Armed with Pointy Sticks

The Hat That Wants me Dead

Have you ever come to the point in a project that you look at it, it looks back at you, and you know, based merely on the malice of that look, that it's you or them? Yeah, we all have.

So, project in question was a simple hat that knit right up the first time. Ever hear someone looking at their youngest child and say "if they were my first, they would have been my last"? There I am.

Cast on the first time, figured out after two inches that I wanted eight less. Rip, cast on. Go about as far and notice a hole where I turned the work without noticing. Rip and cast on. Go an inch, do it again. Tink back to the problem and finish the round. Pick up the tail and knit with it.

Bah, I tell you. Bah.

Yep, it's Winter

I'm sure I've said this, but the main thing that keeps me from blogging when I haven't been blogging is the guilty obligation I feel about "catching up".  So don't blink, This will be quick.

Have I been knitting?  I remember knitting.  I don't remember what, really. 

Taught Kadin how to knit.

He's a work in progress.  He was happy to sit and watch me knit, I cast on ten stitches for him.  Listened as he repeated "In, awound, unda, off", then watched him pull off the stitches (see them in the lower right?) and commence to beating the yarn with the needles.  This is where the love starts.  I'm sure of it.

Gotten some ice and snow.

Done some spinning.

I am really loving my new Journey Wheel.  What a beautiful piece of engineering.  It actually comes with a warning asking engineers not to take it apart.  It's that enticing.  And it spins like a dream.  I know there are some of you out there who don't want to use this, because you don't want to want it.  Seriously, don't do that to yourself, Heather.  Just don't.

Ok, caught up?  Great.

So, my job is changing.  I've got a great job.  If you know me IRL, you know this.  I work in the yarn industry, and it's a good life.  That's as specific as I'm going to get.

My job is moving down south, and I'm not planning on moving with it.  Yes, it's a bummer.  I'm going to miss talking to people about yarn and patterns all day.  I'm not sad though.  It's time to go back to school.  This is the open door and kick in the ass I need.  And do you know what?  Knitting is going to be my hobby again.  Hobby.  It will be something I do to relax.  Not something I break down in my head (although that's a useful task) and do quickly to help with pattern questions.  Hobby.  It's sounds like a fantastic luxury. 

Don't cry for the woman who has just been put on her path again.  Don't cry for the woman who just got to have a wonderful job for over a year.  It wouldn't make sense.

So, that's all I can think of for now, but I'll be back.  Chris just repaid my domain :D

Rhinebeck... Now that I've Thought About It

I hate falling into blog silence for a while, and then rushing back to blog about everything that's happened in the last few months.  Thus begins a series of retrospectives.  Others will follow, including, but not limited to: how awesome it is to have a spinning swap pal in Finland; what happens when 18 knitters get out of their own homes, cohabitate in a motel in Vermont and start being real; Sheila and Jonathan Bosworth's impact on my free time, and the small blessing that allowed that to happen early; and the upcoming MS Walk on April 19 and the fundraising, teambuilding that I will be doing.  I have no order or timeline for this.

Today I want to talk about Rhinebeck.  Today I hope I can pull pictures from my computer upstairs to this laptop, because if you can't feel it, smell it, listen to it, then I want you to be able to see some of it.

On the east coast of the US, at least, Rhinebeck is some sort of fiber mecca.  Everyone goes there.  All of your favorite vendors, all of your favorite bloggers, some favorite food, and promised hijinks.

Early in the summer there was enough interest where I thought "what the hell, let's get a bus!"  Yeah, that interest dwindled away when the planning actually started.  It happens, I can't fault it.  So we thought about a passenger van, and then it all fell into "maybe next year."  There came Cyndi and Jerry of Yarn and Fiber

They were heading to Rhinebeck, and they had room for us.  So at 5 (I think it was 5, but I plead PTSD when I've gotten up before the sun) on Saturday Donna (Chris's mom) Heather (Sereknity), and the two of us met at Cyndi and Jerry's house.  Funny about that.  Chris and I are sitting down inside, and Donna comes in with a big grin, quickly walks over to Chris, hugs him closely, and says "I love you!".  The thought process with me was kind of slow.  He had felted a bag for her a few days before... his was not so slow.  "You hit my car again, didn't you?!"  Yes, apparently running into Chris's parked cars has become a once a car occurrence for Donna.  No damage done, but a little piece of blog history written.

We got on the road.  Dunkins for breakfast.  A bathroom stop, and then we were there.

