So anyway, then I says to him, I says.... how long?!?
Apparently I fell off the edge of the world. But now I'm back! Oh, yes. Fur sure.
Only, I'm out of the habit, now. What do I say? Let's start with what's on my needles.
I'm knitting a BSJ (baby surprise jacket, for those not in the know) out of yarn that is quite pink. It's going a bit slow, since it's my first time knitting it, and while it is mindless in some ways, it is complex enough that I need to keep my eye on the ball. So to speak. I think I'm close though. I've stepped that one up, since the intended recipient will be ready for in in under a month, and I was hoping to ad a pair of booties or some other charming token to the mix.
I'm knitting another Cobblestone for my dearest papa, since the last onewas a tad snug. It's a good thing this is mindless enough for me to do without knowing that I'm even knitting, practically, since otherwise it might jus drive me MENTAL. (lord knows it's not a long trip). I'm about 5 inches away from the armpits.
It's slowed down, though, since I started on my Central Park Hoodie. This is what joy feels like, people. Every time I pick it up, I think 'well, I'll just knit until teh next cable row.' Then I get there and think 'hmmm... I can't really see that - I'll knit a few rows until I can see it emerge.' So I do. And THEN I think 'well, I'm, only four rows away from the end of the repeat. I'll knit to that.' And then I think 'in two more rows it's another cable row! I'll just knit to that...'
You can see where I'm going with this, can't you. I cast on exactly a week ago, and I'm about two inches away from the back armpit shaping.
Since I am most certainly not in the mood to wrangle with blogger, here is a link to my flickr stream. Annoying, I know, but there are some photos in there under the 'knits' set, and if you are of a mind, you can also check out all the different kinds of funny faces my sister can make. That ought to brighten your day. Or, if you're on ravelry, you can see me here. While you're there, you can also search for 'jo sharp wrap jacket' and a picture of my sister pops up. Gave me a shock the other day, I can tell you.
I have been reprimanded a couple times recently for my rabid queueing habits on ravelry. It got a bit obsessive, I'll grant you. I'd hunt for new exciting patterns, and queue with abandon. It gave me a rush. It filled in for knitting, which is frowned on during work hours. I got cranky when I couldn't find new patterns to queue. I would angrily scan people's queues, wailing and gnashing my teeth when I had ALREADY QUEUED every single pattern that they had. My friends got sick of waking up to a long list of 'kaviare has queued.... kaviare has queued...' They staged an intervention. I'm feeling better now.
In all seriousness, though. I think I've run out. I have five pages of queue. That's 186 items. Every one of which I am burning to knit. You don't believe me? I've had several purges. It's a refined list. When do I think I have time to knit that, or money to buy the yarn? Clearly I'm delusional.
Thankyou, Jess and Casey. You are the best enablers EVER.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Friday, March 07, 2008
Review O'clock.
Last Saturday I went to go see 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' at her Majesty's Theatre, as part of the Adelaide Bank Festival of the Arts. Before I go into it, can I jsut say that I love living in Adelaide? This was a world renowned show, and I got in for $25, since I am 'Youth' (This used to mean under 24, but it has been upped to under 30. I'm not sure what that says.) Adelaide prides itself on this kind of thing, and SA likes to be called 'The Festival State'. I don't know how true that rings, but it sure beats 'City of Churches' or 'City of Roses' or 'Capital of crazy wierd murders and disappearances'
So, anyway. The show is a bit arty farty, done in a bunch of different langauges. I didn't reread it beforehand, because I have seen it performed a couple times, and also I find it really boring on the page. Partly because I don't really like any of the characters except Oberon and Puck. I mean, Dimitrius leaves whichever H-name girl (You can so tell I care, non?) is in love with him in the forest, all alone! After he attacks her! And yet I'm supposed to be glad when they get together in the end. Becuase he's under a spell. Which other people have been put under, and when it's taken off they see it as a dream. So now he's walking around, not really being himself. Which i don't care much about, because I think he's a stinker, even if he is an Ancient Greek, but then I have to think about 'what does love mean' and 'how do our emotions change us'. Which is fine, but don't expect me to look at a cast of characters living a lie and expect to get all soppy.
ANYWAY. So, the point is, I didn't reread it. And as soon as I sat down in the theatre I thought 'shit. I don't remember a thing about the plot.' But it turns out, it didn't really matter. There was a last minute addition to our party who didn't know anythign about the plot, and he struggled, but I think if you've read a paragraph-long synopsis, you'll be fine.
All the important plot points, and famous lines, were in the original English. Hermia, Helena, Titania and Bottom speak almost exclusively English. And, given the impenatrability of some of Shakespeare's language if you haven't read a footnoted version, I don't think it suffered that much. Some of the languages were beautiful - I'd love to know who was speaking what. It perhaps would have been better if I didn't live in a large apartment building full of people who speak other languages, many of whom are Indian. In that way, it was kind of like a usual Saturday night for me, except they weren't playing the same bollywood song over and over and over, and I wasn't trying to sleep. However, I do try and kind of treat where I live as live theatre anyway, so I guess that works out well (that might need a whole post) The night after, I made sure to pay attention to what I could hear from my flat. The Indian couple on the left were watching a Romantic Comedy. The Chinese couple on the right were watching a horror flick. Upstairs there was Bollywood music. Downstairs there swas an accordian (and much yelling of 'puta!') That's where I live.
ANYWAAAAY. So, the language was not an issue for me, in fact I kind of liked it. I find a lot of the long impassioned speeches boring, which is one of the reasons this isnot one of my favourites. At least in another language, you could just listen to the rythms (which is half the point anyway) and there was always enough going on peripherally to give you something to look at.
The costumes were unbelieveably gorgeous. All indain silks and bright colours and bling. Puck (who is always the high point for me) was FANTASTIC. The faries were great - hard core, you know? These were no wishy washy, tulle-wearing fantasms. These were trouble-making, mean-business faeries, the ones that English and Celtic culture used to have, before modernity diluted them. They were all male, except Peasblossom, who was totally awesome. I liked that Titania's entourage was not silly and sulky, like they're usually played. In fact, she was much more of a sympathetic character in general than I usaully find her. Much more of a faerie queen. Bottom was also fantastic. Extremely charismatic, not just a stupid buffoon, but a peasant with pretensions, someone with force, who, given the right circumstances and education, might have been Someone to Reckon With.
The set was made up of a pit of sand (no shoes were worn throughout - my kind of performance) and the backdrop was a bamboo scaffolding. To begin with, this was covered with paper, through which teh faeries made their entrance, tumbling and clambering and screeching and laughing. So much movement and colour. The set was used extremely well - possibly my most favourite part was when teh four lovers are chasing each other - Puck is walking calmly round the action, setting up poles all around the sand. He then ran elastic bands around and around and around, to make a webby maze, through which the actors stumbled and climbed, trying to get at each other for kisses and caresses or blows. Then, when it becomes obvious that he's blinded the wrong man with the love spell, Oberon chases and hunched and sheeping Puck around the same maze.
All the actors were extremely nimble - not only the fairies, but also teh mortals, entered and exited through teh scaffolding, at different hights, adding drama to the moonlight chase through the woods. There were also ropes and fabric from above, which were climbed and slept in. All of the actors were extremely fit and attaractive... not that I noticed... *cough*
All in all, it was magical experience. I once went to go see this performed in the Botanic gardens, where the fairies climbed the trees and ran amok. This had all that magic, and more. The one single downside was that the actors were perhaps too impassioned at times, so that you couldn't tell when they really meant something. There was no modulation. But whatever.
If you can, I would strongly recommend you see this. I don't think you'll be disappointed.
Just read the synopsis first.
So, anyway. The show is a bit arty farty, done in a bunch of different langauges. I didn't reread it beforehand, because I have seen it performed a couple times, and also I find it really boring on the page. Partly because I don't really like any of the characters except Oberon and Puck. I mean, Dimitrius leaves whichever H-name girl (You can so tell I care, non?) is in love with him in the forest, all alone! After he attacks her! And yet I'm supposed to be glad when they get together in the end. Becuase he's under a spell. Which other people have been put under, and when it's taken off they see it as a dream. So now he's walking around, not really being himself. Which i don't care much about, because I think he's a stinker, even if he is an Ancient Greek, but then I have to think about 'what does love mean' and 'how do our emotions change us'. Which is fine, but don't expect me to look at a cast of characters living a lie and expect to get all soppy.
ANYWAY. So, the point is, I didn't reread it. And as soon as I sat down in the theatre I thought 'shit. I don't remember a thing about the plot.' But it turns out, it didn't really matter. There was a last minute addition to our party who didn't know anythign about the plot, and he struggled, but I think if you've read a paragraph-long synopsis, you'll be fine.
All the important plot points, and famous lines, were in the original English. Hermia, Helena, Titania and Bottom speak almost exclusively English. And, given the impenatrability of some of Shakespeare's language if you haven't read a footnoted version, I don't think it suffered that much. Some of the languages were beautiful - I'd love to know who was speaking what. It perhaps would have been better if I didn't live in a large apartment building full of people who speak other languages, many of whom are Indian. In that way, it was kind of like a usual Saturday night for me, except they weren't playing the same bollywood song over and over and over, and I wasn't trying to sleep. However, I do try and kind of treat where I live as live theatre anyway, so I guess that works out well (that might need a whole post) The night after, I made sure to pay attention to what I could hear from my flat. The Indian couple on the left were watching a Romantic Comedy. The Chinese couple on the right were watching a horror flick. Upstairs there was Bollywood music. Downstairs there swas an accordian (and much yelling of 'puta!') That's where I live.
ANYWAAAAY. So, the language was not an issue for me, in fact I kind of liked it. I find a lot of the long impassioned speeches boring, which is one of the reasons this isnot one of my favourites. At least in another language, you could just listen to the rythms (which is half the point anyway) and there was always enough going on peripherally to give you something to look at.
