Multiple Choice...

And the big news is?


a) I'm ba-ack....
b) The Ravelympics 2008 has started....
c) There is a new Yarn Pusher on the Block....

Well, duh. What else could the answer be, but c.

So, welcome to Dizzy Blonde Yarns, home to the fantabulous creations of La (you know, La, from the infamous KnottyGirls stable, out of JenLa, by Yer General Troublemakers, but we luvs ya anyway).

I have sampled said yarns, and I will attest to their general swooniness-making abilitites. Good yarn, nice yarn, highly pettable, knittable, wearable yarn. In good and generous quantities, enough to delight the hearts of any yarn lovers.

So, ya know, clicky-clicky:

Oh, yeah, there is some knitting news, but with all the excitement today, I'll save it for later.... 'cos, you know, I have a blog, and really ought to put things on it.....

aaaaaaargh! (resolved)

Can you see the crisis? Can you see the problem? Can you see the whole earth-shattering, scream loudly, rip it all out issue?

Can you see the idiocy, which is to use yarn that comes all nicely measured, for a specific kit, and take some and play around with it on other things, and then mess a whole wodge of it up, and then use it to play with the cats, and then wonder why you run out of yarn at the end. I should have liable to 'User Error' tattooed on my forehead....

But, the amazing Andie over at Renaissance Dyeing, after getting my slightly hysterical, written at 2am email, ran out to her workshop on a Saturday morning (now there is service for you), ransacked her stores, and found the right yarn, in the right dye-lot, and is sending it to me. (Along with some other things that may have fallen into my shopping basket). And anyone else who needs Copper Beech dye lot no.2 will just have to whistle for it, for I have cornered the world market in this particular yarn. (Open to bribes, of course, of other yarn....)

So, do you think 250m will be enough to finish it?

(Hmmm, wonder if this was what was causing my somewhat self-indulged melt-down recently.)

not knitting but drowning....

Well, there is some knitting, and exciting things are close to finished (as long as I don't run out of yarn...), and some exciting purchases have come into the house (ask me how to get hold of some Woolmeise!). But I need to vent, so be warned.

But, right now, I am fighting with Insurance companies, and most specifically their very clever new strategy of demanding that all clients must needs become hydrogeologists overnight. For last summer, the area I live in suffered some flooding. Some quite bad flooding. A result of extreme weather, and poor infrastructure maintenance. But my house, luckily, was dry.

But now I have to fill in a form, asking such things as are you within 1/4 mile of any streams, rivers, lakes, reservoirs, water courses or tidal waters? (Well, I reckon most places would be fairly close to at least one of these, oh, and by the way, what precisely do they mean by a water course? Precisely? Because if I get the answers wrong, it could be used to invalidate any insurance claim I make....). and please advise the approximate height of the premises above the normal high water mark of the nearest watercourse? (Do you think the council would lend me their fancy theodolites? The ones that can measure along roads, and around corners, and through buildings, oh, and would a really, really good GPS machine be useful, one which will give me the exact height differences? Because if I get the answers wrong, it could be used to invalidate any insurance claim I make....)

Now, I may have mentioned my problems with forms before (I once managed to tell the DVLA - driving licence people - that I was legally blind, and when they sent me a very nice letter asking if I had made a mistake, I rang them up and argued about it. Because I couldn't possibly have been wrong....). So I am in complete tail-spin melt down.

Not helped by going to events to which one needs to take a smart suit (fine, I'll get the iron out), display boards (well, if you will volunteer to put up a display), drawing pins (for to attach to the display board), computer (for to display something using technology - amazing, though, how people who don't like computers can actively refuse to even acknowledge the presence of one, even if you are playing music very loudly through it). So far, so good and normal. But then add in a couple of laundry racks (which have absolutely nothing to do with my display), and most importantly, a cool box (because there was a transfer of a rather nice piece of meat - apologies if you are veggie - that needed to take place in a car park, which had absolutely nothing to do with displays, events, smart suits, computers, or even laundry racks.) It was remembering the cool box which put me over the edge....

Oh, can anyone explain what a supra-existential crisis is (and why it might be different from just your plain old regular existential crisis)? Or what an ontological insecurity is?

here bloggy, bloggy, bloggy, blog

time for feeding!

