Wednesday Brain Fart
Well, I had intended to show y'all the goodies that arrived Monday afternoon from Elann and RamWools, but I uploaded the wrong pictures to my host server. Grrr.
Hey, Hey, Mama
Check out this site for some dead-sexy sweater patterns. I particularly love this one. Puts the "grrr" back in tiger, wouldn'cha say?
Play That Funky Music, White Girl
Courtesy of this link from Hairball, you can get your own DJ Name. I came up as DJ Techno Hoodlum (cool). My sister (Jane) came up as DJ Saucy Cheese, DH came up as DJ Evil Repeater (huh?), and RockStar came up as DJ Master God. I'm not telling him that, or he'll never get his swelled head through the doorway.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Mundane Monday
Eh, it's Monday. We have a Santa Ana wind condition here in San Diego, making for a bee-yoo-ti-ful clear sunny day at the beach, where I most definitely will not be. Oh well.
Got a lot done on the Left and Right Fronts of Cabled Hoodie:
Good Customer Service Experience
In this era of "the customer isn't king," I like to give kudos where deserved. I subscribe to the Knitting Beyond the Hebrides knitting list. Occasionally, mention is made of the Interweave Knits Winter 99/00 issue featuring Jade Starmore's very pretty "Beadwork" cardigan pattern (pages 44-47). This issue is no longer available in print and can be found on EBay, if one is willing to pay the premium to obtain the issue. At this time, I am not. So I was pleased to discover a recent KBTH message thread revealing this nugget of info: if one calls Interweave Press Customer Service they will, for a $5.00 per article fee, photocopy any article featured in issues that are no longer available in print. They have a handy index to locate the issue that contains the article you're looking for.
I am willing to pay $5.00 for this pattern. I called the number (800-272-2193), and spoke to a very nice lady in Customer Service (whose name I cannot remember!). She grabbed her back copy of Winter 99/00, verified the article, and said, "Oh, that's only 4 pages! If you don't mind a black and white photocopy, I'll just drop it in the mail for you." At no charge. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. When was the last time someone went out of their way to do something nice for you, at no benefit to themselves? Yup, I received a Knitting Mitzvah. You rule, Interweave Press.
Eye Opener
Watched the movie Thirteen on pay-per-view yesterday. My God, what a disturbing movie. I know that all girls are not like 13yo Tracy and Evie, but this movie reminded me that there were always a couple of girls you remember in 7th and 8th grade who flew much closer to the sun than the rest of us. I've forgotten many of the names of "nice girls" that I attended school with (of which I was one), but I can still name the half-dozen "bad girls." Strange, that.
Happy Monday, everyone.
Eh, it's Monday. We have a Santa Ana wind condition here in San Diego, making for a bee-yoo-ti-ful clear sunny day at the beach, where I most definitely will not be. Oh well.
Got a lot done on the Left and Right Fronts of Cabled Hoodie:
Good Customer Service Experience
In this era of "the customer isn't king," I like to give kudos where deserved. I subscribe to the Knitting Beyond the Hebrides knitting list. Occasionally, mention is made of the Interweave Knits Winter 99/00 issue featuring Jade Starmore's very pretty "Beadwork" cardigan pattern (pages 44-47). This issue is no longer available in print and can be found on EBay, if one is willing to pay the premium to obtain the issue. At this time, I am not. So I was pleased to discover a recent KBTH message thread revealing this nugget of info: if one calls Interweave Press Customer Service they will, for a $5.00 per article fee, photocopy any article featured in issues that are no longer available in print. They have a handy index to locate the issue that contains the article you're looking for.
I am willing to pay $5.00 for this pattern. I called the number (800-272-2193), and spoke to a very nice lady in Customer Service (whose name I cannot remember!). She grabbed her back copy of Winter 99/00, verified the article, and said, "Oh, that's only 4 pages! If you don't mind a black and white photocopy, I'll just drop it in the mail for you." At no charge. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. When was the last time someone went out of their way to do something nice for you, at no benefit to themselves? Yup, I received a Knitting Mitzvah. You rule, Interweave Press.
Eye Opener
Watched the movie Thirteen on pay-per-view yesterday. My God, what a disturbing movie. I know that all girls are not like 13yo Tracy and Evie, but this movie reminded me that there were always a couple of girls you remember in 7th and 8th grade who flew much closer to the sun than the rest of us. I've forgotten many of the names of "nice girls" that I attended school with (of which I was one), but I can still name the half-dozen "bad girls." Strange, that.
Happy Monday, everyone.
Friday, March 26, 2004
What Price Nostalgia?
Spring has arrived in San Diego, where the seasons are so subtle if you blink you'll miss 'em. I was jonesing for some sandals and felt a nostalgic pang for some good old-fashioned Dr. Scholls. You fellow '70s gals remember 'em -- wooden platform with the buckle and the famous "toe bump?" A quick Google search quickly dashed my hopes. Apparently, Dr. Scholls are cool again, and the price of the basic model is $40. Forty dollars! Geez. And if you want the ultra-cool "Julian" model by designer Paul Frank, be prepared to shell out $78 for these cuties:
Monkey Business
So to console myself, I toodled over to Elann and picked up some Spring Knitting Goodies:
I'm Cottoning Up to This
I've Got a Sonata in My Heart
Big Cotton for This Sweater
Lacey Cotton Pattern
And I made a little progress on Cabled Hoodie. I'm on the last row of the waistband ribbing for the Left and Right Fronts:
Waist Not, Want Not
Frisky Friday
My Dear Husband is training for a Half Triathlon, aka a Sprint. I'm so proud of him -- he's training like an SOB getting ready for the race, which will be held in La Quinta, CA (south of Palm Springs) in mid-April. His laser beam focus on training is admirable, but certain things on the home front are going, um, wanting. On that note, I present, in no particular order, Amy's Top 5 Makeout Songs of All Time. Dedicated to you, honey. Hope it inspires you :-)
Me and Mrs. Jones, Billy Paul
Let's Stay Together, Al Green
Miracles, Jefferson Starship
Stranglehold, Ted Nugent (Hey, I'm a child 'o the '70s, what can I say?)
Son of a Preacher Man, Dusty Springfield
Happy Friday, everyone.
