Everybody Loves Saturday Night

That's it.  I'm officially sick of this weather.  I'm tired of all my summer clothes, and I'm dreaming of wool (well, actually, I'm dreaming of owning alpacas, like the ones J Strizz has pictures of.  So they spit.  I don't have the greatest table manners, either).  There's no other explanation for why I woke up before 6 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, other than it feels like it's going to be another humid day (which makes my hair happy, but then, my hair gets to sleep in a while longer, so screw it).  I forgot to take off the necklace I was wearing last night before I went to bed and now my neck feels icky.  I feel icky all over.  I'm hungry and there's nothing here for breakfast.  Whine whine whine whine whine.  Pity me.

I'm a little in love with Claudia's cat, Igor.  And I just realized that I've been thinking it's pronounced EYE-gor.  Pathetic.  Unless he really is an EYE-gor, which would just be so validating (what hump?).  But I'm not banking on it.

Go check out Ms. Cari.  She's put up the knitting post to end all knitting posts.  That and her new Silk Garden sweater is absolutely gorgeous. 

Scout has apparently picked up on my little crush on Igor, because he's being uncommonly sweet right now, sitting on my lap and not biting my arms as I type.  He's just a big furry ball of purring, and he's my one and only cat.  There.  That public declaration oughta appease him.  But you know what I caught this morning?  I'd made him a catnip mouse like, a year ago, and recorded his descent into addiction (sample shot).  I would like the record to show that he still plays with the mouse, or at least still acknowledges its presence.  Or, perhaps, in lieu of a real mouse like the one Igor felled, Scout is attempting to prove his merit (forgive the evil alien eyes he's got in the picture.  The red-eye removal feature just makes him look weirder):



I'd give you a legend for this photo, but it's pretty self-explanatory.  Cat.  Floor.  Futon mattress and frame.  Mouse.  Piece of cardboard used in recent fringing activity.

There's also this:

 


Sigh.

I have now lived in New York for two years.  I'm not going to do another pseudo-recap like I did last year, but I will say that not a day goes by that I don't congratulate myself on the decision to move here.  Yeah, I don't have full-time employment yet; yeah, I'm paying too much rent; yeah, the subway has lost much of its charm (yesterday?  30 minutes for a train before I gave up and hopped into a car); but as I've said before, this city gets me.  I mean, gets me.  You know?

~~~~~

Dear John Edwards,

I adore you.  When I see you, my heart does the same sort of thumpty-thump that it used to do when I watched Martin Sheen on The West Wing.  I think you're the real deal.  Keep on stumpin'.

Love,
Michelle

~~~~~

Thanks for the compliments on the Plassard shawl, y'all (heh, that rhymes.  OK, I've had enough coffee).  And yes, the Giotto shawl is next.  I wound two of the hanks yesterday.  Winding Giotto is not fun.  It is, in fact, a major pain in the ass.  I had a massive yarn catastrophe on my hands before I finished winding the first hank.  The yarn got all tangled up somehow--I have no idea how this happened--and I had to start winding up the yarn from the other end to untangle it, and then I had to take a picture because it reminded me of those maps on kiddie placemats in restaurants.  Get the yarn ball on the right to its rightful place in the pull-up ball on the left!



Legend:

A:  Renoir print that used to hang in my grandparents' den.
B:  Chococat.
C:  Matty the Owl (Harry Potter-inspired feel-better present from my mom).
D:  Strange lamp with porcelain figures you can barely see on the base; also from grandparents, and has always been on top of the piano.
E:  Menorah that I still haven't put away.  Shut up.
F:  Pseudo-Karabella yarn from School Products, on top of which is the wound up ball of Giotto.
G:  My turtle collection.
H:  Sun/Moon stress relief chimey spheres...whatever the hell they're called.  It was a gift.
I:  One of the several pictures I haven't gotten around to putting up.  I think this is the one of my great-great-grandfather, who was a cantor in either Latvia or Lithuania.  I had it over my desk in Ohio when I was writing my Masters thesis on Anglo-Jewish fiction, for inspiration.  Now I don't know where to put it.
J:  The piano.  That's a pillow on top of it.  For no reason.  Or...to protect the piano from Scout and his hair and his claws.  Yeah...that's it.

Eventually, I got this (better sense of color than in the previous shot):

 