So, yes, the blog. Well, since I've been away, there's been a earthquake (dudes, how do you in California survive the we'll shake you like you're a lime green jello?), the roof done got broke, and fixed, the boiler done got broke, and fixed, I've had to chase the wheelie bin, and assorted contents, down the road three times 'cos of the wind, wash one of the cat's heads twice, 'cos she has taken to sticking it a local sewer, and you just can't wait for the grooming to kick in, been labelled the spawn of something found on the bottom of a shoe (don't ask, long story, but it may involve meetings about string, but hey, I won), caused havoc at a local quiz group, and we haven't even had the first round yet, bought five pairs of shoes in five minutes (I'm good at shoes), and then spent 3 hours trying to buy a pair of trousers, all from the same shop (repeat until you remember it, you are not the same size you were 20 years ago), finally made a loaf of bread which isn't paving-slab-like, finally managed to find my ear plugs, so I could go to the movies (I'm delicate like that, I am, you know), told off a PhD student for writing about babies growing in women's abdomens, and taken to buying, and wearing, manga t-shirts, because I'm clearly having some kind of crisis about turning 40 this year.

Oh, and I've done some knitting.

A while ago, La (of JenLa) sent me some sumptuous Dizzy Blonde hand-dyed (check it out on Ravelry. See, told you it was good). Too good to go on the feets, so instead, at last, it became something....

Serpentine Mitts, from MimKnits (funnily enough, a kit for her Lightweight Mountain Peaks Shawl also managed to find its way to the house, from Renaissance Dyeing, purveyors of high quality you should be able to eat it yarn). And a treat they are too. And I've got enough yarn for another pair. La, you are a goddess.

And then, to balance out the good, I've been playing fugly...


Which looks better when you make bigger squares...

And is part of a group project for Project Linus. And somewhat stunning, in a I know it is only March, but dear heavens I need a pair of sunglasses now to save me, but hopefully something that boys will like. If it ever gets sewn up into a comfort blanket.... which it will. Because I have decreed. And because I suckered punch Pampootie into being in charge (which she may deny, but I am stubborn, and I will win).

And now I must flee, and save the sewer-headed cat from barfing on the scary fugly yarn (which, truth be told, is actually rather nice knitted up, being a decent superwash and all, and I would tell you what it is, but the rest of the yarn is shut away in a darkened room, for its own safety, and I can't remember what it is called). (As usual, the good pictures come from Puplet.)


Oh, yes, and the last thing I did of any note? Helped to welcome the well-hatted Aran into the world, by getting drunk on the last of my 28 year old single malt.

Aran, son of WoollyWormhead and Mr Tom, you were worth the sacrifice!

I'm having a Charlie Brown moment...

... in other words: 'Oh, good grief'. So the blog hasn't been fed for a while. Because I've managed to get myself silly busy, what with Ravelry (not that I say much there, either, but so much pretty pretty to look at), and joining Mission: Possible 2008 (the fault of Jen of Jenla and Bavgirl, and by the way is there a prize for the greatest underachiever? Aside from yarn arson?) and work (actual paid work, which can be done in pyjamas, with coffee, in front of the computer. Oh, buggery, in pyjamas, with coffee, in front of the computer. Sorry, did I say I was meant to be working?), and volunteer stuff (I'll have you bow down and worship now, please, because I am now both a President, and a Trustee. Oh, the power.... to go to meetings.... ), and grant applications for volunteer stuff (so, you want me to tell you exactly how long that piece of string is going to be, in advance of getting said piece of string in our hands), and projects for volunteer stuff (how long should a piece of string be, anyway? Should we maybe get a committee together, and have some meetings, to discuss the ideal length of a piece of string? Oh, look, how surprising, everyone thinks it should be a different length.... ). And then the general stuff of living (anyone know where I hid the hoover?)

And there has even been some knitting, but because I have a new camera (Woot!), and a shiny new computer (double Woot!), I haven't managed to co-ordinate the taking of pictures with the uploading and the posting .... but I'll give it a go....

Hot-diggety-dawg, something has worked, so behold Daisy, from Woollywormhead's new book, 'Going Straight',


and Sweet Winkie, from the same.