DR. SCHOLLS UPDATE! (March 29th) There's an EBay seller who has new Dr. Scholls for decent prices. I may have to indulge!
Spring has arrived in San Diego, where the seasons are so subtle if you blink you'll miss 'em. I was jonesing for some sandals and felt a nostalgic pang for some good old-fashioned Dr. Scholls. You fellow '70s gals remember 'em -- wooden platform with the buckle and the famous "toe bump?" A quick Google search quickly dashed my hopes. Apparently, Dr. Scholls are cool again, and the price of the basic model is $40. Forty dollars! Geez. And if you want the ultra-cool "Julian" model by designer Paul Frank, be prepared to shell out $78 for these cuties:
Monkey Business
So to console myself, I toodled over to Elann and picked up some Spring Knitting Goodies:
I'm Cottoning Up to This
I've Got a Sonata in My Heart
Big Cotton for This Sweater
Lacey Cotton Pattern
And I made a little progress on Cabled Hoodie. I'm on the last row of the waistband ribbing for the Left and Right Fronts:
Waist Not, Want Not
Frisky Friday
My Dear Husband is training for a Half Triathlon, aka a Sprint. I'm so proud of him -- he's training like an SOB getting ready for the race, which will be held in La Quinta, CA (south of Palm Springs) in mid-April. His laser beam focus on training is admirable, but certain things on the home front are going, um, wanting. On that note, I present, in no particular order, Amy's Top 5 Makeout Songs of All Time. Dedicated to you, honey. Hope it inspires you :-)
Happy Friday, everyone.
DR. SCHOLLS UPDATE! (March 29th) There's an EBay seller who has new Dr. Scholls for decent prices. I may have to indulge!
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Wilted Wednesday
Got about 10 rows of ribbing done on the left and right fronts of Cabled Hoodie last night; nothing worth posting a picture of. RockStar and I went to WalMart last night to purchase yet another CD player for him; this kid goes through portable CD players like water. Lest you think I buy this kid whatever he wants, think again. I spotted him $20 towards a new player; he has to make up the difference. He chose a $48 Sony model and gave up his allowance until the balance is paid off. We'll see how long this one lasts.
As a reward to myself for braving the wilds of WalMart, I picked up 8 skeins of Bernat Cotton Tots, a soft 100% cotton yarn marketed toward making baby clothes and blankets. But it seems like it would make a nice summer sweater. It's also inexpensive ($3.49 for 4oz) and comes in nice pastel colors that are perfect for summer. I chose Little Boy Blue, a nice robin's egg shade:
ADD = All Darn Day
Hot damn! It's that time of the month, time for the Ritalin Shuffle! I swear, trying to be a responsible parent and keep RockStar in Ritalin is daunting at times. A big part of the problem is that in the State of California, Ritalin is a controlled substance requiring a fresh triplicate prescription every 30 days (no refills), verification by the dispensing doctor of where the prescription was last filled, etc., etc. On a non-ADD afflicted person, Ritalin acts like speed, so apparently there's a problem with kids selling their pills to other kids, and prescriptions being stolen and/or forged. Anyway, this month's wrinkle is the doctor springing an evaluation request on us at the last minute before he'll dispense a new prescription for the next 30 days, necessitating some lost time at work for me and at school for RockStar. Not a problem, just frustrating.
And to continue the day's theme of "All About RockStar," at 4pm today we have an appointment, en famile, with RockStar's guidance counselor at school to discuss alternative school possibilities. DH heard through the grapevine that the San Diego Performing Arts High School is fine for the "performing arts" part, but isn't too hot academically. There's another Performing Arts High School on Coronado Island, which we haven't checked out, yet. There's also a Charter School in our community, which offers more of a self-directed type of learning environment. I have reservations about self-directed learning. It's fine and dandy while your child is in high school, but unless he goes to a similar type of college (i.e., Brown), he'll be right back in a traditional learning environment for college. The upside is that RockStar will have an additional two years of maturity under his belt by the time he's in college, and might be able to handle the traditional environment and its requirements by then. But I'm putting the cart before the horse. We'll see what today's appointment with the counselor brings.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.
RockStar Update, Thursday, 9:30am Pacific Time: Both of yesterday's appointments went well. RockStar is being evaluated for a different ADD med that isn't a triplicate (refills, yippee!), and we've started the paperwork to transfer him to the Performing Arts High School. He's been warned, though, that it's a "high-draw" magnet school with a waiting list and he may not get in next year. We'll see what happens over the summer.
Got about 10 rows of ribbing done on the left and right fronts of Cabled Hoodie last night; nothing worth posting a picture of. RockStar and I went to WalMart last night to purchase yet another CD player for him; this kid goes through portable CD players like water. Lest you think I buy this kid whatever he wants, think again. I spotted him $20 towards a new player; he has to make up the difference. He chose a $48 Sony model and gave up his allowance until the balance is paid off. We'll see how long this one lasts.
As a reward to myself for braving the wilds of WalMart, I picked up 8 skeins of Bernat Cotton Tots, a soft 100% cotton yarn marketed toward making baby clothes and blankets. But it seems like it would make a nice summer sweater. It's also inexpensive ($3.49 for 4oz) and comes in nice pastel colors that are perfect for summer. I chose Little Boy Blue, a nice robin's egg shade:
ADD = All Darn Day
Hot damn! It's that time of the month, time for the Ritalin Shuffle! I swear, trying to be a responsible parent and keep RockStar in Ritalin is daunting at times. A big part of the problem is that in the State of California, Ritalin is a controlled substance requiring a fresh triplicate prescription every 30 days (no refills), verification by the dispensing doctor of where the prescription was last filled, etc., etc. On a non-ADD afflicted person, Ritalin acts like speed, so apparently there's a problem with kids selling their pills to other kids, and prescriptions being stolen and/or forged. Anyway, this month's wrinkle is the doctor springing an evaluation request on us at the last minute before he'll dispense a new prescription for the next 30 days, necessitating some lost time at work for me and at school for RockStar. Not a problem, just frustrating.