Yup...starting it today.  It struck me, too, that I should wear the shawl at my brother's wedding next year.  Hey, did I tell you all that I'm going to be in the wedding?  That's a first for me.  Pretty exciting.

~~~~~

While I'm at it, I want to show you the yarn I scored while I was in Minnesota back in June.  I was at the Three Kittens, which just happens to be the very first yarn store I ever went to with the express purpose of getting yarn to make a sweater, back when I was, what?  12?  Something like that.  My mom was hunting around for yarn she would get for me to make her the Nicky Epstein geisha cape pattern from last fall's IK (which I agreed to do because I love my mother), and I was browsing...and happened across this:

 


I don't know if you can read the tag, so here's a close-up.

My middle name is Helene.  This yarn HAS MY NAME ON IT.  How could I be parted from it?  I mean, look at it.  They only had one skein (and at $40 a pop, thank GOD they only had one), and it's 218 yards of 50% silk/50% wool, and you wanna know what I'm going to do with it?

Yup.  Crochet myself a scarf.

I am unstoppable.  Put the phone down, cancel all operations.

Today is your day to dream, and dream big, dear Aries. Think about what it is that you want most out of life. Aim your arrow at the stars and pull back your bow as far as possible. There is no limit to how far you can go. Your only limitation is your own imagination. Don't worry if your plan doesn't seem to make any rational sense. Worry more about what you want and less about how you are going to get it.

Good grief.  That's a fairly sizable limitation, I gotta say.  If I were ever faced with a genie granting me three wishes, I'd suffer a complete failure of imagination and pull some lame-ass request out of the ether, without thinking of the old monkey's paw caveat, so that "I wish I never had to work for money again" would make me a quadriplegic.  And wishing I were President of the United States would set me up for assassination, not to mention voiding the whole not having to work for money thing.  Worse, I'd fall back on that old wishing for more wishes cliche.  When faced with, "What do you want?" I freeze.  Too many possibilities.  Too much desire.

By the way, you're all invited to attend and/or contribute to my big 35th birthday party, at which I intend to announce my candidacy for president.  I know, it's two years away.  Start planning.

It's a good thing my plans are rarely rational.

 

The Learning Experience:

1. Crocheting is not hard.  It takes time to get used to, particularly in holding the working yarn and getting even tension.  If you're comfortable making a chain, or crocheting a border around a neckline/hemline, you can do this.
2. Doesn't mean I want to go back and try to teach a passel of ten-year-olds how to do it.
3. The nice thing about crocheting a shawl is that when it gets to be a certain size, it just lays in your lap as you work across the next row.  You're not supporting it with your needles, hands, and wrists.
4. At the same time, it would help to have a marker of some sort to indicate the working side.  I can't count how many times I started crocheting a new row down the side.
5. Finishing off crochet is anti-climactic compared to binding off.  I always get such a sense of accomplishment when I bind off a row of knitting, but in crochet, you just pull the yarn through the last loop you made, et voila!  You're done.
6. Fringe ain't so bad.
7. Whoever came up with the idea of pinning shawls to a wall (I think it was Stef?) is a genius.

I know I said I was going to finish the shawl when I hit 60" or so, but that row came...and I just kept going.  When I started my fifth ball of Papyrus, I went for three rows and then stopped.  And it took the rest of that ball and the entire sixth ball to make the fringe (and even then I was short, so some places on the shawl have only two strands instead of three).  So it's yoooooooge.  When I draped it around me last night, I almost got lost in it.  (No modeling shots yet, because for one thing, I tried the shawl on in my bra, in lieu of the silk camisole I'm about to go hunt for [thanks, Jon & Cari, for the fashion advice], and you don't get pictures of me in my bra, and for another thing, I haven't quite been able to teach Scout how to work the camera.)

And although my eye immediately goes to the flaws--a place where I made two double crochets into the same ring, a place where I didn't push the rings to be evenly spaced (this is the other really cool thing about the pattern, which is linked from my "finished" list over there--I can manipulate the chains.  And Manipulate the Chains is the title of my next album), I am.  So pleased.  With how this came out.

I kinda wish I were at the Boston convention right now.  Kinda.  I remember watching the Democrats' convention in 1992 and knowing instinctively that Clinton and Gore would win the election.  It was just so obvious; enthusiasm and optimism like that couldn't have been wasted.  I didn't watch the Clintons speak last night so I'm searching around for a video clip I can stream (you can get the transcript of speeches on the DNC website).  I love listening to Bill.  Love Hillary too, but she doesn't quite have the same powers of oratory that Bill does.  Almost.  But not quite.

I went to see The Corporation last week, a 2.5 hour documentary about eeeeeeeeeevil.  It's well worth seeing, but man, is it brutal.  Right up until the "you can make a difference" end which, frankly, didn't make me feel all that empowered.  I will say this, though: this is the movie that elicited the kind of reaction that I'd been hoping for with Fahrenheit 9/11.  It reminded me that I still hadn't read through Naomi Klein's Fences and Windows, so I started it a couple nights ago.  Klein does an excellent job  of writing about multinational conglomerates and global capitalist organizations and their economic policies in a very accessible way (this is one of the strengths of The Corporation as well).  Like this, from an April 2000 essay:

The World Bank has lent money to the poorest and most desperate nations to build economies based on foreign-owned megaprojects, cash-crop farming, low-wage export-driven manufacturing and speculative finance.  These projects have been a boon to multinational mining, textile, and agribusiness companies around the world, but in many countries they have also led to environmental devastation, mass migration to urban centres, currency crashes and dead-end sweatshop jobs.

Which is where the World Bank and IMF [International Monetary Fund] come in with their infamous bailouts, always with more conditions attached.  In Haiti, it was a frozen minimum wage, in Thailand the elimination of restrictions on foreign ownership, in Mexico a hike in university fees was urged.  And when these latest austerity measures fail once again to lead to sustainable economic growth, these countries are still on the hook for their layers of debts.

I highly recommend Klein's No Logo as well.

[ironic segue]

So, my AT&T phone is now hooked up to a Southwestern Bell Caller ID box, because I signed up for a Verizon plan that gives me a certain number of features for a flat monthly rate.  It means I need to disconnect my answering machine because it's stuck on picking up after two rings, and Caller ID won't work that fast.  I've decided that I'm going to give it a month--maybe less--and if I don't like the way it's working, I'm going to cancel my Verizon service all together.  Radio Disney still hasn't been exorcized completely from my line, and thanks to my Earthlink high speed service rendered possible by my TimeWarner cable modem,  I don't really need a land line anymore.

