Beware Dial-Uppers

I had a wonderful weekend in Philadelphia.

We are actively ignoring the super hard certification test I took on Saturday morning. I won't see the results for 4 (!) weeks, and I'm not sure if I passed. Don't even ask me why it takes 4 weeks to process the damned thing. Say it together now -- if ballots can be read and tallied within hours of the polls closing, the same fill-in-the-bubble answer sheets shouldn't take four weeks! 225 multiple choice vague, easy to misconstrue collections of text questions do not take 4 weeks to score. It was hard [insert whining here], and I'm feeling venomous! We are also ignoring the possible implosion of my homelife. Both are better left alone right now. Happy. Happy. Happy. Are you convinced? I'm not. But ...

I had a wonderful weekend in Philadelphia!

We ate, walked, took pictures, fondled yarn, ate, walked, called friends, engaged in illegal acts in public parks, walked, slept a little, watched TV, ate, walked, shared fantasies of ideal sexual experiences, gossiped, theorized about the meaning of life, walked, and ate. It was divine.

Friday -- Flight Boston->Philly. Startitis set in. I ignored my knitting and bought The Kite Runner. Couldn't find room for my carry-on and had to check it. Got mildly bitchy with the flight attendant and felt guilty about it. Made up for bitchiness by being extra sweet later. [yes, I can be sweet. Shut up! I can!] Got SO many comments from strangers about The Kite Runner, and confirmed the comments by falling deeply in love within 20 pages. Arrived in Philly. Ate Afghan food. So yummy. Drank wine. Slept.

Saturday -- walked about 2 miles to test site, proving that Danskos are the best shoes ever. Took evil test. Pissed and moaned about it while walking to Chinatown. Felt soothed by the amazing noodle bar we went to. Handpulled noodles at Nan Zhou. Yummmm! Hung out at the Mid-Autumn Festival in Chinatown, a production of Asian Americans United of Philadelphia. The organizers were 80% Asian, 20% lesbians with Asian kids. Saw adorable kids doing the Lion Dance.



Then we hustled home to rest. Bitching about the test really tired us out. Watched my first episode of Knitty Gritty on DIY network and LOVED it, although the host seems a tad disingenuous. Then discovered Craft Corner Death Match on the Style network and felt conflicted. Wow -- I really want to be on it. Wow -- it's weird. Wow -- the host is an insane screwball. Wow -- that Craft Lady of Steel is kinda hot (in a weird tough Frau kinda way).

Then we walked back to Chinatown for the big Lion Dance and parade.







Walked back home again. Dealt with home-life meltdown lesbian drama on cell while walking (yes, I was one of those people - yuck). Immediately drank large raspberry martini. Cried. Called Mom. Drank more. Showered. Put product in hair. Donned lesbo-chic clothes. Waited for friends to arrive. Decided I looked hot.hot.hot. Went to dinner at one of Stephen Starr's restaurants, Washington Square. Blocked out lesbian-drama by drinking a champagne and pomegranate juice cocktail and licking the rock candy from the glass's rim like a stripper. I don't think anyone noticed my efforts, so I'm probably bad at mimicking a stripper. Ate amazing food and a fabulous green apple martini. Giggled a lot. Chatted. Entered park across street to engage in illegal act. Succeeded in blocking out lesbian-drama. Walked to Tavern on Camac, to prop up the wall and watch all the young lovelies shaking their tight little asses. Drank another green apple martini (not nearly as good as the restaurant's version). Started yawning at about 2am. Got home. Flopped on bed. Died.

Formula for Saturday -- lesbian mom with ever-shrinking tolerance for alcohol + lesbian drama of the highest order = stunning ability to consume martinis and remain upright. Viva la adrenalin!

Sunday -- woke up from horrible nightmare of Little Man dro__ing in a tub (won't even breathe that into the universe). Threw nasty smoky cocktail-ly self into steaming hot water. Focused on project for the day -- art. I spotted this beautiful sculpture in a community garden. I had to snap a pic.



Walked to Loop. Ahhh, and the angels sing from above, I loved this store. Clean design, all white shelves, periodic bursts of color in the chairs. Organized by company. Amazing selection. Best customer service ever. The owner was very sweet and chatty and his dog was adorable. We chatted about bamboo, fondling yarn balls, the injustice of wool allergies, and how both "Debbie Bliss" and "Lorna's Laces" would be great drag queen names. I also suggested that he snag a date on the Yarn Harlot's calendar for the bookbookbook#2 tour. That would bring some excellent exposure to the store. This is how much I loved Loop -- see the owner standing there?