I will say one thing, it's not as huge as the fables make it seem, but there is a lot going on.  There were sheep walking around, sheep in pens, paintings of sheep (no, seriously, click.)  There was yarn and fiber and pottery and buttons and postcards and candy and spinning wheels and jewelry and puppies and looms mittens and lace... there was so much.  And sooo many people.

And can I take a moment to talk to the women who thought bringing a double wide stroller is a good idea?  Seriously?  Did you pay attention to all of the people who had to leap out of your way?  Please be considerate when planning to go next year.

Chris, Donna and I wandered through everything there was to see all morning.  I bought some, but not a ton.  I wasn't really there to buy, but to see, anyway.

And see I did.  One of the biggest highlights was seeing Franklin :D

Franklin and the Haddads.  Franklin is incredibly likeable people.  Chris and I are one of his 1,000 (not as buff as the 300, but no less lively) and we saw him at the first meeting of the Common Cod guild.  At Rhinebeck we got to meet Carol, his keeper (whom I've heard good things about) and I can say, in complete confidence, that he keeps great company.  Let me make a mighty plug for his new book, It Itches, published by Interweave press just recently.  Very wonderful reading.  And if you're into beefcake with your yarn, then let me point you to the Men with Yarn 2009 calender (although I'll be honest, my favorite part of that calendar was the envelope it came in.  I bought it right after Rhinebeck and he drew a little sheep on it, and the sheep said "Hey, I know you!"  I haven't decided what to do with it yet, but it certainly can't go the way of most evelopes).

And we got to see people that we love.  We ran into the Harlot's Stalker, Kimberly, Julia of the Twist Collective, Sheila and Jonathan Bosworth of Journey Wheel fame, Galina of Skaska designs, Amy Boogie of Spunky Eclectic, Seed Stitch Cheryl, Casey and Jess (complete with Bob cupcakes),and so many other people I was so happy to see.  I've amassed enough stash.  I didn't say I'm done, but when I go to these events, it's not to buy more, it's to see people. 

We were at the Ravelry meetup only briefly (ate a cupcake) and then we were back in the Yarn and Fiber van, driving towards home.

I know nothing of this, though.

I was passed out the whole way.

Where's That Lightswitch?

I know it's on this wall... or is is a pull cord?  It's got to be... ooh, here it is *CLICK*

Wait a second, this isn't the spare room.  What is this place?

Looks familiar.  Big mess, pictures, yarn... OH!

Holy crap, it's my blog!  Does this thing still work?

So yeah, been longer than a month.  I am proud to report that something will be entering my life that will encourage more blog activity.  Right now I have a very old desk top that's done good by me for about 7 years.  It's starting to show it's age.  7 is like 2,012 in computer years.  And its upstairs, and away from everything.  I feel like I'm avoiding house and husband when I'm blogging.  But not anymore.  Jim (Mr. Sereknity) has put together a lap top for me, and I can't contain myself.  I'm going to get an external hard drive of an indecent size, put all of the important stuff on there, and turn this beast into a network hub for the house.  And by "I" I mean "Chris or his brother", or someone else willing to work for baked goods.

And I have bloggable stuff!  Yesterday Chris, Donna, Heather and myself went down to Cambridge and saw Steph (Ms. Harlot).  It was a shot after work, back before bedtime, but I adore these things.  Half of it's Steph, and half is the company she keeps.  I love to see Kimberly, Guido, and the rest of the crowd (it was so quick, and we came in late.  Yeah, that was us.  The gimpy one coming in slow and last, that was me.  Hi!) 

Saturday we're going to Rhinebeck for the day (the group above plus Cyndi and Jerry from Yarn and Fiber).  I've never been and I'm wicked excited!  I can't think of any other qualifier.  Wicked.

And these weeks that I've been gone haven't been boring.  On Labor Day weekend we went to Canada for lunch.  Oh yeah.  That's blog worthy.  I feel it is, anyway.

I grew up a little less than an hour from the Canadian border.  I watched Mr. Dressup growing up.  We went to Canada on field trips.  Occasionally, my mother would get a craving for a Greco Donair and go to Canada for lunch.

Anyway, I was up visiting my family over the long weekend.  Got to meet Aila, my cousin's new puppy.

She and I are buddies.  And she owns Chris.  I had to explain to him why we can't have a puppy yet.

Back to lunch.

Actually, back to last time we were up.  My big sister and I were talking about these trips across the border for Donairs (including remembering what they were called).  They're like a gyro, and we remembered them being the most awesome thing ever.  Were they?  Or were they merely a sugar-coated memory from childhood?  The trips into New Brunswick with Mom were a treat, and it had been about 17 years since the last one.  We decided that Chris and I would make our next visit on the long weekend and set a day aside to answer this question.