The costumes were unbelieveably gorgeous. All indain silks and bright colours and bling. Puck (who is always the high point for me) was FANTASTIC. The faries were great - hard core, you know? These were no wishy washy, tulle-wearing fantasms. These were trouble-making, mean-business faeries, the ones that English and Celtic culture used to have, before modernity diluted them. They were all male, except Peasblossom, who was totally awesome. I liked that Titania's entourage was not silly and sulky, like they're usually played. In fact, she was much more of a sympathetic character in general than I usaully find her. Much more of a faerie queen. Bottom was also fantastic. Extremely charismatic, not just a stupid buffoon, but a peasant with pretensions, someone with force, who, given the right circumstances and education, might have been Someone to Reckon With.
The set was made up of a pit of sand (no shoes were worn throughout - my kind of performance) and the backdrop was a bamboo scaffolding. To begin with, this was covered with paper, through which teh faeries made their entrance, tumbling and clambering and screeching and laughing. So much movement and colour. The set was used extremely well - possibly my most favourite part was when teh four lovers are chasing each other - Puck is walking calmly round the action, setting up poles all around the sand. He then ran elastic bands around and around and around, to make a webby maze, through which the actors stumbled and climbed, trying to get at each other for kisses and caresses or blows. Then, when it becomes obvious that he's blinded the wrong man with the love spell, Oberon chases and hunched and sheeping Puck around the same maze.
All the actors were extremely nimble - not only the fairies, but also teh mortals, entered and exited through teh scaffolding, at different hights, adding drama to the moonlight chase through the woods. There were also ropes and fabric from above, which were climbed and slept in. All of the actors were extremely fit and attaractive... not that I noticed... *cough*
All in all, it was magical experience. I once went to go see this performed in the Botanic gardens, where the fairies climbed the trees and ran amok. This had all that magic, and more. The one single downside was that the actors were perhaps too impassioned at times, so that you couldn't tell when they really meant something. There was no modulation. But whatever.
If you can, I would strongly recommend you see this. I don't think you'll be disappointed.
Just read the synopsis first.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Impressionist Sky
The title has nothing to do with anything. But since I haven't posted properly for yonks, I need to do a catch-up, miscellania post, and this morning has given us a beautiful impressionist sky, with clouds that would make Monet weep.
So, first, I got one of these:
It is technically my first jumper. You might remember me talking about it here, and here, where I was about to proceed on knitting the sleeves. Yeah, not so much. Despite this jumper having been to China and back with me, I was reluctant to come back to it. Part of this was the fact that I had originally, with my mother’s help, attempted to adjust the pattern so it would fit me. It’s in a Katia book, and so has only one size. I was definitely a knitting n00b, going back and forth between the English and Spanish instructions, because the Spanish had centimeters. When in China, I gave up, and started knitting it to the pattern, hoping against reason that I would be able to wear it.
Last year I decided I’d finish it, and that it would fit someone. Probably my younger sister, although I am reluctant to lavish knitwear upon her. But last week I took it out and… well… it looked… small. Tiny.
So, first, I got one of these:
He is a mini Rex and he is soooooooo soft. He’s also a big fat dork. He has two names – n00b, because he is, and Christopher Robin, because he goes ‘hoppity hoppity hop’, and I needed a name that was easier to explain to people over 30 than ‘n00b’.
Mostly I just call him 'bunny', though. Or 'bunster' or 'bunstable', or 'el bunnarino', since I'm not into that whole brevity thing.
He disapproves of my poor cleaning skills.
He lives in my spare room, and likes to wake me up at 5:30 by ripping newspaper. He chews things. I luff him. He is indifferent to me, as long as pellets are provided. He tolerates pats but eschews cuddles. He is very hard to take photos of.
Second, I frogged this.
It is technically my first jumper. You might remember me talking about it here, and here, where I was about to proceed on knitting the sleeves. Yeah, not so much. Despite this jumper having been to China and back with me, I was reluctant to come back to it. Part of this was the fact that I had originally, with my mother’s help, attempted to adjust the pattern so it would fit me. It’s in a Katia book, and so has only one size. I was definitely a knitting n00b, going back and forth between the English and Spanish instructions, because the Spanish had centimeters. When in China, I gave up, and started knitting it to the pattern, hoping against reason that I would be able to wear it.
Last year I decided I’d finish it, and that it would fit someone. Probably my younger sister, although I am reluctant to lavish knitwear upon her. But last week I took it out and… well… it looked… small. Tiny.
That is MOST CERTAINLY never going to fit me. It might still fit my sister but I don’t even know about that. That’s not a large top. It is the opposite of large. So. Frogged. Free yarn! Hoorah!
Some of it has since become something else, but more about that when I have pictures.
I’ve made progress on this:
It’s made from the alpaca that was originally intended for Bryant’s Slipover, but didn’t turn out so good. I decided to knit the Alpaca Silk Fairy Net Blouse from some issue of IK. Except without much of the fairy net. Being more of a Faerie type of gal and not having much room in my life for fairy nets. Or useless pieces of fabric that turn a shaped garment into a boxy one. Still, I knit the lace sleeves. Several times. I just COULD NOT get a handle of the decreasing in pattern. I knit the first one once, while listening to a lecture from UC Berkeley about the French Revolution. I knit it again while watching Beauty and the Beast (don’t laugh. It’s a good movie. Well, if they took out Mrs Potts and her insufferable child. That’s a twisted relationship if ever I saw one.) I knit it once more while listening to another UC Berkeley lecture, this time about Bismark. I FINALLY got it.
And then I lay out all the pieces. All the pieces knit in alpaca. Alpaca with no silk involved. Heavy. Hot. Short… sleeved…
Shit.
I WILL DEFEAT YOU!!!1!!111!1
I’ve seamed it up the sides. I’m still dragging my heels on putting the sleeves in. Where I am going to wear a short sleeved alpaca top, I don’t know. Also, it’s kind of itchy, so I’d have to wear a reasonable top under it. It’s too girly to be a vest – picot edging, you know.
What I do know is that it’d be a bitch to frog. That alpaca is HAIRY. Maybe I can pull it off as a vest?
Sigh.
On Saturday I went to an engagement party in a park. It turned out to be a lovely day for it, but when I left home it was overcast and blustery, so I wore my blue jacket. Although I met them at the same time, I’m better friends with him (B) than her (R). Turns out, see, that we read all the same webcomics.
Anyway, the first people I spoke to, after greeting, were R’s parents, who I had never met before and in fact didn’t realize were her parents until halfway through the event. I’m sharp like that. Her dad comes marching up to me and says ‘What a wonderful jacket. Did you make it yourself?’ I’m standing there wondering whether to be offended or not, when I notice his partner, R’s mother, peering at the lacework. She knits. We had a wonderful conversation about ktogs and yos. She said she just couldn’t find patterns that she liked. I suggested teh interwebs.
About a half hour later, there was a new arrival wearing a knitted top. It was a hideous mustard colour that led me to believe that it was store-bought, but it was chunky enough to be feasibly hand knit. Mandarin collar, high waist, I’m eyeing it off distractedly as someone talks to me, wondering about construction. Out of the corner of my eye I spy R’s father marching up to the mustard-clad girl. Drifting on the breeze I hear ‘No! I bought it at Sportsgirl!’ I felt smug. Somebody slap me.
This is not my bunny. this is my sister's Bunny. His name is Giacomo Casanova. No joke. Also, if you haven't seen it, you should totally check out the BBC TV series of Cassanova with David Tennant in it. It's totally surreal and cool. And sexy. Best. Dr Who. EVER.
And to top it off, a story whose moral I have not yet decided on.
Since I was meeting and greeting on Saturday, my weekly cleaning got left until Sunday. I hung my quilt (or doona or whatever anyone calls it) out on the line to air as usual. I’m a bit nervous about leaving it on the communal line. I’ve lost a couple of face washers, one of which might have just fallen off (since someone likes to ‘borrow’ my pegs) but the other of which was definitely taken, so I went to get it after about an hour.
It was gone.
It was definitely not just fallen off, etc. I looked. I stood there, disbelieving. I went back upstairs and cried for five minutes. I was already having a bad day, ok. Also, I’ve had that quilt for years (which, now that I think about it, is kind of gross) It’s like if someone had taken my teddy bear or security blanket – and then I wrote a note.
It said ‘Whoever f*%#ed off with my quilt – BRING IT BACK’. I sneered at myself a little for doing it, but it did make me feel better. Something about registering my anger, or whatever. I pegged it to the line where my quilt had been.
Yesterday I had to go to the shops after work. As I left my apartment, there were a couple of people hanging out their washing. As I walked back, I strategically detoured through the washing line area and…
There was my quilt! I scooped it up and ran to my apartment. I am still undecided as to whether this is a story about the good in people or the bad. Then again, I’m a glass-not-full-enough kind of person. Make of that what you will.
Also not my Bunny. I hope my sister never finds this blog, or I'm in Trouble.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Joyful Sorrow
I try not to talk too much politics on this blog, since it's often alienating, even to people who might agree with me. However, I feel like this is the day to break that tradition, if only so I will have some personal record of it. Wanky as it is, I do feel like this is a day that History Happened.
I just came from watching the parliamentary apology. My first reaction, right this moment, is this: Fucking Brendon Nelson, get your head out of your Arse and at least pretend to be gracious. I mean it. I mean all those swear words (something else I try to keep off of the blog) All of them. I thought my years of being ashamed to be an Australian every time I saw a politician on my screen were over. Not so. I don't think I could have cringed any more. After Rudd's speech which, ok, was not perfect in delivery but was at least heartfelt, Nelson's piss-weak excuse for an apology was deeply painful.
Let's try a metaphor here. This path - it's the way to a whole and healed nation. With me? OK. The gorse and broom weeds on the edges? Brendon Fucking Nelson.
God. Way to screw up your moment in the sunshine.
OK, now onto the petty sniping which I do so well. I enjoyed watching the benches as the speeches wore on. Julia Gillard spent the whole time looking dignified, and nodding along, looking at the back of Kevin Rudd's head as though she Believed. (For those non-Aussies, Gillard is the one who, a few years ago, called another member of parliament 'a grub'. When told by the Speaker to apologise, she said 'I apologise for any insult I may have caused to the Honourable Member. Or to grubs.' Makes me miss Keating.)
