FROGGR

As I was leaving a local hospital tonight, I noticed the car in front of me had vanity plates that completely explain this week's knitting attempts. The lace wrap has been ripped back to a lifeline for the fifth time, and for now, it's in time out. Now that puts a whole new spin on naughty lace. Please don't ask why I'm not putting lifelines in more frequently. I haven't a clue.

In an attempt to show the lace I mean business, I've been doing a little stealth knitting. It's the most beautiful yarn (Rowan Purelife British Sheep Breeds), but I'm completely befuddled knitting trinity stitch in the round. I've ripped this piece back 3 times. Twice I tried trinity stitch, but each round found me with 4 fewer stitches. If I'm adding three stitches for every three I take away, how is this happening? I know it has a simple answer, but for the life of me, I can't get it to work. Completely frustrated, I tried a slip stitch pattern and thought it was hideous, so I ripped that out too. I finally gave up and knit something with cables. I couldn't possibly mess up cables, could I? I shouldn't curse myself, but it is moving along well and should be done tomorrow. Did I tell you this yarn is stunning? Well it is. I spent the better part of last night (between yarn time outs) in the hunt for a sweater pattern for bulky yarn. The yarn gets 3 stitches to the inch on US 10.5s. Any ideas? Any tips for doing trinity stitch in the round? I'm stymied.

House Hunting Update: I was unable to see the new house today, but I have an appointment at noon on Friday. Like any girl suffering after a bad break-up, I drove past Charming tonight. I think I'm turning into a house stalker. I should see what Charming is doing Friday too. Maybe I should just go through there again before I make a rash decision and completely throw that house out of my life. Maybe we just need a little time alone.

The Olfactory Nerve Workout

It's not even a pretty moth. 

 

I won't bore you with belabor the issue of house hunting much longer.  I know you're all sick of it, as am I.  This entire act of going through the motions to find a house is a waste of time.  You see, my mind is made up and you know, and I know, the noisy house with all of the charm will win the race.  In a futile attempt to make the hunt look good, I saw another house Monday afternoon that was a major disappointment.  The bedrooms were large(r) this time, but the communal spaces were itty-bitty.  There were no porches, not much of a backyard and no space in which to seek solitude when feeling hormonal.  I need space.

The miniature size of the home wasn't what I noticed first, it was the odor. I couldn't quite distinguish what I was smelling.  I kept asking the agent, "what is that smell?"  "God, what is that?"  I think it was a mixture of poop, cat pee and mothballs, or maybe someone died there and was forgotten for awhile.  It stunk.  Of all the aromas, it was the mothballs that worried me most.  If it wasn't already off the list for lack of legroom, the threat of moths eating their way through my stash was a deal breaker.

On my way home from seeing the stinky house, I recuperated by stopping off at my favorite yarn store.  The smell of wool has incredible healing powers for me.  When I told the owners where my dream house was, their response was, "hey, you could walk here."  And yes, I fell off the wagon, but only a little bit.  I don't feel badly though, I consider this to be my financial obligation to healing Metro-Detroit's economy-one skein at a time.  OK, four.  So sue me...

Seasoning

Every time I go to my sister's home in Virginia, I'm amazed by the views. In every season, this place looks so different. In spring and summer, you can't see the mountain range in the distance but come fall, once the leaves have fallen to the ground, this place takes on a different feel. In the top picture, the view was amazing. Too bad my camera couldn't capture what my eyes could clearly see. There in the distance is the Blue Ridge Mountains. When I hiked high enough up the mountain, I could see down into the Shenandoah Valley.

Saturday night, Mareseatoats and I showed our age and decided not to go out. We'd been out shopping (yarn) during the day and had stopped for a bite of lunch. On our way back home, we made the executive decision to be lazy and stopped at a market to stock up on local cheese, wine, crackers, bread and fruit. That would be our dinner. We turned in early after we watched the movie Juno.

Well rested, we got up early Sunday for a hike up Taylor's Mountain before we had to leave for the airport. The views were stunning. We got slightly led astray when we lost the forest path (should have followed the dog) and had a bit of a time finding her house. We got chased by two persistent and very pissed off Australian Shepherds before they hit their electronic fence and we found the road. We couldn't find the path because of all of the leaves. Still, Cayda Bella knew the way since she spends all her days terrorizing chasing the deer here and really, don't you think we'd have been smart enough to follow? Nah. I will say though when she knew those shepherds were after us, she raced to our rescue in an effort to save us from ourselves.

Tonight, my back, behind, thighs and calves are barking at me and me feet are tired. That mountain was pretty steep and I stopped just short of making it to the top. My back wasn't cooperating. Still the views from where we did make it, were stunning. My trip was short but oddly rejuvenating.

