Scenes from a shelf

I'm just going to put these pics up here for your perusal. I thought I'd remember the whys and wherefores of ordering these fabrics, but it was months ago, and I'm pretty sure I just have a thing for those damn polka-dotted little birds. My head is a scary place to be, especially now that it's compiling lists of places to put said birds. I thought Brain and I could stop at pajama pants, but that was before I remembered seeing one of those nifty kitchen wall organizers, with pockets for all the gew-gaws and whatzits and wooden spoons and recipe/coupon messes. Well, I just don't think my life, or my kitchen, will be complete until I have one of those.

If I weren't so tired, I could prolly come up with some other use for this fabric that would be perfection itself, but then I remember that I've had some Amy Butler "Charm" fabrics stashed for... a longish time, and these aqua/brown prints would be lovely with the rest of the aqua/brown stash. I may have already tried to assemble the stashed fabrics into a quilt top, but, knowing me, I didn't get far, so adding these in won't pose too big a hassle. Procrastination has it's upside. Told you my head was a scary place to hang out; I had no idea Pollyanna had moved in till just now, or we both could've left earlier.

I'm going to hit the 'pre-post' (I'm so tired that doesn't even make sense, but it does make me giggle) function. Off to bed with me. You try and behave till I get back. Or Brain will put a spotty bird on you.

Snow Angel

One of the perks of a good and plentiful snowfall is the abundance of pristine patches of flakes, just waiting for that brave soul to come and graffiti them up. As Melly exited the shop, knitting in hand, to head home for the day, her inner child threw her down in the snow to leave me with a snow angel...

Isn't she darling? I needed me a Melly-fix. Thanks, friend.

Another new friend came into the shop today. Everybody, this is Harrison. I got to hold him and sway him and pat him and cuddle him while his momma decompressed and shopped for yarn. It took him awhile to wake up enough to warrant being taken out of his pod, as I strictly adhere to the "never wake a sleeping baby" rule, but boy, was he nice when I finally got to hold him. Nearly five weeks old and just precious.

Some more precious, but not nearly as entertaining (or as cute!) as young Harrison, the 'Smooches, Pooches' sock sample has been cast on. Just like 'Air Kiss', but pinkish. Super fun to knit. I'm hoping it turns out just as nice as the other colorway did. I do love me some sock yarn.

New fabrics arrived today as well. A half-dozen bolts of 'Good Folks' by Anna Maria Horner. I had been very freaked out, because I couldn't remember what exactly I had ordered, but there seems to have been a method to my madness, and I have the same fabrics in both colorways. Sometimes I even amaze myself. Pics of the newest bolts tomorrow. Also, a rather substantial order of Kid Silk Haze has been placed, so expect some fuzzy fabulousness to follow in that vein, too. More later, knittas. C

p.s. That Crocker Woman is amazing... now I can't hardly breathe when I sit down to my blog, what with The Edward looking all pale and gorgeous up top. The ultimate counter for our trip. I love you, Melly. I truly do.

Guys & Dolls... with string

As it's already 'tomorrow', I thought I'd better get these pics up, not because I know y'all are curious, not because I fear the Gaylen, but because I couldn't rest easy knowing I was depriving you of this face right here. Behold knitting's poster child for "knitting 'cuz the prof said I had too"... awwww. Don't you just want to pinch him? Yeah, or something like that.

This little bit of the cuteness was named 'Leslie' and she's darling. Brightest smile I've seen all week, as the Melly has been a bit preoccupied and I haven't laid eyes on her in what feels like forever. Anyhoo, Miss Leslie took to knitting right off, even with the rocky start that some of the students had...

See, there were Others there. 'Knitterly' types that had volunteered to 'assist' with the indoctrination class, and though I couldn't be everywhere, I kept my eyes and ears open. And I heard it. Someone was teaching backward loop as the cast on. I blanched. I ground my teeth. I muttered curses under my breath. I took some calming breaths, thanked God for my doctor and Xanax, and threw up a little in my brain. Then I long-tailed it around the room, startling some of the students as I ripped the needles from their hands, casting on quickly whilst telling them that casting on wasn't nearly so fun and "here, let me just do this for you so you can get to the good part, the knit stitch". I promise no one got hurt. I didn't get asked to leave. I didn't even throw the justified scathing looks (well, maybe one) to the offending knitters. I'm not a purist, but seriously, backward loop? Ugh.

