Knitting Without The Vampires

Remember how I was all gung ho on figuring out my own Norwegian Sweater pattern?

Hey Look! Mittens! The pattern is Bella's Mittens here.

No, they are not knit because I like Twilight. The whole phenomenon makes me want to vomit. The last thing I need is a bunch of screaming fan girls swooning over teen age angst, and their daughters are really annoying too.

I knit them because I like a long cuff. And I had the yarn in my stash.

And because my sweater is in time out. I screwed up two inches into the ribbing.

I have been knitting for 31 years.

For non knitters, screwing up a knit 2 purl 2 ribbing is like Danica Patrick failing drivers ed.

It's like Magic Johnson missing a slam dunk on a Little Tyke's basketball hoop.

It's like Tiger Woods being dateless on a Friday night.

I thought I could live with the indiscretion. I thought the sweater and I could come to a mutual understanding and I would recognize that yes, it had its faults but we could always call that part of the sweater the back and no one would know.

No one except me that is.

Yeah, the counseling didn't go well. I tore it back and now it's sitting on the naughty step.

But hey, look!

Mittens!

You've Knitted This One Back Together

I love my local yarn shop. Every Sunday I go there for a little high fiber therapy.

There are usually ten or so that come nearly every Sunday and as one person noted last Sunday, "I don't come here for the knitting."

During the last year, I had many individual friends that helped me through the worst year of my life. A couple even knew the code phrase that I would occasionally force myself to admit "I need to be among the living today."

I'm not one to run around and threaten to blow my brains out and be the drama queen. I'm not one to look another person in the eye and say "Please hold my hands for the next five minutes so that I won't do something to hurt myself." I had my code phrase and there were a couple people who knew exactly what I meant.

There were times when going out on a Sunday was a chore. It would have been easier to crawl back in bed. It would have been easier to have a pity party. But I knew what I needed in my heart of hearts. I needed to be in a crowd of people that talked about their kids and their spouses (although that was always a painful thing) and their jobs and the reasons why they got out of bed everyday. I needed to stand next to their bright glow and try to feel a little warmth.

There were times when I didn't even knit. Having whatever causes my joints to be stiff and painful usually only allows me to knit a couple times a week and if I was having a bad hand day, I would go to just sit. There were times when I was glad that I didn't have to contribute to the conversation because I would have just started to cry like a baby.

I just needed to recharge my batteries with the wonderful women who perhaps don't even know how wonderful they are.

Many of them showed up to the sentencing and I think a couple might have even had their knitting out. (For all her faults, Madame DeFarge has always been my secret fascination.)

The knitting part of my brain has been in such a fog for such a long time that whenever I do knit, it is brainless scarves and simple sweaters. Certainly nothing that requires an ounce of gray matter.

But Sunday? Sunday I went in and saw the "retro" Dale of Norway trunk show. (For the non-knitters here, a trunk show is a bunch of knitted up items from an artist or a company and they are usually trying to entice you to buy their patterns or yarn or whatever.) They even have a book out of "retro" patterns that is beautiful.

But there are a few hitches here.

I've been knitting out of my tiny little stash for nearly a year now. The yarn that I have purchased for a sweater has been the less than stellar stuff but I'm ok with that. I wasn't looking for a sweater, I was looking for something that I could make for myself, something to comfort myself. It is the fiber equivalent of a chocolate sundae. I made the sweater and everything worked out just fine.

The retro book is full of patterns that I actually have equivalents at home in the "original" books. I just need to rewrite them a little to make them more "convenient".

The yarn? As much as I love Dale of Norway sweaters, I hate their yarn! A big part of yarn for me is how it feels in my hands when I'm using it and their yarn is "squeaky".

Don't ask. I can't explain.

So on Sunday, I splurged and bought a couple skeins of the cheapest yarn there. It is not all wool but I can make it work.

And I looked at the retro book.

And I looked at the sweaters.

And something in my brain went, "hmmmmmm. I can do that!"