Sadly, my feet, shown here in hand knit socks and my Keens, are safely on the ground in Detroit. I miss Virginia already.

All photos by Rudee K, the one with the cows, courtesy of Mareseatoats.

Swap

I love the Sockmaniacs sock swap group I belong to on Yahoo. It's fun and a nice way to meet new people. I've been corresponding with my latest swap partner for weeks; she really leads quite an action filled and interesting life! This summer's swap had an international theme. My partner hasn't received her package yet so I won't spill the beans as she admits she lurks on my site from time to time. Hello Joyce!

She sent me an amazing array of yarn and treats. I'm thrilled with the contents of her very thoughtful package. It's a Japanese theme with a stunning and absolutely gorgeous new line of Noro Silk Garden Sock yarn. THREE skeins. The colors are so vibrant but the one that is teal and blue and charcoal and lime green is my absolute favorite. I've already cast on a pair of socks for myself in that gorgeous teal (color #S252.)

I should brew a pot of tea from the selection she sent me and drink it in the fortune cup. The lottery jackpot is 95 million tonight and if this package is any indication of impending luck, I'm all over that. If I win, I'll be sure that this new friend will be retiring. I will tell you, confidentially, Joyce lives in an area of California where she assures me, "everyday is like a vacation here." According to her, she doesn't need to go away on vacation to feel she has gotten away from things (see the top picture for proof.) But Joyce, wouldn't it be nice to have time to knit all day, everyday?

There are so many treats in this package including teas, candies, incense, a candle, knitting needles, chopsticks, patterns and bookmarks. Look for yourself. I photographed them on my new bed. The bedspread is new too and ironically, the pattern is called Tea Garden. How fitting.

Thanks Joyce. I feel like a true winner today! Your package is scheduled to be delivered Saturday. I hope you like it as much as I like mine. Additionally, you are going to need an apron to fully enjoy the contents.

I Got You My Pretty....

It seems I'm waiting now in a sort of limbo on more fronts than one.  There is no news in respect to last night's post but I'll know soon enough.  I'm rather philosophical about the whole thing.  If it's meant to be, it'll happen.  I worry too about that old adage about being careful what you wish for, it tends to bite one in the ass more often than not.  Still, I'm ready and I think my interview went incredibly well.  We'll see.  

On another front, I've cast on a new pair of socks.  For me.  I'm waiting for Pixiedust to send me the socks she is making for her own target who is now my new target while I wait for my assassin to put me out of this battle.  Damn.  Hurry up Patty.  I can't start from scratch on my new target and must use the ones Pixie has made or I hope she's at least started.  A new Pixie was posted on the dead warrior site and I think it's her.  I can't tell though since she didn't make any other items public like her town, or surname.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  I am so not feeling satisfied here. Even a message like damn, these socks suck would have been better than nothing.  OK, I take that back.  No it wouldn't-but a little something would put my mind at ease.  I keep forgetting myself though.  She's dead. 

To alleviate my boredom and further my skill at procrastination (I still have to finish my sister's gift and that pink sweater), I went fishing in the yarn hoard supply and caught an already wound up ball of Dream in Color's Smooshy in Chinatown Apple.  I've cast on and knit the cuff and part of the first sequence in the gorgeous Terra Incognito pattern by Pink Lemon Twist.  So far, it's fun, complicated, lacy and twisted, but at least the pattern appears error free and makes complete sense.  The yarn is a pleasure to work with and for sure, I'll buy more.

This pair I cast on solely on the 2 circular needles and plan to do them start to finish in this way.  The needles I used for Sock Wars were both dpns and circs.  This time, only circs.  Next time, 2 socks at a time on one circ, I just need longer cables for the circs.  If you think this hobby of mine is inexpensive, think again.  A pair of Addi Turbos will set you back a pretty penny-as will hoarding yarn.  Shhh.  Don't tell my husband.  Or my kids.

When my Mom passed away, all of us kids were shocked at the amount of lottery tickets we found in the house.  Hundreds and hundreds.  I don't want my children to be annoyed with me when I'm gone, or think I had yarn "issues."  Well actually, it may be too late for that.  At least this is better than losing lotto tickets.  It could all be sold on ebay and would probably fetch a fair price.  I don't buy the cheap stuff.  Evah.

I was hunting on You Tube for an appropriate death knell for Pixie and watched a lot of clips from the Wizard of Oz.  If you think I'm wandering here, I'm not.  Besides, read my header; it plainly states I ramble on this site.  Don't say ya weren't warned.  Anyways, I watched the clip where the Wicked Witch gets it in the face with the bucket of water.  I love that scene.  And I love her last coherent words too.  So here's to your demise Pixie.  Now send those socks!

