Yarn Ball Boogie

Knitting makes me nervous and green

I've been trying really hard lately to stay on track with my yarn beast.  On one shoulder I see this red, fiery, horned monster that screams loudly in my ear, "Buy the yarn, man!  Just do it!  Who gives a damn about other bills/needs/responsibilities??!!"  Then on the other shoulder I see a much softer, scantily clad, muscle-ish, swimmer-build like smoothie saying, "Dear, I'll stand here all day and gently tickle your ear if you just BACK AWAY FROM THE FUCKING YARN." 

What I usually end up doing is compromising between the two and I wind up going home with just one skein instead of two or three or seventeen.  And going home without a date.  (with the ear-tickler)  The next thing you know is I'm trying to remember why I have one skein of something in my stash.  Oh yeah, that's right, I thought I'd be able to get a pair of socks out of it.  You may look at this as everything happens for a reason.  I look at it like I got nervous I wouldn't have enough to finish the second sock.  So I wound up shaking with anticipation until I neared the end. 

I guess I can stop trembling.  But now I have to scrub my hands.  One word of warning about this yarn.  The dye comes off.  Which, a lot of dyes come off. 

The yarn:  Great Adirondack's Soxie (one skein) Go HERE to get some...they have like 460 colors.

The needles:  Size US 1 circulars (two pairs)

The pattern:  After Cat Bordhi's K2P2 pattern.

I just did 28 rounds (instead of 4 inches) to make them more like short socks?  Bobbi socks?  Bobby socks?  Bobbie socks?  Tennis socks...o god, no.  I like 'em.  They're called "WeePair" - for men.  I have a size 11 1/2 shoe, and they fit me nicely.  Thank god.  I have no clean socks for tomorrow. 

Rosebud

I've been brewing with something lately, and simply put, it is this:  I've been a slacker designer.  I came to the realization that I've been sucking the knitting world dry and haven't been replacing what I take.  Perhaps I'm a little late realizing this, but as of today, I'll be doin' somethin' about it.  Free patterns.  I've designed for magazines, books, TV shows, etc, but I really think it's my RESPONSIBILITY as a knitter and one who designs, no less, to put back what I get out of the scores of patterns I've printed out, shared, and otherwise absconded with at no cost to me.  Do those people track me down and say, "Hey, I see you printed out my pattern.  How's about I get something out of you?"  No.  They give freely.  Another thing I love about knitters.  Now, I'm not saying all knitters are generous, lovely, smiling, good-hearted, and sweet.  Some of them are bitches. (at least ones that I have met) I don't know...have you ever met a bitch knitter???  But that goes for just about everything, I'd say. 

So my first is a little number called Rosebud.  I wanted to share him with you, even though I haven't figured out how to make the picture appear in the sidebar as a free pattern at any smaller size than that of a highway billboard.  But it will be the first, in a series of free patterns.  Some you will like, some you will hate, some you may say, "What the fuck is that?"  But that's ok.  It's your right.  If I inspire ONE person, then I'm happy.  Just don't send me any hateful emails.  I'll likely get hateful right back.   Or sick Dolores on you.

Enjoy.

And no, I'm not black all of a sudden.  It's a model.  Oh- if you want the pattern and CANNOT wait, just shoot me an email.  I'll send it you ya.

Grammy Square

So my goal was to come up with a really cool stitch pattern to use for this Cashmere/Silk yarn that Wendy gave me on my visit to LA.  It's a really gorgeous yarn, works easily, and from a special person, so I've been saving it for the right pattern.  I'm thinking a scarf.  A real luxurious mama.  But I wanted something unusual.  I thought I would just pull something out of my .....ahem.....but that didn't work too well.  I googled "unusual crochet stitches", "weird crochet stitches", but found nothing.  So I settled on trying this one:

I wanted something to resemble knitted entrelec:

This is a scarf/stole I've been working on for 39 years with Noro (crack).

But the best I've gotten so far is the stitch pattern above.  It reminds me of the Prada hat from a season or two ago, but not quite.  I'm not sure.  So, I have the Grammy Awards to fondle it, stare at it up close:

....and decide.  It's not frosting my cookies or anything, so I smell a rip-out.

Just a couple things I wanna get off my chest:

*Go Hilary '08.

*NBA - get the fuck over yourselves.

*I'm gay, and I'm still going to eat Snickers.

I need a Rock.

I've been bogged down lately.  Sometimes I think motor oil runs through me instead of hemoglobin.  I'm having one of those TRUE crises that seem to make me think I can't do anything, only wish I could.  My problem is, I have SO MANY interests that none of them seem clear enough to pursue.  Is it what makes me "who" I am that will leave a mark?  Is it "what" I am?  Is it what I do?  Is it what I don't do?  It's not a "boo-hoo" kind of feeling, it's more like a deer-in-headlights feeling.  My brain just hums a lot. 

It only takes a second for me to see something to get inspired.  Then I'm off and running.  For a second.  Then I just sigh a lot. You ever have one of those moments where you go, "ohhh my god, I would LOVE to do that!!  So I'm going to look into it!!!  It will change my life!  Finally!  My calling!!"  Only to go home and watch idiocy playing out on TV and eat ice cream?  It's the binding circles of existence.  (I saw that on a subway car)

I'm not one to think I need a change in geography or a new boyfriend to make my life better.  I withdraw.  I go so far inside my head, hoping the further I drill, the more sense things will make.  Lately, I'm finding myself trying to let things just not make sense.  It's so much easier.  It lessens the conflict and dilutes the experience of life a little, but that's not a bad thing.  It's temporary. 

This sounds a little Debbie Downer (SNL), so I'll leave you with a few pictures and an interesting story from my family history.  And it's a TRUE story, believe it or not. 

First the story:

My dad's mom and dad (my paternal grandparents who I never met) were, apparently, really crazy.  Out of respect, (I guess) I won't tell you any graphic details, but rest assured, it wasn't pretty.  His mom, for some reason, thought it would be appropriate to tell him that his dad wasn't really his dad.  Instead, that his REAL dad was Rock Hudson. (lie) I guess my dad believed it for a time, until we received a phone call at our home at 3 or 4 in the morning.  It was Rock.  From what I've been told, the conversation was pretty short, but he called to let my dad know that he had been misinformed.  When I heard this story I had so many questions.  I just couldn't believe that someone like that had called our house in a little 'ole hick town in Indiana.  But he got our number from his agent who had communicated with the mom (liar).  Whew.

Now the pictures:

Another reason I love knitting is having those moments when you just see something in a yarn store or elsewhere that remind you of a fellow knitter. 

This reminds me of Cari's hair.  But really, it's mohair locks.  (Cari, your hair is much softer and smells better)

Then there's Dream Sweater progress:

The lighting makes the color look rather "poop"-y, but this is the back.  It's more intricate than my sister and I originally thought, but there's nothing like boredom-free knitting. 

If I had a cat, I'd never knit.  If she had anything to say about it:

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need this sweater book?  Oh, don't mind the paper I'm on....it didn't look important.  And the nice blue wool cat bed you were knitting???  Oh.  It's a sweater?  And I hope you don't need to make a phone call, either.  I needed to prop my leg up."

I was cat sitting.  I seem to house/cat/dog sit a LOT.  Her name is Missy (short for Miss Thang)...oh god.  I didn't name her.  And she still has her claws.  Step away from the knitting, Miss Thang.