So now I have cast on for a sweater that I'm writing half the pattern for and using a couple other patterns from a book from 1946 for ideas.

Maybe, just maybe, the fog is starting to lift.

Neither Tighty Nor Whitey

A few years ago, I spent over a year working on and off on a pair of knitted long john pants. I made them out of wool and since it took forever, I paid for them on the installment plan. I used the Elizabeth Zimmerman long john "recipe" from one of her books and I ended up having to wing it (Elizabeth would have been proud) to compensate for the fact that even back then, relative to the rest of my body, I had no ass.

I revelled in them for a couple weeks. They were cozy and warm and wonderful.

Then, they were accidently washed.

Yup. They went to the land of "knitting projects that will never be spoken of again".

Except I am now contemplating making another pair. Yes, I have learned my lesson, they will be made out of something washable. (Occasionally I hear someone talk about making a baby item out of wool that needs hand washing and I have to ask myself "Are you on crack? Have you never had a baby? There are days when the baby is lucky to be hand washed, let alone your blanket. Five minutes after you give it to the mother, your blanket will be covered with puke, poop, and drool. BABIES ARE DISGUSTING!" Of course all of these thoughts generally end up being expressed with a single raised eyebrow and perhaps the question "Really?" I am nothing if not understated.)

I will not be using Elizabeth's pattern this time. Yes, it was based on my own personal measurements but the assumption of ass kind of made me sad. I'm also thinking about making them in a color pattern to keep me from wanting to commit suicide after I get one leg made.

Of course, the easiest thing would be stripes. Perhaps a "Where's Waldo" red and white pattern like his hat? Or a Wicked Witch of the East black and white pattern? (Would this put me at risk for having a house fall on me? Knowing my house, I'm ALWAYS exposed to this risk.)

There's also the possibility of making them into a Norwegian type pattern. Like a sweater for my legs.

Or I could do something like pattern the outside of the leg to look like police caution tape or crayons or perhaps knit them black with white anatomically correct bones? I've always been a fan of knitting anatomically correct things.

There are far to many choices for such a big project. It's not like I'm going to make a pair and then start right in on the next pair because they were SO FUN AND FAST! If I make this pair and then even show the slightest interest in making a THIRD pair, everyone is given permission to dope slap me.

So, any thoughts? Feel free to include links to color patterns that I could incorporate.

Do Not Adjust Your Monitor: It Is, In Fact, Knitting

This used to be a knitting blog.

Hey, guess what? Here's some knitting!



I only made the squares about two and a half years ago.


I discovered them during the great purges that have happened periodically over the past few months.

I had high hopes and big plans for a HUGE afghan but I only got this many squares created before I started to drift.

So instead of a HUGE afghan I now have a lapghan, or a HUGE potholder.

I like the word HUGE.

It's quite toasty warm and since every last project I've had has been eaten by a pet before completion over the past few months, I'm going to call this a success.

I'm sure the cat will have it destroyed by next week.

The Pinkening

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn is inconvenient when you have to wait for the light to start your day.

We are safely ensconced in my old home town and faced with the dawning realization that there isn't a lot to do in my old home town. Hmmmmm. Some things never change.

That is why we need to get creative.

Hmmm.

Thinking....still thinking....

Of course I forgot to bring my camera cord so I will have to wait to download photos until I get back but we did go to the wool mill where I sent some fleece to have it processed a few years ago.

Yes, I am a wool mill groupie.

NERD!!!!

The selection was really poor but I did get some souvenir yarn.

NERD!!!!

What's even more mysterious is that I find myself drawn to pink yarn lately. There is pink in the sweater that I'm knitting (now placed on hold due to heat), I am knitting pink socks, and now I have purchased more pink yarn and pink Wenslydale locks for thrummed mittens.

I find it highly suspicious. It's like I'm acting like a girl or something.

It wasn't until I had a hysterectomy that I started liking the color orange. I have determined that orange is the color of hot flashes.

So what does this new found fascination with pink mean?