We got about halfway there (I'd put the trip time at about an hour and 20 minutes, although if you drive like a Canadian I'm sure it's faster.  We got past Houlton and into Canada ("What are you coming into Canada for today?"  "Greco Donairs", that got us a smile, good sign.) and we all admited to eachother that we really had nothing in the way of directions outside of fuzzy, 17 year old memories.  We got off of the wrong exit, but headed in the right direction, and would have gone right past the place if we were only a block over.  We stopped at a hotel and asked for directions.  ("Grecos?  You're going for Donairs?" Another good sign.  They were charmed by the story of our quest, also, and assured us that the trip was still worth it)  and then we were there.  Things were familiar, and not.  Different, and the same.  It was almost like my last trip was shen I was 8. 

Once inside we explained our story to the girl behind the counter.  "You're really expecting a lot from me! she said.  Yeah, no pressure, but we're here so you can reaffirm our childhood and remind us of our mother.  Relax.

You know what?  Greco Donairs are so supremely awesome, and they remind me of my mother.  It's so silly that little things like that give you back a piece of what was, but it's true.  I think Chris, my sister, and myself had a sort of celebration lunch with my mother.  We celebrated an aspect that we loved her for, something that she shared with us, something that we smile when we think of.  Of course, this is all new for Chris, but I'd like to think that he understands her a little better.  She would have loved him, and she would have showed him the best way that she knew how.  She would have given him a hard time everytime he turned around.  Not malicious or evil, not a typical MIL, she would have gotten a kick out of him (I do, he's kinda fun to pick on.  Most people in my knitting group know this.  He's not an easy target, he's just fun to tease because he teases back.  Good sport).  They would have given eachother a hard time, and it all would have been done with affection.  Yeah, that's my mom.  See the resemblance? 

But anyway, there's a Greco's in Quebec about three and a half hours from where I sit.  I think it's worth a drive into Canada for lunch.  Mom would have done it :)

So, the next time we talk, I'll be portable.  Isn't Jim awesome?

Even the Turkey Had Fun

.

(and thicker still) he was not phased.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that Jonathan Bosworth is a turkey whisperer.  Interesting tidbit.

Saturday was the most beautiful day that we could have imagined for this.  It was warm, sunny, and just all around beautiful.
 

Why, it was such a nice day for spinning that we were blessed with the presence of experts.

Much was shared, and taught... and bought...

Heather and Amy's booth's respectively.  Getting a shot of an empty booth would have been a damn chore with either lady.  See those colors?  It's like black slacks to prepared top (Right Julie?  I can tease you, you just got a new Ladybug and everyone is jealous!).  I ended up in those booths, fiber in hand, without even remembering leaving my chair, a few times.

To the left of Amy, and very dark, sadly, are the Bosworths.  I finally got to introduce myself to them as that crazy chick from Ravelry who has a wheel on order.  Sheila probably doesn't remember it, but she was one of the first people to give me a proper drop spindling lesson.  It was the VT S&W, 2005.   She is fantastic, and  her husband is just about one of the neatest people you'd ever hope to meet.  Seriously, turkey whisperer.  If ever you have a chance to meet any of the 4 people pictured above, please do it. 

Beyond the weather, and the spinning, and the parting with funds, there was teaching.  I taught my mother in law and Laurin how to spin with their drop spindles. In about an hour Donna was making even singles that took me months to achieve.  Not to decrease of diminish what Laurin did in the short time we were there (which was great for a first spin), but Donna doesn't start small, uncertainly, or in any manner resembling a novice.  In anything.  Everyone in our group is used to it.  She celebrated by buying her first Bossie.  Then she played with the Charkha that Jonathon set up.

Donna, stop reading for a few inches.

(psst, Tom, CHRISTMAS PRESENT ALERT)

Ok Donna, you can come back now.

It all sounds like the perfect day, right?  Well, perfect stories have conflict and resolution.  The part of conflict will be played by the Massive Thunderstorm that gave us about 10 minutes to pack ourselves and vendors into cars.  It was a fantastic storm.  Thunder, lightning, tumultuous downpour.    It had depth, power, diction, but a surprisingly soft heart at the end.

The part of the Resolution will be played by Julia and her Carriage House.  (I just feel like it should have capitalization, a proper noun, you know).  We retreated there for more spinning and knitting, pizza, and some absolutely fantastic company.