Surprisingly, there were a few naturals in the group, just not rabid about the knitting thing. Yet. I whipped out a few things in progress and the recently finished 'Air Kiss' sock. These guys wouldn't be impressed, but they had valid looks of concentration on their faces, so I gave it a rest. No sense begging for that security escort off campus...

And then I made my way over to this little pod of students. They were all so charming (our poster boy is of this group, out of the frame, just to the left of 'Henley shirt dude with grey yarn'). I chatted knitting with the perky girl, helped the dark haired boy loosen his dish-rag cotton stitches, then I stayed to watch them knit. Would you believe that, aside from the very pretty girl who wouldn't be photographed, he was the most natural knitter? Even hamstrung with kitchen cotton on aluminum needles. *shudder* I decided to let him put some of his knitting mojo in the 'Eclipse' socks... plus I thought the recipient might like to see who her sock has been hanging out with. She's a sucker for a pretty face.

There was a tricky bit at the end, when I was answering questions about how I find time to knit, what with all the kids/shop/spouse/laundry. I mentioned knit groups and pub crawls and that elicited startled gasps and stares. Suddenly I was a wrinkled old crone who'd just taken the name of beer in vain. What? We're too mature for that kind of behavior? Too responsible to drag the handknits into a bar?
I didn't realize until much later in the day how indignant that made me feel, and it all came tumbling out in a flood of angry tears. Youth is wasted on the young. I'd like to get ahold of the nineteen year old I used to be and smack her in her head. Of course it would have been easier to get ahold of these children and smack them in the head, but again, "security escort". I refrained from looking shocked and appalled, and was mightily relieved the session was over. I did tell perky girl to take loads of photos of herself, because one day she's going to see a picture and wonder why her mother is wearing her clothes. *snark* C

Eclipse, interrupted

The progress on, oh, wait, I wasn't supposed to start any new projects yet. Okay. Disregard this sock-in-progress, since my clever attempt at a fair isle version of the "I heart Alice" heel flap became horribly distorted half-way through the 'heart' part. I will submit to Swiss darning the cutesy bits on afterwards, like the pattern specifies. I can play nice. It'll look better over the ankle anyway, rather than stuck on a flap heel, in a shoe.

Here is the sock I finished up yesterday, all washed and dried on the AGA. I love this yarn! The first bag (of eight!) is already spoken for and I've only been flashing this sock around for a few days, so that makes me verrrry happy.

The receipt printer is working again. I should actually not be allowed out in public without a "please speak slowly and avoid sudden movements" disclaimer on my forehead. After eightteen months of paper-changes, you'd think I'd be all down with the gadgets. Thankfully Mandi was paying attention to the diagrams. All that extra work, all that headache, all those cranky phone calls to Intuit trying to get 'technical assistance'. (slams head on desk)
Thermal paper. Not for stoopid peepul.

A big thank you to Melly for the 'Dorks in Forks' countdown calendar up top. I love that she sneaks over and puts all that weird sidebar stuff on my blog. I love that she is reading all the books just to appease me and my desire for all things 'Twilight'. I love that when I'm miserable crampy and need to whine I can text her that "somebody just butchered a chicken in my underpants" and she laughs at me instead of having my number blocked off her phone. I don't scare her one bit. I love my Melly. And, for today, peanut M&Ms are of the devil. Just so you know. WW weigh in tomorrow night. Knitting class at the college in the a.m. I hope I don't embarrass myself too bad...
Aw, hell. You know a really awful story is coming up for tomorrow, don't you? Yep. Stay tuned. C

127 Days

That's the official countdown to the start of our 'Dorks in Forks' tour. 18.142857 weeks. 3048 hours, give or take, depending on how on time the flights are, and not counting shuttling to and from airports. I'm taking sock knitting, of course. Possibly a variant on this bit of mindlessness...