Now: rank the companies mentioned above in order of evil.

The shawl, she gets fringe today.

I was tooling through my archives the other day (I'm always curious when people find me through some string of words that appear at various points during the month of, in this case, August 2003), and found this bit, which made me chuckle:

I love being an Aries. Worship me! Answer to my every whim! Fulfill my every need! DO IT!

I offer it up again as a kindly reminder.

Though I suppose it might be more effective/efficient to come up with a list of those needs and whims, you know, specifics might be helpful. Here's one. I demand that my cat shut the hell up. I love 'im, but good GOD. The past couple days he's been plunking himself down (contrary to popular opinion, this doesn't cause tremors to reverberate throughout the place), fixing me with the Glare of Feline Contempt, and bleating out this unearthly noise that doesn't sound so much like "meow," but more like, "mmmmmaaaaaaannnnnngh." And he will not let up. It starts at 6. He breaks for food and the post-meal nap. Then it starts again. I have heard that the best way to get him to stop is to ignore him. Tell me, how easy do you think it is to pretend a cat who sounds like he's going through a severe existential crisis simply isn't there? Think about it.

You know, other than that, my desire to have all the auto shops on my block go away and be replaced by 1) a laundromat, 2) a Mailboxes, 3) a decent pharmacy, and 4) a Unicorn-esque coffee shop; my whim to get paid a lot of money for simply being here; and my demand that all those cute little boutiques on the LES start carrying more clothes sized above a 6...I am pretty damn satisfied with the way things around me have situated themselves.  One might say I am content. 

Somewhere on that list of Things That Make Me Content is the Plassard Shawl, which is nearing completion.  It's just about 59" wide at the top, so one or two more rows and I'll stop to block it.  Crappy picture alert:



Click here for a close up of the pattern, and a better sense of color.

Of course, I need something to wear with it now.  Before you say, "Strappy tank," I'll say I've already thought of it, but I think that the tank is too heavy for something as light as this shawl.  I'll try it, but I'd need a matching skirt anyway.  I went looking this weekend, but saw nothing that was either in my size or price range.  Few things are as discouraging as really wanting to purchase clothing and not being able to.  Do you think this is why so many women love shoes?  I shopped this entire weekend, I am exhausted, and all I have to show for it is a patchwork skirt that does not coordinate with the shawl.  I like it anyway.

(*gasp* Fatboy Slim and Bootsy Collins teamed up on a cover of "The Joker"?  How delightful.) 

Please.  I should know by now that in yarn-related matters, there is no "if."  It's always a matter of "when."  Which brings me to my main yarn philosophy: no time like the present.  Sure, I may demur with excuses of the wallet, much in the same way folks will face tiramisu with "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly, I'm so full, but it does look delicious and creamy, well, maybe just a bite, if someone will split it with me."  And, of course, there is no sharing of the tiramisu.

I was right about the Giotto shawl in Knit NY.  It is crocheted, it's almost identical to the pattern I've been following (longer chains, yielding wider holes), and it only takes three skeins, including fringe.  So I bought a stunning and elegant colorway called "Jay."  Here it is (looking slightly less deep teal than it is in person):

 


I worked on the Plassard shawl at Knit NY, and I think I'm getting the hang of it.  And it's draping a lot better.  The Giotto, though...that's going to call for a very special outfit.  Perhaps something I can wear on a date in September?

Enjoy the weekend.

I finished the body of the Micro Sitcom, started a sleeve, and got tired of working on it.  My hands craved something light and fast.  During my recent overdose of Sex & The City, I noticed SJP wearing a fabulous shawl--dark blue, very open, very silky-looking.  Then I saw a similar shawl in Knit NY--seriously, it looked exactly the same.  Made from Colinette Giotto.  Can't work the pocketbook that way right now, though I have a feeling that because the shawl is so open, it wouldn't take that many skeins.  I'll ask tomorrow, when I'm there to meet Cari and Iris.

My mind went back to the Plassard Papyrus (color: 13) I bought months ago from the Boys.  Remember my swatching woes with this one?  That might make a fun shawl, I thought.  Good colors, very bulky but light yarn so it'll go quickly, and I've definitely got enough of it.

So I went in search of a pattern, and found one, over on the About.crochet site.  Yes.  Crochet.  The skill I don't really have.  The skill I tried, unsuccessfully, twice, to teach to fifth graders (I dreamt about that last night, too.  I am not keen to try again.  Me and twenty 10-year-olds?  Not a good combo).  I understand the mechanics of crocheting, but I'm unable to translate it into something that looks the way it should.

I went ahead, anyway.  Partly just to see if I could, partly because I had to do something other than stockinette for a while.  The pattern is really easy, and it is, I believe, the same pattern used for the Giotto shawl.  So if I wind up making that, I'll have had some practice.  And I think I almost have the hang of it.  My loopies are by no means even, but then the yarn, being that it's practically paper, hides a lot of that.

In fact, I'm pretty sure this yarn shouldn't be used in this manner.  You can't see the stitches, and frankly, it looks like I just knotted it together.  And it doesn't really drape.  But you know what?  I like it anyway, and it's fun to work on.  And it goes so quickly!  What I've shown you, I did in an hour.  And it feels nice. 

Well, that's all I got.  Are we all sharing biorhythms or something?  Everywhere I turn, I see "I don't feel like doing this right now" or "I'm just not feeling very creative right now."  Is it the July doldrums?  I'm back in that place where I don't want to do this unless I can be witty and charming.  And then I sit down to write and I really do feel witty and charming, but then I'll type "bargroom" instead of "bathroom" and the feeling's gone.  And it's replaced by stupid giggling because "bargroom" looks like "blargroom," the room one uses to blarg.  And I know that's not going to be funny to anyone else.  And it's neither witty nor charming.  It's just silly. 

The Very Full Week of the Unemployed Gal continued this noon, with a lovely lunch with the lovely Mindy, at the Zen Palate on 76th & Broadway.  I've now been in each of the Zen Palates, and I think this one is the nicest.  It's very airy and pleasant.  I fear I am succumbing to Upper West Side desire.  I need a good dive bar in slummy Brooklyn to get back to my roots.  Or rather, the roots that I have concocted for myself since moving here.
 