And to continue the day's theme of "All About RockStar," at 4pm today we have an appointment, en famile, with RockStar's guidance counselor at school to discuss alternative school possibilities. DH heard through the grapevine that the San Diego Performing Arts High School is fine for the "performing arts" part, but isn't too hot academically. There's another Performing Arts High School on Coronado Island, which we haven't checked out, yet. There's also a Charter School in our community, which offers more of a self-directed type of learning environment. I have reservations about self-directed learning. It's fine and dandy while your child is in high school, but unless he goes to a similar type of college (i.e., Brown), he'll be right back in a traditional learning environment for college. The upside is that RockStar will have an additional two years of maturity under his belt by the time he's in college, and might be able to handle the traditional environment and its requirements by then. But I'm putting the cart before the horse. We'll see what today's appointment with the counselor brings.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.
RockStar Update, Thursday, 9:30am Pacific Time: Both of yesterday's appointments went well. RockStar is being evaluated for a different ADD med that isn't a triplicate (refills, yippee!), and we've started the paperwork to transfer him to the Performing Arts High School. He's been warned, though, that it's a "high-draw" magnet school with a waiting list and he may not get in next year. We'll see what happens over the summer.
Monday, March 22, 2004
Pilgrims Progress
Finished the sleeves on Cabled Hoodie this weekend:
Taped, but Unblocked
... and started the ribbing for the Left & Right Fronts! Happy, happy, joy, joy, I may actually get this thing finished before long.
Growing Up With a Pretty Mother
I had a Pretty Mom when I was growing up. How pretty? So pretty that little girls in my class would come up to me and say in admiring tones, "Your mom is soooo pretty." This sort of dynamic can sometimes set up an inferiority complex in a little girl. Not me. I was proud of having the prettiest mom in class.
Circa 1972, my mom was the neighborhood Cher -- she was tall, slender, and had long, straight, dark brown hair with bangs. She and her best friend, our neighbor Joyce Fletcher, swanned about the neighborhood in velvet hot pants, knee-high go-go boots, and long, fringed leather vests. She was a goddess. But after my parents divorced, it made for some interesting times. My mom has always been the type of person to attract, well, fringe sort of people. Of the male variety. There was never a State Fair or carnival that some snaggle-toothed, in-need-of-a-bath carnie didn't try hitting on my mom. While strapping down the safety bar on The Spider, they'd lean over conspiratorially and say to my sister and me (ages 4 and 7, respectively), "Yore mom's shore purdy. Think she'd go out for a beer with me?" Sure, buddy, you have my permission to date my mom. Can I have an extra round on The Spider if I tell her you like her?
I don't have quite the same problem as my mother. I tend to attract people of the "wounded bird" variety. I can't tell you over the years just how many people of borderline personality disorder, mild (and not-so-mild) sociopathy, and the just-plain-needy seem drawn to me. Same with kids and animals. It's some sort of palpable maternal comfort vibe that I unconsciously emanate. DH calls it my "Mom Ray." This "thing" of mine caused problems until I learned to distance myself a bit while getting to know people. I guess it's better than carnies hitting on me, but sometimes I wonder.
Happy Monday, everyone.
Finished the sleeves on Cabled Hoodie this weekend:
Taped, but Unblocked
... and started the ribbing for the Left & Right Fronts! Happy, happy, joy, joy, I may actually get this thing finished before long.
Growing Up With a Pretty Mother
I had a Pretty Mom when I was growing up. How pretty? So pretty that little girls in my class would come up to me and say in admiring tones, "Your mom is soooo pretty." This sort of dynamic can sometimes set up an inferiority complex in a little girl. Not me. I was proud of having the prettiest mom in class.
Circa 1972, my mom was the neighborhood Cher -- she was tall, slender, and had long, straight, dark brown hair with bangs. She and her best friend, our neighbor Joyce Fletcher, swanned about the neighborhood in velvet hot pants, knee-high go-go boots, and long, fringed leather vests. She was a goddess. But after my parents divorced, it made for some interesting times. My mom has always been the type of person to attract, well, fringe sort of people. Of the male variety. There was never a State Fair or carnival that some snaggle-toothed, in-need-of-a-bath carnie didn't try hitting on my mom. While strapping down the safety bar on The Spider, they'd lean over conspiratorially and say to my sister and me (ages 4 and 7, respectively), "Yore mom's shore purdy. Think she'd go out for a beer with me?" Sure, buddy, you have my permission to date my mom. Can I have an extra round on The Spider if I tell her you like her?
I don't have quite the same problem as my mother. I tend to attract people of the "wounded bird" variety. I can't tell you over the years just how many people of borderline personality disorder, mild (and not-so-mild) sociopathy, and the just-plain-needy seem drawn to me. Same with kids and animals. It's some sort of palpable maternal comfort vibe that I unconsciously emanate. DH calls it my "Mom Ray." This "thing" of mine caused problems until I learned to distance myself a bit while getting to know people. I guess it's better than carnies hitting on me, but sometimes I wonder.
Happy Monday, everyone.
Friday, March 19, 2004
No real knitting progress to speak of -- certainly not enough to post a picture. I wish I was one of those multi-WIP people, with 39 WIPs to shuffle like a deck of cards, but alas, it's just not me. So let me entertain you with some Friday Fluff:
Calling Oliver Stone or Michael Moore
I'm hot on the trail of a possible cosmetics cover-up -- a conspiracy of hygiene hijinx; a veritable depilatory debacle. It all started about a year ago when I discovered that the Great American Bastion of bulk consumerism, Costco, sold my favorite Gillette Venus razorblades in a 16-pack for about $24.00. Expensive, yes, but I have a long and boring history of whining about shaving my legs (just ask my mother or sister; they're certainly sick of hearing about it). No blade is sharp enough for me. The trees in my home state of Oregon aren't just in the forest -- they're on my legs as well and require superhuman methods of removal.
About the time I was eyeing the Ginsu knives in the kitchen, I discovered the Venus razorblade. Super-sharp, triple-blade, lubricating strip; I was in depilatory heaven. But ay, mamacita, they were expensive! Refills, even at WalMart, averaged about $7.00 for 4 blades. Ouch! So I was quite pleased to find these wicked little gems at Costco.