Seen above, one of the trial skeins of the Clementine's Dry Goods custom colorway. "Air Kiss" is knitting up fantastic. Nice melding of colors, no barber-pole effect; the only pooling of color has been around the gusset decreases. I love Lorna's Laces sock yarn. This sock is a basic pattern, to showcase the dye job. 72 stitches on 2mm needles. I haven't called the order in yet, finances being weird right now, what with someone using the store's Visa (missing since the 17th) to buy porn online. My bank is taking care of it, but I can't help but think I'd have noticed it sooner if I weren't stoned from lack of sleep. Perhaps by Monday all will be sorted out and I can get with the craftyness that is Lorna's Laces to get things rolling on the two custom colors. ("Smooches, Pooches" is the pinky version of the above yarn.) Fun stuff.

Here's more fun stuff. Thimbleanna made us pincushions... filled with lizard litter. I know. I giggle every time I go all stabbity with the pins. Probably several customers have pondered the odd behavior of the nutjob wielding the rotary blade as their fabrics are cut. It's just one of those odd factoids that pleases me muchly. I love it. Thanks, Anna!

Here's a candid of eldest child knitting her second sock. I made her put Sock-the-First on her foot. And yes, those would be size eight Docs on her feet. She's thirteen... and short. Can someone please 'splain how this is possible? However, the knitting is happening, and I don't even have to beg, plead, or wheedle. Sometimes kids are awesome. Another sock knitter at Becher Haus. I may have to guard the stash. Or bribe her to help me get through it faster.

p.s. Bank just called. Problem solved. They rock. *whew*

Sleepless in Morgantown

I'm supposed to be passed out by now. A strict regimen of sedatives (taken throughout the day) and sleep medicine, coupled with a warm shower and the worlds' warmest husband was supposed to be the siren call that would lull me into the end of the day. I had big plans. Apparently so did my brain, because here we sit, Brain and I, typing, while the rest of the world saws logs. Even the toddler gave up and went to bed willingly... actually, he puts himself to bed every night, usually with a quiet announcement that "I go bed now, Mom", and off he crawls under his covers. Little dude doesn't last five minutes.

The house guests have gone home, and our normally hectic lives are back to the usual pace. I suppose the only difference is Herr Becher had some help moving furniture and the kitchen island is (temporarily) visible. Oh, and my mother-in-law emptied all the laundry baskets. I have never felt life was long enough to spend it folding the laundry my kids simply throw back in the hamper, still folded. Ugh. But I'm thankful she had willing hands to tackle the mountain. I'm also grateful she found my whorepanties. I was shocked to find them in the drawer drawer (you know, the top drawer, where you keep your drawers...) this morning. Made rushing to get everyone ready easier, because I wasn't trying to holler at the kids from around corners, commando-bum and fishing for a pair of jeans. Nope. All the clothes are right where they should be. It's a good thing I'm not prone to fainting. The long sleeved t-shirt drawer startled me, the shirts all arranged with GAP-like perfection. I had to peek twice more, just to make sure I hadn't hallucinated the whole thing.

I'm going to attempt the whole bedtime routine again. Possibly there is a family history of mania. We've already got the surly drunks, homicidal crazies, and demented old women who think (and this is a true story) that since poop is dirty, you should wash turds in the sink... yeah, don't think on that last one too hard. My crazy aunt in Alabama is having a helluva time with my grandmother's still viable pod of flesh (like the Energizer Bunny... how does she keep going?), though the Gran has progressed from washing poop to needing a potty chair and babbling incoherently. Well, she did rally enough to call one of the few decent home-health aides a "G*d-damned fat ass". When I get to this stage of Alzheimer's, I hope my kids are smart enough to take me on a "vacation" to somewhere really freeking cold and set me to ice-fishing in my birthday suit. Preferably with a pack of hungry coyotes standing by. I don't find any consolation in the fact that I won't know any of my children or grandchildren, and thereby will be spared any hint of embarrassment about my 'condition' (should my own offspring choose to replicate...I can't blame them if they don't, what with the freaky sea-monkey show now playing in our gene-pool).

Well, enough prattling on. I thought rambling a bit about nothing in particular would help work out some of my mental stress, but that's too much to ask for right now. The 'dire' prediction that 25% of American businesses are going to fold within the next two years... nope. That one's not conducive to restful sleep, either. If only someone had strapped me to a chair until my 'entrepreneurial moment' passed. But now I need to know how it ends. A very weird tale may come from all of this. C

If you can't say something nice...

don't say anything at all. This day passed like any other, except I decided to show you some of my happy from the past twenty-four hours...

