Like So Many Things...

I didn't succeed in finishing 7 miles of knitting by October first. I really like lofty goals, especially because when I don't meet them I'm not overly fussed. I really, really would like to finish the 11-Mile Quest by December 31, though. For reals.

I did manage to churn out a bunch of knits, stay project-focused (mostly), and rekindle my love of spinning. I also managed to not buy any more yarn.  I made a very successful Yarn Trade with Spilly Jane in which I gave her my poor unloved Kauni and she gave me some Mad Tosh Merino Light and some Knit Picks Shadow - I'm pretty sure I won that round, but shhh! The overall yardage in was higher than the yardage out, but at least it's yards I'll actually end up knitting. My last September finished knit is my Sacred Scarf, which I cast off and sewed the ends into almost exactly as my train from the Bay Area pulled in to Sacramento yesterday evening. I'm quite pleased with it and will not be giving it away no matter who asks. Unless it's The 4 Closer, because she's effing incredible and I would bribe her with knitting to be my friend if I thought she'd let me. 

Regia Silk/Wool and Cascade Heritage Silk, 652 yds. total

But anyway. 

I have a bunch of things with a good amount of yardage knitted into them already. My High Seas shawl has only 60 rows and the edging to be done, the Tide Pool Pi is less finished but it's been TV knitting, which has to share time with TV spinning (and you know how well that's been going! Yay!). My Rosebud Shawl hasn't seen much action, but a girl can only focus on so many things at once, right? Plus I haven't quite figured out Fleegle's no-purl garter stitch method, so there is a LOT of purling. Ick.

And then there are the bebehs. I'm going to a joint baby shower with two of my good friends on October 29th. They're besties and of course are due right around the same time, but in a fit of pique that can ONLY be aimed at me, one of them refuses to figure out the gender of her baby until it's born. I ask you, how am I supposed to knit matching baby outfits if I don't know whether or not I can make this adorable baby dress?

Evelyn thinks this is SO RUDE. 

And then there's a wedding on December 10th in Arizona that I have to go to, and my Awful Ex will be there so naturally I need to look smashing and have something I can throw over my shoulders that exactly matches my dress and I can say, "Oh, this old thing?" Because that's how you do when you see your Awful Ex at a wedding and you're the only single people there. My secret weapons are: a Groupon for 6 weeks of CrossFit and the 2 weeks I'll be spending in Mexico in November.  And some killer shoes.*

Well, it lacks 50 minutes to October first, so I think I'll plug myself back in to Pride and Prejudice and see if I can knock some of those rows out of the High Seas shawl. I could conceivably finish it tomorrow, and then there would be pictures! 

*Whether they slay him or kill me first is up for debate.

UFO Files: Shetland Shorty

Last spring I started making the Shetland Shorty pattern from Knitty Summer '08. I used some black Panda Silk that I've had in my stash forever - I think I bought it in San Jose when Commuknity went out of business.

I made it through the garter stitch ties, the honeycomb lace body, and the 3-needle bind-off before the ends began to unravel from under the sleeves. It turns out that a yarn made of bamboo and silk doesn't stick to itself as well as a yarn made of wool; go figure. It's been in Time Out ever since with a vague impression of "UGH re-work ends..." attached to it.

Today I pulled it out along with a bottle of Fray-Check, that incredibly useful sewing glue, and set to work.

Dear Reader, you may imagine my amusement and irritation when I tell you that it took literally fifteen minutes to finish the garment. A spot of glue here and there, a re-knitting of 3 rows of sleeve, and a bind-off were all that was left. After fourteen months of avoidance, a mere fifteen minutes sufficed to take the (admittedly tiny) weight of this project off of my mind.

Better pictures to follow, but for now it's blocking:

Crystal Palace Panda Silk, Black, 380 yds.

Instinct tells me that it will grow a bit, which is fine since I made it a little snug in the first place. The yardage gives me a bit of breathing room on the 11-Mile Quest, as I'm finding it difficult to knit 126 yards of lace per day even though I started a Pi Shawl for relatively easy, low-pattern knitting.

Knit Picks Alpaca Cloud, "Tidepool" 1760 yds in stash.

I may have to branch out and start some sock-weight projects!

Brief Update

Yesterday I wove in the ends of my Sacred Tempest Sweater while I waited for the Rat City Intraleague Bouts to start on the Derby News Network. The DNN boutcast was voiced by my friend Jake, which was a charming surprise! Now there's just the seaming/button bands/buttons on the sweater to go, and I might indeed finish the darn thing by April 16!