With her extreme generosity of late, I hunted high and low for something to make for BFF&ExGF#2. She settled on the Lace Poncho by Susan Sternlieb from the Poncho Loco piece in Fall '05 Interweave Knits. Then she settled on 5 balls of Karabella Aurora 8 in color 16.



Getting a highly sensitive girl to settle on anything containing wool was a miracle and a testament to Karabella's loveliness.

Walked down South Street to Isaiah Zagar's Magic Garden and took some pics. Unfortunately we didn't catch a workshop because it's a two-day affair. We didn't have the time. But I want to try the workshop someday. However, I got some fun pictures of his work. Here's to you, ChrisQ, I brought home some photographic goodies:

The main Magic Garden location


The walkway into the Magic Garden


A bug on the arch


The side wall


Art


Appreciation


4,000 Poets


Art is the Center of the Real World


This one is a good story. I saw bits of a deep dark blue mosaic over a tall wooden fence. As I got closer, I realized the fenced area was filled with Little Tykes toys, and the mosaic filled the entire wall of the playspace. I crammed the camera into a crack between two slats and snapped only a very small portion of the design. But, I may have captured the best part. Around the 2001 there were square white tiles, and each one was painted by a child. It was precious.



Philly is a city of murals. Everytime I go there, I'm amazed by the number of murals, the quality of them and how well they're preserved. On the way to lunch, I spotted this beautiful mural. It reminded me of New England.



For lunch, I experienced another first - a creperie, Beau Monde. Love. 'Member what I said about anything wrapped in dough? Me loves it. First of all, the menu was divided into sweet and savory. The sweet crepes were made with wheat flour, the savory ones with buckwheat flour.



I had a crepe with egg and andouille sausage inside. Here's the boobalicious headless Mafia shot. Boobs are a wonderful invention.



After lunch, we walked down to Fabric Row. Unfortunately every shop was closed. It was Sunday afterall, but I was a little bummed anyway. Then I spotted this mural and rejoiced.



Then we started the hunt for Sophie's Yarns. I heard from Kathy (via my comments) that it was worth checking out. However, ahem, Kathy, it was neither on Walnut Street, nor near the Liberty Bell. After wandering a bit, I called my trusty 16-year-old-always-on-the-computer-and-loves-me Sister in Law for directions. I must say ... I didn't like Sophie's Yarn. The customer service was dreary and totally unengaging. But they carried nice yarn and tons of books. If you're in town, try it out. Perhaps you'll have a different experience.



After a disappointing yarn experience (don't you hate those?), we checked out a couple of funky antique shops in the area. For that, I thank Kathy for bringing me to the area. Fun.Fun.Fun. But I still had wool on the brain. I yearned for some nice sock yarn, and I had $15 burning a hole in my pocket.

You see, I earned $15.50 by participating in a study at MIT last week. So my Philly yarn budget was $15. Damnit, I wanted to spend it! After bitching about being broke, and enjoying a luxurious all-expenses paid trip to Philly (love that BFF&ExGF#2!!!), I was buying sock yarn if it killed me.

So back I went to the glorious Loop and had to confess that I was back for "another fix." So I bought two skeins of ArtYarns Supermerino in a glorious wine/brown/olive colorway, #114.



OK, you caught me -- I over-spent my budget a little. Two skeins were $18.

Then off to the airport, to stick my head in The Kite Runner and await my quasi-public reunion with my little family.

Usually Wifey parks at the airport curb to avoid the parking fees. Unbeknownst to me, she and Little Man were waiting in the lobby for me. Little Man spotted me first, and started yelling "Mommy! Mommy!" and running through the terminal. We performed the Hollywood arms-outstretched-running-spinning-hug.

I'm home, and my boy's soft little cheek is so nice to cuddle up against.

Philly Love

I'm off to Philly this weekend to take a professional certification exam, and chill with the BFF&ExGF#2. She's already scoped out some excellent Mafia-worthy activities. First of all, The Loop yarn shop is a short walk from her house. Secondly, we might check out this weird modern dance thing, which sounds SO interesting. I'm super excited about the self-guided Mosaic Mystery Tour to look at Isaiah Zagar's amazing mosaic murals in the South Street area. Everytime I'm in Philly, I walk past these enormous murals in utter awe, so it'll be great to spend some time with each one. If you love these mosaics, look at Philly Magic Gardens for information on the preservation project. Of course I'll take a swing by Giovanni's Room and the amazing Chris' Corner kids book store. I've never checked out Fabric Row before, so if I'm super inspired by these shops, I might have to drop the knitting for a couple months and focus on the machine. Speaking of, I need to find a pattern for a frog costume for Little Man's halloween. Note to self - get thee to Joann's.