I happily filled my handy little Venus Shaving System razor 'n blade shower holder, slapped a sharp new blade into the Venus handle, and proceeded to completely rip up my legs. What the heck? Not wanting waste my investment, I continued shaving 'n ripping until I used up all the blades. The next Venus refill was a 4-blade pack purchased from WalMart. Ahh, here were the blades I was expecting -- smooth shave, no cuts or scrapes. Continuing with the experiment, I purchased another 24-pack of blades from Costco last weekend -- again becoming an unwilling blood bank donor in my own bathtub. Nowhere on the packaging did it say these blades were manufactured for Costco, but I suspect they're either just that, or they're inferior seconds that didn't pass Quality Control at Gillette. Pretty crummy on Gillette's part, I think.
I also had a similar experience with my favorite deodorant, Secret Sheer Dry (in my favorite perkily-named scent, "Optimism!" I shudder to think what "Despair!" smells like). Works great if I purchase it from the drugstore; crummy, inferior results from supposedly the same product purchased in a 3-pack from Costco. Oliver or Michael, can I get a film crew on this, now?
Happy Friday, everyone.
Calling Oliver Stone or Michael Moore
I'm hot on the trail of a possible cosmetics cover-up -- a conspiracy of hygiene hijinx; a veritable depilatory debacle. It all started about a year ago when I discovered that the Great American Bastion of bulk consumerism, Costco, sold my favorite Gillette Venus razorblades in a 16-pack for about $24.00. Expensive, yes, but I have a long and boring history of whining about shaving my legs (just ask my mother or sister; they're certainly sick of hearing about it). No blade is sharp enough for me. The trees in my home state of Oregon aren't just in the forest -- they're on my legs as well and require superhuman methods of removal.
About the time I was eyeing the Ginsu knives in the kitchen, I discovered the Venus razorblade. Super-sharp, triple-blade, lubricating strip; I was in depilatory heaven. But ay, mamacita, they were expensive! Refills, even at WalMart, averaged about $7.00 for 4 blades. Ouch! So I was quite pleased to find these wicked little gems at Costco.
I happily filled my handy little Venus Shaving System razor 'n blade shower holder, slapped a sharp new blade into the Venus handle, and proceeded to completely rip up my legs. What the heck? Not wanting waste my investment, I continued shaving 'n ripping until I used up all the blades. The next Venus refill was a 4-blade pack purchased from WalMart. Ahh, here were the blades I was expecting -- smooth shave, no cuts or scrapes. Continuing with the experiment, I purchased another 24-pack of blades from Costco last weekend -- again becoming an unwilling blood bank donor in my own bathtub. Nowhere on the packaging did it say these blades were manufactured for Costco, but I suspect they're either just that, or they're inferior seconds that didn't pass Quality Control at Gillette. Pretty crummy on Gillette's part, I think.
I also had a similar experience with my favorite deodorant, Secret Sheer Dry (in my favorite perkily-named scent, "Optimism!" I shudder to think what "Despair!" smells like). Works great if I purchase it from the drugstore; crummy, inferior results from supposedly the same product purchased in a 3-pack from Costco. Oliver or Michael, can I get a film crew on this, now?
Happy Friday, everyone.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
"may the road rise to meet you
may the wind be always at your back
and may you find yourself in the palm of God's hand
an hour before the devil knows you're gone ..."
--Old Irish Saying, dedicated to my sweet Irish Grandma, Margaret ...
I think Roberts Rules of Order states that New Business must be dealt with first, so here's the latest progress on Cabled Hoodie:
The sides of the sleeve are being shy and curling up, so you can't see where I've started the underarm shaping. Here's a closeup of the bobbles:
No old business, so we're on to "What The...?"
I don't know if this particular peculiarity is nationwide, but here in California we tend to have, well, strange business names:
Casual Dining and Barstools
Fan Diego
The Wacky Wicker
Beverages and More! (the "and More!" worries me)
Coffins for Less!
And we have strange sales. Usually for outsized items.
Giant Used Car Sale
Giant Tent Sale(to store that Giant Used Car in?)
Giant Shoe Sale (to step on that Giant Accelerator)
Do you have any strange business names in your area?
may the wind be always at your back
and may you find yourself in the palm of God's hand
an hour before the devil knows you're gone ..."
--Old Irish Saying, dedicated to my sweet Irish Grandma, Margaret ...
I think Roberts Rules of Order states that New Business must be dealt with first, so here's the latest progress on Cabled Hoodie:
The sides of the sleeve are being shy and curling up, so you can't see where I've started the underarm shaping. Here's a closeup of the bobbles:
No old business, so we're on to "What The...?"
I don't know if this particular peculiarity is nationwide, but here in California we tend to have, well, strange business names:
And we have strange sales. Usually for outsized items.
Do you have any strange business names in your area?
Monday, March 15, 2004
A sweet little birdie brought a Birthextenday Present to me on Saturday, all the way from Michigan!
Crystal Palace's Squiggle Yarn!
Even though we've never met face-to-face, Marcia and I have struck up a wonderful friendship via email and our blogs. That's the beauty of the knit blog community -- people who may never actually meet can still find friendship and support, thousands of miles from each other. I find it to be a precious thing, indeed. Thank you, little birdie!
A quick perusal of the Crystal Palace website reveals several tantalizing possibilities for Squiggle:
Squiggle, alone
Squiggle and Trio
Squiggle and Fizz
Ah, the possibilities!
Got some work done on Cabled Hoodie. I'm just starting the underarm shaping and sleeve cap decreases -- pictures on Wednesday.
Happy Monday, everyone!
Crystal Palace's Squiggle Yarn!
Even though we've never met face-to-face, Marcia and I have struck up a wonderful friendship via email and our blogs. That's the beauty of the knit blog community -- people who may never actually meet can still find friendship and support, thousands of miles from each other. I find it to be a precious thing, indeed. Thank you, little birdie!
A quick perusal of the Crystal Palace website reveals several tantalizing possibilities for Squiggle:
Ah, the possibilities!
Got some work done on Cabled Hoodie. I'm just starting the underarm shaping and sleeve cap decreases -- pictures on Wednesday.
Happy Monday, everyone!
Friday, March 12, 2004
Thanks to everyone for making my (not-so-secret) birthday last the whole week! Got lots of nice comments and emails wishing me well -- very nice :-)
What's not so nice is this #$@* thread crochet stuff. I'm trying a different motif (for the last sweater on the right in Monday's entry -- the one with short sleeves and the wide v-neck), and there's either an error in the pattern, or *operator* error (most likely the latter!) Instead of a nice, flat motif, I'm ending up with this little, scrunched-up, cup-shaped thing. Grrr. Think I'll put it down for a few days and work on Cable Hoodie. Cable knitting never lets me down.