I also watched the first 5 and a half episodes of the amazing Jekyll, written by Stephen Moffat and starring James Nesbitt.

Those who have seen this will especially sympathize when I tell you that with 1/2 hour to go, the power went out, leaving me with only my phone screen to light the apartment and freaking out on the inside that Hyde was coming to keeeeellll me. Do you see that crazy Joker grin? Eeek!

I realized while I was sitting that having candles but no matches is a clear indicator that I buy candles for their smell and not their ambiance, apparently, and also that I should think a little more about disaster preparedness if I'm going to live alone. Ahem. So I chilled in the dark, listening to the storm, until I heard my neighbors talking outside and managed to bum a lighter - something I haven't done since just after high school! The ability to Make Fire is still as relevant as it was pre-electricity, it turns out.

Anyway, I'm off to finish the last 1/2 hour of Jekyll.

Anglophile, out.

Moving Day!

And of course I was all, "most of my stuff is still in boxes in the garage, so packing will be a snap!"

I was wrong. I have a lot of shit (on top of the books and yarn, despite my best efforts last year) and not very many boxes, my Nieblings. This will be a Move in Stages, of which I am looking forward to the Final Stage the most.

Stage 1: Paint!

Knitting Olympics 2010

I signed up for The Yarn Harlot's 2010 Knitting Olympics.

Mostly because I am crazy-sauce with not enough to do considering grad school, sheep shearing this weekend and next, and Stitches West.

Also because I desperately want to knit my Stonington Shawl and this seemed like the best way to accomplish that goal.

Which means I have to go work on my [redacted] now, because there is NO WAY it will be finished before 6pm on the 12th, and the 28th is uncomfortably close to when the [redacted] will be given away. Also I have to wind yarn and order the Panda Silk edging, which will hopefully arrive quickly, in the appropriate dye lot, and with very little fuss. Did you know that Gloss Lace now only comes in 4 colors, NONE OF WHICH GO TOGETHER and none of which are black?!? WTF is that? I know I could dye some of my Gloss Lace Bare, but I don't want a semi-solid border. Also the Panda Silk is slightly heavier than the Gloss Lace, so I think it'll give the shawl some nice extra drape. Or at least that's the hope...

In addition to working on the [redacted], I have 2 school projects due this week. Perhaps my knitting ambition is getting the better of me? Or perhaps I just need a high-pressure project to get myself motivated in more aspects of my life? Yea... that sounds good. We'll go with the second one.

My eyes are bugging out of my head just thinking about it.

Maybe This Time....

Went to the gym today. Let's see if it sticks this time...

C+ Is A Programming Language

And also the shitty grade I got from my professor, who dinged me because I didn't always go to the class she told me I didn't need to be in in the first place. 

This puts me solidly below the 3.0 GPA I need in my major classes - an A (12 points) would have given me a 3.03, so the C+ (6.9 points) is detrimental. 

HOWEVER.

I have downloaded the catalog for my graduation year, scoured the Art & Design website, and dug through the muck of the SJSU site as well, and am unable to find any record of the Art History major requiring a 3.0 in the major classes. WTF? Don't they have to tell you things like that up front? Am I imagining things just to make myself crazy? Because it's working. 

One of my profs says I should be fine no matter what. I'm not so sure, but I'm going to drown my nerves in wine and read until I can barely keep my eyes open just in case. Insomnia benefits no body, and I have no way of knowing until I get the letter from the university saying that they're giving me a BA. 

And even then, given SJSU's penchant for refusing to allow students to re-enter the harsh, recession-soaked Real World, I think I'll make the registrar sign it in blood. 

Progressing Apace

Hmmm, let's see.

I am done with school except for the waiting-for-grades part, which is the real bitch of the matter. I will know my fate on the 28th, but until then I am going to assume I'm done for reals this time.

ManCandy and I spent the Memorial Day weekend at my mom's house, where we ate ourselves sick twice in a row. Delicious marinated steaks, corn-on-the-cob, ice cream cake, lemon tarts and (with the exception of the corn) nary a vegetable to be found. While we were up there, my Aunt C showed up with her ex-daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and a cat. The last was a "gift" for my mom; back when my mother was trying to qualify for a cat from the Ragdoll Rescue Shelter, she couldn't because one of our kitties snuck outside - it's a FARM for chrissake! - and got bit by something or other, abscessed and died. So the shelter, instead of giving a cat a loving and honest home, rejected my mom because she occasionally leaves the house door open. Aunt C responded by applying and lying through her teeth about how she never lets cats outside and would never feed them anything except fresh meat or some such nonsense, and of course was rewarded for her falsehoods with Sugar nee Nicole.