Of course, there will also be food and wine. Apparently there is already a bottle of wine waiting for my arrival, and the Indian food restaurant on speed dial. I wouldn't be surprised if the wine is breathing when I show up on her stoop. She's good like that. Her tiny Italian Nan has taught her many wonderful tricks with flour, egg and water, so there's a batch of homemade potato and parsnip gnocchi waiting for me. Also, there's rice milk in the fridge, and a Trader Joe's down the street. Ahh ... the love. I'm going to have a great weekend! Hooray!

Do you live near a homophobe?

Check here.

The Katrina Stash Replacement Project

The MIT Stitch and Bitch donated a trunk full of supplies. Click over to the MIT blog to see the amazing stash we donated! Can you donate a little too? Click on the flyer to get a bigger view so you can see how to donate:

All Roo, All the Time

These days, my knitting is all Roo, all the time. Go see her newly finished cute blue scarf. As I mentioned a few days ago, I'm working on a secret project for Roo's in utero baby boy, so I can't post about that. But I can send some Roo-love into the blogiverse. Here's her first scarf, made for a friend a few months ago. Notice the cute flower pins? Love those. I have a couple of the 2004 version at home. Sometime I'll take a picture and post with more Roo-love.



And here's the fall 2005 version of the flower pin, with the button and top-stitch details added. Yes, that's my bust again. I'm all about the boobies these days. This is officially proof to Roo-the-skeptic that I actually wear the beautiful flowers that she makes me. In fact, if you must know, I wore this particular flower 3 times last week, including to work. Should you need further proof, Danielle will vouch for me.



Several months ago, I bought this awesome sock yarn for Roo's preggie feet. Perhaps I'll make said socks before preggie is complete?



In other Roo-news, she has delighted me by asking if I'll teach her to make these awesome fingerless mittens from Melanie Falick's Weekend Knitting. Hooray! I can't wait to cast on. I have promised Wifey and BaseballBoyGirl (Wifey's 13 yr old sister) each a pair of fingerless mitts. Can't wait. Yeah Roo. You're getting sucked into the knitting void. Mwwwhhhhaaahhaaa!

Sheelzebub's hilarious videos

Shamelessly stolen from my dynamo friend Sheelzebub over at Pinko Feminist Hellcat:

"Disaster on the Bayou.

The Big Chill in 30 Seconds, re-enacted by bunnies.

This one is funny, until the end. Then it's heart-wrenching.

And finally, here are The Pigeonhawks, with a message about how important veterans are to them."

Headless Boobies

Here she is -- my AC Shawl/Not Knit Round Scarf from The Purl Stitch, which was lovingly lent from a fellow MIT Stitch and Bitcher.



For all you spinners out there, yes, that's a spinning wheel in my house. It's Wifey's antique, inherited from her Gammy. We have no idea how old it is. It doesn't work. It's missing some essential parts, which I might have replaced at some point when I'm financially stable (distant or never?). Tiny holes in the wheel indicate that her precious antique has contracted a case of wood worm, so who knows what will happen to it. At the NH Sheep and Wool Festival, I chatted with a spinning wheel craftsman who is willing to refurbish the wheel for me. Perhaps someday.

A Clarification to Avoid Anyone Bitching at Me

It occurred to me in the shower this morning that, despite the illusion of intimacy, we bloggers don't really know each other well. We regularly make assumptions to fill in the blanks between the written words. I started this blog as a brain dump with little consideration for how it might appear to others. But somewhere along the way, I got a couple of regular readers, and I love that. I've "met" some amazing people and I'm grateful for this unexpected gift. But ultimately your knowledge of my character extends only as far as my HTML code. Therefore ... I'll start being a little more careful in my choice of words. So ...

Before I get any comments about how I'm polarizing the spectrum of sexuality by referring to the "straights" and the "lesbos", let me say this. I believe in Kinsey. As far as I'm concerned, there is a spectrum of sexuality. I consider myself a 5. [anyone else feel like divulging their score?]

I also believe deeply in the politicization of sexuality. The more people included in the movement for gay rights, the better. So ... I use the terms gay/lesbian/dyke/queer/trans/etc to mean anyone with attractions to members of the opposite sex or people that transcend gender distinctions. I use "dyke" to mean all women loving women. Yes, that includes you bi-girls.

So ... I apologize if I inadvertently assumed that anyone was straight or gay based on their current relationship status. Perhaps Local Egg is a big lesbo and married to a man? Perhaps MamaCate is a big straighty and married to woman? Perhaps both are totally Kinsey-3 bi-chicks? Who knows? Who cares?

I'm just having fun here, being sassy and irreverent. I hope you're having fun here too.