After lunch, we went to The Yarn Co so I could find a copy of the Summer IK for a very special person, and I felt absolutely no desire to buy yarn.  OK, save for the new color of Kureyon that Mindy picked up.  But that can wait.  Then we went to the AMNH, where Mindy flashed her employee badge to hustle me into a couple exhibits.  I love knowing people.  She took me through the startling and fascinating frogs exhibit, and I'm still not quite convinced that some of those frogs were real.  They kinda looked like candy.  Poisonous candy (and, in fact, you can purchase gummi frogs at the gift shop, which is just...wrong).  I spotted a child (looking at the exhibit, not part of it) with a tousled mop of red curly hair, which triggered that whole "I must steal that child" impulse I get from time to time--nope, if I had a biological clock, it'd be doing time, because I sometimes think having a child would be nice, but I don't actually want to have a child (I'd just like yours, please, with the promise that you'll get her or him back when I have tired of it)--but the impulse gathered up its petticoats and fled in haste once I made it to the Exploratorium exhibit, which is a hands-on  "Science is FUN!" kind of exhibit that encourages people to touch, push, pull, and spin things.  Very heavy on the pendulums.  Pendula?  And also overwhelmingly glutted with touching, pushing, pulling, spinning, jumping, screaming whirling dervishes between the ages of 4 and 10.
 
I don't mean to imply that science is not fun.  I think science is a blast.  Science has it going on.  I know scientists, and they can party.
 
(I so did not mean the clock/doing time thing back there.  I am ashamed of myself.)

Conversation with my brother yesterday:
 
Me: Hello?
Bro: Hello!
Me: Hey!
Together: How's it going?
Together: Good.
Together (in response): Good.
[pause]
Me: So how are you?
Bro: Fine.  And yourself?
Me: Great.
[pause]
Me: How ya doin'?
[we can do this "how are you" bit forever.  I'll jump ahead.]
Bro: How are things?
Me: Things are good!
Bro:  Yes.  I hear "things"...
Me: Yes, "things" are pretty good.
Together: Yay, things!
 
Move over, My Dinner with Andre.
 
Sigh.  I really wanted to regale you with some fantastic story from my past, but nothing comes to mind.  You know what I love, though?  That so many of you are listening to 97X.  That I have actually succeeded in "spreading the word."  I have absolutely no affiliation with the station, though I did used to live directly behind it.  It's just...that loyalty I tend to feel towards places and things (like the Unicorn Cafe), and the compulsion I have to share things that mean a lot to me.  It's a little personal, too, you know?  Like the fact you're loving this station somehow reflects really well on me.

I can't decide what I want to do today.  I've got writing to do that I put off during the whole Introduction Push, I need to get a couple size 5 circs for the Micro Sitcom sleeves--but do I journey into Manhattan for that, or stick to the local store that I haven't been to in ever so long?--I'm out of food, I still need to get light bulbs, and I just found out that my open invitation to some Boston friends to crash here when they make it to NYC has been accepted for the coming weekend, which means I absolutely need to make the apartment a lot more presentable than it is now.  I have a lunch date tomorrow and a knitting date on Friday...I've got a busy week for someone who has managed to avoid employment so far this summer.
 
I really don't want to go back to school.  Where's my deus ex machina?

Thanks to the beauty that is Friendster (and believe me, this rather silly concept has served me well in more ways than most of you will ever know, or I, frankly, care to believe), I have reconnected with two people I went to college with (all right, "with whom I went to college").  And one of them reminded me, through the question, "what the hell was that about?",  of a rather serious relationship I'd had back in the day.  "The day" being circa 1991.  We met over the internet.  I mention this because, while the relationship didn't pan out, it was at a time when internet dating was considered even more freakish than it is now.  I totally am a trendsetter.  That's the only reason I mention this.  For posterity.  I was so way ahead of the curve, I set the curve, baby.  So thanks, Al Gore.
 
I should also thank my friend S., without whom I wouldn't have heard about email and the internet until everyone else had, because that's usually my speed.  But it sometimes totally pays to have friends who work in the science & technology field.  I remember this so well, her calling me from MIT and telling me about this thing called "electronic mail," which would save us countless dollars in long distance phone bills.  I really do consider this to be the most outstanding invention that has occurred in my lifetime.  I mean, seriously.  When you stop to think about it?  It's incredible. 
  
Those of you who have joined me in the 97X love will have no doubt heard that new Belle & Sebastian song by now.  My god, I cannot remember the last time I could not get enough of one song.  It's 6 minutes long and still leaves me wanting more.  It's the Official Everybody Loves Saturday Night Summer Anthem.  I bought the single on Friday.  I take back every negative thing I ever said about B&S.  I have spent the last half hour playing this song over and over, singing along.  No, I'm not ashamed of this.
 
Other songs I can play the hell out of and never tire of them:
 
Cannonball - The Breeders (which remains the rawkingest song that ever rawked.  Jesus, that hook?  Gets me every time, after how many years?)
Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz (the rest of this album?  Disappointing.)
Save Me From Happiness - Departure Lounge
Can't Stand It - Wilco
6'1" - Liz Phair (one of the best first tracks ever, in my opinion)
Runway - The Hang-Ups (MN band that had a track featured in Chasing Amy)
The Frug - Rilo Kiley (Could there be a song that's more me?  No.)
Dry the Rain - Beta Band (yes, this is the song featured in High Fidelity, when John Cusack pronounces, "I will now sell three copies of the Beta Band."  It's not an exaggeration.  This song rules.  And I just found out that it's actually supposed to be pronounced "BEE-ta."  I think that's just dumb.  But Steve Mason?  That's one sexy voice.)
Superman - REM (mostly because I just like singing along to it)
Minnesoter - Dandy Warhols
Waitress in the Sky - Replacements
Italian Leather Sofa - Cake (did anyone ever watch "Mission Hill"?  'Cause this is the song that introduces it)
Insanely Jealous - Soft Boys
A New England - Billy Bragg
Stutter - Elastica
 
Oof, my private stash of MP3s is currently on another Departure Lounge song, "Stay on the Line."  Given my current state of mind, this song is sending me into thrills.  For those of you who have no idea who I'm talking about, go here.  And then go to the audio download page and download "King Kong Frown," "Straight Line to the Kerb," and "What You Have is Good" (although the latter song is really only great once you've heard "Save Me From Happiness," so let me know if you want me to send it to you.  I totally will).  More people need to know about this band, hiatus be damned.  Do me a favor and pray that they'll tour again.  I've only seen them live once (opened for Robyn Hitchcock, who is absent from this list only because I can't choose a single song, it's all that good [honestly, how can you not love a man who rhymes "Well the friction is delicious but it's challenging" with "You're the kind of girl that really does need bandaging"?].  For the record, other artists included in the "it's all that good" category are Elvis Costello and The Beatles.  And a lot of early XTC)
 
I also bought PJ Harvey's latest.  I swear, if I swung that way?  Polly Jean is at the top of my list.  It might be because it seems as though she cares as little for eyebrow maintenance as I do.

 

What a wonder--I managed to do almost everything on my list yesterday between the time of posting and just now.  The one thing I didn't get to was the light bulbs, and it wasn't due to phobia.  Really.  I was all psyched up to test the piano bench with my weight (oh, right, the bench would have been covered with a towel or something to protect the needlepoint part, ummmm, yeah.  Well, now it will be), but then I discovered I am out of light bulbs.  Isn't that always the way?
 