On the Labor side, most of the White, Middle Aged Men looked varying degrees of bored or glum. Maybe they were going for gravity. I think they missed. Except, of course, for Peter Garret.
That's right, for those of you who live overseas or haven't been paying attention, our Minister for the Environment used to be the lead singer of Midnight Oil. I saw him speak at my left-wing uni one time. The guy who used to run around with dreads and bare feet came dressed up like a Quoll, and tried to dump a bucket of barkchips over Garret's head, shouting 'What about the Tasmanian Forests, Peter? What about the Forests?!?!' while the security guards chased him round and round the food court. Good times.
Anyway. Garret was on the edge of his seat, looking tense and excited. The women, of whom there are a fair few scattered along the back benches, were more interesting. I am going to show my ignorance now, since I know none of their names, and I can't look them up since none of them look anything like their official pictures. My only excuse is the Howard years - I just couldn't stand to pay attention anymore.
The woman directly behind Rudd, along with a few others, were weepy. The woman behind her was engaged and dignified, except for when Rudd mentioned mothers, when she did a little simper-sob thing, and looked mushy for a few minutes.
The Liberal benches just looked bored, glum, sullen, sulky. When Nelson got up to speak (boo, hiss) the contrast of Julia Bishop sitting behind him to Gillard was interesting. I actually had to ask someone to check that she was not, in fact, Camilla Parker-Bowles. She looked either glum or sneery throughout.
There were shots of past prime ministers - Keating next to Hawke, Hawke next to Whitlam (interspersed with wives). Keating looked OLD, which made me feel old, likewise. Those were the days. I was in primary school, we had a prime minister who had worked for a living, and the future was hopeful. We never dreamed of Howard.
During Nelson's speech, we got a shot of Hawke and Gough. Hawke looked like he needed a drink (badump, cha), and Gough was leaning forward, looking appaled, like he just couldn't tell where that horrible smell was coming from. I know. It was from Nelson.
Apparently people on the lawns outside stood and turned their backs on both Parliament house and the screens showing Nelson's snivelling face, bringing back memories of the time Howard was similarly snubbed. My reliable sources tell me that Elder park, here in Adelaide, saw similar disapproval. At work, we fired up the TV screen and there were 6 or so of us early birds, and the heckling was intense.
I am just so ashamed. Rudds speech was compasionate, heartfelt, sincere. It was full of feeling, without being sentimental. Nelson, on the other hand, was sickly and sentimental, and seemed to undo, step by step, Rudd's good words.
OK, so Rudd did not deliver the speech with the same vim that you could imagine someone like Keating doing it. He's no Barak Obama. But as he got going, I got caught up in his words, in the story he was telling of my country. It was one filled with real people, with lives, and real pain.
I hope you won't think I'm being overly dramatic if I say that it was the first time in my entire life that I have heard a Prime Minister of my country describe it in a way that I recognise. Rudd spoke about my reality - a reality in bad things happened, and need to be addressed. A reality in which ignoring other people's pain is not only morally wrong, but also counter productive. A reality in which, if we can't acknowledge these wrongs, we must keep feeling ashamed of them. Only when things start to change, can we be, as Nelson claimed we already are, free of the guilt of our prosperity at the expense of the first peoples of this land.
But it is still a reality in which there is room for hope.
For me, it was a very hopeful speech. I could see a glimpse of a future that, two years ago - heck, six months ago - would have been laughably optimistic. A future where Australians are Australians. Where we can live with our past, without feeling it as a weight. Where an aboriginal person walking down the street is no more noteworthy than someone in a headscarf, or a white woman with her child, or an Asian student with fluffy things hanging off of her mobile phone. I can't get over how you can see the members of any nation walk towards you and not blink an eye, but when a member of our first peoples is walking, everyone crosses the street.
I was hoping to come away from this morning feeling lighter. I don't. I feel a strange mix of uplifting hope and grinding, belly-wrenching shame. I'm not sure which will win.
I expected to come away feeling good about the people in charge. I certainly didn't expect to be so incensed by Nelson - I was hoping for hope for bi-partisan movement. I'm not feeling that, now.
All I know is, I'm hopefull. And I'm so, so, sorry.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Knitting
Oh, ravelry. How I love you. I might not be able to get away with actually knitting at work, but a few quick peeks at ravelry, and I might as well be.
Looking on ravelry and listening to Stash and Burn has been fuelling my knitting fantasies. My queue on Ravelry is nothing. nothing! This week I have regularly worked myself up into a frenzy, in which it seems not only desirable, but also sensible and necessary, to knit an aran weight tshirt. For an Australian climate.
But some things have stuck. Like Tempest. Do you think that would look ridiculous? I almost don't care. I want it. And Milicent, I want badly. Badly. Except sans sparkles.
I also want to knit baby things for my friend who is pregnant, but not in baby colours. They're all so blah. I am going to get some white baby wool and attempt to dye it using Jelly crystals. If it works, I might try other yarns. If you look on my ravelry page, you'll notice that most of my knits are in Bendigo Mills yarn. This is because it is good, and it is cheap. It enables me to knit the things I want without breaking the bank. Yes, luxury yarn is wonderful, and there are some things in my knitting queue (in my head, not in Ravelry) that will requre spun silk and kid mohair. But for your everyday jumper or jacket, I am not willing to spend $200. And then knit it. And then, it's not quite right. The only bad thing is that their colours are limited, and sometimes a little boring. And acid dyes are scary and complicated.
Speaking of luxury yarns, I am thinking of knitting a wrap/stole/shawl thing for my cousin, who is getting married at the end of 2009. She's pretty sensitive, so I'm thinking pure silk. I don't know what colours though. Or what pattern. Conundrum. Perhaps I will have to buy 'victorian lace today' or something.
Anyway, that was all extraneous. What I was really blogging for was to tell you this story.
Wednesday night was knitting group night. I left reasonably early - I was tired. While I was waiting for the bus, I was knitting on the-sock-that-would-not-die, aka the hedgerow sock. (It's a quick knit - it just kind of got pushed to the backburner during the christmas knitting madness, and hasn't recovered since. I am sooooooo close, though, so it's become my bus knitting). A young guy walked past with his very trendy-looking, pink haired girlfriend. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was watching me, and he turned and slowed. Eventually, he was standing stock still. He stood there so long that I had to look up - he was watching my hands.
'What are you making?' he asked. American accent. He mimed knitting as he asked - maybe he thought I couldn't hear over my iPod. I was only listening to Cast On, Brenda's voice is nice and quiet.
'A sock.'
'A sock! Awesome!' He seemed genuinely pumped. He shot me a double handed thumbs up, and kept walking. The woman on the next bench and I shared a grin.
I do not generally enjoy encounters over my knitting, unless you are a knitter or crafter yourself, so we cna engage in an actual conversation. I don't really care that your granmda used to knit. Or even, really, that you've tried to knit and it just didn't take, or that you wish you had the time. I don't like talking to strangers - I don't know how to react, and my privacy always feels invaded. I always feel like they mean that I am old fashioned, or that obviously I am not as busy and important as themselves, or that they are waiting for me to offer to teach them (SO not interested. Sorry)
But this one has made me grin every time I think about it.
A sock. Awesome.
Looking on ravelry and listening to Stash and Burn has been fuelling my knitting fantasies. My queue on Ravelry is nothing. nothing! This week I have regularly worked myself up into a frenzy, in which it seems not only desirable, but also sensible and necessary, to knit an aran weight tshirt. For an Australian climate.
But some things have stuck. Like Tempest. Do you think that would look ridiculous? I almost don't care. I want it. And Milicent, I want badly. Badly. Except sans sparkles.
I also want to knit baby things for my friend who is pregnant, but not in baby colours. They're all so blah. I am going to get some white baby wool and attempt to dye it using Jelly crystals. If it works, I might try other yarns. If you look on my ravelry page, you'll notice that most of my knits are in Bendigo Mills yarn. This is because it is good, and it is cheap. It enables me to knit the things I want without breaking the bank. Yes, luxury yarn is wonderful, and there are some things in my knitting queue (in my head, not in Ravelry) that will requre spun silk and kid mohair. But for your everyday jumper or jacket, I am not willing to spend $200. And then knit it. And then, it's not quite right. The only bad thing is that their colours are limited, and sometimes a little boring. And acid dyes are scary and complicated.
Speaking of luxury yarns, I am thinking of knitting a wrap/stole/shawl thing for my cousin, who is getting married at the end of 2009. She's pretty sensitive, so I'm thinking pure silk. I don't know what colours though. Or what pattern. Conundrum. Perhaps I will have to buy 'victorian lace today' or something.
Anyway, that was all extraneous. What I was really blogging for was to tell you this story.
Wednesday night was knitting group night. I left reasonably early - I was tired. While I was waiting for the bus, I was knitting on the-sock-that-would-not-die, aka the hedgerow sock. (It's a quick knit - it just kind of got pushed to the backburner during the christmas knitting madness, and hasn't recovered since. I am sooooooo close, though, so it's become my bus knitting). A young guy walked past with his very trendy-looking, pink haired girlfriend. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was watching me, and he turned and slowed. Eventually, he was standing stock still. He stood there so long that I had to look up - he was watching my hands.
'What are you making?' he asked. American accent. He mimed knitting as he asked - maybe he thought I couldn't hear over my iPod. I was only listening to Cast On, Brenda's voice is nice and quiet.
'A sock.'
'A sock! Awesome!' He seemed genuinely pumped. He shot me a double handed thumbs up, and kept walking. The woman on the next bench and I shared a grin.
I do not generally enjoy encounters over my knitting, unless you are a knitter or crafter yourself, so we cna engage in an actual conversation. I don't really care that your granmda used to knit. Or even, really, that you've tried to knit and it just didn't take, or that you wish you had the time. I don't like talking to strangers - I don't know how to react, and my privacy always feels invaded. I always feel like they mean that I am old fashioned, or that obviously I am not as busy and important as themselves, or that they are waiting for me to offer to teach them (SO not interested. Sorry)
But this one has made me grin every time I think about it.