I think it means that my brain has finally malfunctioned and will be oozing like oatmeal out of my ears at any second.

Mmmmm. Oatmeal....time for breakfast!

Shopping Down The Rabbit Hole

I'm about to take a jar of raspberry cordial to work. A jar without a real lid.

Saran wrap and good intentions. A dangerous mix.

But the cordial? Deeeeelicious! It's like drinking my garden.

When I was in the cities this weekend, my friends took me to a new shop that is my exact personality, thrown together and put on a shelf. Or many shelves I should say.

Unfortunately, I don't see that they have a website yet but you can find directions to their shop if you click here.

Lila and Claudine's is a yarn shop and a treasure hunt and your grandma's attic. You have to go through it a few times and even then, you'll miss something.

It's what happens when an artsy fartsy person opens a shop. There is yarn, beautiful yarn, but there are so many other things as well. Candles, shirts, cool jewelry, kitschy things and weird things and wonderful surprises.

Of course, when I found out that one of the owner's is an Alice In Wonderland fan, I started to notice all of the Alice stuff throughout the store. I even found this necklace which is the photo I used for my tattoo. The fact that I got my tattoo to signify that I was at a crossroads in my life and looking for direction and the necklace came with a compass attached to it made me squee.

Alice in Wonderland

And the compass really works!

Perhaps, if I'm lucky today, I'll get lost and need to use it.

Making That Yarn Sing

Alas, poor yarn ball, I knew him well...

Hey, what is this crap? Knitting???

Who put knitting in my pedophilia blog???

(off stage voice) Hey, who put pedophilia in my knitting blog???

(voice from audience) Hey, who put knitting and pedophilia into my Corgi blog?

(Voice from stage right) Hey, who put knitting, pedophilia and Corgis into my divorce blog?

Everyone, except last speaker: OH SHUT UP!

Hey, it's "Blogopera", a work in progress.

Speaking of works in progress, (and schmoozy segues), I am down to the sleeves on my latest sweater.

It's entirely knit in k1p1 rib and is extremely stretchy. When I don't have it on, it looks like it would fit a pregnant python. I've had a couple seasoned knitters look at the body as I was knitting it and ask, diplomatically of course, "So, what part of the sweater is that for?"

This is why I got so cranky at the yarn store lady when she tried to tell me I needed more yarn. I do not need more yarn when I am knitting mumus for pregnant pythons!

This is my design, knit to fit my measurements. I created it in response to not being able to find a single well fitting sweater in any of the patterns at my local yarn store. This winter, I purchased two sweaters from JC Pennys that I love with a passion not meant for knitted goods. They look like mumus for pregnant pythons until you put them on. Then, THEY ROCK!

So, I had to take a couple pictures of my soon-to-be-finished (STBF?) sweater, complete with the oh so trendy double pointed needles at the armpit. Double pointed needles will no doubt be a hit at the next fashion shows in Paris.

I have also decided that I will create some euphemisms for my lack of chestage, demonstrated by the fact that I can wear a mumu for a pregnant python:

1. I'm aerodynamic. Ride my slipstream.

2. I'm camouflaged to blend into Home Depot's wallboard department.

3. I'm halfway through my sex reassignment surgeries (probably not the greatest line to utter at a straight bar...then again...)

4. I'm so absent minded, I'd lose my boobs if they weren't attached..uh oh.

Allow Me To Introduce Myself

Dear Small Town Yarn Store Owner:

While it's true that we never met before, allow me to introduce myself...

I am a customer.

I am a customer that was passing through your little berg on the way to a fun filled weekend surrounded by sci-fi geeks, nerds, cross dressing obese men with huge moobs, and various and sundry disturbed individuals.

So, you might understand my need for knitting.

And, as I told you upon entering your little shop, I was a traveller who had left her knitting at home by mistake.

Since your shop was so small and since you had parked your chair directly in the middle of it, I was immediately and exclusively under your beady eyed gaze the second I came in.

And this is really where my problem with you started.