New hemp yarn to wind, and the eye candy Herr Becher picked up for his geeky Frau whilst I got my hair cut today. Yesterday I took Mandi to see 'Twilight'. It was her first viewing. (It was my fifth, only because I just can't get away that often!) We went to Trojan Horse in B'ton afterwards, then hopped across the street for some yarn shopping and a walk through the tobacconist's. I may have scored two packs of 'Nat Sherman Mint Naturals'. Just sayin'. Mandi thinks they taste like toothpaste. More for me!

More fabulous-ness from Suzanne's shop (Yarns Unlimited in Bloomington, if you're curious). My Malabrigo stash is barely there, but the shrug on the front... I wanty. Too bad I'm two balls short of a project. Perhaps I'll have to go on a Stash Enhancement eXpedition. 'Cuz SEXing for yarn is great. It might be the best part of knitting.

Oh, I forgot the other best part. Miss Rob sent me a link to the 'Eclipse' socks on rav. That yarn hunt begins immediately. Damn that cute, blonde woman and her evil, obsession-fueling searches. I love her... and Sarah Palin. C

F-f-f-freezing P-p-pub C-c-crawl

So, with all the subsequent exhaustion and having to wash and rewash all the clothing that got stunk up with bar smell, I've been slow to post these pics. I just e-mailed them to The Thimbleanna as well, because, as I've mentioned before, the chirruns of Becher Haus are computer hogs and I'm plainly outnumbered when it comes to trying to get 'dibs'.

Here's a 'Wilson' shot taken at the Willard. Only two of us were daring enough to drag our knitting inside, but what's a knitterly pub crawl without a scarf (Thimbleanna) and a sock (moi)? Sure, everything reeks of cigarette smoke, but that's what Soak Wash is for. Seen here, left to right, is The Junie, The Jules Jewels, and The Thimbleanna. I think I'll forever refer to them that way. Like rock stars. The Jewels requires adult supervision. She's a handful of crafty vixen. I taught her a new cuss word. If you know her, ask to hear it. It's funny as hell to hear her say it!

Rob is a bitty thing. This photo showcases that little truth pretty well. It also shows you how well I react to subzero temps. I still have cramps in my neck from trying to stand still for the photo while my teeth tried to rattle themselves into rubble. If I could have just pulled my shoulders into my ears, rather than just near them, I might have been warmer. That alpaca scarf was pretty much useless, so my previous claims that alpaca is warmer than wool appear to have been just hyperbole. Dirty, rotten liar. I'm now going to be hunting down much warmer fibers... cashmere, perhaps?

The cast of characters in this photo is Melly (tall girl), Rob (short girl), Thimbleanna (blonde girl), and me (scrunched up frozen girl). Our photographer was this wee bit of cuteness right here...

The No-Amy. She's super-cute, no? Noemi had an appointment the very next day to have the purple put back in her hair, so you're not getting the full impact of her hotness, but here she is, listening intently to The Jewels telling us a shocking tale. Or perhaps we were eyeing up the college-age bartender. Dunno. The gin had me a little dizzy.
There are new rules about knitting pub crawls in place now. 1.) No letting Melly drag us to karaoke night at John Wayne's Pub. I still have the world's worst rendition of "Behind Closed Doors" stuck in my head, though hearing Melly sing was fabulous... we just had to endure about twenty-five Really Bad Singers to get to her beautiful voice. 2.) Pub-crawling shall cease to be a winter activity. The next one won't happen until we can sit out in the beer gardens dotting the town. And finally, 3.) All participants will be required to at least hold knitting in their lap, or drape it artfully over their shoulder.

Now I need more decaf and a hot shower. Today is Get Caught Up On Everything day. I'm wiped out just thinking about it, but Herr Becher's parents arrive tomorrow. Slacker daughter-in-law has much to atone for. Latah, knittas. C

Honest to Blog

It's the shizz, Homeskillet!

Great and exciting times are upon us. Friday will find a bloggy visit with the amazing Thimbleanna, right in the hamlet of Franklin. Pub crawling to commence at the end of the business day. You know you wanna. I'm not baking this time, as most of my pastries require more time than commitment, and this spur-of-the-moment gathering is all about the fun in being together, rather than the allure of watching how many calories I can cram down Other People's Throats. I know. Kinda rubs some of the shiney off, but I'm so 'cited I can't care. Besides, the Chinese place delivers, so what more can we need? I will be calling over to Emma's Bakery, just in case low blood sugar rears it's insulin-resistant head, though I tend to like light-headedness in my bloggy peeps. They giggle more that way.

