in the bag, because, while walking around, I take a swig a few minutes. I don’t do this during the winter.) I forgot to screw it on all the way, I should say. It was still on it enough so it wouldn’t fall off, but not enough to be water tight. Well, as I rushed about for a few days, moving the bag from a different spot in the house several times, some of it may, MAY, have sloshed out.

Oh, lord. And of course, this had to happen as I was rushing to get ready for work. I had my sock-in-progress in it (now drying), my book(ditto), a bunch of papers I threw out, five ruined pages of notes on the latest book, written with a fountain pen, so the ink ran to the point I couldn’t see them and these had to be at the bottom. And then the bag was soaked too.

So I grabbed one of those little cotton drawstring bags that I’ve got a thousand of, but can never find when I need one. I tossed in a book, a pack of crackers, then boggled at what knitting to bring. I go through phases with my knitting — sometimes I can’t get enough and seize every chance I get to knit, sometimes I’m content to let the knitting happen at home. (Guess what phase I am in now.) Well, the problem is, I don’t really have a lot that is, well, portable, besides the sock. The Shaded Aspen Leaf Sweater is certainly out, it needing a hem and seems. (And I was pushing it with that one, even at the best of times.) The TSLS is well, big, really big. It comes up to my waist at this point, and well, it’s pretty and light, but it is, well, big.

Well, I do need a hat. I thought that to myself as I looked about my cramped and wool-filled bedroom. I thoughtfully had laid out the yarn I wished to use for the for my Icelandic/Raglan sweater, and thought, “Swatch cap!”

So I pulled out a size three, sixteen inch needle, jammed that with my yarn into my bag, tossed in David Copperfield and took off.

I was working at the bookshop that day, so I had to take knitting. It could get a little dull without it. (I could read if need be.) I’m glad I did — it was a pretty slow day. And amazingly enough, there wasn’t a single customer while I was trying to count for the cast on and stuff. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I hope I do it again. I got all the ribbing done, and added a little color pattern too. (I’d thoughtfully grabbed a ball of wool for that too.) Like I said, slow day.

This shall be my travel knitting for a while. Till it’s done really. I can’t always be counted on for that amount of forethought, but I think I might be able to manage. I’m not sure about what I want to do for the color patterns on my sweater. (I know I want to have one at the hem that is the second pattern in the yoke, I like my sweaters to have unity even if no one notices but me, but I’m not certain what pattern to use, or what color it should be.) So I plan to grab another ball of wool or two and play with patterns on the hat till I find one that I like, only when I’m out and about though, I’m fighting the urge to work on it now. And I’ll get a hat. (I hope that by knitting a hat, I shall trigger spring. This sort of thing has worked in the past (i.e. I learned to knit sweaters that fit, then I lost 40 pounds) but never on such big scale. I’ll knit fast.)


I have a Question

Do these match?

Well do they?

The Knitters at Knitting last night didn’t think so. They thought it was “An assault to the eyes.” “You can wear it, just not on Wednesday.” That sort of thing. And these people are my friends? It was kind of funny, I would ask everybody who showed up, before they were able to get themselves settled, “Do these match.” The only yeses I got were from children under ten, and a person who is colorblind.

Le sigh.

Anyway, I was despairing over what to do, and just starting the other sleeve with the same color because that was the only knitting I had with me, and by good I was not missing out on an evenings knitting. (Especially because Wednesdays are always super busy for me and I don’t get so much as a stitch knit before 6:30.) We (being myself and the knitter,) decided that I might be able to make this sleeve work with some kind of a patchwork thing — you know, make the other sleeve of yet another color, and then do some kind of a shawl collar that would tie them all together. But I didn’t have any other yarn with me, and BY GOD I WAS NOT MISSING AN EVENINGS KNITTING. I may have stressed that point.

Then one of the knitters said to me, “You know, there is a JoAnn’s right over there.”

And there is too. You walk out of the Barnes and Noble, then walk past the smokers huddling in front of a pub, then walk past a grocery store and then you are there.

Now, I know that a lot of you, *ahem* tend to look down on good ole’ JoAnn. I tend to do it too, it’s understandable. The yarn selection there is poor, and the amount of wool is even worse. But I was able to find about a quarter of an isle that was mostly wool and/or wool blends. I bought a lovely purple yarn, made by Caron, (rolls his eyes) that was mostly wool. I’ll take it, at 3.99 a skein. (Before coupon.)

It’s working out pretty well. We’re very happy together. I’ll show you a picture later, once there is a little bit more of the purple in it.

In other news, the second day of spring, and the ground is covered with snow. I woke up this morning, in a pool of sunlight for the first time in days, and I looked out my window and saw the neighbor’s roof bar of snow, and thought, “Oh, good the snow’s all gone.” Then I sat up and saw all the snow, covering the ground, and I had to fight the urge to burst into tears. Is it just me, or do I feel that spring is getting further and further away? Maybe I will actually be able to wear this sweater soon. (I picture it as being a winter-to-spring transitional thing, what with it being very warm, but remarkably thin.)

And that’s the news from the past few days. (Well there’s more, but I must stretch out the blog fodder, you know the drill.)