A sock. Awesome.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Lessons for a new year
On the last post, Jessica suggested that it was time for some maths. She was right.
The 2+2 type maths is not the problem. The problem is, that I never get to that stage. I look at the yarn, I look at the pattern, and somehow my brain thinks 'it will be alright on the night'. That somehow the Gods of knitting will magic away any imperfections or problems, and everything will be coming up roses. When you start with the wrong yarn on the wrong needles, well... you do the maths.
After writing the last post (and, dudes, I think Norah Gaughan commented on my blog. Dooooooooods. I haven't been that excited since Franklin Habit replied to a message I sent him on Ravelry. I think I might be pathetic) I thought about it. I realised I sounded whiny in my head. I didn't mean to. I meant to share my frustration at things not working out, but since the reason they didn't work out was my own carelessness, I guess it came out more petulant than I liked.
I went home. I looked at my projects. At the projects I had knit on so much that I had actually worn down the fingerprint on my left index finger (fingers are hard to photograph, fyi) and given myself a blister where the needle rests on my right hand. I took a deep breath. I frogged them. Both of them.
Then, as the yarn sat, malignantly, in its rewound balls, I got out all of my books and magazines, and looked for something else to make out of them.
This part was fun.
The cotton was a no-brainer. I had been tossing up doing one of the boleros from Jo Sharp's book - I think it's number 2? The summery one, anyways. So I cast on for that. the cotton is still a bit gapey - I really think it's not quite DK weight - but it won't matter for this.
I had more trouble deciding for the alpaca. Everything that was alpaca was either a thicker yarn, or a silk blend. Plus, I only have two balls of each colour. I was/am prepared to buy more, but preferably not more of both. I was looking for something small, or dual coloured. I was thinking of the Henley perfected from the Winter IK. Like, maybe I could do the body one colour and the lace another colour? But, I had another yarn in mind for that. And also, it looks like 5 ply to me, even though... well, in a minute.
I finally found two things I wanted to knit. One is the Lift and Separate from Big Girl Knits. I found someone on ravelry (oh, ravelry. How I love you. You are the best tool a girl could wish for, in Getting Things Right Before You Start) who has knit it in the Bendigo Alpaca. I sent her a message. She said she loves it, although it is extremely warm! So I thought I would do that with the fawn colour. If it turns out too blah, maybe I'll embroider it with something.
For the green, I settled on the Fairy Net Blouse from Summer 2006 IK. It's alpaca silk blend, and I've only got alpaca, so it won't look the same. And I'm not doing the netty thing over the top. So basically, it's an entirely new top. But I think it'll look good. I'm halfway through the armhole shaping of the back, and I've already done the calculations to do short rows for the front, so it doesn't pull upwards. But I'm a bit worried I'll run out of yarn.
See, it's knit in Blue Sky Alpaca Alpaca Silk. On the pattern in ravelry, for the FNB, it says that it's DK/Sport weight, and the gauge is pretty much DK weight. Which is fantastic, because that's what I've got. And yes, I've swatched. Although I'm half a stitch per inch more. And even though my row gauge is bang on, when I got to the end of the shaping, where it's supposed to be 12", it was only just over 11. Yarn substitution. I guess I'll just have to live with a little variance.
But the source of my confusion is the pattern profile on ravelry for the Henley Perfected says unequivacally that it's sport weight. Which makes more sense to me, because the lace looks way too fine to be DK. I guess the yarn is right in between, or it depends on the needle size, or whatever.
Anyway, now I'm a bit worried about yarn, as in, will I have enough? I'm almost done the back, and almost done the first ball, too. I'm not doing the net, so I should have enough, but... still worried. Which is kind of good, since I always knit faster if I'm just not sure. I hate suspense. Still, it looks good, and the yarn is soft soft soft. I guess I could see my way clear to ordering another ball. It's just the principle of the thing, you know?
In other new, today's xkcd comic cracked me up. I, of course, googled it. Here are the results. Padded, of course, by all the knit bloggers who loved it, too. I wonder if there are any knit blogging accidents? There will be now, I suppose.
The 2+2 type maths is not the problem. The problem is, that I never get to that stage. I look at the yarn, I look at the pattern, and somehow my brain thinks 'it will be alright on the night'. That somehow the Gods of knitting will magic away any imperfections or problems, and everything will be coming up roses. When you start with the wrong yarn on the wrong needles, well... you do the maths.
After writing the last post (and, dudes, I think Norah Gaughan commented on my blog. Dooooooooods. I haven't been that excited since Franklin Habit replied to a message I sent him on Ravelry. I think I might be pathetic) I thought about it. I realised I sounded whiny in my head. I didn't mean to. I meant to share my frustration at things not working out, but since the reason they didn't work out was my own carelessness, I guess it came out more petulant than I liked.
I went home. I looked at my projects. At the projects I had knit on so much that I had actually worn down the fingerprint on my left index finger (fingers are hard to photograph, fyi) and given myself a blister where the needle rests on my right hand. I took a deep breath. I frogged them. Both of them.
Goodbye, beautiful slip stitch
I fully intend to go back. I will order 5 ply yarn from good old Bendigo for the slipover, which does give me more colour choices. It won't be alpaca, but in case I hadn't noticed, I live in Australia. Cold is not that big an issue. I looked up the prices of Rowan Calmer and, I'm sorry. I am not paying $20 a ball for a 10 ball jumper. It's not happening. But Jo Sharp does a part microfibre cotton that is about $7 a ball. That's do-able. I have a leftover half ball from a previous project, and I did a nice fat swatch in it. Gauge I have got.
Then, as the yarn sat, malignantly, in its rewound balls, I got out all of my books and magazines, and looked for something else to make out of them.
This part was fun.
The cotton was a no-brainer. I had been tossing up doing one of the boleros from Jo Sharp's book - I think it's number 2? The summery one, anyways. So I cast on for that. the cotton is still a bit gapey - I really think it's not quite DK weight - but it won't matter for this.
I had more trouble deciding for the alpaca. Everything that was alpaca was either a thicker yarn, or a silk blend. Plus, I only have two balls of each colour. I was/am prepared to buy more, but preferably not more of both. I was looking for something small, or dual coloured. I was thinking of the Henley perfected from the Winter IK. Like, maybe I could do the body one colour and the lace another colour? But, I had another yarn in mind for that. And also, it looks like 5 ply to me, even though... well, in a minute.
I finally found two things I wanted to knit. One is the Lift and Separate from Big Girl Knits. I found someone on ravelry (oh, ravelry. How I love you. You are the best tool a girl could wish for, in Getting Things Right Before You Start) who has knit it in the Bendigo Alpaca. I sent her a message. She said she loves it, although it is extremely warm! So I thought I would do that with the fawn colour. If it turns out too blah, maybe I'll embroider it with something.
For the green, I settled on the Fairy Net Blouse from Summer 2006 IK. It's alpaca silk blend, and I've only got alpaca, so it won't look the same. And I'm not doing the netty thing over the top. So basically, it's an entirely new top. But I think it'll look good. I'm halfway through the armhole shaping of the back, and I've already done the calculations to do short rows for the front, so it doesn't pull upwards. But I'm a bit worried I'll run out of yarn.
See, it's knit in Blue Sky Alpaca Alpaca Silk. On the pattern in ravelry, for the FNB, it says that it's DK/Sport weight, and the gauge is pretty much DK weight. Which is fantastic, because that's what I've got. And yes, I've swatched. Although I'm half a stitch per inch more. And even though my row gauge is bang on, when I got to the end of the shaping, where it's supposed to be 12", it was only just over 11. Yarn substitution. I guess I'll just have to live with a little variance.
But the source of my confusion is the pattern profile on ravelry for the Henley Perfected says unequivacally that it's sport weight. Which makes more sense to me, because the lace looks way too fine to be DK. I guess the yarn is right in between, or it depends on the needle size, or whatever.
Anyway, now I'm a bit worried about yarn, as in, will I have enough? I'm almost done the back, and almost done the first ball, too. I'm not doing the net, so I should have enough, but... still worried. Which is kind of good, since I always knit faster if I'm just not sure. I hate suspense. Still, it looks good, and the yarn is soft soft soft. I guess I could see my way clear to ordering another ball. It's just the principle of the thing, you know?
In other new, today's xkcd comic cracked me up. I, of course, googled it. Here are the results. Padded, of course, by all the knit bloggers who loved it, too. I wonder if there are any knit blogging accidents? There will be now, I suppose.
Friday, January 04, 2008
On Gauge
By which I mean 'on' as in, 'regarding'. Like, 'On the Rights of Man' or 'The Wealth of Nations'. Because 'on' as in, 'correctly using', I am not.
So, I had yarn ordered for after christmas, so I could start on me-stuff, after the christmas rush. If you're ravelried, you can see my profile here, although it's still pictureless because the photos? On my camera.
I started the Phyllo Yoked thingy from knitting Nature, which is Love love love. It is done in Rowan Clamer, which is a 'DK to light worsted' weight yarn. The gauge is pretty much Dk wieght. The thing is. Either the cotton I'm using is really thin, or my gauge hates cotton. My gauge is massive. I went down a needle size, and it's still a bit loose. Only, I didn't have any smaller needles with me, so I plunged in. Now, second thoughts are bubbling to the surface. It's cotton. It'll stretch. It's a bit big, anyway. You'll never wear it. Aaaargh! I'll need to go home, reassess the gauge/size issues, and think about what I need to do. If I end up ripping, I'm gogint o start it again in the round. Maybe I could knit the next size up, but, like, three needle sizes down? I hate gauge issues.