Laundry?  Done.  There was even a very nice man who was taking his stuff out of the dryer as I was taking mine out of the washer, and he told me he'd left 12 minutes on his dryer, if I wanted it.  This is a far cry from the days of doing laundry in college, when if you didn't watch the machines like a hawk, your clothes would be strewn across the floor in order to free a washer or dryer.  Wait, wait...I'm getting a nice little memory about the laundry room in college...  ....  ......  .....
 
Um, OK!  We're back.  I was informed by maintenance that someone will be out to fix my buzzer on Saturday.  Yeah, right.  That's gonna happen.  In the meantime, I've missed three packages because of that buzzer, which irks me a little, because usually the mail carrier will ring the buzzer and then just leave the package in the foyer.  And I know the latest package is one of my CDs from Amazon--they couldn't leave a little thing like that?  When they show blatant disregard for the Netflix disks they shove in my little mailbox?  I can't decide if I want to go to the PO today, when I know I'll have to go back at least once more in the next couple days (for which I also blame Amazon, for shipping two CDs separately even though I ordered both within ten minutes of each other).
 
I sound cranky, don't I.  I am.  I just have not been getting enough sleep lately, and it hasn't helped that the last few days Scout has begun his morning ritual of demanding food and jumping all over the bed at 5:30 AM.  I actually tried shutting him out of the bedroom this morning, but doing so only led to louder demands and claws on the door.  I may have squeezed in another hour of sleep total, off and on.  There are two ways I can go today on this much sleep: dullard or slap-happy.  I'm not sure I have much control over it, but let's hope I go slap-happy, because it's definitely more fun for all involved.
 
And I did manage to begin the Great Stash Organization, but in lieu of organizing containers, it was little more than grabbing bags and putting them in my newly available closet.  It's a start, and it cleared out some space in the living room, so I'm happy.  I also got around to taking pictures this morning.
 
Now, before I show them, I need to give a shout out to Wendy, who has been making me giggle on a daily basis by taking pictures of one of her Spongebob Squarepants figures posing with yarn.  It's just...I think it's funny, OK?  Just perfectly goofy and weird.  So I had to give it a try.  I don't have Spongebob, and I would never directly copy Wendy anyway, and as I looked around my paltry collection of goofy toys, I asked myself, "Who would best represent me as a Yarn Spokesmodel?"  Chococat?  I don't think he looks happy enough.  Conjunction Junction guy?  Not big enough.  Punching Rabbi (fighting for wisdom for 3,000 years!)?  Mmmm...maybe for something really holy.  Mojo Jojo?  Now, I think he'd be good, except the one I have doesn't stand up very well.  So this brings me to the obvious choice from the beginning.  
 

 
Buttercup is posing with the Kersti.  Daring anyone to just try and take it from her.  Good yarn bodyguard, she is.
 
Here's how far I've gotten on the sleeve, after following the pattern, realizing it would make the sleeve way too long for me, and ripping back before starting the cap shaping again: 
  

 
See what I mean?  It doesn't look like it would be this pink.  I'm not complaining, though.
 
I decided to change the pattern slightly, because I didn't want the stockinette roll--every time I have it, it winds up rolling up farther and farther each time I wear it.  So you can't tell, but what I did was start the sleeve with a few rows of seed stitch.  I'm going to do the same with the body, and carry the seed stitch up the zipper facing and hood.
 
And here is a crappy picture of the Micro Sitcom, 76 rows in and at least 36 more to go before I can start the sleeves (hmm, I need new circs for that).  It's brighter than this, and it matches the Beqi dress perfectly. 
  

 
You're all trying to read my DVD titles anyway, aren't you?
 

Starting off with a dull to do list:

1. Call maintenance to remind them that I still have a broken buzzer. While they're at it, someone needs to fix my toilet. It's not leaking, but running nonstop, unless I turn the little knobby thing, which makes the flusher thingy not work. The noise is keeping me up at night. Scout wakes me up too early. I am so tired.

2. Laundry. It's going to be good to get away from the computer for a couple hours. Sit outside the 'mat and knit.

3. Begin the Great Stash Organization.

4. Take pictures.

5. Attempt the changing of light bulbs in the living room. The ceiling is too high for me, even on the little stepladder I have. The only option I have right now is to use the piano bench, but I'm not sure that's going to be high enough. Maybe the people who moved in downstairs inherited the real ladder from the former tenants. I'm a little ladder-phobic. Actually, anything I need to climb up gives me the ookies. But I do like the idea that I am once again solely responsible for the changing of the light bulbs.

So yeah, no pictures yet. I will tell you what's been going on knitting-wise, though. I got seduced by Cari's Elann purchase and ordered a passel of cotton yarn, including some Millefili print in the Potpurri colorway, enough Lara for two tanks--one orange, one olive green with thin blue and yellow stripes (do other people get inspired by the way the color charts are organized on Elann's site? The green, blue and yellow were right next to each other and made me say "ooh!")--some Schachenmayr Micro in Pumpkin, which really looks more tangerine-ish, but whatever, with which I am working with currently, on a Sitcom Chic-inspired cardigan. The yarn is a smaller gauge, so I had to do some adapting, and I'm working an eyelet row on the hem of the body and on the sleeve cuffs. I might leave it like that, or thread some ribbon through it. The cardigan is specifically to wear with the pink and orange Beqi dress I showed you a couple weeks ago. It's taking forever to work on; because of the smaller gauge I've currently got 220 stitches on size 5 needles, heading up to 228. The Micro is rather nice--100% acrylic (how ghastly!) and very soft, good stitch definition, and the sweater is going to feel very nice and look spiffingly splendid, so I will persevere with the endless stockinette (mad deja vu right there).

I've already confessed to Rob, so I can also tell you that I also bought some, um, Kersti. From a non-Threadbear source. I didn't want it to go down that way, honest. I'd noticed a fantastic colorway at Knit NY a couple months ago, with vivid purples and oranges, two colors I just love together. I noted the number and asked Rob if they had it. He had the number, but said that their stock was heavier on the greens instead of purples. Dye lots, and all that. Koigu people know what I'm sayin'. So I realized that if I wanted this colorway, I needed to get it where I saw it. So after several weeks of cogitating "I shouldn't, but I want to, but I'm not working, but it'll be gone when you're ready, but I really don't need it, but it's so purty, you really are a shameless hussy, takes one to know one, blah de blah blah" I found myself back in Knit NY, fondling the Kersti. I could throw some blame Iris's way, since she had her Kersti and had hoodwinked Cari into touching it, and somehow it transferred over to me...but it doesn't quite work that way, does it? No, it does not. I wanted the Kersti, and I finally owned up to it. And now I own it.