Dang Nabbit!

You straight ladies are impressive. Without drawing unnecessary attention to MamaCate's near miss, I must remain truthful and confess that Local Egg receives the prize.

BFF&ExGF#2= Best Friend Forever and Ex-Girlfriend #2.

I wouldn't say "Best Female Friend," because I have precious few male friends and therefore would not distinguish male/female. Sorry my dykey friend. I'm sure you speak the tongue better than most. :-P

I originally imagined the prize would be a pair of black wristcuffs emblazoned with "Big Dyke" in neon green beads. Or a wonder woman outfit with "SD" across the breasts and "Super Dyke" along the bottom of the cape.* But I'm thinking that LocalEgg's hubby might not approve.


*BTW I did create such an outfit back in college for a straight girl to wear to the annual campus Drag Ball. That's drag for her, right? I should scan and post a picture of the attire. It was hilarious. I attended said Drag Ball as a conservative right-wing man with ExGF#1 as a right-wing lady. That was drag for us. I thought it was hilarious. On my ultraPC campus, almost noone else thought it was funny. And interestingly, because the ever-fabu BFF&ExGF#2 participated in the Drag Ball antics, she began the journey to GF#2.

Tibetan food

In case I haven't mentioned it before, Northampton (Lesbian Mecca) is my favorite place on the planet. Wait, Plum Island is my favorite place on the planet. Shit. I don't know. They're both great. Anyway ... during my last trip to Noho, my ever-fabu BFF&ExGF#2 (a prize to the first one to decode my lesbo-speak) Danielle took me to my first Tibetan restaurant, the Lhasa Cafe. Oh the love. Love. Love. Dumplings, piles of veges, spicy broths, deep warm colorful pottery bowls, dumplings, firey sauces with mystery ingredients, and did I mention the dumplings? Wrap it in dough and me loves it. I never thought I'd find food that I love more than Thai from JP's Ban Chiang. Well, I did. Tibetan is my new obsession. Where am I going with this, you might ask? Here --

When "someone" in my house finds her dream job, I'm taking her smart ass for a celebratory dinner to this place. *

*thanks to urban hipster ChrisQ for the link and review.

Secretly Insane & Productive

Job.Money.Car.Health.Katrina.
Once again, I've been MIA. My life is a bit insane. Job troubles for Wifey, money troubles, car troubles, and health troubles for me. Wifey's job troubles are working out slowly. Very slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Money troubles are money troubles. Pay the rent, avoid the utilities for a couple months, cut back on anything unnecessary, turn the damned lights off, stop buying organic for a bit, hit the library, sell some shit on eBay or CraigsList ... you know the deal. Car troubles boil down to this -- one VW wagon minus one timing belt=destroyed engine and a $4K quote. Hah! See previous sentence about job and money. Insert one beautifully caring and loving brother driving 6 hours in a SUV to attach my car to a dolly, sleeping for 2 hours and driving back. Then imagine a couple weeks of this young man searching for used parts online and swearing under hood of wagon. Now ... think of me, a couple weeks from now, trying to get to an obscure location 6 hours away with no money to rent a car and my only car celebrating its new engine. Needless to say, I'll be dealing with some logistical issues all too soon. Most importantly, My Brother is the Best! Health troubles are weird. I have some sort of heart issue. Not diagnosed. Doc seems a little worried, but not freaked. I call on Tuesday expecting to see her within a week or two. Nope, I was brow-beaten into coming within 3 hours of my call, and further scolded that if I had additional symptoms in the meantime (3 hours!), I was to get to an E.R. Fuck that, I'm 30! Anyway, I had some tests done with more to come. I had to cut back on my caffeine intake. Barry's! I can only drink you once a day, and perhaps give you up entirely! Oh the horror! Plus, I have to de-stress. Yeah, right. See beginning of post. I'll get right on that. Bottom line is -- I'm 30. I'm not going to drop dead of a heart attack. Yes, my Grandpa had his first 'big one' (as my family calls it) in his late 20s, a massive and disabling one in his early 40s and a fatal one at 53. Yes, my 49 year old Mom is on meds and closely monitored. But I'm 30! I'll be fine, if I can only stop thinking about Katrina. This was totally preventable. The government has been incredibly remiss in responding. I am delighted that celebrities are speaking out. But once again, I am ashamed to be an American. We can do so much better than this. However, as the job.money.car.health.self-pity.anger rollercoaster circles around in my mind, I'm painfully aware of how lucky I am to have my home and my family. I am thankful. The rest will work out eventually. 'Nuff said. Let's get to the knitting.