I understand the need to make sure people don't shoplift, but that really wasn't the issue now, was it? The fact that you sat there and watched me pick up every single skein of yarn and began your running commentary that WOULD NOT SHUT UP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I very nearly stabbed myself in both ears simultaneously with 00 needles just to rupture my eardrums and put me out of my aural misery.

Learn some customer skills for Pete's sake! How about some pointers???

#1 ASK where we're from instead of assuming we were from a million miles away. By talking about our "visit to the great state of Minnesota" like it was some parting of the Red Sea, it was a little annoying. That's why I gave you my "shut the fuck up look" and said "Yeah, I know the area, I'm from Duluth."

You really should have got a clue at that point.

#2 ASK how long I've been knitting! Don't assume I've been knitting for two weeks and start you're "oh isn't knitting a great hobby!" speal. Remember how I paused a second and started to open my mouth but then thought for a second and shut up? I was about to say "You know what else is a great hobby? Masturbation!"

#3 I told you I was going to get enough yarn for a sweater. Had you known that I have been knitting for over 30 years, (see #2), you could have asked something intelligent like "Do you have a pattern in mind? I keep my sweater patterns over here..." When I say that I'm going to knit a sweater and I reach for a circular needle and you start trying to sell me on the "magic loop technique" which people use for SOCKS, it makes me think that you are NOT LISTENING TO ME. You told me how "everyone is doing the magic loop technique" and by that time, you were really starting to piss me off. Hence the reason I told you "Well, obviously not EVERYONE is doing it because I am not. I have a tendency not to knit like a lemming."

You know what it means when a customer uses that tone of voice? It means that they are getting ready to dump your sorry ass and leave.

#4 As I stood there with my skeins of yarn, doing the math in regards to how many skeins I would need for the pattern that I would create as I was knitting the sweater, you kept breaking in and telling me I would need "at least two more skeins".

Did you not hear me adding the numbers up out loud? Did you not see me glare at you and ignore you as I kept adding it up?

Did you even ask what kind of a sweater I was knitting?

Did you even take into consideration that I am approximately 1/3 your size and would thus need far LESS yarn than you were suggesting?

No, you just kept yammering on and on.

#5 Asking me if I "had ever heard of mohair" was just a little ridiculous. Yes, I've heard of mohair. Have you ever heard of oxygen???

Guess what? I DON'T LIKE MOHAIR!!! (Best said in the "I don't want Spam!" Monty Python voice.)

And when I pulled out my credit card and you looked at me and said "I don't take credit cards," I was about two seconds away from beating you with a sack of doorknobs.

"But you can go down the street to the bank and get money..." you told me.

"Yeah. I could. But it would make me far happier just to say 'screw this'." I smiled.

Just for the record? There's a reason why you're shop is void of customers.

Beam me up Scotty. And get me some fucking yarn NOW!




















The next time I visit your shop? I'm bringing my henchmen.

Mother's Day Has Gone From Suck To Blow

Same old post every year. I hate Hallmark holidays. I hate Mother's Day. In years past, it was always the "Let's go out for dinner" comment from STBX that would just drive a nail through my forehead. One of the many MANY times that I would be annoyed beyond comprehension and yet...shhhhhhh...not say a word.

When faced with a parent that was never a parent, that would just sit off in the corner and snark at everyone and be awful to be around yet felt like he could get off the parental hook by taking me out to dinner for mother's day and let me know "how much I appreciate you".

How about showing your appreciation 364 days a year by getting off your fat ass and acting like a father? Remember me? I'm the nerdy kid in centerfield, looking up into the sun and yelling "A LITTLE HELP HERE! I NEED A LITTLE HELP!" Oh, but that's right, you were too busy molesting your daughter, downloading porn off the internet, and hooking up with your girlfriend in World of Warcraft.

Naaa. I'm not bitter. Not bitter at all.

Yesterday was fun though.