Since then, my mother has acquired a purebred Ragdoll named Pierre, of whom I like taking silly pictures. Anyway, all of this happened about 3 years ago. Since then, Sugar has been an inside/outside cat and perfectly happy, until about 6 months ago when Aunt C got a second miniature pinscher who thought of Sugar as her own personal chew toy. Sugar promptly moved out of Aunt C's house and has been MIA up until last week, when she arrived bedraggled and half-starved. Aunt C brought her to mom's this weekend because she knew that Sugar would have a home where she was safe and cared for and unmolested by dogs the size of a small Doc Marten boot.

Mom put her in the room I usually stay in for the introduction period, and within a day she was grooming her fur - or what is left of it after removing all the mats - and cuddling with me and ManCandy. On Sunday night I stayed in Rocklin with THB while Sugar worked her wiles on both ManCandy and my stepdad, earning her the new moniker of Jezabel.

I would have brought her home myself, but the dynamic of the house is shaky enough between Darcy and Panza, and I'm afraid that another kitteh - even a sweet, timid loving one like Jezabel - might permanently disrupt the balance. Mom is worried about the same problem, but she got stuck with the 9/10ths rule. Ahh, well - ManCandy can visit the little hussy when we go to see my mom.

In terms of knitting, I have nothing to show. The Super-Secret Project is about 3 hours from being done - I blocked it this weekend and need to add the embellishment, then send it off an wait for it to be received, then I can show you all pictures. I'm really quite proud of it, and it'll add a hefty chunk to my 12-Mile Quest.

In addition, the Girasole is also nearly done. I have 10 more rounds until I start the knitted-on border, and just a hair over 2 balls of yarn left. I stopped by Fibers up in Grass Valley this weekend to see if I could match the colorway, but decided against any yarn at all in favor of just hoping I have enough. If worse comes to worst, I can always have them ship me a ball of the current dyelot, which isn't different enough that it will matter much. I am simply trying to avoid ending up with extra yarn, and who knows? Those 2 balls might be plenty. Snerk. Also, it currently looks like a gigantic cherry red sea urchin. I'm hoping it blocks out.

Did you notice what I said up there? I got out of Fibers without buying anything. There is no bank record whatsoever that I was ever even there. How impressed are you? Mom was so impressed that she told everyone at the bbq that afternoon. Aren't moms great?!?

I did, however, get my KnitPicks order just before I left for The Farm. In it were 3 packets of stitch markers (lace, here I come!), 2 pairs of size 7 needles, and a few skeins of lace yarn. Four were the Gloss Lace in natural so that I can kettle-dye them (the colors only come in solids), and 3 skeins of Shadow yarn in Cattail Heather:

It's a weirder green than in this picture - I've been having color trouble with the snooty camera lately, but in this case it's just because this particular green is so awesome it defies photography. I'm going to knit it into a something-or-other in time for a Very Awkward Conversation that's coming up - something from the deep dark past that needs to be exorcised (and nothing to do with ManCandy, so don't worry). Come to think of it, you guys might have some good ideas. I need a stunning, gorgeous-yet-simple "oh, yes, I DID make this, and yes, I'm very talented" sort of stole. It should also say "oh, this old thing?" if at all possible. Perhaps something by Anne Hanson? Something in which I can wrap myself against any emotional onslaught - self-generated or otherwise - and be safe. Suggestions are welcome, although I begin to suspect that a well-cultivated air of je ne sais quoi might help immensely. I'll get right on that.

In the mean time, I'm going to go finish the Super-Secret Project so that it can be revealed!

Hair

The last time I cut my own hair, I was six years old. My best friend Bonnie and I had decided to save our mothers the trouble of cutting our then-waist-length hair, so we stole a pair of scissors and slipped out to the woodshed. Even then, we must have known we were doing something bad, otherwise why choose the woodshed? 

When we traipsed back inside, proud of our new 'do's, our mothers were properly horrified. I vividly recall the ends of my hair brushing my chin while my mother spanked me, and the look on Bonnie's face as her mother did the same.