Knitting.
I just finished a semi-secret project that can't make it's bloggy debut until the end of September. Roo knows that Baby Joey is getting a Mafia original, but I don't want her to see it until the shower (9/24). Sorry dear readers (all two of you), you'll have to wait until Sept. 25th.

I plan to take the famous headless Mafia pic with my new AC Shawl/Not-Knit-Round Scarf draped across my shoulders. Problem is - it's black, and I almost always wear black. This does not provide many photo ops. I contemplated stripping off today's black shirt and doing a bra shot, but the belly isn't what it used to be. Sorry ladies, I won't be providing lesbian porn this week. [bring on the google hits]

The grind is calling...

New Knitty!

Warning to my wallet and my wife -- the new knitty is up, and I lust after Samus (and it's sister pattern Kepler), Josephine, Revolution, Leaves in Relief, Falling Leaves, Bubby and Astrodome. I have such strangely eclectic taste.

My bank account is in the toilet. Will some please send me bags and bags of lovely fall colors of merino dk or aran, please???

Wunderbar Big Little Bro

Finally -- an explanation for my brother.

Ketchup pics

I have to play a little catch up here. I blocked my AC shawl (aka Not-Knit-Round Scarf) a couple weeks ago and have been wearing it about for some time now. I'll take a headless Mafia photo soon, I promise. As for the finished product - I love it 95%.


It's soft, warm, cute and attention-getting.

I'm not so sure about that last one, not being a big attention person myself, but at least it's flattering. On the day I finished it, a friend of Wifey's stopped by the house while I was experimenting with how my new toy could sit on my shoulders. She said I looked "cute." I almost gagged. She was confused. She wanted to know what the appropriate reaction was. I said the perfect response is "impressive." There you have it -- I'd rather have people impressed that I can create something magnificent from sticks and fiber. I don't really care if they like the end product. I especially don't want to hear the word "cute." I am so very not cute.

Anyway ... the Not-Knit-Round Scarf has a great stitch pattern. Easy to remember (which is especially good after the Branching Out fiasco of 2005), hypnotic and beautiful. The only problem is the neckline. It's big. And I have big shoulders. Yes, I measured. Yes, I compared the measurements to the schematic in the book. Yes, I checked my gauge. Yes, I checked it again and again. But it's still kinda big at the top. I can't imagine it would fit an average woman, let alone a petite one. My advice -- if you make this, add a few more decreases in the pattern to pull the top in more.

Magic

After a thoroughly refreshing mini-vacation from work, I have plenty to report.

First of all, my dear sweet Little Man delivered his first spurt of pee into the little potty. Wee! This does not mean that we're potty training. This guy is way too stubborn to accept such prodding. [it's genetic, and in spite of being a fairly stubborn person, my skinny-weak stubborn gene pales in comparison to Wifey's uber-buff stubborn gene. aka - it's her fault.] He will potty train on his own damned schedule, or he'll attend college with Elmo on his Pull-Ups. So sayeth Little Man.

We trekked through the Harold Parker State Forest in the wee hours of the morning, encountering only two souls (a cutie Dad and his cutie son taking a morning dip in the pond) and much wildlife. We hiked. We sat and stared at nature. We snacked. We splashed in the pond. I was feeling very zen until Little Man threw a temper tantrum and refused to walk. How does one deal with that? Well ... whatever you pack in, you must pack out. It's a simple rule of hippie outdoorsy people, right? Yeah. All snarkyness aside, I enjoyed tossing his pissy little ass on my shoulders and feeling tough and strong. Not surprisingly he perked right up and enjoyed the trip out. I remember this from childhood. There is something magical about the shoulders.

The glory of life is summed up in two words: Plum Island. In my fantasy world, I own a home on Plum Island. I have a seriously kick-ass internet connection and a fast laptop. My job allows me to work remotely. I have an endless supply of yarn. My child grows up in the sand dunes. I sit on the beach and look for seals. I have a steady supply of sand in every bodily orifice. We spent two days on Plum Island this week and it was magical.

In addition, we spent tons of wonderful time with KangaRoo and Baby G. Love them. Glad they're healthy. All you knitters will understand this -- how happy was I when Roo asked me if she could borrow some big fat needles? So happy. She makes these chunky garter stitch scarves in cool colors, and only buys yarn for one project at a time (no stash!!) Then the kicker - unique little felt flowers. I have two flowers from the first season of flower-making, and as of Thursday, I have this season's flower. This evolution includes a button and stitching. Pictures to come. Wunderbar!

Now for FOs.