Sock Hockey Drama

Pixiedust's Easter Egg Detonator Sock and Detroit Hockey

v. 3

I tried really hard to use Tofutsies. I couldn't bear the splitting with every stitch whether I used my Takumi Velvet dpns (double pointed needles) or my Addi Turbos. Facing reality and acknowledging I won't win the Tofutsies prize, I took it off the needles without even trying to frog it. It's lying in a heap next to me. So, I took out the pastel limited edition Lorna's Laces from Jimmy Beans in Spring Forward and cast on. I knit the cuff-a very PITA knit one purl one rib for 12 rounds. When I started the pattern which is very pretty, I was doing my increases wrong and they left little eyelet holes every pattern repeat. I knew deep in my knitter's soul I was dead wrong after the second row of the pattern but I persevered another 2 rows for a full pattern repeat. In frustration, I emailed my friend Rositta who kindly set me straight. Thanks Rosibaby (her nom de guerre.) When I gently withdrew my needles to "frog" every so delicately to the end of my cuff, it all went to hell in a hand basket. And I cast on again.

I love sock architecture. It amazes me what I can do with toothpicks and string. Behold the cuff, leg, heel, heel turn and gusset of the pattern "Detonator." Bring on the foot! I like the appearance of this sock just fine but I think the instep is rather tedious. It's not as bad as some patterns but I'm finding it difficult to remember where I am and have taken to using my stitch markers to remind me if I am on row 2 or 4 of the pattern. As luck would have it, the sole and rows 1 and 3 are in stockinette which in the round is knit every stitch. I am done with the gusset decreases and it's straight to the toes for a shoe size of 9. Not as big as my freighters. Lucky me. I wish it was the second sock. If so, I'd have reason to crow.

Game 2 of Round 3 is a nail biter. One penalty after another. Tomas Holmstrom must have balls of steel. This man takes a hockey stick to the groin all through the game. He perches his gonads directly in front of the goalie and doesn't move. Even with a stick slammed up there. It must be obvious that I've stopped knitting for a bit-actually my fingers were cramping-to update and watch the game. Incidently, we won. Great game Boys in Red.

Ramping up...you may not see me

Just in case y'all were thinking I'm a bit crazy about knitting socks, this came along. It doesn't prove I'm not crazy-just that I'm not alone with this insane desire to knit warm foot coverings:

Reuters:

Die-hard knitters prepare for sock battle

By Claire Sibonney
Thu May 1, 12:10 PM ET

There may be nothing scary about socks, but a cut-throat competition involving hundreds of furiously fast knitters with pointy needles is enough to send even accomplished enthusiasts' pulse racing.

Sock Wars III, billed by its organizers as the "bloodiest death-by-knitting tournament," enlists players from around the world to take part in a game that shows knitting is no longer just a grandmothers' hobby.

It was started by Julie Gardner, a 31-year-old freelance TV and film production manager in Belfast, Northern Ireland, a couple years ago after she heard about StreetWars, a game that uses mock weapons and is popular on college campuses.

Gardner was excited about pitting knitters against each other with a sudden-death spin.

"I love the fact that we have had competitors ranging from teenagers knitting their first socks through to silver surfer great grannies in their 70s," she said.

Around 1,000 women -- and some men -- have already signed up for this year's tournament, which starts May 9. The deadline for applications on www.sock-wars.com is May 3.

Each contestant must knit a pair of socks from the same original pattern for another player in a specific size and mail it to another contestant, or target.

When the targets receive the finished socks from their assassins they are "killed," or out of the game, and must mail their assassins their unfinished socks. The assassins must then finish that pair of socks and mail them to their new targets. The last sock-knitter left wins.

Knitters from the United States, Canada, Britain, the Netherland and Australia took part in last year's contest.

"I think it's brilliant," said Amy Singer, the author of knitting books and editor of Knitty.com, an online knitting magazine based in Toronto.

Knitting's feisty new image has been boosted over the last decade by books such as "Stitch and Bitch," "Chicks with Sticks" and "The Friday Night Knitting Club" -- a bestselling novel that has been turned into a new film starring real-life knitter Julia Roberts -- as well as the Internet, knitting clubs and cafes.

Fans insist it's not just a fad.

"Knitting is not the new yoga, knitting is the new knitting," said Singer.

The prize for the past two tournaments has been a pair of socks. This year, every competitor is promised a pair of socks, while the grand prize winner will also receive a $500 supply of yarn.

The Way I See It

This is a quasi-knitting blog. Knitting is getting done here. Lots of it.

It poured cats and dogs here in Charlottesville last night. It suited me just fine. I stayed in and used the evening of rain as an excuse to knit. Like I need one. The surprise anniversary gift is coming along and is really quite simple to knit. It's just gigantic and therein lies my problem with the monstrosity gift. Next year, they each get socks. Here though, where the gift will reside, I am inspired and have made a hefty dent. Let me show you here what is inspiring me.