Today, I couldn't stand my scraggly ends for one more moment. The way they were just this much too long in a pony tail, the way they made me look unkempt instead of hip (it's a fine line!), or the weird coppery color that is the result of however many years' growth covered in old dye. And so today,  twenty-four years after that fateful afternoon beneath the mountain ash trees, I again took shears to my own head. Well,  I'm not certain if that's the right phrase, since I took two inches off the ends, leaving me with a measly 34 inches instead of the former yard. Those of you who know me well enough to see my hair down can breathe again - it was ONLY two inches. You probably won't even notice. 

I can now understand the compulsion to simply keep cutting until your hair is either even or short enough that it doesn't matter.  I didn't keep cutting, but I have to admit: my hands were shaky and I needed a glass of wine afterward. 

And I wouldn't have stopped if my mom weren't coming on Friday to fix whatever I may have messed up. I don't think she'll spank me this time around, but I have to confess: I'm not entirely sure.

A Snort of Reprieve

I had a crappy night. My boss assured me that I would indeed be needed at 8am sharp tomorrow - groan. You may recall that the cat food ran out (see yesterday under barrel, bottom of)  and when I tried to go buy new, they had 2/3 of the kinds of cat food I need to keep my petit chats digestive systems in working order. Believe me, petless people, when I say that changing the mixture of a cat's food and then leaving for 3 days will almost guarantee that you return home to a newer, smellier and more textured floor covering than you left behind. It's practically begging for it. And the nice guy at the pet food store helpfully informed me that the shipment of the 1/3 I need will be coming in - you guessed it - tomorrow at 8am. ARGH. 

So I bought 2 30-pound bags and one 3 pound bag and mixed myself up a mere 9 pounds of cat food - enough to last for the next couple of weeks, but mama doesn't mess with a working recipe. So 9 pounds it is. And then, to add insults to my pile of heaping coals and quickly degenerating mood, when I tried to change the litter out of the boxes on the porch, I did it wrong and got used cat litter all over my (rotting) porch. More on the rotting later, but it doesn't really fit into this story. I haven't fallen through... yet. 

I staggered back inside after cleaning everything up to find Panza scratching at a suspiciously wet spot on the Red Futon of Undying Ugliness. Oh, yes. While I was cleaning his toilet, the little bastard pissed all over my futon. 

I got so mad I bundled the whole thing up and dragged it to the trash. 

Then I called ManCandy in Illinois to inform him that we are now two seats/one bed short in our living room, and what did he intend to do about it? Because clearly if he hadn't left and had been sitting at his computer, Panza would never have christened the futon. The fact that he likely would have christened my bed instead was something MC was wise enough not to bring up. 

Lastly, I cracked a bottle of Ravenswood Old Vine Shiraz - smells like chocolate and black cherries - and sat down to watch my new obsession: Smallville. Surely packing could wait until I was calmer.

Then... my boss called to inform me that she does not, in fact, need me tomorrow, Merry Christmas, and she'll see me on the 5th. Next, ManCandy called to say that I shouldn't worry about the weird smell in the fridge, that it'll keep (HAH!) till Saturday, and that he'll clean it when he gets back home. Plus he loves me even when I blame him for things that aren't his fault (or so he claims). And lastly, my mom called to tell me that my grandmother isn't coming to Christmas after all due to the horrible weather in Portland - which makes me sad, but also means I have all the gifts finished for Household #2. 

I think I'll have another glass of wine, oogle Lex Luthor while contemplating why a girl with 3 feet of hair is attracted to a bald guy, sleep in tomorrow morning, and then leave for family, hearth and home for Christmas. All in all, it turned out rather well, I'd say.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...

... to announce our own Private Knitting Olympics, which will take place in that special spot in Hell that also services Finals, Work, and Blind Panic. 

Why?

Because I encountered an Epic Fail in my NaKniSweMo sweater, which is exactly as far along as it was last time I posted a picture. 

Because my Islamic Art professor invited me to a gathering at her house on the 14th of December. And present at this gathering will be Carol Beir, most recent president of the Textile Society of America. A woman whose experience and knowledge surpass my own so much that I may not get sound to pass through my vocal cords. And my professor specifically invited me to help me make the contact with this titan of the textile world.

AND I HAVE NOTHING HANDMADE TO WEAR.

I'll see you all on the 15th with the promised San Diego, Thanksgiving and Big Day updates. Excuse me, I have to go knit a sweater.