I fina-fucking-ly finished my Branching Out. The Wifey loves it. I like the finished product, but the knitting was a beast. I should listen to Dilettante Debutante's theory -- don't knit lace while parenting wee ones. Here she is -- the Beast:


In extraordinary news, I am also finished with my SockPal socks! Hooray! Here they are:

Yeah, OK, so it's not the most artistic photo. Nor is it taken in natural light. But hell, I wanted to mark the occasion in time to get onto Alison's Tuesday update. Artistry plays second fiddle to braggery. I'm done, I'm done, I'm done. And I love this yarn! Please note: the majority of the pooling was herded to the soles. Also, my SockPal's feet are both shorter and narrower than mine, so the socks should be snug on her, but not pull the stitches like on my canoes.

As proof that I loved the ArtYarns SuperMerino, I spent early Sunday clicking away at these for a little guy's 1st birthday:


More pics tomorrow. Stay tuned...

Dreaming ...

I'm dreaming of Eris. Only Eris. Not the baby gifts being given in September. Not the SockPal socks being shipped out in September. Not the Little Man sweater for which there is beautiful Debbie Bliss yarn waiting in the stash. Nope. I dream of Eris in KnitPicks Merino Style in Hollyberry. Snuggle-icious.

Hooray for ...

GRYFFINDOR! You scored 20% Slytherin, 16% Ravenclaw, 60% Gryffindor, and 36% Hufflepuff!

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart. Gryffindors are known for their courage, audacity, and devotion to what is good and honest.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 31% on Slytherin You scored higher than 17% on Ravenclaw You scored higher than 72% on Gryffindor You scored higher than 70% on Hufflepuff

A shout out to Alison for sharing this fun test.

Eris Be Mine

My long-standing obsession with the Rogue might be trumped by the absolutely stunning Eris. While a hoodie would be seriously pushing the business casual dress code at work, a nice cardigan could be work appropriate. I love you Eris. Love you.


You will be mine.

Two-Zah

I finally found the perfect yarn for my sock pal. It's ArtYarns Supermerino from my lovely and local Windsor Button.


Thank god. I only have until Sept. 15th to finish these. eek! I'd better get crackin'.

Mom, don't look...

Have no fear, my Mom is neck deep in cardboard boxes, so she won't be reading the blog anytime soon. She's closing on her new house tomorrow and starting the move on Saturday. I'll be driving 6 hours tomorrow just so I can carry boxes and boss the packing of the UHaul. Sans kids and husband, Mom needs less house. She has less desire to clean and maintain a big house, and would prefer to spend her time scuba diving and skiing. These are both activities that she's become obsessed with lately, shortly after the demise of her marriage of 20+ years. Needless to say, Mom is having a joyful time with no kids at home and no couch potato husband. Isn't she cute and sassy?

Mom's on the left, in Key West this past winter

While Mom's not looking, I hereby present the completed Christmas present for 2005. During my trip to the NH Sheep and Wool Festival, I picked up a hank of this amazing merino/tencel yarn with little tiny loops spaced about 1/2" apart. I saw it from across the field and knew it was perfect for my Mom. But after I got home, I worried that one hank wasn't enough for a good length scarf. So I consulted several experts and finally settled on a basic garter/drop stitch design to maximize the glory of this yarn. Here 'tis:



I'm jumping in the car at 8am tomorrow and heading off to Mom's. When I return midweek, I'll have some other fun pics to share. Have a great weekend everyone!

Forward

Finally I have some photos to share with honest-to-god finished objects. Whoah. With my head in a cardboard box for the last month, it's been a long time since I've posted FO pics.

First off -- the Little Man 2005-06 Winter Hat. Knit with a double strand of navy Cascade 220 and Crystal Palace Kid Merino, this hat was based on the Lil Art Critic Beanie. I love the pattern. I love the yarns. I love the tweedy and fuzzy fabric that comes off the needles. But alas, its too big for him. Will I ever learn to size properly? So I'll probably stash this hat for 2006-07, and use the Cascade 220 with some orange stash wool to make another version with two cute orange stripes. In other words, I'll stick to the damned pattern. Stay tuned.



FO #2 -- Little Man Striped Socks. Started and started and started and started, these socks represent the most ridiculous effort to wrap my brain around short rows. I am short row challenged. No amount of videos, patterns or explanations, could manage to twist my brain around the short row concept. But after an amazingly indulgent lesson from two wonderful MIT Stitch and Bitchers, I finally got it. Hooray! So I knit these little babies through an entire work conference. I became known as "the knitter" by all who attended. There were also several requests for handknit socks.