Folks, I gotta say it, and not because I know and adore Woollywormhead, but this is a fabulous book! Hats in a multitude, all designed to be knitted on straights, with fantastic tutorials on short-rowing, and kitchenering (who knew that not only did garter stitch have a reverse side, but that it had its own rules for kitchenering?). And the hats are just so clever, and fun, and quick.

But now, I must go, for I've just been told that Shrödinger's kitten has got a ball of string to play with, and I've got to measure it.

xmas (not), new year (not), okay winter socks

Finished. Finally. Meant to be an xmas present, but didn't make it. Meant to be finished for the new year, but didn't make it. But hey, they made it in time for winter. And to keep puplet's feet warm, in his brand new wellies.


And I have to say, I am deeply proud of these (even though the pictures aren't great, but you know how finicky and unco-operative models can be....).

And the details, just so I can try and keep track (the whole scraps of paper and backs of envelopes working soooooo well these days.)

Based on Cat Bordhi's Clematis Vine (thought without the clematis, or the vine, I suppose), from her New Pathways for Sock Knitters. And my advice for people working from Cat's book, is to trust in her numbers.


And the tops - well, cobbled together, a filling of a 2x2 corrugated rib, sandwiched between 2 rows of a Kihnu vits braid, from Nancy Bush's 'Folk Knitting in Estonia.


And the cast-off - from Priscilla A Gibson-Roberts 'Ethnic Socks and Stockings', something that she calls the double stitch bind off, which worked wonderfully in the two colours. (Though I went up 2 needle sizes, to a 3.5mm, and it still isn't the most elastic ever, but it isn't circulation cutting, so good.)

And the overall knit? Well, on 3mm needles, I kept going, gradually increasing up the back of the leg, 'til there were 104 stitches around. And I kept going until I was just about out of yarn. 4 balls of Regia Silk 4ply gone from the stash (yippee!).


The verdict? I am all seriously boasty. I think I done good.

Next, on to the Hats. For I have received, and drooled over, WoollyWormhead's glorious new Hat Book. And I strongly urge all and any to get it. For the Hats, they are good.

(Normal incompetent non-fitting knitting will return soon.)

catmas cheer

Remember to put some catnip out for Santa and his reincat, hard at work tonight.


Remember that only good cats get catmas presents, so a last-minute public display of affection for your catmas friends is always a good idea.


And finally, don't forget to get to sleep early the night before catmas - it can be tiring, being full of catmas cheer.


To friends old and new, Happy Holidays!

wipping post

Look what I done gone and finished. A thing of beauty, in the pattern, a thing of glory, as other people have made it. A wonder.


Yes, that is a finished Eunny Jang Tangled Yoke Cardigan. And I made it with proper grafting, and short rows for lumps, and even grafted off the ribbed button band. And it is lovely, made in a not quite too fuzzy coned yarn from Sue Blacker. (Okay, so it is much fuzzier than the pattern recommended yarn. But I deserve brownie points for stash-busting. And even though the fuzzy makes the cables less stand-out-y. But, still, I deserve points for stash-busting.)


But. Despite getting gauge (even with yarn adjustments), and knitting to what I thought was the right size. I forgot something. I forgot about negative ease. And the thing hangs on me like a sack. A really, really bad sack of idiotness. (And the buttonband needs better blocking.)


So, do I give it away? Frog and reknit? Hide it and continue sulking (this sulking may have had something to do with recent blog absence, because I am not a grown woman)? Or, daringly, do I try a very subtle and gentle semi-felting? Answers on a postcard please.

Still, there have been other works happening here - behold two in progress, which do fit, dammit.

A baby Muir, in a Habu silk. Lovely, but slow. My designated sitting in front of the 'puter waiting for a CD to upload knitting.


And my one and only bit of Xmas knitting, a pair of socks, not even for me. The Clematis Vine (but without the vine) from Cat Bordhi's New Pathways for Sock Knitters. And I know these fit, for the giftee is regularly instructed to hold out foot, close eyes, and then forget the feel of stranded Regia Silk goodness.


What I really, really like about these socks, apart from the fact that two colour socks are just so much quicker, is that the combination of the red and charcoal plays tricks with the eyes, making it look almost ribbed. That, and if you do trust in Cat's magical master numbers, it actually works.

