Seams to me

I finished my work early tonight (shhh---we won't mention this more than once or I'm sure to curse myself) and took to knitting the trim for the sweater. Not only are there ruffles for the sleeves and the band around the sweater to knit, but there are miles and miles of hemming with 2 sleeve seams and then the setting in of the sleeves and a picot hem to sew. Sewing and seaming are not my strong suits. The results will be worthwhile, but the getting there will be hard.

I tried to think what music I'd put this task to, and came up with a few songs:

The James Gang, Walk Away.

Cat Stevens, Miles From Nowhere

Neil Sedaka, Breaking Making Up is Hard to Do

Led Zeppelin, Ramble On

Aretha Franklin, Chain of Fools

BJ Thomas, Hooked on a Feeling

Tiring of all of the pins, needles, measuring and shaping, I think I've settled on one final song to offer up:



There. Music to knit, or in this case, seam, by.

True Confession

I am crazy about this dog. He is the most headstrong, trying and exhausting beastie boy and I am his slave.

This is him, my 80 pound lap dog, leaning back for a neck rub. When he does, he smiles.

He is perfection.

Poison Darts

After a tremendously trying week, I was just sitting here typing in how I feel and before I knew what hit me, I googled the words, I hate my job. Not a few responses popped up. Apparently, a lot of people don't like what they do for a living. Google spat back 79, 500, 000 results in 3 seconds.

Misery loves company.

Just like there is a rate your professor site, there is now a rate your boss site. Or even better, your employer. Whew, a lot of people have some really scary employers! The company I work for is on that site and I have to say, I can't disagree with the general assessment of one reviewer, but find I can't add to that fire. I think I'll mind Shakespeare's words: "temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart." I'll be staying away from that site. Besides, I don't really hate my boss or employer, and I love the general kind of work I do. I despise the small minded people who work in the scheduling office across town and who weigh me down with abandon. If I could slay them with my words, I would, but their small and petty brains are impervious to language, or pleas.

Perhaps I should use darts.

So?

What do you think of the new wall color?

Last week, my husband painted the living room and while he did, I took Leo to Camp Bow Wow. I just knew he'd be a paint in the butt while work was going on around him. He can't resist getting into things he ought not stick that giant snout (or butt) into.

Here is the real color. It looks good. I can't believe we finally have our stuff up on the walls. It's beginning to look homey.

What's that heaped upon the fainting sofa? Sleeves for the sweater, of course.

I've been staring at the sleeveless sweater that sits upon my headless mannequin long enough and I think she won't be sleeveless for much longer. I'm knitting the sleeves side by side on one circular needle, with two balls of yarn and have gotten to the cap shaping. That means every other row right now is a decrease row. Soon I'll be binding off, seaming and considering the ruffle. I think that's why I'm loitering in terms of this project.

The ruffle.

My itty-bitty knitter's brain is telling me I have to do it the way the pattern is written, or risk an outcome nothing like the original pattern. It was the ruffle, and the mohair that drew me to the pattern in the first place.

That tedious, fiddly ruffle will be meeting a needle near me, soon.

At this rate, it should be a wearable article of clothing by, oh, June of 2012.

eta...thinking out loud...what if I treated that cast on 15, knit 3 rows, bind off 14, cast on 14 knit 3 row and repeat above, etc., ruffle as an applied i-cord and manage to knit the ruffle onto the sweater on that bind off row? Are you following me?

hmmm

Oh, great white orb that rules the night...

...please take it easy on me tonight.

The setting full-ish moon was beautiful last night and once again, its effect on lunacy was felt in full force.

First there was the caller who threatened to move the hospital bed into the yard if I didn't come pick it up right then and there. Okie-dokie, then. I don't think so, but I highly recommend this caller needs a chill pill, or at the very least, a cocktail--or 3 or 4.

Then there was the police officer who treated a natural hospice death as a "crime scene." His words, not mine. He was just a youngster, so I lectured the hell out of him and told him that whilst in school, he missed the classes, Common Sense 101 and Introduction to Empathy. I did manage to tell him that all of us experience death of loved ones and when his turn rolls around, I hoped that the police who show up at that "crime scene" demonstrate more respect than him.

Still smarting from my interaction with the officer 2 bullets shy of a loaded gun, I channeled a little of the madness myself when I told my husband that something he has been saying often of late, reminds me of my ex. Wrong. Thing. To. Say. I can only hope I'm off the list and his shoulder warms up soon. Still, if he's reading this, he's nothing like my ex and I would think being together a quarter of a century would be proof enough to him.