Today took an unexpected twist. I have been asked to assist in a class at the college to teach knitting, under the supervision of a Sociology Professor. The very idea of all those bright minds to mold and shape into Possible Future Knitters has me gasping with delight. I get to stand in front of twenty-five heads full of mush and prattle on about knitting... it's a powerful thought. I will, undoubtedly, come across as the Resident Nutter, the students will probably flinch when I approach them with sticks in my hands, and all the while they will ponder and shake their heads at how sad the crazy little fat woman is, to be so excited about string. Ahh. Yes. I will try to be on My Best Behaviour (this usually is accomplished by also being on Xanax). Is it too much to hope for that none of them will run screaming from the room? Compressing all of my passion for knitting into a two and a half hour Sociology class is going to take some preparation. It's a good thing I don't need more than four hours of sleep a night, because I'm pretty certain this is going to keep me up for the next week. Much plotting and planning to do. Lots to consider. Anyone may feel free to comment on Things I Must Not Forget. We have till the 25th of this month, as the 26th is the Big Day.

Also, I need Jaye and Rachael to send me their mailing addys, as there are fabric bundles that need to go out in thanks for the quilt assistance they bestowed on my project. I need to harass Miss Laura, the long-arm quilter to take the tops and make them pretty and useful. Chipping away at the have-tos and must-dos is taking longer than I would have imagined, but I'm blaming the ridiculous cold snap. My brain can only go so fast in zero-degree weather.

Blurry pics of pub crawling tomorrow. The camera and I still aren't on speaking terms. I think it's been playing with my vibrating mascara. Damnable technology seems to be kicking my arse. C

Oscillation... the real deal

Here's for you doubting darlings out there. Proof that I don't hallucinate all the weird crap that befalls me. I'm just too easily overcome at the make-up counter. Fancy doo-dads are hard to resist. And I watched a 'training video' and had much better luck with the vibrating mascara this morning. Until I sneezed from having my eyes open too wide in the bright light of the bathroom. A Mulligan and a few Q-tips later and I looked presentable.

The day was windy, cold, and blowing snow. Temps are dropping even more ("Don't you like having ten toes?"), and I expect it'll be quite a challenge to get into town tomorrow. Ugh. I think I really need a snow day, except I'd have to spend it here, drowning in laundry. Gah.

I started a little bit of non-sock knitting at one-thirty this morning, and by three in the afternoon had to rip it out. Kidsilk Haze really resists giving back the cast on edge, so I'm hoping Redrhonda will come to my rescue. The 'Cardi Cozy' has been shelved in favor of an 'advanced beginner' lacy stole. The kind of knitting that makes me have to pay attention, which would be easier to cope with if I could get sleep. Tonight I'm trying out the Lunesta. I don't have great hopes, but if I wake without a hangover, I'll consider it a success.

Gotta get back to Laundry Mountain. Herr Becher helped the chirruns clean upstairs (and he vacuumed... swoon!), and thus did he solve the age old puzzle of "where's all your clothes"... times five. I thought simply asking them to bring down their laundry was sufficient. I never expected a grown man and his eldest child would have to make four trips downstairs, using a baby gate like a gurney, to get it all down here. And, no, I'm not kidding.

Time for drinkies. Type at y'all latah. C

Vibrating Mascara is a 'Glamour Don't'

The Year of Living Dangerously has taken an unexpected side trip. What would normally have been a calm and uneventful performance of my morning ablutions turned, today, into Something More. Decidedly out of the normal scope of events, my day was turned on it's ear by the advent of the vibrating mascara wand.
What's that, you ask? It seems that Lancôme, in their quest to keep the world of beauty orbiting around pricey little bottles of potions and paints, has finally found a way to make the art of making up an Olympic sport. To say that I was enthralled with my find would be an understatement, to admit that I stood at the mirror, confounded by the humming of the wand is humbling. To be able to see this as I type it to you is a miracle. No actual eyes were harmed in the application of said vibrating mascara, but I need to re-read the application instructions, or get used to the idea of wearing 'Daisy Duck' eyelashes for the duration of the tube.