And now, I would like to share with you just one final piece of wisdom, stolen from Carrie K. (very clever woman, that):

The reason to never finish your knitting is to avoid any possible danger of learning that the infernal thing doesn't fit.

See, nothing but a license to keep casting-on....

there is nothing like a bowl....

....of yarny goodness, to set you up good and proper for a long day ahead of serious yarn shopping at your nearest yarn extravaganza.

For seriously, is not this bowl of chocolate and raspberry sweetness better than a bowl of cornflakes, or highly fruit-and-nutted-museli?


Officially, a bowl full of Posh Yarns, of cashmere Incense. Because a long time ago, I had a cone of something or other that I cannot remember (no, my stash is not out of control), which Blueadt rather liked. So it only seemed right and proper that Blueadt got the cone, and in return I would get something. Only I forgot that I had done this (once again, my stash is not out of control, and nor is my memory for yarns in it, due to be in it, due to be used, due to be part of it at some unspecified time in the future, when I first see them, but are only in potentia at the present). Blueadt, on the other hand, has a firm grasp of all things yarny in her life (you can check out her stash on Ravelry, if you don't believe me), and did remember. And recently, I was presented with the above. Which are beautiful, and pettable enough that they probably deserve actual pet names, and good enough to eat. So many thanks Blueadt.

And then, to make things even better and brighter, the postie knocked the other day, and presented me with a package all the way from America, which contained things that smell nice (yay for smellies, that aid the hiding in the bath to soothe away the day), and things to keep food usefully hot in (yay for the funky hot-bag, which also, happily and conveniently, nicely holds a travelling yarn project), and yet more yarny goodness. So good, that surely snacking on this would be better than a hearty bowl of porridge. Or better than a bowl of Cranachan?


In colours that make me want to dye my hair to match (the colours of the yarn - not the blondeness, though I would dye my hair blonde, if it would guarantee a regular supply of Dizzy Blonde Yarns). So yay for JenLa, who sent delicious things many, many miles, to bring berry, berry goodness into my stash. (The fact that this sits not in my stash, but on my desk, is in no way any kind of indication that I in any way acknowledge that my stash may be a place of growing black hole-ness. For I am in control of my stash, my stash does not control me.) So many thanks JenLa. (Oh, and you just have to check out La's Serenity blanket. Lace, and Joss love, can it get any better?)

The actual knitting show went well, greatly aided by my fellow traveller, and arch-map-reader (and map-annotater - she found a pencil loose in the car), Knitterbelle (and the less said about buckets of beans and Cattlemens Associations the better). Though shopping was severely limited by my standing on the KCG stand for much of the day (but shopping was still managed - in a somewhat panicky fashion, but please to remember that this is in no ways any sign that the stash is in control, it has not achieved sentience, and in no ways is it directing me in any kind of mind-control fashion to feed it to epic proportions, so that it may take over the house), under the careful eye of WyeSue. I wonder if WyeSue's watchfulness had anything to do with my ever constant need to invite people in, possibly a trifle loudly, to 'Come and look at Sue's knitted knickers'? No, surely not. (Though they are deeply fabulous, and well worthy of looking at.)

Despite all the recent doom and gloom, life is actually pretty damned marvellous, what with presents, and knitting shows, and knitting actually happening (you can just wait for the actual info on that), and just generally many fun things to do. And winter solstice getting nearer, so soon the days will get longer. Yay.

(Excuse me, but I think I hear the stash calling. Apparently the Habu has been misbehaving, and calling the Wensleydale a country yokel, and the Jamieson's colours need separating, because the greens have been mixing with the yellows again. And I need to arm myself with a couple of 150cm circs before I go in. Not that the stash is out of control, or anything.)

I really, really, really, really....

.... want to have a major whine-fest. I mean really. I want to bitch and moan and whinge, and shout and cry and stamp my feet, and throw absolutely every single breakable toy out of my pram.


Hmmm, I think, among other well-whingeable things, that S.A.D. might be kicking in big-time this year (a month or so to go, and the days will start to get longer...).

And I haven't made time to tell of the (yet more, I'm very, very spoiled this year) presents from near and far.


And I haven't made time to tell of the yarn-related activities.

But tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I will be playing at a knitting show.

And then, I shall come back, and be a cat for the rest of the winter....