At 6:30 AM, mind you, I worked until 2 AM, clerical staff at my office called wanting to know if I could fix some care plans from May 2009. Now, if those care plan updates were my responsibility, I'd have had them done correctly the first time. Additionally, if they've been missing for 15 months, couldn't the call wait 3 more hours? Who in the hell goes to work at 6:30 in the morning? Gah!

I was able to fall back to sleep after interacting with Rude Caller, but awakened later to find that Mr. Leo had gutted the second (and last) telephone handset. If you have my home number, don't bother calling it as I have no idea how to answer a mangled phone.

Leo did not get a lecture, but he his now behind closed doors at Camp Bow Wow. May he come home completely exhausted.

Now I need to go put some fresh elastic in my big girl panties. I have a feeling I'm going to need a little extra something to hold them up tonight.

Baa Ram Ewe

While it didn't look promising when we headed out Saturday morning for the festival, it turned out to be not too bad. It was a wee bit muggy when we finally made it to the fairground. In fact, it was too muggy to hang out in the over crowded vendor areas for a long period of time, but that was OK. I found all of the things I really wanted in the barn where the musty, earthy smells didn't attract the larger crowds.


He looks hot, too, don't you think? The critters waiting for their stylists were panting. The newly fleeced were wearing blankets.


This fellow was getting annoyed with me trying to take his photo. What he seemed to want was to be left alone to eat.

This freshly sheared Blue Faced Leicester was sweet.

And so was this little Pygora goat. These goats have beautiful fleece and groovy little beards. I can't believe I just wrote groovy, but really, it fits. That beard would look just as good on a beatnik. This one was nibbling on the handle of my camera.

I didn't buy much, but did get what I wanted. I only went $18 over my budget. It was the tussah silk that done me in.

And this little beauty. It's a Trindle. I took all the different beads for a spin, but liked the weight of these green beads best. From what I gather, the weight of the beads helps determine the thickness of the yarn you'll spin. On the ride home, I was spinning a sample piece of tussah silk that the vendor gave me in the car. For people looking to get into this little art form (hello, Rose), I can highly recommend the Trindle drop spindle. Though I like my Louet spindle well enough, this one has stolen my heart. Silk isn't the easiest thing in the world to spin, but I got an evenly spun fingering weight yarn from this while fiddling around in the car. Amazing. This spindle spins forever (a plus) and didn't "drop" once. I can't say the same about my Louet.

Though one would think I would stock up on fiber at a fiber festival, I held back. I thought some of the prices were over the top for mill spun yarns and most of the hand spun was insanely priced. Why buy something there that I can get from the women I know who own stores? I have relationships with them and a deep interest in their success. As for the hand spun? Well, I can do that myself and have no burning need to spend $100 for 34 yards of anything. What I save these days is now dubbed as my early retirement fund.

The tussah silk in the photo above isn't represented well by this picture, but take a look at the 15.8 ounces of the alpaca/silk blend I scored. I know it looks like a pile of worms in a sort of a dirty dishwater blond color...


but look here at what happens when the light hits it just so. The shine. The softness. The magic.

Be still my little spinner's heart.

THE Plan

Last month's back injury was a wakeup call for me. I simply can't do this kind of physical work forever and a desk job sitting on my dupa is out, too. After all, that's where my sciatic nerve lives. What will I do when I can no longer do this? We all know that idle hands and minds are the kiss of death.

The thing is, I know what I love to do, so I believe that should be THE Plan. I'll knit. Not only that, maybe I could teach knitting for seed money.

To that end, I joined The Guild today. I'd join the local one, but their meetings are always when I'm working, so I joined the national guild. My plan is to continue working for awhile and at my leisure, I'll work to accomplish the three levels of becoming a Master Knitter through TKGA. When I achieve that, I'll get certification to teach knitting, although I'm pretty certain I don't need to go to that end, but it won't hurt, will it? In October, I'll enroll in level I of the Masters Program and begin this journey. This should give me time to clear my knitting decks. If you ask me, it beats a Master's in Nursing in terms of the kind of work required of me.

My husband has a two year plan to my early retirement, but I think 4 is more feasible. I'd like to spend the last 2 years squirreling money away, so to speak, as I do have a very high fiber diet that isn't exactly cheap.

Light. I see light at the end of the tunnel--and no--not that tunnel and definitely not that light.

Did you know that to achieve Level II, I'll have to knit an argyle sock?

Just shoot me now. I've obviously hatched another hair-brained scheme.