However, once again ... they don't fit. They're too small. Yes, I measured. Yes, I measured again and again. Yes, I was on gauge ... the whole time. What I didn't account for was the annual Little Man Summer Feet Growth Festival. This is only the second summer that we've experienced the joy of this Festival. During his first summer, those teeny newborn feet were downright edible. Last summer, he grew through 5 shoe sizes! (but still edible) I thought it was a fluke because the winter was a little less extreme. But we quickly learned that along with tulips and bean sprouts comes Feet. And shoes. Lots of them. In extra wide, which are hard to find and Expensive. We've started asking for gift certificates for all gift giving occassions. So here are the cutie little socks. I love them, so I'll find another little kid with smaller feet who will love them as much as I do. Perhaps Ms. G.



For one final dose of cuteness, I present to you ... Little Man and Lugh watch WGBH-Kids together. Little Man's kid-sized arm chair was my overly ambitious project for his first birthday. It took way longer than I anticipated, forced a couple new gray hairs from my scalp, but I LOVE it. And so does he. Happy.

Yarn Bouquet

I came home from work on Friday, walked into the kitchen and squealed at the sight of this:

Moments later the wine glass was filled and dinner was served. My wife rocks!

Jealous?

No, you can't have her.

Kitten Thread

Have you ever tried to catch a picture of a kitten chasing a spool of thread?
It's hard.

Actually, it's impossible.

And hilarious.

Knitting Zen Community

Radio listeners tonight will be delighted to hear that Chris Lydon's Open Source radio show is doing a piece on knitters. [Shout out to Stacy at Stacy's Plate for emailing about it.] Among the postings on the Open Source page, there's a beautiful one by Circles owner, Allison Nevitt. I love it, so I have to share. Here 'tis:

Yes, knitting does feel like a luxury now. Its a luxury to have the time and money to knit. What I see in the community of knitters we have here at Circles, is a strong desire to reconnect, though. Its not about luxury, per se. We talk about the fact that we don’t knit to aspire to the K-Mart or Target asthetic. We knit as a form of self-couture. I think we discuss this to ease the our minds (and those of our partners) about the money we invest in our hobby.

At the core, the reason we are willing to put so much time and money into it is the sense of connection. Connection to a lost time when people made so many things for themselves. Connection to the first person who ever picked up a stick and some string and figured out how to manipulate the tools to create a fabric. There is a connection to the land through the purchase of fibers brought to us by self-sustaining fibers. There is a connection to others as we sit together, make things together and share our lives together. Deep bonds are developed amongst knitters who spend time together regularly. In our fast-paced, over-popluated urban environment it feels essential to pursue something slow and sit with others without an agenda. A knitting circle is the ultimate in open source contact.

Perhaps the deepest connection, however, is to oneself. I’ve watched so many knitters self-observe. The motion of knitting and the movement in and out of concentration creates a rhythm where there are quiet moments. And the work product so clearly reflects our inner state of being. When we are anxious, our knitting is tight, when we are relaxed it is loose. As we try to figure out some set of instructions or correct a mistake we can watch how we handle a challenge or adversity. When we allow others to witness our process, we find acceptance and often very gentlel loving assistance or guidance to a new perspective.

So, while knitting to produce clothing is a luxury, the experience of knitting and what we gain from it may be life supporting. The sharing of the sensual aspects of knitting, the joy of transforming, the embrace of others is all very soothing to the soul. It is nothing short of healing. I have watched knitters help each other through every gritty aspect of life: birth, death (to illness, accidents, murder), abusive relationships, and the list goes on.

They don’t set out to be this for each other. They come together to knit. They are old, young, gay, straight, many races and ethnicities and religions, but in time their lives are knitted together and they care deeply for each other. Then the healing comes organically. Joyous applause when someone has left an alcoholic partner. Silent circles to allow someone to re-enter safely after a loss to murder. They become unafraid to share everything and offer all that they can. When you see this, you know why the knitting is a passion. You cease to care why knitting is now popular, whether it is elitist, whether it should be basic skill set. All these things don’t matter when people find something to pursue that leads them to so much rich exchange with others. Where all the artificial social constructs of separation of erased and healing just happens. Of course they never want to live without that again. Of course, the knitting is a passion. What knitters experience with one another is something lacking in our society. When they knit in a circle, they find their heart’s desire: to connect.

In spite of my previous post about yarn snobbery, the expense of this hobby and the luxury of time, I still find her words very compelling. And I certainly feel this connection to my fellow Stitch & Bitchers.