And This Matters, Because … ?
The knit lists occasionally get in a kerfuffle about the various methods of knitting. Endless discussion ensues debating the merits of English, Continental, Eastern Continental Uncrossed, Sumatran Leg-Behind-The-Head, etc. Personally, I could care less how I knit, as long as I get gauge, maintain even tension, and eventually get a sweater (or whatever) out of the deal. But in a fit of boredom, I decided to actually put a name to my method.
I learned to knit at age 8 from my left-handed grandmother (I'm right-handed). We quickly became frustrated trying to work together, and like an uncomfortable mother handing her adolescent daughter a book on "How Your Body Works," Grandma gave me a quaint little Coats & Clarks book on "How to Knit." I managed to glean enough from that book to start me on a lifetime of knitting. In fact, I saw the book in an estate sale in Portland last summer and have been kicking myself ever since for not buying it.
Here, for your critiquing pleasure, is How I Knit:
Knit Row: I'm a Thrower. Yes, I toss my yarn like a German discus thrower going for a gold medal. I briefly let go of the right needle completely (wheee!) while throwing the yarn around the right needle, then I grab the right needle in midair (geez, I should join a circus), and give the yarn a slight tug with my right thumb and forefinger to set the stitch.
Purl Row: Pure Continental, baybee. I can purl like the wind. I'll race ya, anytime.
Golly, I must have been really bored.
Happy Friday, everyone.
What's not so nice is this #$@* thread crochet stuff. I'm trying a different motif (for the last sweater on the right in Monday's entry -- the one with short sleeves and the wide v-neck), and there's either an error in the pattern, or *operator* error (most likely the latter!) Instead of a nice, flat motif, I'm ending up with this little, scrunched-up, cup-shaped thing. Grrr. Think I'll put it down for a few days and work on Cable Hoodie. Cable knitting never lets me down.
And This Matters, Because … ?
The knit lists occasionally get in a kerfuffle about the various methods of knitting. Endless discussion ensues debating the merits of English, Continental, Eastern Continental Uncrossed, Sumatran Leg-Behind-The-Head, etc. Personally, I could care less how I knit, as long as I get gauge, maintain even tension, and eventually get a sweater (or whatever) out of the deal. But in a fit of boredom, I decided to actually put a name to my method.
I learned to knit at age 8 from my left-handed grandmother (I'm right-handed). We quickly became frustrated trying to work together, and like an uncomfortable mother handing her adolescent daughter a book on "How Your Body Works," Grandma gave me a quaint little Coats & Clarks book on "How to Knit." I managed to glean enough from that book to start me on a lifetime of knitting. In fact, I saw the book in an estate sale in Portland last summer and have been kicking myself ever since for not buying it.
Here, for your critiquing pleasure, is How I Knit:
Knit Row: I'm a Thrower. Yes, I toss my yarn like a German discus thrower going for a gold medal. I briefly let go of the right needle completely (wheee!) while throwing the yarn around the right needle, then I grab the right needle in midair (geez, I should join a circus), and give the yarn a slight tug with my right thumb and forefinger to set the stitch.
Purl Row: Pure Continental, baybee. I can purl like the wind. I'll race ya, anytime.
Golly, I must have been really bored.
Happy Friday, everyone.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Warm Fuzzies
Got a nice (and public!) birthday greeting from cyber-sistah Marcia yesterday (thanks, sweetie!). Bron followed up with a congratulatory email and gently chastised me for not revealing my birthday earlier. I apologize, Crochet Sistah! I'm just shy about having any fuss made over me. But I did enjoy the emails (little smile). Thanks again, you two.
Projects on the Horizon
Kerstin is participating in Gib's Everyday Cardigan Knitalong. She's making one of my favorite patterns, Knitting Pure & Simple's Neckdown Jacket ... which is another example of blog-synchronicity. I recently ordered 3 KP&S patterns from One Fine Yarn:
Neckdown Shaped T-Shirt
Neckdown V-Neck T-Shirt
Neckdown Summer Cardigan
I think I'm going to make the Summer Cardi for my mom's birthday this July. I'd like to find a nice silk blend or summery cotton in a light worsted weight -- suggestions?
Happy Wednesday, everyone!
Got a nice (and public!) birthday greeting from cyber-sistah Marcia yesterday (thanks, sweetie!). Bron followed up with a congratulatory email and gently chastised me for not revealing my birthday earlier. I apologize, Crochet Sistah! I'm just shy about having any fuss made over me. But I did enjoy the emails (little smile). Thanks again, you two.
Projects on the Horizon
Kerstin is participating in Gib's Everyday Cardigan Knitalong. She's making one of my favorite patterns, Knitting Pure & Simple's Neckdown Jacket ... which is another example of blog-synchronicity. I recently ordered 3 KP&S patterns from One Fine Yarn:
Neckdown Shaped T-Shirt
Neckdown V-Neck T-Shirt
Neckdown Summer Cardigan
I think I'm going to make the Summer Cardi for my mom's birthday this July. I'd like to find a nice silk blend or summery cotton in a light worsted weight -- suggestions?
Happy Wednesday, everyone!
Monday, March 08, 2004
Monday Mischief
::yawn:: Oh! Where are my manners? La Familia was out a bit late last night; we took RockStar to see this guy. Paco de Lucia is one of the pre-eminent flamenco guitar masters in the world. His show was excellent, with the exception of his very emotionally overwrought female singers. "I could have done without the Screaming Inca Chicks," was DH's concensus. Still, it was an excellent show.
I must confess that I crossed over to the Dark Side this weekend ... and crocheted! My partner in crime is Bron. She's got me looking for the April issue of Crochet Fantasy that features a cute openwork jacket. Looked at Barnes & Noble and Borders ... no luck. But I did find this Leisure Arts book at Michaels this weekend:
I picked up a gigantic ball of No. 10 crochet cotton that's about as big as my head -- you think I'm kidding, don't you? Mai non! It's 2700 yards of ecru cotton! I used a smidge to make one of these:
Only 178 more of these little gems and I'll have this:
Pretty, huh? Or I might make either of these:
And I'm not the only one with an itch to crochet ... Kim is starting up a new online crochet resource called Crochet Me! (link courtesy of Action Hero Melissa).
