Social Worker: You vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert!
Man: What? I came here for an argument!
Social Worker: Oh, sorry, this is "Abuse".
Crankiness rulez, yo.
Lots of stuff to write about before the year is up. Happy New Year, by the way. This is the last entry before I start screwing up the date when writing checks.
2007, 2007, 2007, 2007, 2007, 2007, 2007, 2007.
The Arwen cardi. Started and ripped out three times on Christmas Eve because yours truly thinks she's so fucking smart, she doesn't half pay attention when she should. And starts a major project at 9 p.m. at night after running around like a psychotic chicken for those last-minute gifts.
However, I did get it right. And am well on my way. This cardigan is not for beginners so if you think you've got the cojones, go for it. Otherwise, don't whine when you screw it up.
The yarn is KnitPicks' Wool of the Andes, color is Black Cherry. I decided not to use the Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran because all of her cashmerinos pill and I wanted a yarn that would stand up to heavy wear. WOTA is a yarn I've used several times and like very much; however, as with all the KnitPicks yarns, the colors can be less than enchanting. But there are a couple I like and this was one of them.
I have not knitted any garment for myself in two years. Shawls, socks, a few scarves, but nothing that has had to been assembled, per se. So now I've finished the Fair Isle vest and this is moving along quickly.
There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters
You all know I love music. Well, I love Rosemary Clooney too. "Come On-a My House," my favorite. And big band music. And all those fifties schlocky singers like Como, Sinatra, Bennett. When my sissy and I get together, we usually sing "Sisters" from White Christmas. She's Vera-Ellen, I'm Rosemary, for sure. And probably a dork, so bite me.
So what did the Queen of Chaos give me for Christmas to gross me out? This.
Some old lady at her father-in-law's assisted living joint gouged him $34 for this set. Clearly Lion Brand faux chenille. In delicious camo-esque colors. Poor Karen. Every tacky gift she gives me to try to piss me off makes me laugh.
If you're looking for me at work, I'm gonna quit and crochet hat-and-scarf sets and sell them to unsuspecting senile old guys for big bucks. And then retire on the proceeds.
We did have a nice Christmas, nonetheless. Karen offered up her own burnt finger to the general blog community photo collection of nasty supperating wounds. She thought you'd enjoy it.
Not quite pus-y enough to rival other blog pictures I've seen.
Otherwise, the usual Roberts-Meyer-Snider Christmas extravaganza, with me doing the cooking as usual.
Ma ready to stick her dollah-three-eighty into the mix
The Family Snider: Mike, Corinne and the Punk Princess
The Sisty Uglers, Jenn and Corinne
Mar and Carol's Most Excellent NYC Adventure
So yesterday, with a week's worth of free time on my hands, I traipsed into the city to meet with Carol and do some yarn shop trolling. We had decided that there were two shops we wanted to visit that neither of us had seen before: Seaport Yarns and Purl. I wasn't going to buy anything. I have enough fiber to last me and confuse me.
All I can say is, Seaport Yarns was a totally Fellini-esque experience. I ended up asking the owner what she didn't sell. Katia. Oh well. The place is a chaotic jumble of stuff. But incredible stuff.
A long, narrow hallway filled with yarn. Six or seven rooms that sprouted from the hallway, filled with yarn, books, tools. You name it, Seaport Yarns has it. Of course, I would highly suggest that you take at least a tab of acid prior to entering this place because it's really the Merry Pranksters Go Knitting.
Carol finds Nirvana at Seaport
Purl, on the other hand, was the antithesis of Seaport Yarns. Soho-chic, sterile, with beautifully arranged bins of Koigu, Lorna's Laces and other stuff. I didn't take pictures because I suspected that my camera would be confiscated. Suffice it to say that it's a small, airy yarn shop that has nice yarn. I think I far preferred Seaport, in all its looney glory. Being in Purl kinda made you want to blow your nose and fart, just to put it all into perspective.
I don't go for fancy-pretentious, I guess. Which is why I'm a Jersey girl.
Next time, it would be good to have all the Wolverinas together. Bad enough at Rhinebeck but positively frightening if let loose into NYC yarn shops. Given our behavior at Twist, Joe and I alone do plenty of damage.
With apologies to David Bowie.
I'm sort of in the process of reworking the blog layout, as you can probably tell from the sidebar. I've been doing it in dribs and drabs, putting things in slowly. Most likely now that Blogger is out of its beta stage, I will rework the template as well. There are just too many other blogs that look like this one or vicey versy. Joe did a great job on his and this one can stand some fluffing up. So look for more alterations. Still open for business though.
So while another year bites the dust, there's a lot I'll be pondering and planning for the coming year on Sunday night, while I sit and knit and watch movies. One thing I must do is finish my book, or rather, rework it. That's number one. The other thing is to write more outside of the blog, which is in the works already. Other than that, I'll go with the flow, try to keep aging gracefully and generally stay out of trouble.
And with that, have a safe and happy New Year. My thoughts and heart will be drifting to Cape Cod. But that's another rare and handy story for another time.