Best Quote I Heard All Day
I washed a sock. Then I put it in the dryer. When I took it out, it was gone.--Steven Wright
I think that the solution to this universal problem is to buy enough sock yarn to make three socks. Well, perhaps that's just insanity rather than a solution.
Yes, the Punk Princess turns sweet 16 next Monday, the 28th. Jesus. If anything could make me feel reeeaallly old, it's that. But as Liz says, "You're NOT old, Gram." No, I suppose not. I'll always be her Gangsta Gram. As the Who said, "Hope I die before I get old."
This was Liz at 2. And here's my pal now, with one of her friends, swiped from her Facebook. She's a talented artist, a drummer (who's going to learn how to play bass), and an all-around funky kid. Blood tells, for sure.
So, Dizzy Ms. Lizzy, Happy Birthday. For the past six years, you've been making cameo appearances on my blog. So fercrissakes, start your own, will ya?
Life in General
I've been busy finishing up the Las Vegas Brights scarf and then rummaging around for something to take its place. Unfortunately, I have not had any time to spin, so I guess I won't win the Maillot Jaune this year. I got the scarf blocked out on the porch. Just yanked it out and shaped it rather than trying to pin it. That would have been sheer madness.
I was flipping through last summer's Knitter's, one of the scant decent issues, the one that had Celeste's Campanula. And found a lace jacket thingie by Nancy Marchant that appealed, Loden Mist. I discovered five balls of Dewberry Kidsilk Haze in the stash. I'll be damned if I remember why the fuck I bought them. But they work for the jacket. This piece is finished and the left front is almost done.
Sometimes you just get sick of making shawls and it's time to go back to garments. I love to do the finishing on sweaters. Yeah. Sick. But to me, it's a different process with its own rewards. I still have that Lavold pullover to finish, the one from last fall. So that's next. The Cobweb Crepe shawl is on hold. I need to stitch me some clothing together.
Open Mic Thursday
Well, I kinda missed last week but it seems as if the last topic had a life of its own. This past week, while digging in the stash for the Kidsilk Haze, I was ruminating on how much I love to work with it. A lot of people don't, simply because it's a bitch to rip out. Rowan yarns are some of my very favorites, along with the magazines and the incredible designs.
However, there are a few yarns that I will never, ever work with again. One is Wildefoote sock yarn. It split so badly that I ended up throwing the shit out. That's one.
Of course, I won't work with crap. It's the stuff that you presume isn't shit but turns out to be awful--that's what I'm talking about.
So here ya are:
What yarn will you never, ever work with again?
Yeah, caveat emptor. So make like Consumer Reports and give everyone your sob story.
Gulp. Six Years Tomorrow.
Christ, it really has been six years. I started this mess on July 25, 2002. I figured it would amuse me for about three months. It certainly took my focus away from my troubles, which at the time were legion. A dead husband, a mortgage I was barely able to pay, two adult children back home with their kids, and a job that was on its way out.
But there was always knitting. And writing. And so it shall remain, always. Knitting is the lover that never disappoints, that always gives back in kind. Whenever I feel alone, sad, and unmotivated, all I have to do is pick up them sticks and start focusing on the fabric I'm making.
The same goes for writing. As I've always said, this blog is my main self-indulgence. I write for me. Only me. If somebody reads it, great. If nobody reads it, hey, it's a legacy for my kids.
Liz and I often talk about my family history, which she seems to find fascinating. So for her and Ian, this blog and the books I'm currently writing, are reason enough to keep on keeping on. Because if nothing else, it's been a rare and occasionally handy life.