It's fun to be a hooker, sometimes.
Happy Monday, everyone.
::yawn:: Oh! Where are my manners? La Familia was out a bit late last night; we took RockStar to see this guy. Paco de Lucia is one of the pre-eminent flamenco guitar masters in the world. His show was excellent, with the exception of his very emotionally overwrought female singers. "I could have done without the Screaming Inca Chicks," was DH's concensus. Still, it was an excellent show.
I must confess that I crossed over to the Dark Side this weekend ... and crocheted! My partner in crime is Bron. She's got me looking for the April issue of Crochet Fantasy that features a cute openwork jacket. Looked at Barnes & Noble and Borders ... no luck. But I did find this Leisure Arts book at Michaels this weekend:
I picked up a gigantic ball of No. 10 crochet cotton that's about as big as my head -- you think I'm kidding, don't you? Mai non! It's 2700 yards of ecru cotton! I used a smidge to make one of these:
Only 178 more of these little gems and I'll have this:
Pretty, huh? Or I might make either of these:
And I'm not the only one with an itch to crochet ... Kim is starting up a new online crochet resource called Crochet Me! (link courtesy of Action Hero Melissa).
It's fun to be a hooker, sometimes.
Happy Monday, everyone.
Friday, March 05, 2004
A Big Thank You from San Diego
This webring has the most awesome and generous people. My painful post brought an incredible outpouring of comments and emails from readers sharing their experiences, advice, or just saying "hang in there." Thank you all for your collective wisdom and good wishes. I feel recharged and ready to get back into the parental trenches. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. May blessings and good things come to each of you.
Whew! Shall we get back to the knitting? I'd like to, if that's OK! Here's what I worked on during the RockStar crisis. It was light & frothy knitting, and just what I needed to stay calm in the eye of the storm.
Closeup of the texture
The scarf is made from 2 skeins of Cascade Rio (162 yards/skein), a cotton & rayon yarn that's new this season, and a single strand of silky ribbon (sorry, can't remember the brand), on Size 15 needles. Super easy pattern -- you knit the triangle in garter stitch, starting with 8 stitches and increasing 1 stitch every other row right before the last 4 stitches until you finish 1 skein, then attach the 2nd skein and decrease 1 stitch every other row right before the last 4 stitches, until you have 8 stitches left. Bind off 4 stitches, then unravel the last 4. Keep unraveling last 4 stitches from each row to form the fringe. You'll need about 350 yards of yarn for a scarf that measures about 18" deep and 36" wide. Easy!
Happy Friday, and thank you again, everyone.
This webring has the most awesome and generous people. My painful post brought an incredible outpouring of comments and emails from readers sharing their experiences, advice, or just saying "hang in there." Thank you all for your collective wisdom and good wishes. I feel recharged and ready to get back into the parental trenches. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. May blessings and good things come to each of you.
Whew! Shall we get back to the knitting? I'd like to, if that's OK! Here's what I worked on during the RockStar crisis. It was light & frothy knitting, and just what I needed to stay calm in the eye of the storm.
Closeup of the texture
The scarf is made from 2 skeins of Cascade Rio (162 yards/skein), a cotton & rayon yarn that's new this season, and a single strand of silky ribbon (sorry, can't remember the brand), on Size 15 needles. Super easy pattern -- you knit the triangle in garter stitch, starting with 8 stitches and increasing 1 stitch every other row right before the last 4 stitches until you finish 1 skein, then attach the 2nd skein and decrease 1 stitch every other row right before the last 4 stitches, until you have 8 stitches left. Bind off 4 stitches, then unravel the last 4. Keep unraveling last 4 stitches from each row to form the fringe. You'll need about 350 yards of yarn for a scarf that measures about 18" deep and 36" wide. Easy!
Happy Friday, and thank you again, everyone.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Long Non-Knitting Post Ahead -- Skip If So Inclined. Heck, I Would.
It was just over 2 weeks ago (February 17th, to be exact) that I was waxing ecstatic over RockStar's progress and how proud we were of him. I got a lot of wonderful "atta-girl" comments from readers, and was feeling pretty doggone good about my budding parenting skills. Funny how life has a way of slapping you upside the head if you get too smug …
On the evening of February 19th, RockStar revealed to us that he had been planning to run away. His plan, a very detailed and granular one, involved stealing my car, driving to Tucson, ditching the car, and taking a bus to San Antonio, Texas, to live in the basement of an 18-year old AOL Instant Messenger buddy whom he has never met. Also helping him hatch this scheme was another online buddy (in Sweden, no less). He received additional helpful hints from these two online enablers such as, "Don't forget to take one of (your parent's) credit cards, so you'll have money." The ultimate goal in Texas was for RockStar and his buddy, who is living in the basement of his aunt's house and is still in high school himself, to start a rock band and "make a difference in the world, 'cuz all the music that's out there sucks, and school is keeping me from practicing 14 hours a day like I want to."
I cannot begin to describe the shock, fear, anger, and hurt that this confession brought up for DH and myself. To say we were caught absolutely flatfooted doesn't begin to describe it. I know teenagers can put on a mask to hide their feelings; I used to be one myself and I remember very well how it's done.
But this scheme of RockStar's was so far below our radar that it went virtually undetected until 2 days before his scheduled departure date, when he started exhibiting vague physical complaints with no discernable cause. I've always recognized this behavior as a stress signal for him, and on Thursday morning, I gently confronted him before dropping him off at school. I told him I knew he wasn't truly sick, since he was eating large and healthy dinners but acting all Victorian and vaporish the rest of the time. He acknowledged that something was bothering him that involved school and music, but he needed to figure it out for himself. I reminded him that his father and I couldn't help him if he didn't talk to us, and left it at that. After dropping him off, I got on the phone to DH and said, "Tag -- you're it." That night, DH also pressed RockStar about it. RockStar put DH off, saying it was something he needed to handle himself. But less than 15 minutes after that, RockStar came into DH's home office and 'fessed up that he had planned on running away at 2:00 am Sunday morning (Saturday night).