(Dude. The new Belle and Sebastian song, "Your Cover's Blown"? Never been a fan of this band, but wow. This song rules. Totally doesn't sound like what I think B&S has always sounded like, which is probably why I like it.)

And because it's Kersti, I had to see what knitting it really felt like, so I cast on for the first sleeve of the hooded zippered cardi in the Summer Vogue. Yes, breaking my "no wool in summer" rule, but does Kersti really count? I didn't think so. Kersti + Addis = glorious knitting, as well. I haven't finished the sleeve yet, but I'm close. So picture of that to follow, as well. It's a lot more pink and green than it looks like it would be in the skein, but it's really just a great colorway. Totally unlike anything I've ever knit with before. And now I'm on an orange kick. Just working my way through the spectrum.

Watched the first disc from Season 4 of the Sopranos, and have witnessed the most disturbing scene ever. Janice. Ralphie. Vibrator. Good GOD. Maybe it wasn't the toilet that kept me up last night.

Because as of today, I have been blogging for a year, but all I hear is Courtney Cox saying "blogiversary!" as Monica said "plane-i-versary" to Chandler when they were off to Vegas. And that is why, dear readers, I won't be getting all woo! anniversary! on you right now. But it has been a great year. And thanks for reading.




But I will wish everyone a most happy Bastille Day! I think this is my favorite non-U.S. or religious holiday. I wish we had a Bastille Day. Dumping tea in the harbor? So not the same thing. I say we adopt this holiday and celebrate the hell out of it, and maybe it will inspire us to storm something of our own. The Monarchy has been supplanted by the Corporation, and we're in desperate need of revolution.

So go here to get the music (must have QuickTime--if you don't, browse this list to find it), and sing along:

Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé!
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L'étendard sanglant est levé! (bis)
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Égorger nos fils, nos compagnes!

Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons!
Marchons! Marchons!
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!

(OK, I know I'm not the only one who thinks of Casablanca when I hear the Marseillaise. I'm also pretty sure I'm not the only one who tears up at that scene. Am I? Or thinks that Paul Henreid was kinda foxy? I've gone too far, haven't I? As you were.)

Then later on? You can mix yourself a Bastille Day cocktail. And read some of the Marquis de Sade's saucier tales.

Update: It's not over, but it's a start.

Being able to listen to as much 97X as I'm awake for is like relaxing in a hot bath on a cold evening. Mmmmm. With the exception of CD mixes I've been fortunate to receive, and the random and far too infrequent impulse CD purchase, I've really gone without hearing new music I like for...oh, way too long. This station had been my lifeline to the kind of music I adore best. And to have that link back means, well, means I'll be spending more money on CDs. In fact, last night, I zipped over to Amazon and picked up this and this.

OK, so I got the Fall Interweave Knits over the weekend, which shocked me to the core, although maybe they're making up for how late I got the Summer issue. Kinda unfair to throw all this great fall knitting at me in the middle of the summer, but the issue is great and I've already marked several things I must make. The tartan jacket that I see has caught the eye of many others. The cover sweater. I like the classic look of the slanted cardigan. Annie Modesitt's cropped sideways cabled cardigan looks like a good bet for some stash yarn, as does the shadow tam. And I just love the floral felted bag. Reminds me of my grandmother's needlepoint.

But first, I need to get back to the summer knitting. Haven't really done much over the past couple days, so today is going to be all Netflix and knitting (followed by TAR and knitting). As soon as I run a couple cat-related errands and the mail gets here. Oof. I dislike running errands in the rain. But not as much as I dislike the smell of a litter box that needs changing.

I'll try to get pictures of what I've been doing up tomorrow.

IT'S BACK! I can't think of a more perfect way to begin the week after a perfectly lovely weekend. Just on a whim, I went to the 97X site to see if, maybe, they'd gotten it together. And they had. As of TODAY. Synergy, baby. Things are...Jesus, things are pretty fucking great right now.

Introduction draft? DONE. I was planning on mailing it off today, but I think I'm going to sit on it for a day or two and see if I'm inspired to make any changes to it. I know I'm going to have to revise and add things based on what my advisor says, but I also would like to send something I feel really good about, rather than something I feel just all right about. You know? Sure you do.

So now I feel like I can get back to normal, or as close to normal as I could ever get. Doing normal things. Like buying yarn.

I may have mentioned before--in fact, I know I did, months ago--that Evelyn Waugh's Vile Bodies is one of my favorite novels, AND that it was made into a movie called Bright Young Things, directed by the fabulous Stephen Fry (who writes a mean witty novel himself, I might add. Read The Liar. Steph, you in particular would love this one).

OK, so I'm one of my Google moods, and just found out that the movie will be released in the States next month. Either August 6, or August 20 (or both, if the 6th is the limited release). Next month! And I found the official website, which is really too charming. In fact, if you click on the "Splendidiser" link, you can type in your blog address and have it translated into BYT-ese. I've done it, and the funniest entry was July 1st's:

steady as the spiffing gal goes

I added the simply marvellous next six pages of the simply bogus introduction. Golly! Darling, it's a divine rather dull section called "Situating the blasted Project," a simply bogus necessary component that proves I know what I'm doing and that I've actually read up utterly on this kind of stuff . Darling, it explains what's come before and how I'm "contributing to the horrid field."

I need more paper. Golly! My dear child, oh, how I miss the priceless days of pilfering the blasted supply closet of the English Department, my dear fellow!

That's it, really, really . Didn't blog yesterday because I didn't have many blogworthy things to say, which is completely just too bogus! Dash me twice, wrote. How boring! Organized . I say, knit. Marvellous! Colleen called from California, which was bloody the blasted highlight of my day. Golly! Look here, but, you know, when I'm in writing mode I'm not a terribly splendid conversationalist. It's just too dull. "What's going utterly on?" "Uhhhhhh...nuthin'. Just writing. Rather! Look here, you know. It's just too dull. I say, haven't left my desk all day . I dare say, that sort of thing, my dear fellow! Now see here - yeah." They're in the bloody midst of tech rehearsals for Suitcase, these twelve-hour stints that would just totally break me completely. It's just too dull. Now see here - this is unbearably the dratted play about two women in the dratted midst of writing their dissertations: "How is blasting well IT going?" "It is un-going." When I told Col excitedly that IT was jolly well definitely ongoing, the blasted gal declared she'd tell the simply marvellous rest of the frightfully boring group. Marvellous! Horridly on the bloody contrary, i've got a simply too divine shout-out in the shriekworthy program. Splendid! Look here, i feel like their mascot . My dear child, it's terribly cool, darling! Darling, if I had the blasted time, I'd whip up one of those crazy cotton bikinis for the priceless gal to wear pricelessly on the horrid beach. Ugh, how morbid!