Alive and Purging

After weeks of packing and moving boxes, we are officially settled into our new (much smaller) home. Thank the Gods/Goddesses/Fairies/Sheep 'cuz I just don't think I could've handled one more box of under-used clutter. We had a huge yard sale, made some dough and donated a ton of stuff to Goodwill. And now I'm working on selling stuff. First on the list -- yarn. Gasp! I know, I know ... it's evil. I'll pay for this. I'll dream about this yarn in the wee hours of the night in July 2007 with the perfect project in mind and wish that I wasn't so impulsive back in July 2005. But alas, there is only so much stash space, especially considering that I share my home with another crafty lady and her crafty toys, a small child and his small child toys, and two kitties and their feline toys. We have plenty of toys. So I'll be selling this batch of yarn:

If you've been hanging out with me for a while, you might remember this is wool from my recycled sweater. The sweater was an enormous men's sweater, so we're talking a hell of a lot of wool. Further, the drape was wonderful, surprisingly supple. Wait ... am I talking myself into keeping it? Although the yarn looks like a brownish-green from a distance, it was spun with many different colors. Here's a closeup. It's just so beautiful.

The yarn knits up at about a worsted weight (4 sts/") on US7s.

If you're interested in purchasing this yarn, give me a holler. I still have to total the yards, but we're talking somewhere around 1200 yards of 100% Irish wool.
I'm planning on putting it up on eBay within a couple days, but I have no idea how to price it. Any suggestions? Knitting gurus, are you out there?



P.S. I have lots to report, with pictures and all. Keep an eye out for updates (in spite of Bloglines being a bit fussy this week).

Poking my Head up in JOY

My Nina-Bean and her little Daughter-Bean and internal Boy-Bean are conspiring to overtake Blogger. Previously a Live Journaler that never wrote, I'm hoping that her new blogspot will give me lots of bloglines fodder. I adore her, and I promise that you will too. She's saaaaassy. Go see.

Okay ... back to my blog-vacation. If I trip over another f-ing cardboard box, all of our worldly possessions are getting thrown onto the lawn. Don't test me missy. I'll do it! I am therefore baned from Blogger until the cardboard monster has disappeared.

Send wishes for the resurrection of my long-lost sanity to:

Insane Mommy
69 Piles of Shit Boulevard
KickScreamSwear, Massachusetts 06969

Scatter-brained Mommy

The next week or two will be a semi-blog-vacation. In spite of having:

- exciting news to report about my recycled Irish wool that is dry, skeined and will be put on eBay soon;
- starting-ripping-starting-ripping (aka "practicing" short row toes and heels) on Little Man's first pair of Mommy-made socks;
- actually learning how to short row from a couple of very accomplished knitters at my Stitch & Bitch today;
- buying yarn for my non-femmey Not-a-Shawl (actually called Not-Knit-Round Scarf) from Sally Melville's Purl Stitch Book that I will start as soon as I find a spare moment;
- finishing the pale pink Branching Out (which is not yet blocked or photographed, even though I finished it about a month ago) for my Wifey; and
- selecting a yarn for Assig, my SockPal,

I can't seem to blog about any of this. I'm a Mom to a toe-obsessed new kitten. I swear she's teething. She's doing well, by the way. We're in the process of moving to a much smaller place, which I am very excited about. So we're purging and selling and donating tons of unnecessary stuff. Simplifying. De-cluttering. Ahhh ... the zen feeling of wide open spaces ... imagine it for a moment.

Okay, now add a little yarn clutter, a little toddler clutter, and an overly-sentimental wife who insists on accepting every "antique" that is handed down to her, and then refusing to ever part with it. That's my house. But we're making progress. One cherished item in the garbage at a time. By July 17th we have to be fully settled in the new place. Here's hopin' that only half of my current possessions make the trip. If there are any Buddhists out there, please mediate on my de-cluttering and send along some good vibes, k?

Thanks. I'll be back in a bit.

Boys and Big Knitting Machines

Oh how I love a good dose of sexism first thing in the morning. This morning was the only time in the last year that I braved the traffic and drove to work -- and this is the thanks I got.

I'm happily listening to the River, my local independent radio station. They break for news. The boys at the mic start talking about this exhibit at the MassMOCA. Their comment ... "now that's something gramma can't do." Idiots. My Gramma could. But hey, she worked in a factory all her life, and could probably tear your office-dwelling ass to pieces. Just sayin'.

Mind you, I'm all for boys knitting. Breaking down these completely arbitrary gender distinctions is excellent work. But these boys rely on sexist assumptions as a cornerstone of their work. According to them, the only legitimate way for boys to knit is if they have big strong machines to create stitches, and if it involves engineering equations to solve. And of course women wouldn't be interested in that. Puh-lease. Check out this program and then tell me that women aren't interested in engineering.

My problem -- this is a cool artistic endeavor on its own merits.



It could be pitched as pure art. Let's say it all together now ... Art Without Sexism!