The details came out piece by piece over the next few days. I was on the phone to RockStar's counselor the morning after the confession (Friday). His immediate assessment was both reassuring and frightening. Reassuring in that RockStar told us of his decision not to execute his plan, and frightening in his assessment that RockStar's depth of planning meant he might someday carry out another plan (leaving DH and I to wonder, what would that plan be? robbing a bank? or?) I scheduled the next available appointment, which wasn't until Tuesday, March 2nd.
DH and I immediately cut off RockStar's internet access, which he was not at all happy about. RockStar was pissed because he believed that since he 'fessed up, he'd get an appropriate punishment and life would go on as normal, la-di-da, as has occurred in past transgressions. Instead, he's finally realizing that, like not joking about having a gun in an airport, you can't confess an elaborate runaway scheme to your parents, especially one that involves criminal elements (car theft, credit card fraud, harboring a runaway), without major reaction and repercussions. Needless to say, it's been, at times, a tense 2 weeks.
We tried to make very clear to RockStar that his plan, despite being very detailed and workable in his mind, had little chance of succeeding in the real world. Did he really think that a grown woman (the aunt of the kid in Texas) would not notice a strange kid with no visible means of support living in her home week after week, eating her food, using her shower, washer and dryer, etc. Did he understand that cell phones could be traced? That credit card transactions could be traced? That he'd never driven a stick-shift car in his entire life? (no, no, no and no) We asked him, why steal my car? Why drive to Tucson, and take a bus the rest of the way? Because he didn't know how else to get to the bus station (which, if it weren't so tragic it'd be laughable -- but we weren't about to remind him about the purpose of a taxicab at that point). We asked, how did RockStar plan to support himself at 15 years old, with no high school diploma? Oh, he had that figured out, too: His Texas buddy assured him that "tons of kids" would be clamoring to take music theory lessons from RockStar. We reminded RockStar that his guitar teacher is an Assistant Professor of Music at the University of California who possesses 3 degrees and is nearly finished with his doctorate, while RockStar has been taking lessons for a total of 18 months. How, exactly, did he think he was qualified to teach?
What it all boiled down to was that he admitted to us that he really didn't want to leave, that it was a fantasy that got out of hand; that when push came to shove, he couldn't go through with it. Then why, DH and I asked, did he make these elaborate plans? Because they made me feel good, like I had control of my life, he answered. We stressed to him that there were healthier ways to feel in control besides making plans to run away. He made it very clear to us (and later, his counselor) that despite his excellent grades, just how much he hates school, and the pointlessness of the work involved (the usual adolescent argument of, "I'll never use this stuff in real life"). We tried to make him understand that while yes, we know he's eager to get out there and grab hold of life and shake it by the tail, it's just not his time, yet.
Fast forward to present. Tuesday's counseling session was good. RockStar's counselor drilled down to the core issues and exposed the problems. RockStar is scheduled for as many sessions as it takes, and DH and I are working with the counselor on our level of involvement in the counseling process. We're investigating the possibility of transferring RockStar to a Performing Arts High School next year, where he'll have many more classmates with similar creative drives and won't have to drive to Texas to be in a band.
Bottom line: We're exhausted. DH and I knew we were getting damaged goods with this kid, but we had no idea just how deep it ran. What if I hadn't paid attention to his squirminess a few days before his planned departure date? Are DH and I waiting for some future "shoe" to drop with this kid? After yesterday's counseling session, DH voiced something I'd been feeling for awhile: "I hope he's retrievable." I say in all truth that if his mother were to appear before me, I cannot be held responsible for what I'd do to her.
Say a little prayer for this family.
It was just over 2 weeks ago (February 17th, to be exact) that I was waxing ecstatic over RockStar's progress and how proud we were of him. I got a lot of wonderful "atta-girl" comments from readers, and was feeling pretty doggone good about my budding parenting skills. Funny how life has a way of slapping you upside the head if you get too smug …
On the evening of February 19th, RockStar revealed to us that he had been planning to run away. His plan, a very detailed and granular one, involved stealing my car, driving to Tucson, ditching the car, and taking a bus to San Antonio, Texas, to live in the basement of an 18-year old AOL Instant Messenger buddy whom he has never met. Also helping him hatch this scheme was another online buddy (in Sweden, no less). He received additional helpful hints from these two online enablers such as, "Don't forget to take one of (your parent's) credit cards, so you'll have money." The ultimate goal in Texas was for RockStar and his buddy, who is living in the basement of his aunt's house and is still in high school himself, to start a rock band and "make a difference in the world, 'cuz all the music that's out there sucks, and school is keeping me from practicing 14 hours a day like I want to."
I cannot begin to describe the shock, fear, anger, and hurt that this confession brought up for DH and myself. To say we were caught absolutely flatfooted doesn't begin to describe it. I know teenagers can put on a mask to hide their feelings; I used to be one myself and I remember very well how it's done.
But this scheme of RockStar's was so far below our radar that it went virtually undetected until 2 days before his scheduled departure date, when he started exhibiting vague physical complaints with no discernable cause. I've always recognized this behavior as a stress signal for him, and on Thursday morning, I gently confronted him before dropping him off at school. I told him I knew he wasn't truly sick, since he was eating large and healthy dinners but acting all Victorian and vaporish the rest of the time. He acknowledged that something was bothering him that involved school and music, but he needed to figure it out for himself. I reminded him that his father and I couldn't help him if he didn't talk to us, and left it at that. After dropping him off, I got on the phone to DH and said, "Tag -- you're it." That night, DH also pressed RockStar about it. RockStar put DH off, saying it was something he needed to handle himself. But less than 15 minutes after that, RockStar came into DH's home office and 'fessed up that he had planned on running away at 2:00 am Sunday morning (Saturday night).
The details came out piece by piece over the next few days. I was on the phone to RockStar's counselor the morning after the confession (Friday). His immediate assessment was both reassuring and frightening. Reassuring in that RockStar told us of his decision not to execute his plan, and frightening in his assessment that RockStar's depth of planning meant he might someday carry out another plan (leaving DH and I to wonder, what would that plan be? robbing a bank? or?) I scheduled the next available appointment, which wasn't until Tuesday, March 2nd.