That Velour tank, spiffingly on the frightfully boring other hand, is decidedly un-going. How shaming! Look here, i do not have enough yarn to finish it and I refuse to continue by ripping out again or buying more. Good heavens! My dear child, it's just not meant to be a frightfully divine tank. It's so damned unfair! I say, i'm guessing it really, really wants to be a simply too divine bag of some sort. Oh my! Look here, and/Or, perhaps, Flick, because I think it's hilarious (in a ghastly splendid way). I'm not a simply splendid belt person. Ghastly, let me tell you. My dear child, i may be a horrid dominatrix. It's so damned unfair! Darling, and that's the ghastly goofiest sentence I think I've ever written. It's so damned unfair! Darling, i plead academe. Oh my! My dear child, it really, really fries my brain, darling!

So, instead, I went back to the frightfully divine other yarn that had been giving me such tsurris: one of the simply too divine cones of the shriekworthy pseudo-Karabella Zodiac that I picked up at School Products way way back in February, when I went there with Maggi. Originally I was simply going to make that retro-looking pleated blouse from the spring IK, but I couldn't get the frightfully divine right gauge and still get the simply marvellous appropriate drape. It's so damned unfair! I say, so I tried it for the priceless Victoria Tank from the simply marvellous summer IK, and same problem, which is bloody just too bogus! Now see here - i know I could rework the shriekworthy math, but you know what I say to that kind of extra work when all I want is shamefully a nice 'n easy tank? "FEH!" is fabulously what I say . Darling, but this yarn is bloody a frightfully boring shade of red that just barely matches the blasted red in the dratted awesome tattoo print skirt from Beqi, so I have to make something with it NOW. Decided that the frightfully horrid quickest thing to do would be to double the horrid strands, so that instead of working with 5 stitches to the inch spiffingly on US 4s, I'm working with something that gets 4 stitches to the simply dashing inch on US 9s, which is so very, very, very just too bogus!

Because of the simply too divine way the jolly yarn is shriekworthily wound spiffingly on the beastly cone, I couldn't just unravel the other end and use it, so I quickly wound up two balls of somewhat equal girth and started up. It's just too dull. Dear me, my hands decided to do a divine k5, p2 ribbing, and voila! I got myself a simply dandy donut. Splendid!

I'm thinking about using a divine different pattern for the bodice, but I haven't decided yet . Dear me, i like the divine way this yarn looks and feels doubled up--almost like ribbon yarn, darling! Fabulously on the blasted contrary, and it feels better and drapes better this way . Now see here - i may have to double up the simply dashing other pseudo-Karabella yarn I have, isn't it too divine?!

Blocking Charlotte tomorrow, which is just so just too bogus!

Gah! P.S.! I almost forgot to direct you to a jolly fabulous, exceedingly splendid article by my dearest Rachael (yes, I know, most of you already know about it, but I gotta give my gal props, y'know?). And then this equally splendid article by Ms. Oh my! Darling, hairball herself, which really, really did my heart splendid. Ugh, how morbid! My dear child, knitting is pricelessly sexy. Good heavens! Darling, political activism is shamefully sexy. Good heavens! Dash me twice, politically active knitters are fabulously too freakin' amazing for words. How shaming!

I'm fairly sure it's not the beer I had with dinner that makes this so funny. The funniest title was "The Divine Blocking of the Frightful Charlotte." Indeed. I may be up all night plugging in my archives. Simply spiffing!

(I cannot WAIT to see this movie.)

(sing it with me) but it's ok.

Taking a cue from Rachael: I've been knitting. Thus endeth the knitting portion of today's entry. Seriously, I don't feel like taking pictures of stuff, and I don't feel like finishing anything I started. I keep starting new things. I think it's a reaction to it being almost mid-July--summer's almost over and I've got all this crazy cotton. OK, THUS endeth the knitting portion of today's entry.

And I've been writing, and plan on mailing off the intro Monday. I want to say thanks for the positive and constructive feedback! I haven't had much time to go through and respond to everyone, but know that your comments mean a lot.

What else? Oh, watching waaaaaaaaay too much Sex & the City. Wrapped up season five last night, the one that begins with Fleet Week (chuckle) and ends with Ron Livingston (here's where I am obliged to say that Office Space was one of those great movies that I thought would be incredibly dumb but wasn't). Kinda schmeh season, but perfect for, um, knitting.

Go read the Buzzflash headlines.

Yesterday was fun--Colleen was in my mailbox. Or, a picture of her was on the envelope from Playwrights Horizons containing an appeal for me to renew my subscription. She was in a play called Recent Tragic Events a few months ago at PH and was, if I may say, the best part about it.

Words cannot convey the vivid disarray my apartment is in right now. Looking around, I count three wastebaskets in need of emptying, more than a few empty Diet Coke bottles some of which are just lying on the floor, a laundry pile of Golem porportions, cat hair globs that drift like tumbleweeds at the slightest breeze coming through the window (and it's very slight), piles of DVDs that need reshelving, and yarn. Oh, the yarn. Spills out of containers everywhere. The dust has almost reached solid form. I flipped the futon mattress over last week for a change, but it's beige and now looks disgusting. It only took a week? And it's official: I have killed the one kind of plant no one is supposed to be able to kill. Note that this is just stuff I can SEE. My desk is in its usual state, but at least has some semblance of organization going on. Look, there's a bill I need to pay. And another one. There's the writing I've printed out. The phone. Scattered paper clips. Coffee mug (empty). Random stitch markers (the hell?). Pens that no longer work that for some reason I haven't thrown away. And now they're on top of one of the almost-overflowing wastebaskets.

I would like the record to show that there is nothing here about talking rabbits.

Thanks to Cari for the link.

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

The good news: I am a bonehead. The Amazing Race isn't going to be on Saturdays. CBS is just reairing the premiere on Saturday, so you still have a chance to catch it. Even if you hate reality shows, give this one a try. It's really the best one out there. I'm not all that crazy about any of the teams this season, but frontrunners in my "like" column are the bowling moms. They're the only ones that come close to past favorites of mine (Kevin and Drew, the Chas, the Clowns), which means that if they make it past the first three legs, they will finish fourth. And man, G.I. Dad? Who mashed up his knee within the first 10 seconds, requiring stitches and almost missing the first flight and the whole race? Kinda rooting for him, too. I'm going to give his daughter the benefit of the doubt and say that the editors cut out a lot of her concern for him. I like the idea of rooting for a father-daughter team, anyway.

It's unseemly, how happy I am this show is back on. You'll find me over at the TWoP forums for the next few weeks. After my four hours are done, of course. (Today was my free day.)