You know, with a pretty blue sky outside, two hours after the storm that chased us inside.

So that was our wonderful day.  We spun in the sun, Donna and Laurin learned to spin, everyone made a mad dash to make sure our vendors got all the fiber in the car before it rained, and we were all rescued by the Carriage House. 

The End.

Further Words of Warning

"At the same time as" can set you free...

Or destroy you.

A Word of Warning

regarding the Ravelympics.

When your husband's project is a fitted sweater for yourself, make sure to measure your bust.  Don't assume it's still 44 inches.

It's not every man's complaint, but my boobs have gotten bigger.  This is fantastic unless he's just knit the yoke of your sweater.

I've never had such a hard time keeping a straight face while apologizing.

Ta-Da!!

Because talking to Tonny kicked me in the ass, here is the finished product.  Not perfect, but perfect is for the Master Knitters program.

You like-a da sauce?

No, it's not all of it.  But it's close.

Don't worry, I did a much nicer job on the cubbies I filled at Cyndi's shop.  I'll blog that one next.  But for now, my husband is home.  It's nice of his job to lend him to me every now and fucking then.  Good night!

(Koi does not sleep.  She waits.)

The Trouble I'm In

All right, last we met I showed you wonderful pictures of my shiny, new shelves.  What do we do with them?  We fill them with yarn before the other shit that fills shelves has a chance to migrate in.

Step 1, move in all of the upstairs yarn.

Ah yes, feed on my chaos.  A Webs bag that probably has a lot of the yarn that it carried home from Webs.  A gift bag from a swap in which you'll find some of Heather's yummy yarn (in a colorway that I adore) and some kid mohair.  An entire laundry basket full of yarn.  A lot of this used to be downstairs yarn.

There's a fair amount of roving and fiber mixed in.  That's not for the shelf, though, I have a plan for all of that.  It's going in here

Ooh, that's right.  Meet the downstairs yarn.  Yep, that's another Webs bag!

So, the plan now is to empty out baskets of yarn upstairs, get them downstairs, and sherpa yarn upstairs.  I'm trying to get the cats to make like little pack llamas, but they're surprisingly uncooperative.

With all of this moving, packing, organizing, untangling, and such, there arises a very important question: to stash, or not to stash?

Does Ravelry need to see all of this?

I'm taking pictures as I tuck things away, but am I really going to start updating my stash?

Do I want to own up to all of this?  Sure, I'm owning up to it here, but these are just pictures.  You can't really get the depth.  There is nothing here proclaiming 1,237 stashed. 

Anyway, back to it.  I'll do it while I talk to the cats and wait for Chris to make his call home that's usually timed about two hours after I want to be to sleep.

For some reason, I'm just really hating him being away right now.  More so than usual.

Anyway, To the Yarn Cave!

Ikea to the Rescue.

I do not hide my amour for Ikea.  I can't.  It's too strong.  I must simply obey it, let it coax me in the door, and along the path that the arrow indicates.  Seriously, if it weren't for that arrow, I'd probably get lost and starve to death in there.

Yesterday we sought out Ikea with a purpose.  Because Ikea is a bit of a haul (unless you make the commute past that area everyday anyway which Chris's dad does.  He's offered to pick up stuff for us before, but half of the wonder of Ikea is being in Ikea, not that the offer isn't appreciated.)  we usually need to be going down into Mass for something or other.  Or other presented itself yesterday.  A good friend of Chris's (and all around great guy) is getting married next year, and his engagement party was in Connecticut.  It was a great party, and I really like them as a couple.

Back to Ikea.  Actually, back to the purpose for veering slightly east of our direct path home to get to Ikea.  Recently, in an issue of Interweave Knits, Amy Singer of Knitty Fame wrote a small piece on organizing your yarn.  She suggested you organize it as if it were your personal knitting store.  Talk about planting a seed.

A few months ago I picked out the shelving system I want.  Meet the Expedit (you can't food me, Ikea, that's not  good spelling, even in Swedish).

This is the 4x4.  We got the 4x4 because the 5x5 wouldn't fit in my Focus Hatchback. 

(Laser Kitteh set to disable for size reference).

So, Chris set this up, and while he is away on business from tomorrow until Wednesday (he should be home for knitting, so smile) it will be my job to fill it with yarn.  Just the way I want it.

Let me tell you a secret.

It ain't all gonna fit.

And it's going to be a little bit like Journey to the Center of the Earth. 

I'm wondering if it'll be blog fodder.  It might be just too embarrassing.  We'll see :D