The other one is this. I started Bryant's Slipover, which I have been eying off for months. (It's not actually fair isle, it's a slip stitch pattern. It's sooooo easy) It's done in Alpaca, and dammit, I wanted alpaca. So I ordered four balls of Bendigo Woolen Mills Alpaca, since that was in my price range. Except it's DK weight - 8 ply. Not 5 ply, or whatever the hell that is in American. So I've gone down a needle size, and probably should have gone down two, except the only needles I had that were that small were DPNs. For socks. So, the needles are small. The gauge is tight. It's alpaca. That thing is going to be WARM. It's going to be so warm, I don't know if it will be wearable. I also need to reasses the size issue on that, because the gauge is still a little off. Although given how compact the fabric is going to be, a little extra room might eb a good thing.
So my choices with this one is this: keep going. Or, rip it, put the alpaca in the stash and do god knows what with it, and buy new yarn (in 5 ply) for the project. It won't be as nice, though. The only 5 ply yarn in my budget is bendigo, and all their 5 ply yarns are... not as nice. Not as pretty. Certainly not as... alpaca. Well, maybe I could try Elann, but then the postage will be extreme.
Cross. That's what I am.
Anyway, in conclusion, I hope you all had a good break (if you had one) and a fantastic whichever-celebration-you-celebrate. Mine didn't suck, and I'm happy with that. I will get my act together and resume proper blogging, with photos and everything... shortly.
So, I had yarn ordered for after christmas, so I could start on me-stuff, after the christmas rush. If you're ravelried, you can see my profile here, although it's still pictureless because the photos? On my camera.
I started the Phyllo Yoked thingy from knitting Nature, which is Love love love. It is done in Rowan Clamer, which is a 'DK to light worsted' weight yarn. The gauge is pretty much Dk wieght. The thing is. Either the cotton I'm using is really thin, or my gauge hates cotton. My gauge is massive. I went down a needle size, and it's still a bit loose. Only, I didn't have any smaller needles with me, so I plunged in. Now, second thoughts are bubbling to the surface. It's cotton. It'll stretch. It's a bit big, anyway. You'll never wear it. Aaaargh! I'll need to go home, reassess the gauge/size issues, and think about what I need to do. If I end up ripping, I'm gogint o start it again in the round. Maybe I could knit the next size up, but, like, three needle sizes down? I hate gauge issues.
The other one is this. I started Bryant's Slipover, which I have been eying off for months. (It's not actually fair isle, it's a slip stitch pattern. It's sooooo easy) It's done in Alpaca, and dammit, I wanted alpaca. So I ordered four balls of Bendigo Woolen Mills Alpaca, since that was in my price range. Except it's DK weight - 8 ply. Not 5 ply, or whatever the hell that is in American. So I've gone down a needle size, and probably should have gone down two, except the only needles I had that were that small were DPNs. For socks. So, the needles are small. The gauge is tight. It's alpaca. That thing is going to be WARM. It's going to be so warm, I don't know if it will be wearable. I also need to reasses the size issue on that, because the gauge is still a little off. Although given how compact the fabric is going to be, a little extra room might eb a good thing.
So my choices with this one is this: keep going. Or, rip it, put the alpaca in the stash and do god knows what with it, and buy new yarn (in 5 ply) for the project. It won't be as nice, though. The only 5 ply yarn in my budget is bendigo, and all their 5 ply yarns are... not as nice. Not as pretty. Certainly not as... alpaca. Well, maybe I could try Elann, but then the postage will be extreme.
Cross. That's what I am.
Anyway, in conclusion, I hope you all had a good break (if you had one) and a fantastic whichever-celebration-you-celebrate. Mine didn't suck, and I'm happy with that. I will get my act together and resume proper blogging, with photos and everything... shortly.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Merry Christmas... Fo Fo Fo...
First (and noting: 'firstly' is not a word. It just isn't, OK? It's 'first' or it's nothing.) Branching out
Blocking:
Blocking:
And being modelled by yet another lovely cousin:
Yarn: Bendigo Woollen Mills 3 ply in Indigo. I still have almost a whole cone left. How was it? It's wool. It's nice enough. It's nothing fancy, but it's light and airy in the 3 ply (that'd be what - fingering weight? - for you yankees). I love the colour, and it was hardly splitty at all.
Pattern: Branching Out
Difficulty: I was a lace novice. At the start, I would knit one repeat at a time. Any time I did more, I would have to rip back, cursing. But the pattern is simple enough that I could start to see what was happening fairly quickly - I memorised the pattern... on the last repeat. Definately a good lace beginner's pattern.
That makes me think. I feel like I am so in control and in charge of my knitting. I've done lace, I'm doing cables, I know my way around the knit and purl stitch, I know several cast ons and offs, I can fix almost every mistake I make without ripping back. I can turn the heel of a sock with relatively little thought. Short rows? In my sleep.
And yet... this time last year, I was sitting in my room, knitting this jumper. I didn't know how to m1 without making holes. Is that nuts? I think it's nuts. It makes me feel good about how far I've come - and humble about how far there is to go.
There's always something new to learn, in knitting.
FO number two: Christmas ornaments by three. One for my mama, one for my sister, and one for my bff in China. I cross stiched christmas motifs on tea dyed aida cotton. The two for my mum and sister I actually stitched last year, with the thought of doing this, but never got any further. For Meg, though, I started from scratch:
I think this looks like it should be some sort of weird alien writing. But no. It is, in fact, un tannenbaum (I have no idea if that if the German word for 'one'. I'm pulling that from a special place.)
Like so. I had grand plans of doing a log cabin like square, with the stitchery in the place of a fussy cut piece of material. But I was putting it off, and putting it off, and then I got a delivery of lovely lovely felt from winterwood. Their customer service? Excellent. They bend over backwards for me and my demanding ways. And the felt? Like butter. Lush and soft and I could just roll around in it all day. Yum. My fibre love is renewed yet again.
So, anyway, I decided to just whizz it through the sewing machine (with green thread, which happened to be in there already. None of the ornaments are green. Nope. I'm so professional.) and stuff them.
I think it looks lovely, if I do say so myself. Then I ruined the polished look by letting some two year old scrawl on the back:
I don't care that it looks dodgy. I love them. I hope their new owners do, too. Here is a very dodgy photo of the other two. Santa on the left for sister, santa on the right for mother.
Then I hung them on FO numero three:
Yes, in fact, I AM claiming my christmas tree/branch as an FO. So what about it? It might look like it's only one step up from a Charlie Brown christmas tree, it might be in a vase filled with rocks, it might look like it's about to topple. But those rocks are in fact brick chips, from the property I grew up on - they say 'home' to me. The two branches (one pine, to give that authentic smell, one she-oak, or native pine, to look pretty and be true blue) were grown on said property, and chosen by my dad especially for me. And do you see that bright yellow runner it's sitting on?
My mummy made it for me that dismal christmas I spent in China. It's bee-yu-ti-ful.
This christmas - this whole year - has been a search for meaning. My gifts are almost all handmade. The ornaments on my tree each have a story. The things that have warmed my heart have been the little things, the things that make Christmas a specail time for me, even though I am no longer a practising Catholic, even though I usually hate everything Christmas seems to stand for these days - shopping, commercialism, buying empty, plastic presents, sitting with people you don't really like pretending to be jolly.
And, because I grew up in Lobethal (before it was commercial and toursity and the locals got fed up with it)
It's not Christmas without lights
They make me happy, from the inside out. They are warm and soft and I actually like them more than my regular overhead lights. A note to any aspiring renovators: IKEA is great. Just not for lights. Or curtains. Somet things shouldn't be scrimped on.
To add to the parade of christmassy items, I started an advent calendar, a la this one. Yes, I know it's halfway through December, but I thought I would give it to my little sister for Christmas, with a promise to restock it every year with goodies. The background is a $5 blanket from the Salvos. It's just acrylic, but whatever. The rest of the materials I had (Maybe I'll use some of my felt. Maybe not).
And the DNA scarf I am knitting for my dad.
I am furtherer than this now - I'm knitting the second repeat of five on the other end. It looks great, although I think it'll need some firm blocking. I love the colour - it's hard to see, but it's sort of shimmery blue. It's called 'midnight tweed'. I'm thinking of using it to make a hemlock blanket. Or make to make myself one of these:
D00ds. Tkaing photos of yourself is hard. That one above was the best I could do, pitiful attempt as it is. Also: I feel stupid doing it. Well, welcome to life, I suppose. The one below is an unfortunate shot, but I need to use it to get your advice:
Is that garter stitch line placed alright, in relation to the boobular area? Or is it weird? I definitely want to knit one for myself. I'm enamoured.
And finally, Jen is not feeling the love. You should go read her blog. She is funny and she knits and she has two j'adorable cats, and she takes photos of them and then tells you stuff about how she manipulated them (the photos, not that cats) which is useful and interesting. And sometimes she talks about how to choose colours that make you look good, in a really scientific way, which I respond well to (none of this 'you're an autumn' shite) and she says 'y'all', cos she's from the south. And she likes things fried. And she knits.
So go read her blog.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Meh
The last few weeks have not been great. Not, you know, tragically bad or anything, just a low level of not-great-ness. We had a big thing at work on the 30th, and the two weeks leading up to it were packed. Since I'm admin, that means everything that anyone is stressed about in the whole building, ends up with us. I managed to upset a couple of people by not filtering my comments as well as I usually do. It's a bit of a running joke that I'm the bitter one around here. Most people don't realise that I hold back. A lot. And sometimes, it's just too hard, especially when people insist on making stupid comments and then looking at you, waiting for your reaction. Or come to me with the smallest thing, like I was their mum - or their brain. 'Thinking is hard. I know! Kate will think for me!'
It's hard to hold back. But it needs to be done. Working on that.
It doesn't help that all the straight men in my workplace (all, like, three of them) are soooooo sensitive. I suppose this is usually a good thing. Attitude adjustment: commencing.
Crafting is part of that. It is still, and hopefully always will be, a leisure activity for me. But it's one that not only allows me time to think and reflect while I do it, it also gives me a marker of my time at the end of it. I guess I never feel like knitting half a jumper and then frogging it is a waste of time, because I still feel like I have made progress on the project. That mistake, or one like it, was going to happen. To have made and corrected it is a step in the right direction.