Still got that Edwards glow.

The mood was rather somber last night, as we caught wind of the rumor that Kerry was naming Dick Gephardt as his running mate (apparently, the NY Post thought so as well, and splashed the headline on their front page. Again, I say "Heh.") Somber and frustrated. Nothing against Gephardt, whom I still admire and think would be an excellent choice under other circumstances. But the overall response to "Kerry's picking Gephardt" was "It's over." Then we debated whether such news was really true, because it wasn't on the news, so we settled on "not yet, anyway." Then we went to see Fahrenheit 9/11, which to be honest? Wasn't nearly as accusatory or inflammatory as I wanted it to be. It is, definitely. And it's good. Really good. And it did get me fired up enough to make a mental note to volunteer for Kerry's campaign.* But it didn't quite come close to matching the burden of rage that I've been carrying for the last few months. Almost. But not quite.

So this morning, when I read the news that Kerry named John Edwards...oh, there was dancing. Some definite booty shaking going on here. I know, there's still a lot left to be done, and nothing is in the bag. But oh, just let me have this moment. Listening to the radio this morning, hearing the annoucement over and over...I won't get tired of hearing it. Tell me again.

The thing about the Republicans going after Edwards' career as a trial lawyer is going to totally backfire, you know. This is the guy who battled insurance companies and other corporate conglomerates on behalf of wronged individuals. And oh, I missed those speeches of his. I wanna hear that announcement again. Who's the ticket? Thaaaaaaat's right.

Wait--one more time. Mmmmmmmm...Kerry-Edwards.

The next section of the Introduction to It is up. It's what I consider the weakest part, because I read it and can see a number of gaps in information, things that I sort of just gloss over, but I figure that's what revision is for. I'm going to wait for feedback, to see what exactly I need to flesh out, and what can stand as is. Otherwise, I'd just be fleshing everything out, and I just don't wanna do that right now. This section, creatively titled Methodology, lets you know the theoretical approaches I use with the periodicals. Yeah. Apparently it's not enough to write about things I think are cool. I have to put it within a FRAMEWORK.

The icing on the cake is, of course, that THE AMAZING RACE 5 starts tonight. 9:30 ET. But why, WHY, is CBS banishing the show to Saturday? So wrong. I so need TiVo.

* Part of my horoscope today: "Directing your energy toward helping others may be a good way to direct your abundant energy." Freaky.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

(Too exciting for me to wait four hours to post. As you were, now. But...we're gonna WIN.)

Holidays are all well and good, particularly if you have a barbecue-friendly patio, as my downstairs neighbors do. So they had a little barbecue party yesterday, as I can see from my kitchen window, but they didn't clean up after themselves, and now it is raining rather heavily on their plate of sliced tomatoes. It's quite tragic, really.

Go wish Rachael a happy birthday!

That's it; I got nothin' else. Gotta run some errands and head over to Cari's for barbecue leftovers and Fahrenheit 9/11. Totally stuck in my head right now.

Before:



note: that dark lump to the left is as close as Scout will get.

In retrospect, the burgundy towels may not have been the way to go.

After:



Close up:



The thing was practically dry by the time I got the last T-pin in.

Oh, am I pleased with this. Stretching it out and fastening the pins was soothing and exciting at the same time, and I realized--it's not that something so crunched up and small can get so large. It's that the pattern just pops out, all of a sudden. Epiphany like. I'm hooked. I want more.

Because this particular Charlotte has been designated for my mom, who just happens to be celebrating her birthday today. Happy birthday, mom! Je t'aime.

I added the next six pages of the introduction. It's a rather dull section called Situating the Project, a necessary component that proves I know what I'm doing and that I've actually read up on this kind of stuff. It explains what's come before and how I'm "contributing to the field."

I need more paper. Oh, how I miss the days of pilfering the supply closet of the English Department.

That's it, really. Didn't blog yesterday because I didn't have many blogworthy things to say. Wrote. Organized. Knit. Colleen called from California, which was the highlight of my day. But, you know, when I'm in writing mode I'm not a very good conversationalist. "What's going on?" "Uhhhhhh...nuthin'. Just writing. You know. Haven't left my desk all day. That sort of thing. Yeah." They're in the midst of tech rehearsals for Suitcase, these twelve-hour stints that would just totally break me completely. This is the play about two women in the midst of writing their dissertations: "How is IT going?" "It is un-going." When I told Col excitedly that IT was definitely ongoing, she said she'd tell the rest of the group. I've got a shout-out in the program. I feel like their mascot. It's very cool. If I had the time, I'd whip up one of those crazy cotton bikinis for her to wear on the beach.

That Velour tank, on the other hand, is decidedly un-going. I do not have enough yarn to finish it and I refuse to continue by ripping out again or buying more. It's just not meant to be a tank. I'm guessing it really wants to be a bag of some sort. And/Or, perhaps, Flick, because I think it's hilarious (in a good way). I'm not a belt person. I may be a dominatrix. And that's the goofiest sentence I think I've ever written. I plead academe. It really fries my brain.

So, instead, I went back to the other yarn that had been giving me such tsurris: one of the cones of the pseudo-Karabella Zodiac that I picked up at School Products way way back in February, when I went there with Maggi. Originally I was going to make that retro-looking pleated blouse from the spring IK, but I couldn't get the right gauge and still get the appropriate drape. So I tried it for the Victoria Tank from the summer IK, and same problem. I know I could rework the math, but you know what I say to that kind of extra work when all I want is a nice 'n easy tank? "FEH!" is what I say. But this yarn is a shade of red that just barely matches the red in the awesome tattoo print skirt from Beqi, so I have to make something with it NOW. Decided that the quickest thing to do would be to double the strands, so that instead of working with 5 stitches to the inch on US 4s, I'm working with something that gets 4 stitches to the inch on US 9s.

Because of the way the yarn is wound on the cone, I couldn't just unravel the other end and use it, so I quickly wound up two balls of somewhat equal girth and started up. My hands decided to do a k5, p2 ribbing, and voila! I got myself a donut.



I'm thinking about using a different pattern for the bodice, but I haven't decided yet. I like the way this yarn looks and feels doubled up--almost like ribbon yarn. And it feels better and drapes better this way. I may have to double up the other pseudo-Karabella yarn I have.

Blocking Charlotte tomorrow.

Gah! P.S.! I almost forgot to direct you to a fabulous, exceedingly good article by my dearest Rachael (yes, I know, most of you already know about it, but I gotta give my gal props, y'know?). And then this equally good article by Ms. Hairball herself, which really did my heart good. Knitting is sexy. Political activism is sexy. Politically active knitters are too freakin' amazing for words.