I went down to Shepherd's Harvest and spent several hours cruising the vendors and the animals, freezing my ass off, and eating 200 pounds of kettle corn. I got to meet up with many, many friends from the cities and surrounding environs and when I got home, I found an envelope in my knitting bag. Someone had stuck money and food gift cards in my knitting bag at some point during the day. The kids each got a cash envelope as well.

I hope it never sounds like a broken record, but my friends are AMAZING.

Put Down The Gun, Pick Up The Knitting

Work will keep me out of the office for large chunks of time over the next two days. Perhaps this will make me reconsider purchasing a membership in the NRA so I can get my free introductory assault rifle.

Death by a thousand cuts is always a good analogy for my life at work but I think "torture by plucking out your pubic hair one by one with tweezers" is also appropriate. I think I will have to start wearing rock star sun glasses to hide that Charles Manson-sparkle in my eyes.

But hey! This weekend! SHEEP!

My knitting abilities have been limited to a couple days a week which makes the process of knitting a cardigan interminable. I am to the point of sewing parts together and I am determined to get that all done before our road trip on Saturday so I can do the hood and trim. After that, a zipper and I am soooo done with it. Just in time for summer! Too bad I'm only three inches into a tank top which will probably be done for Thanksgiving.

The cardigan pattern has been altered beyond belief (I think I've only followed a pattern faithfully once in my life) but perhaps the most amazing part is that I added five inches to the sleeves and four inches to the length and it is now sized perfectly. The photo on the pattern does not make it look like she is wearing a matador vest but that is certainly what it would have been. I know I have long arms but judging by the pattern, I must be some sort of a...freak.

Well, leave it to a knitting pattern to make me face reality.

The Waiting Game

Waiting for this weekend: Going to Shepherd's Harvest with four totally cool fiber lovin' friends.

Waiting for the Duluth News Tribune to publish its next batch of "matters of record" as STBX's name and arraignment charges will FINALLY be listed. He always worked so hard to keep himself anonymous in life, using a pseudonym and being incredibly paranoid about "the government" finding him. Guess what? Once it's in the News Tribune, it will also be here. When people google his name, they will finally find something...the word "pedophile".

Waiting to get one more expensive medical test done as I'm starting to have medical problems again. My doctor gave me sad puppy eyes and said "For your sake, I hope it's negative." Thanks Doc, I guess if it's positive, I'll throw myself off the roof.

Waiting for the contested omnibus on May 22nd. Waiting to learn STBX's lawyer's game plan.

One thing I can't wait on anymore? Taking the dog out...

How's Your Sock Life?

I've been knitting for awhile now after giving it up for a year due to joint pain. Basically, I still have the joint pain but as long as I don't overdue it, I can knit a couple times a week.

So, what is a knitter to do when she wants to show a little appreciation to a new friend? Why, she knits him something. Something small. Something that everyone can use.

Why, socks of course.

The thing is, I'm not to a point in our friendship where I care to sidle up beside him, give him a coy, appraising glance, and say in a throaty Eartha Kitt purr

"So, How big ARE your feet?"

I'm already going for a washable wool since he is a guy and guys don't wash wool with an eye to not making them into baby booties. And I'm not going for any kind of pattern because there is a good chance that a pattern would be seen as "too poofty".

Plain grey. Ribbed for pleasure.

But how to cleverly measure his feet? I want a complete and total surprise, no knitting up to the toe and then springing the surprise on him. They must be done and ready to rock.

Can I orchestrate standing RIGHT next to him and putting my foot next to his? Perhaps while singing show tunes? He has actually used a piece of my yarn to measure out a level line on my wall so he knows I have yarn in the house but how much that point means to an average guy is debatable. I haven't tried to make a connection between yarn, knitting, and boobs so I doubt that it's made much of an impression.

In other words, when I scurry up to him and stomp my foot down next to his and suddenly belt out "OOOOOOOOKlahomaaaa...", I'm afraid he might come to the conclusion that I seemed ok for awhile, and then he discovered that I was really mentally handicapped.

At that point, I'll be forced to show him the sock and and commit hari kari with my #2's.

Wow, this is a rather pleasant problem to have!