Not to change the subject, but this is a knitting blog, no matter how much I try to be contrary. Rob's socks are finished. Yes, they look smallish in the foot. She is smallish of foot. They are taller in the leg than I normally knit, but what with the smallish foot, I figured she would want her money's worth out of the yarn. Specs for this project are as follows:

Pattern: an altered 'Mockery' sock. 1x1 ribbing over 72 sts, ten rounds before beginning pattern rounds. A slip-stitch heel was enacted, as nothing is sadder than knitting a perfectly executed eye-of-partridge heel in hand painted yarn that totally obliterates the stitch definition. Yarn used was Shi Bui in 'pebble'. I am so over this yarn, but might love it in the semi-solids.

Next up: Finally finishing the two pair of toe-up, two-at-a-time socks that are on needles. Red's and #1 son's. Neither of them are smallish of foot, so this constitutes an enormous output of knitting energy. Mostly what I've been doing is pissing and moaning about how long feet can grow. But now I'm going to go commit to knitting on those ginormous stockings. Right now. I mean it. C

Catch-up

So, it was pointedly stated earlier this evening that very few finished knits are seen here at 'Camillaknits', and, were it not for a slight camera snafu, I'd show you the 'finished, save for the toe-graft' pair of Miss Robin's socks.

I have decreed this to be the year to Get Everything Off Needles, and with a pile of sock yarn so big it's actually painful to look at it (which is why a goodly portion of it lives in the freezer), I have to finish two pairs for every new pair I start. Herr Becher came up with that particular torture. Damn Kraut. Sneaky, that one. But I can work through all of my startitis issues and possibly recoup some of my extensive 2mm, 40" circular stash as well. I have a fondness for addi turbos, and they are all sucked into service at the moment. Arrgh. Fine. I can do this. Playing the finishing up game. Pharmaceuticals may be called in, but what's my mantra?

"Better living through chemistry."

Hells yeah.

Stay tuned for follow up photos of socks. I will not be mocked by technology. The damn Nikon manual has to be here somewhere...

Objects of my desire

My lack of sew-ability is another targe4t (oh, look who's back with the advent of the prosthetic nails? My mutant 'e')for the year of living dangerously. I'm sure more than a few oaths and mumbled curses will be involved, though perhaps not as many as

these will entail. Broken needles, too. The 'Sophia' bag has been singing it's siren song ever since I first laid eyes on it. I'm not certain when I'll get up the nerve to start it, but that's always the hardest part for me... just beginning. Once I'm buried up to my eyes in a project, it's not so hard to gnash through it and get to the4 end (see, they just pop up everywhere...)

Here's anothe4r (I swear that's not on purpose!) pretty pin-cushion, made by Miss Laurel, who finally had her wee baby at Christmastime. Haven't gotten to meet him yet, but it's been miserable cold and loads of sickies milling about... better to keep little people indoors, clean and safe and warm.

I'm hoping to get a "real post" up a bit later. This was just some photo-fun for y'all. This is Second Sunday at the shop, so I'm going to go try and look busy with my knitting. Miss Rob's sequel-sock is now into the4 toe decreases... Woo-Hoo! Type at y'all knittas latah. C

I not dumb

Just so you know, I know that a certain film was shot in Oregon, not in the town of Forks... see, I sat till the very end and saw the nice blurb in the film credits to the great and cooperative people in the Portland area. I pays attention. But I'm also not above taking a muddy little road trip to do some sight-seeing, even if that means I'm just looking at over-sized rhododendrons and moss-covered rocks. And don't think for a minute that you're getting out of going with. I have a spanking good suv to use for the week. We can get up to all sorts of shenanigans. And I checked. Amex will advance bail money. I'm bringing extra Xanax, 'cuz you'll prolly need it. I drive like a bat out of hell. (Ask Melly... she put that nice little button up for me. Apparently I'm a very scary monster.) *snark*

invasion of the baby snacher

melly here, pirating camillaknits once again.

this baby was too cute not to share. cami snatched this sweet baby up the second she came in the door. holland is her name. and she is one fine specimen of a new human. butt-chin and all.

and her darling little grandma knit sweater? purple hippo buttons. could you die?