DH and I immediately cut off RockStar's internet access, which he was not at all happy about. RockStar was pissed because he believed that since he 'fessed up, he'd get an appropriate punishment and life would go on as normal, la-di-da, as has occurred in past transgressions. Instead, he's finally realizing that, like not joking about having a gun in an airport, you can't confess an elaborate runaway scheme to your parents, especially one that involves criminal elements (car theft, credit card fraud, harboring a runaway), without major reaction and repercussions. Needless to say, it's been, at times, a tense 2 weeks.
We tried to make very clear to RockStar that his plan, despite being very detailed and workable in his mind, had little chance of succeeding in the real world. Did he really think that a grown woman (the aunt of the kid in Texas) would not notice a strange kid with no visible means of support living in her home week after week, eating her food, using her shower, washer and dryer, etc. Did he understand that cell phones could be traced? That credit card transactions could be traced? That he'd never driven a stick-shift car in his entire life? (no, no, no and no) We asked him, why steal my car? Why drive to Tucson, and take a bus the rest of the way? Because he didn't know how else to get to the bus station (which, if it weren't so tragic it'd be laughable -- but we weren't about to remind him about the purpose of a taxicab at that point). We asked, how did RockStar plan to support himself at 15 years old, with no high school diploma? Oh, he had that figured out, too: His Texas buddy assured him that "tons of kids" would be clamoring to take music theory lessons from RockStar. We reminded RockStar that his guitar teacher is an Assistant Professor of Music at the University of California who possesses 3 degrees and is nearly finished with his doctorate, while RockStar has been taking lessons for a total of 18 months. How, exactly, did he think he was qualified to teach?
What it all boiled down to was that he admitted to us that he really didn't want to leave, that it was a fantasy that got out of hand; that when push came to shove, he couldn't go through with it. Then why, DH and I asked, did he make these elaborate plans? Because they made me feel good, like I had control of my life, he answered. We stressed to him that there were healthier ways to feel in control besides making plans to run away. He made it very clear to us (and later, his counselor) that despite his excellent grades, just how much he hates school, and the pointlessness of the work involved (the usual adolescent argument of, "I'll never use this stuff in real life"). We tried to make him understand that while yes, we know he's eager to get out there and grab hold of life and shake it by the tail, it's just not his time, yet.
Fast forward to present. Tuesday's counseling session was good. RockStar's counselor drilled down to the core issues and exposed the problems. RockStar is scheduled for as many sessions as it takes, and DH and I are working with the counselor on our level of involvement in the counseling process. We're investigating the possibility of transferring RockStar to a Performing Arts High School next year, where he'll have many more classmates with similar creative drives and won't have to drive to Texas to be in a band.
Bottom line: We're exhausted. DH and I knew we were getting damaged goods with this kid, but we had no idea just how deep it ran. What if I hadn't paid attention to his squirminess a few days before his planned departure date? Are DH and I waiting for some future "shoe" to drop with this kid? After yesterday's counseling session, DH voiced something I'd been feeling for awhile: "I hope he's retrievable." I say in all truth that if his mother were to appear before me, I cannot be held responsible for what I'd do to her.
Say a little prayer for this family.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Drop what you're doing and go to the new MagKnits site now! Lots of cool patterns, lots of knitting fun.
Got the new Patternworks catalog in the mail a few days ago, along with the new RamWools catalog. I have to say I was a bit disappointed in Patternworks' offerings, but it might just be me. I loved a lot of the offerings in the RamWools catalog, so DH might have to lock up my Visa 'til the urge passes.
I only got 2 rows done on Cabled Hoodie last night, so no picture today.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.
Wednesday Evening Catalog Update: The new KnitPicks catalog was waiting for me in today's mail. Love the Sirdar Donegal Tweed DK Jeans Jacket on page 15. Yum.
Got the new Patternworks catalog in the mail a few days ago, along with the new RamWools catalog. I have to say I was a bit disappointed in Patternworks' offerings, but it might just be me. I loved a lot of the offerings in the RamWools catalog, so DH might have to lock up my Visa 'til the urge passes.
I only got 2 rows done on Cabled Hoodie last night, so no picture today.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.
Wednesday Evening Catalog Update: The new KnitPicks catalog was waiting for me in today's mail. Love the Sirdar Donegal Tweed DK Jeans Jacket on page 15. Yum.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Ugh, Monday. Rolled around much too soon for me. Got some knitting done, though ...
Good Heavens, My Purling Is Curling
Because it's Monday and I'm in a weird mood, I'll leave you with this:
The Girl Can't Help It
Really, I can't. I have a mild obsession with what I call "Baby Heavy Equipment." I always squeal and point out cute little steamrollers and Bobcat forklifts and bulldozers parked in front of the U-Rent-It equipment places. Must have been that copy of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel I had when I was a kid. My husband, bless his heart, humors me. I keep reminding him how I can make my baby heavy equipment pay for itself -- I'd drive my little Bobcat all around the neighborhood and say, "Say! That driveway's looking a little rough! I can fix it in a jif with my very own Bobcat and Steamroller! Whaddya think?" Plus, they make that really loud "Whoop! Whoop!" sound when I go into reverse. Here are a couple of offerings on Ebay that I can add to my inventory, at the click of a button:
The Start of a Baby Equipment Empire
Hey, it's my dream. Don't step on it. Or I'll show up in your driveway.
Good Heavens, My Purling Is Curling
Because it's Monday and I'm in a weird mood, I'll leave you with this:
The Girl Can't Help It
Really, I can't. I have a mild obsession with what I call "Baby Heavy Equipment." I always squeal and point out cute little steamrollers and Bobcat forklifts and bulldozers parked in front of the U-Rent-It equipment places. Must have been that copy of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel I had when I was a kid. My husband, bless his heart, humors me. I keep reminding him how I can make my baby heavy equipment pay for itself -- I'd drive my little Bobcat all around the neighborhood and say, "Say! That driveway's looking a little rough! I can fix it in a jif with my very own Bobcat and Steamroller! Whaddya think?" Plus, they make that really loud "Whoop! Whoop!" sound when I go into reverse. Here are a couple of offerings on Ebay that I can add to my inventory, at the click of a button:
The Start of a Baby Equipment Empire
Hey, it's my dream. Don't step on it. Or I'll show up in your driveway.