Not only that, but crafting hleps me measure my pace. I can only knit so fast. There are only so many stitches I can make in a given minute. Each second can only fit so much movement. When everything is going too fast, when I feel like I can't grab a hold of everything, like it's just too hard to plant my feet and hang on, running yarn through my fingers and watching the stitches form brings my internal clock back to where it needs to be. And at the end - a thing! That can be worn! And bragged about!
Speaking of. Here is the requested modelled shot of my sister's wrap cardi, thanks to Claire, my cousin:
It was very bright.
Also, my sister doesn't know how to pose for a photo without wiggling around. You'll have to wait for after christmas for a modelled shot of the finished project, I think. Proper FO report then, too.
I'm going to take it over to my Gma's, since she expressed an interest in making one for herself. I tried it on me, and I actually thought it looked pretty good, although the garter stitch starts strategically just above my nipple level. Lovely. I'm seriously considering making one for myself, though. It was a very pleasant knit, even though I grafted one of the sleeves wrong, so it's two stitches off centre. Shhh, they'll never notice if we don't tell them.
Just a gratuitous shot of my sister, being insufferably cool after her audition for the Adelaide Youth orchestra. She wishes she was John Lennon.
The other FO is my mittens for my bff in China, from a free pattern by Debbie Bliss on Knitting Daily. This is what happens when you knit the flappy bit according to the pattern:
It's hard to hold back. But it needs to be done. Working on that.
It doesn't help that all the straight men in my workplace (all, like, three of them) are soooooo sensitive. I suppose this is usually a good thing. Attitude adjustment: commencing.
The roses. They has a smell...
I had yesterday off, as a sick day. It was fantastic. I didn't do anything the whole day. And I feel so much better. Every phone call is more pleasant, every interaction is no longer a trial, talking to people doesn't involve holding my breath and counting to ten.
I've been feeling crowded, harried, rushed. It's not like I have a family to organise and run after, or even another person to fit myself around. Why should I be feeling so short of time, when if fact time is one of the luxuries of my life? I hate it. I hate feeling like I'm always running and never getting anywhere, never getting anything done, at work or at home. I need to look for a new job, because it's a huge part of the problem. That's scary. I hate jobsearching, and I love where I am and don't want to leave. It's also sometimes hard to see what I am good at, and where that could take me.
I was talking about this with one of my friends and she said 'I remember you being down around this time last year, too'. This gave me pause for thought. I love the holiday season, and I never for a minute thought that I could be one of those people who gets down around christmas. I realise that the general rush and panic of the season doesn't help with the harried feeling, but holiday blues? That's just not me. Only, maybe it is.
I think it comes down to this. The year is drawing to a close. New Years doesn't really mean anything to me, but chirstmas, my birthday 4 days before, the whole season and the month of December, is a marker. Every year, I know what I was doing then. I know how I was feeling. Last year, for instance, I felt crap. I was living at home, I'd finished my honours degree, and I didn't know what the new year would hold. Turns out it was pretty good. Maybe the next one will be, too.
It also gives me perspective on the year behind me. What have I done? Not much. What would I like to have done? Where did all this time fall through the cracks?
I think working 9-5, 5 days a week, is always going to leave me a bit harried. There'll always be bad weeks. But being conscious of how I use my time, even if that is to purposefully waste it if that is what I want to do, means that at the start of another week, I don't wonder where the weekend went. At the start, or end, of a year, I don't wonder how on earth I managed to spend that much money and waste that much time.
Crafting is part of that. It is still, and hopefully always will be, a leisure activity for me. But it's one that not only allows me time to think and reflect while I do it, it also gives me a marker of my time at the end of it. I guess I never feel like knitting half a jumper and then frogging it is a waste of time, because I still feel like I have made progress on the project. That mistake, or one like it, was going to happen. To have made and corrected it is a step in the right direction.
Not only that, but crafting hleps me measure my pace. I can only knit so fast. There are only so many stitches I can make in a given minute. Each second can only fit so much movement. When everything is going too fast, when I feel like I can't grab a hold of everything, like it's just too hard to plant my feet and hang on, running yarn through my fingers and watching the stitches form brings my internal clock back to where it needs to be. And at the end - a thing! That can be worn! And bragged about!
Speaking of. Here is the requested modelled shot of my sister's wrap cardi, thanks to Claire, my cousin:
It was very bright.
And the back. Do you like my use of props?
I find a mop in the background livens up any picture.
I've also finished Cobblestone. Here is a shot of it when it was almost finished. The light was too low and everything was blurry - this is the best photo I could get! (Check out my little crafting nook in the background. I was subletting that room, but my friend doesn't need it anymore. The little extra money will be missed, but the minute I found out I moved my sewing machine in there. I think it's a fair trade...)
Also, my sister doesn't know how to pose for a photo without wiggling around. You'll have to wait for after christmas for a modelled shot of the finished project, I think. Proper FO report then, too.I'm going to take it over to my Gma's, since she expressed an interest in making one for herself. I tried it on me, and I actually thought it looked pretty good, although the garter stitch starts strategically just above my nipple level. Lovely. I'm seriously considering making one for myself, though. It was a very pleasant knit, even though I grafted one of the sleeves wrong, so it's two stitches off centre. Shhh, they'll never notice if we don't tell them.
Just a gratuitous shot of my sister, being insufferably cool after her audition for the Adelaide Youth orchestra. She wishes she was John Lennon.
The other FO is my mittens for my bff in China, from a free pattern by Debbie Bliss on Knitting Daily. This is what happens when you knit the flappy bit according to the pattern:
I frogged it... actually, my mum frogged it, I was too frustrated with all the unpicking of the seams this would require, and it is actually very little yarn in there. Then I knit another one. Like this:
And with the duplicate stitch on the top (It's less lumpy since I blocked them):
Schnazzy, no? I didn't have any worsted weight white yarn, so I doubled up some DK yarn, and it worked OK.
Modifications:
- I knit the thumb in the round using magic loop until the decreases, then did the decreases flat and sewed up the tip. A little clumsy, but better than the lumpy seam I got before.
- For the opening flap, I knit until 4 rows before you are supposed to BO for the flap. The I did 1 x 1 ribbingto replicate the cuff, for four rows. Then I bound off. For the top part of the flap I knit two extra rows, so that it would overlap and not leave a huge gaping hole, this negating the purpose of mittens as they flap in the breeze.
Obviously, the left and right ones are a bit different in row count, etc. I can't tell you exactly what I did - basically, I fudged it. I think it was a success. The top is a bit lumpier than perfect, but I think it's a reasonable trade off for functional mittens. If she likes them, I might make some more. Sinc she's the only person I know currently residing in a cold climate, and I have a hankering to make these. And these. And maybe even these, although as we all know, pirates are a long-dead meme. The internet is brutal.
And I also blocked my Branching Out scarf, but the photos of that (modelled by another cousin - they come in handy) are still on my camera.
AND, I've cast on for the DNA scarf, which I saw on Ravelry and immediately pegged as perfect for my Dad. I cast Cobblestone off (three times. I cast off tight. Eventually I went with a ribbed cast off, which makes it a bit less neat, but since it was the only way anyone's head will ever fit through that, I'm happy with it) and had a bit of a panic, since it meant that not only did I not have a jumper on the needles, I ONLY HAD ONE PROJECT, and that was only a SOCK (hedgerows are halfway down the last foot. Slowly, slowly). So I picked up some Bendigo yarn, ordered for the purpose, and I cast on for a cabled scarf. I'm almost up to the end of the first cabled part, and I'm really enjoying it, although it wont be coming on the bus with me any time soon.
I should blog more often. I feel much more productive, now!
Also: Dear Blogger, I hate you.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Civic art I have seen
And not photographed
On a cream brick wall, high up, spray paiunted in black: "LIBERAL PARTY = PROFITS OVER PEOPLE"
On a footpath ramp, in green, very neatly: "please don't vote john howard back in"
On the plexiglass of a bus stop, protecting the ad behind it, which depocts a toothy, blond couple riding griningly in a shiny silver BMW: "If you buy this car you will still have a small d*ck and you're [sic] woman will still be UNSATISFIED"
On a cream brick wall, high up, spray paiunted in black: "LIBERAL PARTY = PROFITS OVER PEOPLE"
On a footpath ramp, in green, very neatly: "please don't vote john howard back in"
On the plexiglass of a bus stop, protecting the ad behind it, which depocts a toothy, blond couple riding griningly in a shiny silver BMW: "If you buy this car you will still have a small d*ck and you're [sic] woman will still be UNSATISFIED"
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Ennui?
Still having my ass kicked. I just don't want to do anything. I have my knitting group tonight, and I don't want to go. I mean, I do want to go, and I know that if I don't, I will just sit at home and be bored. I'm just... not tired, but blah. Listen to me whinge. I have to go anyway, because I need to ask advise about picking up stitches wrapped in the purl, but picked up in the knit, since they're making funy holes in my cobblestone, which I have finally been able to pick up and knit on again, now the weatehr has turned a bit. It's been skirts at work for a week, and I'm loving it. Today was cooler (20 degrees c) and I still wore a skirt, but I whacked on some stockings (also, I forgot to shave. I'm so high maintenence, it's crazy!)
Also have to go because I need to discuss the plans for the Picnic in the Park (the celebration for the end of the FEAST festival) on Sunday, and also to pick up my alpaca.
Emma, from the group, dyes. Her colours are beautiful, although a little bit bright and too many different ones in each skein for boring old grey-scale me. But last fortnight she was there with some alpaca in light sea blues and greens, and a teeny tiny strip of lavender... it was heavan, and so, so soft! I resisted - and then on the way home I caved, I texted her and told her I wanted it. It will be waiting for me tonight.
And ALSO, once I get there, in the company of all the lovely women who will also be there, and good food, etc, I will have a ball.
And on the way, I will go to a chemists or the like, and pick up earplugs. Now that everyone in my apartment building is leaving their windows open, getting to sleep is like a stream-of-consciousness nightmare.