It isn't Southfork, but is does have a name.

A River Runs Through It

Up on Cripple Creek

Home Alone

The Coal Miner's Daughter's House
where the wicked witch brought an evil
wind and felled a giant tree upon the house.
A search was performed for the ruby slippers.
Alas, they are neither here nor there. We looked
very hard for you know, the right shoes can change your life.
Just ask Cinderella. Or Dorothy.

Paul Bunyon came by to help clean the mess.
He should have finished the job. I hear he charged
a small fortune. At least he cleared a path.

Sometimes, it's hard to see the forest for the trees...

And the real reason I'm inspired? Meet the creatures that
grow my favorite fiber.

Who thinks fences make good neighbors when
your neighbors are as cute as this?

God Give Me Wisdom....please

 I have renamed the sweet dog we got yesterday Jezebel.  A name that generally is used to describe a "wicked female."  Thats her, wicked.  I know now why she was shown the door.  She is bad, bad, bad.  It has not a thing to do with being gun shy.  No indeed.  She is pure sass and spite wrapped up in a cute little body with a beguiling and misleading sweet face.

Not even the way she follows me can appease me.  All cute and wagging her tail like she is the happiest puppy soul on earth.

Not even the deep, beautiful baying sound of her voice can warm my heart.

Not even the way she has shaken my precious Duke out of his slumbering ways.  

Not even the way she helped me put Rachel to bed.  She just jumped right in there and snuggled up to my sweet baby and kissed her goodnight like she's been doing it for years.  Since kids with disabilities can be unpredictable, not every dog will warm to them.  This one did.  I'm certain now it's all for show.  And brownie points.

What could upset me to the point I have to struggle to forgive this creature?  What could turn my heart so cold?  This bad little doggie has a "thing" for yarn.  I have rescued 3 skeins of yarn from this little devil.  At first, it was sort of funny the way she stuck her nose right into a plastic bag and pulled out the cheap acrylic baby yarn.  That was cute.  In 10 seconds flat, she jumped on the sofa with the skein in her mouth, undid the wrapper and began to unwind it.  Like a freaking pro.  I immediately recognized this as a BAD sign.  I promptly went around hiding the yarn that was just laying around the joint, including the new stuff.  Then I got sidetracked by the siren call of all that brand new yarn.

I got out my yarn swift and ball winder and began to wind the skeins into balls.  This is ordinarily a peaceful process for as the crank on the ball winder turns and winds my yarn, my own tension unwinds.  I felt the calm like I'd just swallowed a xanax only this was purely yarn induced.  Until the evil little puppy decided to take a flying leap from the floor to the table to check it out.  The yarn, not the table.  I scold the little beast (still trying to be gentle since I'm sure she is out of sorts with the newness of things) and place her on the floor.  I resume winding my yarn and just when I'm getting in my zone again I hear a noise, look behind me and see her with a ball of yarn in her mouth that is connected to a live work in progress.  A moebius scarf.  OMG.  Now I'm really worried.  That was a skein of Mountain Goat and was connected to a skein of mohair and Mountain Moguls and she has dragged it all 8 feet from where it was perched.  All very dear in a costly way and a gift for my yoga instructor.  This dog is possessed!  I scold and she looks at me like OK, I get it, NO YARN!

In the meantime, I put the dog in the yard and finished hiding all my yarn (she does follow me everywhere so I didn't want her to see my hiding spots.)  This is doubly difficult because outside of my family, nobody really knows how difficult hiding "all my yarn" may be.  It's pretty much everywhere since I like to display my stash as the art I think it is.  It's in bowls, vases, on tabletops in working bags and one skein of camel yarn is wrapped around a carved camel's neck.  Remember?  I'm Lebanese-we all have a camel in our homes.   It's a task to hide it all. The dog begins to yodel in the backyard (charming me with her soulful voice-dammit) and Duke goes out to join her.  All is well and I let down my guard and forgive her.  Fool.

Later, as my oldest daughter packs up her stuff to leave for the evening, I hear her giggle and quietly say "OH NO."  The beast has found my pink sweater.  Still with live stitches on the needles.  My daughter was trying to cover for her-like she's this little devil's sibling or something.  I scooped up the sweater and put it up high but still haven't had the heart to look and see if anything is awry.  My heart can't take it right now.  I think I'd have a meltdown if I had to find and pick up lost boucle stitches.  By this point, I'd had this Jezebel for all of 10 hours and I think she took 10 years off my life.

In the morning, I'm off to find a crate.  Or a shovel.  I haven't decided which would be best.