Handicap

Let it never be said that I'm a genius at keeping it simple. Ever since the tonsills came out in September, my hair and nails have been doing weird things. Bad, unruly things. Ugly things.

Something snapped in my brain as I settled into Vickie's chair for my weekly mani yesterday. The previous week's efforts lasted all of 24 hours, and a quick calculation of the dollars vs. gratification ratio showed I was just wasting my time. Unless there was a cure...

And in walks Kim, with a brand new (around here) product called 'Young Nails'. Made especially for the manually challenged among us, these are purported not to lift or otherwise make life with prosthetic nails a hellish experience.

I guess we'll see. Usually I've got several nails buggered up within the first day or so, so I'd say the prognosis for these is good so far. Now to get a handle on the sock knitting. And zipping my pants. C

Becoming

Sorry about the delay. It seems that one computer simply isn't going to be enough to keep Becher Haus functioning at the proper productivity levels, especially if one or more of the natives are going to hog air time reading this, or arguing whose turn it is to kill forest dwellers in their favorite on-line game.

In the meantime, there's been another bout of 'bathroom photography studio', and since I've been asked to clarify 'travel knitting', here is a pile of wool waiting to become something worthy of being artfully draped around my shoulders as we dash off to Seattle. Granted, that trip is still twenty-one weeks away, but as an Easily Distracted Knitter, I will require every minute of the next five months to Make It Happen.

Here is a ball that's destined for Miss G's stash. Her doggie-girl, Abby, is now the world's Most Expensive Pooch, and although we are all pleased that she's better, vet bills have siphoned off all of Gaylen's yarn budget. This will make a fetching pair of socks, and with her propensity to knit and re-knit sock yarn till it screams, I know she'll get good use of it.

Here I am, modeling my shoe find of the month. Soft, springy insoles, buttery leather, and an actual wood stacked heel, these shoes have me hunting down dresses. Yeah, I should have warned you. Hope you didn't smack your head on the computer desk in that dead faint I just put you in.

The past week at the shop was a good and busy one, and I just had to take a few days off blogging to reorganize my brain. There's been a run on Amy Butler sewing patterns, especially for 'Weekender' and 'Sophia' bags, so more have been ordered. Apparently I'm not the only one planning on running away from home. I'm off to knit some more on Miss Rob's second sock. It was supposed to be done Christmas Eve, but there was much tinking to do, and my frustration at not being able to keep track of two stinking yarn overs got the better of me. I'm in the home stretch now, though, but I'm very grateful she has smallish feet.
You go be crafty. I'll be back later. *mwah* C

A post-script: Monday night's WW weigh-in found me 4.4 lbs smaller this week, for a total of 40 big ones since I joined August 25th. That's what's fueling the shoe fetish. I'm no longer a prisoner of my hooves... they fit in normal shoes now. (Woo-hoo!)

(shoe info for the obsessed: Clark's Artisan shoes, style "Marilla", purchased locally at Von Maur, but try online. I got them super cheap in the sale room. Also, they appear to run a half size small, so buyer beware.)

What's wrong with this picture?

Travel knitting. I was all ready to get started. I was determined to knit the 'Cardi Cozy'. I'd committed to a color ('Hurricane'). I dug around for all the accoutrement that the project would require, including the next size bigger needles, in case my gauge swatch was way off.

There was just one thing I forgot to factor in.

Glue Failure. Ugh.

They're mailing me out new needle tips, asap.

Perhaps this is a not-so-subtle hint that I should get more of my current projects off the needles. That Karma, she's a feisty one. And sneaky.

Speaking of sneaky, here's a peek at my Christmas present from RedRhonda. Yep. They are those mittens, from winter Vogue Knitting. Melly got a pair, too.

It's amazing how Red can keep this stuff under her hat. If I were knitting mittens this cool, everyone would have been forced to endure countless viewings of said mitten, as it grew and morphed into something so pretty. I'd have shoved these mittens under every nose in three counties, with a startling "hey, look at how cool this pattern is". My behaviour would have been appalling, and there would be absolutely no element of surprise.

That Red (redrhonda if you're rav), she's a wonder.

Now I have to go clean my kitchen. It's part of my 'year of living dangerously'. Seriously. There's stuff in my fridge that could rip off an arm if I'm not careful. Type at y'all knittas latah. C