Not that much progress on the crafting, although I am feeling the mojo come dribbling back. I was looking at Jodie's blog, and these darling little hedgehogs have stolen my heart. And they speak French! And the pencilcases! With mushrooms! And skipping!
Calming down now. (And monkeys!)
Also, check this out. I'm having so much fun on this site. I got up to level 48 the other day, although I sit around 44-45 usually.
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that although I haven't made that much progress physically on the christmas crafts, I feel like whatever fug I was in has started to lift.
Note to self: take some photos.
Also have to go because I need to discuss the plans for the Picnic in the Park (the celebration for the end of the FEAST festival) on Sunday, and also to pick up my alpaca.
Emma, from the group, dyes. Her colours are beautiful, although a little bit bright and too many different ones in each skein for boring old grey-scale me. But last fortnight she was there with some alpaca in light sea blues and greens, and a teeny tiny strip of lavender... it was heavan, and so, so soft! I resisted - and then on the way home I caved, I texted her and told her I wanted it. It will be waiting for me tonight.
And ALSO, once I get there, in the company of all the lovely women who will also be there, and good food, etc, I will have a ball.
And on the way, I will go to a chemists or the like, and pick up earplugs. Now that everyone in my apartment building is leaving their windows open, getting to sleep is like a stream-of-consciousness nightmare.
Not that much progress on the crafting, although I am feeling the mojo come dribbling back. I was looking at Jodie's blog, and these darling little hedgehogs have stolen my heart. And they speak French! And the pencilcases! With mushrooms! And skipping!
Calming down now. (And monkeys!)
Also, check this out. I'm having so much fun on this site. I got up to level 48 the other day, although I sit around 44-45 usually.
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that although I haven't made that much progress physically on the christmas crafts, I feel like whatever fug I was in has started to lift.
Note to self: take some photos.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
November
It's kicking my ass.
Remember the NaKniSweMo thing? Yeah... not so much.
I ordered the yarn on the 1st. I didn't get it for over a week. Then, it turns out I do not in fact has the correct needle size for the linen stitch part, which naturally comes first in the pattern. (who uses 6.5 mm needles these days, anyway!) Ass to this the fact that I have just gotten a new computer - one that will actually do stuff, unlike my last one. Time sucker? Definitely. And it's been hovering between 30 and 35 degrees (c) this week.
So... I give up. I said it. I give up. It's not happening. Instead, I am officially declaring the rest of Novemebr 'finish my crafting for christmas' month. I will complete my dad's cobblestone (I'm up to the yoke) and my bff's mittens (just need duplicate stitch and sewing up). I have a bedwarmer to make for my sister and also my bff. I have three stuffed ornaments to make - for my mother, my sister and my bff. They are to have a cross-stitched motif in the middle, and I've done two already. I need to finish the third, then find some fabric.
There's more sewing than knitting in this, which is good for the weather, really. I want to have all this done before December, becase the bff lives in China, and this will all have to be posted. It would be awesome if I could do that at the start of December, and then I can concentrate on the few presents I am giving which are not crafed. I'm getting a photo I took at my mum's place printed up big, but I have to go out to the place to decide how to get it done. Which is hard, since I don't drive. I have to buy my dad something for his birthday. If I really get all of this done before December, I might manage a pair of Charades for him, too, for Christmas. But we'll see.
After that, I'll have baby knitting to do. I might defer my November sweater. I think I'll make May my official month o' the jumper. That's the Southern Hemisphere equivalent of November. Let's see if I can hang out that long - anyone placing bets? I wouldn't.
Last weekend was a no knitting weekend. I went to a friend's (the one who will recieve teh baby knitting) to help out with a working bee, and eded up staying the night. All night I dreamt that I had made tens of pairs of socks, all out of the green yarn I'm using for my (sorely neglected) hedgerows. They were all anklets, and all had variations of fern motif lace up the back of the leg (ankle) part. And they were all. Too. Short. I dreamt, all night, of tugging them back so they would fit over my heel properly. When I woke up, I was scrunched down in the sleeping bag, so that my feet were pressed tight against the end of it.
At least they were pretty socks. Maybe I'll knit them. Can you imagine? 'Nice socks.' 'Thanks. I saw them in a dream...'
Remember the NaKniSweMo thing? Yeah... not so much.
I ordered the yarn on the 1st. I didn't get it for over a week. Then, it turns out I do not in fact has the correct needle size for the linen stitch part, which naturally comes first in the pattern. (who uses 6.5 mm needles these days, anyway!) Ass to this the fact that I have just gotten a new computer - one that will actually do stuff, unlike my last one. Time sucker? Definitely. And it's been hovering between 30 and 35 degrees (c) this week.
So... I give up. I said it. I give up. It's not happening. Instead, I am officially declaring the rest of Novemebr 'finish my crafting for christmas' month. I will complete my dad's cobblestone (I'm up to the yoke) and my bff's mittens (just need duplicate stitch and sewing up). I have a bedwarmer to make for my sister and also my bff. I have three stuffed ornaments to make - for my mother, my sister and my bff. They are to have a cross-stitched motif in the middle, and I've done two already. I need to finish the third, then find some fabric.
There's more sewing than knitting in this, which is good for the weather, really. I want to have all this done before December, becase the bff lives in China, and this will all have to be posted. It would be awesome if I could do that at the start of December, and then I can concentrate on the few presents I am giving which are not crafed. I'm getting a photo I took at my mum's place printed up big, but I have to go out to the place to decide how to get it done. Which is hard, since I don't drive. I have to buy my dad something for his birthday. If I really get all of this done before December, I might manage a pair of Charades for him, too, for Christmas. But we'll see.
After that, I'll have baby knitting to do. I might defer my November sweater. I think I'll make May my official month o' the jumper. That's the Southern Hemisphere equivalent of November. Let's see if I can hang out that long - anyone placing bets? I wouldn't.
Last weekend was a no knitting weekend. I went to a friend's (the one who will recieve teh baby knitting) to help out with a working bee, and eded up staying the night. All night I dreamt that I had made tens of pairs of socks, all out of the green yarn I'm using for my (sorely neglected) hedgerows. They were all anklets, and all had variations of fern motif lace up the back of the leg (ankle) part. And they were all. Too. Short. I dreamt, all night, of tugging them back so they would fit over my heel properly. When I woke up, I was scrunched down in the sleeping bag, so that my feet were pressed tight against the end of it.
At least they were pretty socks. Maybe I'll knit them. Can you imagine? 'Nice socks.' 'Thanks. I saw them in a dream...'
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Love to knit
The place where I work has a specialty bookshop and library attatched. I love this. Even though there is a limited amount of materials that interest me in the library, the bookshop means that I can order books. I can order books that are only available internationally, or that come to Australia with a hefty price increase, I can order them without shipping, and with a staff discount. A decent staff discount. So far I have ordered the Crafter's Compantion, The Ghost Map (Which is really excellent, except for the two chapters at the end where he seems to need to drum you over the head with the connection between cholera and google. We get it. It's tenuous, but we get the general similarity. The more he explains it, the less viable it seems) and I have a couple more crafty books on order.
It also means that the manager of the bookshop regularly meets with representatives of the major publishing houses and booksellers. Today she came out of her office with a book called Love To Knit, by Bronwyn Lowenthal. (Something else I love about my work. They know I knit. There is minimum mockage.) I leafed through the book, wondering if I'd even knit anything in the book. The answer is 'no'. The only thing I would even consider is the wrap thing on the front - and maybe the capsleeve vesty thing near the back, but it's hard to tell if it'd be OK, since it's pictured in a mustard yellow that does it no favours.
Also, all the models are just too, too hip for me. The leggings, the stilettos, the vacant looks. It's offputting. The wierd modelling is the reason I have not, and will not, buy the 4th edition of Jo Sharp's knit series, even though I adore the first three. (Also, her attempt to pass of one pattern, with different length sleeves, as three different patterns, and another garter stitch scarf pattern. Who does she think we are?)
But in Love to Knit, most of the stuff that even remotely interests me are things that I already own the patterns for, know whewre to get them for free, or for a small amount of the book's cost, and are better. For instance, there's a sort of slouchy beanie, which is just not as interesting looking as Le Slouch. (pdf link) Also, the world does not need more knit miniskirts. It just doesn't.
But I can see how this book might appeal to some people - people more in tune with what is supposed to be my generation, people who shop at shops where they sell chunky knitwear machine made in china, people who enjoy mustard yellow and opaque leggings. I am not trying to be rude about these people. They are just not me. This book might be especially good if they have just started to knit, and want something a bit more complex, but not intimidating. Most of these projects I think assume that the people who will knit them are not that dedicated (although all the projects call for Rowan wool, so obviously their wallet should be dedicated).
However, the thing that broke me, the thing that made me think 'this must be blogged', is in the homewares section. Right near the end of the homewares section. It is a knit coathanger cover.
For real? With silk roses, and everything.
You know, some days I just want to give up and go home. Not that I am all the way against knit coathanger covers. They have their kitschy place. But what are they doing in this book? Do the publishers even know who this book is for?!? Obviously, if you knit, you must love knit coathanger covers. Why not include a pattern for a toilet seat cover?
I remember hearing an interview with Shannon Oakey, when she was talking about knitgrrl, the first. She said about how she was in a meeting with the publishers/editors, and they were all 'young girls don't wear cardigans. There should be more legwarmers!' but her mum works in a highschool, and knows what 'kids' are wearing. And when they took it to focus groups, sure enough, the kids loved the cardis, and hated the legwarmers.
It's the muggle problem all over again. Knitters are just people, you know.
I know I said that I love my workplace for being so accepting of knitting (it's about the onlyt hing I have that makes me a minority, and being a minority is the way to be cool here) but sometimes there's a glitch. Like the time P found out that I go to a knitting group, and asked how that worked - did we all knit a bit, and then pass it on? Do we all knit the same thing? Do we talk about knitting. Well, yes. But that not... I mean, what is so hard to graps about the concept of a knitting group? How is it different than, say, a mother's group, or a group that meets to power walk through a mall, or to teach their dogs how to do tricks, or whatever? Not being able to knit doesn't make you a muggle, in my book. Not wanting to knit doesn't, either. It's this blank, unwilling to change, ignorance. Seriously, I think some of the people where we meet would deal with it better if we had a talking cat than when we knit.
And then P asked how the group got started, and I said I didn't know, I'm fairly new, and M, my bf at work, made some flippant comment about people being retired and bored, and that I was obviously the youngest in the group. In fact, I probably am, but not by much. I'd say we have a fairly smooth curve of ages, if you know what I mean.
I just... why with the judgy, I guess was my extremely articulate point.
It also means that the manager of the bookshop regularly meets with representatives of the major publishing houses and booksellers. Today she came out of her office with a book called Love To Knit, by Bronwyn Lowenthal. (Something else I love about my work. They know I knit. There is minimum mockage.) I leafed through the book, wondering if I'd even knit anything in the book. The answer is 'no'. The only thing I would even consider is the wrap thing on the front - and maybe the capsleeve vesty thing near the back, but it's hard to tell if it'd be OK, since it's pictured in a mustard yellow that does it no favours.
Also, all the models are just too, too hip for me. The leggings, the stilettos, the vacant looks. It's offputting. The wierd modelling is the reason I have not, and will not, buy the 4th edition of Jo Sharp's knit series, even though I adore the first three. (Also, her attempt to pass of one pattern, with different length sleeves, as three different patterns, and another garter stitch scarf pattern. Who does she think we are?)
But in Love to Knit, most of the stuff that even remotely interests me are things that I already own the patterns for, know whewre to get them for free, or for a small amount of the book's cost, and are better. For instance, there's a sort of slouchy beanie, which is just not as interesting looking as Le Slouch. (pdf link) Also, the world does not need more knit miniskirts. It just doesn't.
But I can see how this book might appeal to some people - people more in tune with what is supposed to be my generation, people who shop at shops where they sell chunky knitwear machine made in china, people who enjoy mustard yellow and opaque leggings. I am not trying to be rude about these people. They are just not me. This book might be especially good if they have just started to knit, and want something a bit more complex, but not intimidating. Most of these projects I think assume that the people who will knit them are not that dedicated (although all the projects call for Rowan wool, so obviously their wallet should be dedicated).
However, the thing that broke me, the thing that made me think 'this must be blogged', is in the homewares section. Right near the end of the homewares section. It is a knit coathanger cover.
For real? With silk roses, and everything.
You know, some days I just want to give up and go home. Not that I am all the way against knit coathanger covers. They have their kitschy place. But what are they doing in this book? Do the publishers even know who this book is for?!? Obviously, if you knit, you must love knit coathanger covers. Why not include a pattern for a toilet seat cover?
I remember hearing an interview with Shannon Oakey, when she was talking about knitgrrl, the first. She said about how she was in a meeting with the publishers/editors, and they were all 'young girls don't wear cardigans. There should be more legwarmers!' but her mum works in a highschool, and knows what 'kids' are wearing. And when they took it to focus groups, sure enough, the kids loved the cardis, and hated the legwarmers.
It's the muggle problem all over again. Knitters are just people, you know.
I know I said that I love my workplace for being so accepting of knitting (it's about the onlyt hing I have that makes me a minority, and being a minority is the way to be cool here) but sometimes there's a glitch. Like the time P found out that I go to a knitting group, and asked how that worked - did we all knit a bit, and then pass it on? Do we all knit the same thing? Do we talk about knitting. Well, yes. But that not... I mean, what is so hard to graps about the concept of a knitting group? How is it different than, say, a mother's group, or a group that meets to power walk through a mall, or to teach their dogs how to do tricks, or whatever? Not being able to knit doesn't make you a muggle, in my book. Not wanting to knit doesn't, either. It's this blank, unwilling to change, ignorance. Seriously, I think some of the people where we meet would deal with it better if we had a talking cat than when we knit.
And then P asked how the group got started, and I said I didn't know, I'm fairly new, and M, my bf at work, made some flippant comment about people being retired and bored, and that I was obviously the youngest in the group. In fact, I probably am, but not by much. I'd say we have a fairly smooth curve of ages, if you know what I mean.
I just... why with the judgy, I guess was my extremely articulate point.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Measure twice
Cutting not recommended.
I've just been reading through Grumperina's archives (I'm on a get-bloglines-under-control binge) and I was reading where she's talking about TrueJeans. And how you measure yourself. And then they recommend jeans. One their website... they provide a printable tape measure.
So.
Cool.
I've just been reading through Grumperina's archives (I'm on a get-bloglines-under-control binge) and I was reading where she's talking about TrueJeans. And how you measure yourself. And then they recommend jeans. One their website... they provide a printable tape measure.
So.
Cool.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
A belated weekend post
I had a good weekend. Even though it feels like it was a million days ago, now. I went up to my folk's house and stayed the weekend, since it's my mum's birthday tomorrow. They had to pick my sister up from a music marathon they had at her school on friday night, so they swung by to pick me up on saturday morning. This had two advantages. The first was morning tea. I made yarnstorm's lemon curd cake.
It’s not the fanciest, or the most technical and impressive, or even the most beautiful. And there were many there that were much, much pinker (Gah! Gives my eyes a rash!). But this was the only one with sheeps. (I showed the photo to my sister, and she said ‘sheeps!’ which made my mother laugh because that was my exact reaction.)
And this was my favourite thing there.
A sampler snake. No name or anything attached.
I had put aside some money in case there were any good fabrics or handmade items to purchase. Which there weren’t. So the next day, we headed out to the Heart of the Hills market, which runs in the old Onkaparinga Woollen Mills every weekend and public holiday.
Most people in Australia know the name ‘Onkaparinga’. Most people my age or older will have slept under a blanket made there. It sits at one end of the town that I grew up in, and provided much of the towns income, back in the day. It was a working mill up until I was in high school, and the sound of the whistle calling people to work, and the smell of wet wool from our school excursions (not to mention the noise!), is an integral part of my childhood. Even more so, it was integral to the town. During the war, when 'Lobethal' sounded too German (It means 'valley of praise, but I'm informed by a German friend that it's terribly grammatically inaccurate) the town's name was changed to 'tweedville'. Anyone else get a kick out of that?
All in all, it was a very happy weekend, and I was sorry for it to end.
My mum loves lemon curd, and I must say that I agree. There was enough left over for a jar to gift her for her birthday. (I also got her a lamp, so that she can see when she crafts at night) The cake turned out brilliantly, although there was way too much butter in it – I actually blotted the cake! I’m pretty sure I didn’t read the recipe wrong or anything. (I always go to spell recipe as ‘recipie’, which I actually think is quite apt) Next time I would use 100g of almond meal instead of 50g.
The other bonus was my sister’s hilarious behaviour. She had had about a half an hours sleep that night, and about another hour in the car. So she was extremely non compos mentis. When we were leaving my place, she woke up enough to put on her seatbelt. Or so we thought. We look in the back, there she is, still sprawled over the back seat, seatbelt-less. We tell her ‘M, put your seatbelt on’. She grumbles (expected), reaches over, and unzips her schoolbag (unexpected). My mother repeats the instruction to put on her seatbelt. This is met by the grumble that usually means ‘I am!!!!’. We ask why she is looking in her bag. The reply? ‘for something to attach it too!’ said in the best teenager ‘duh’ voice. She then takes out her school jumper, wraps it around her torso as if it were a restraining belt, and goes back to sleep.
Hilarious. We did eventually convince her to buckle up, but it took some extremely specific instructions.
We made it home all in one piece, and then my mother and I set out for the Onkaparinga Quilt Fair. It was quite impressive. This was my favourite quilt.
It’s not the fanciest, or the most technical and impressive, or even the most beautiful. And there were many there that were much, much pinker (Gah! Gives my eyes a rash!). But this was the only one with sheeps. (I showed the photo to my sister, and she said ‘sheeps!’ which made my mother laugh because that was my exact reaction.)
And this was my favourite thing there.
A sampler snake. No name or anything attached.
I had put aside some money in case there were any good fabrics or handmade items to purchase. Which there weren’t. So the next day, we headed out to the Heart of the Hills market, which runs in the old Onkaparinga Woollen Mills every weekend and public holiday.
Most people in Australia know the name ‘Onkaparinga’. Most people my age or older will have slept under a blanket made there. It sits at one end of the town that I grew up in, and provided much of the towns income, back in the day. It was a working mill up until I was in high school, and the sound of the whistle calling people to work, and the smell of wet wool from our school excursions (not to mention the noise!), is an integral part of my childhood. Even more so, it was integral to the town. During the war, when 'Lobethal' sounded too German (It means 'valley of praise, but I'm informed by a German friend that it's terribly grammatically inaccurate) the town's name was changed to 'tweedville'. Anyone else get a kick out of that?
The mill is closed now, and it has served various functions in the past decade or so. It now houses a microbrewery, a gallery, and the Markets. There has recently been another mill, the Creswick mill, which deals in alpaca, set up there. I believe that they are actually working there, and not just using it as an outlet, but I may be mistaken.
Anyway, I bought a few things there. I bought these poppies
Two bunches for two dollars each. And they are gorgeous. (roses in the foreground from the rosebush I planted at my folks' place)
I bought this yarn
From the Gumeracha Spinners and Weavers Guild stall. I’d tell you who spin it, except that the two ladies who served me cut it off. I tell you, they have some lovely lovely handspun, but it was a painful five minutes handing over the monay and waiting until they got organised enough to exchange it for yarn.
And I bought this in the gallery
For seven dollars. You might remember me talking about this picturebefore. I love it. Even though the colours are completely wrong. I need a frame for it.
I alsomade progress on my sock. In fact, I finished it, but I have yet to take a picture. I cast on for the next one right away, and am finished the cuff.
All in all, it was a very happy weekend, and I was sorry for it to end.
Now, I'm off to the Chocolate Bean to eat lots of super-delicious chocolate. Oh, and to knit with my knitting buddies. That too...
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