(okay, so my new motto is: 'don't have anything [nice] to say, post pictures of sleeping cats instead'. Sorry.)

whoopsie cushions

I took this picture, so I'll use it, goshdarnit. (Anything else that might have happened in yesterday's post is a completely innocent mistake, so apologies to all concerned....)



One cat, one evil cat, who has been known to swipe me in the eye, for not vacating her sofa quick enough. Keeping my dinner warm for me, and adding that extra special spicy flavour.... Perhaps this is a hint that I should up my home-cooked food consumption, and stop with the take-away....

can't come to the blog right now...

... because I am:

1) Nursing a little baby black eye. Which my CAT gave me last night.

and;

2) I've finally got onto Ravelry. You can find me under susoolu. Let the time sucking begin.

feeling deflated, and apparently rather red

Now, it isn't that I've been avoiding the blog - but rather that dear old blogger has been having a few posting issues. But still, here, again, some finished things.

First off, some charity knitting - small things, to make into key rings (and I really must try and remember who they are for, and where I am meant to send them). And evidence of multi-tasking ('cos I is female, and apparently we is good at the multi-tasking). Three little socks, which are my 'class' socks from Cat Bordhi's 'New Pathways for Sock Knitters', and a sweet little jumper, in horrible, horrible acrylic.


(Do I like Cat Bordhi's new book? Yes, I suppose I do. Some very fun patterns, well laid out, couple of very useful tips, very good support via Cat's website. Overall an interesting addition to the library.)

(And I would like to point out that the hatred for acrylic is very much a personal thing - I just don't work well with it. My tension goes to pot, the knitting looks a mess, the squeaking sets me on edge, and it just generally makes me manky and sweaty. And there is part of me that wishes I could work well with with much of the man-made - as some of it does look very nice. But I can't.)

And now, onto some socks. Which in the knitting of, looked most interesting, and not a little scurrilous. But now they are finished (and worn), though they are warm and functional and fit, they have rather flopped. And the cast off, to make sure they aren't tight, is perhaps just a touch floofy. But I shan't draw any aphorisms, about things which promise, but don't deliver. Because after all, they are just a pair of socks.


And finally, to something pretty, but pretty useless (for me). A pair of Selbuvotter mittens (I love the Selbuvotter book, I love the concept that a whole knitting tradition can be traced to one person, I love the work that Terri Shea has put into writing this book, and I love how generous Terri has been in acknowledging all the work of so many others, past and present, in the creation of this book). In fact, they are Annemor 4 - the dog mittens. Worked with just 2 lovely balls of Jamieson's Shetland Spindrift, in white and red, because my dog really, really wanted to be loud.


I had so much fun knitting these - they were quick, interesting, challenging enough, but not insanely difficult (and no, you can't see the boo-boos, but there are a couple there, for me to learn from). And completely useless, until I can find someone with hands small enough to fit. I feel another truism coming on....

Last week ....

was just one of those weeks. One of those weeks, that now that I am 39, I wonder what has happened to my life. (I'm certainly not the international superstar librarian/vet/ballerina that I thought I would be when I was 8. At the ages of 7 and 9, I just mainly wanted to do away with my older brothers.) And I know I seem to be fixated on my age - how *did* I get to 39, just how did that happen - but, joyously, I still seem to be milking the getting of presents somewhat.

So, anyway, last week. It started off with celebrating a friend passing her Viva - another doctor in the very loose academic family - which, of course, involved much high-flying intellectual conversation. And then, increasingly, much toasting and drinking, and possibly a diminution in the tenor of the discourse. (Bless anthropologists, for their ability to keep going for ever and ever, given a fire and enough whiskey, and who cares if we were sitting in the rain, on wet chairs.)

But more importantly, the next day, I reintroduced the newly crowned doctor to yarn. Hooks, though, not needles. (And admonished her soundly, for she had stopped with the hooking, though she now lives in Bristol, and passes their temple of yarn regularly. But now she is hooked again, and I'm sure wouldn't be adverse to my sending her off with a shopping list every once in a while.)

So, the week has kicked off with things intellectual and yarny. Always a good start. And the yarny continued. For next there was a meeting of the local KCG. Where our great and glorious leader told us we would all be working in black and white, and putting on an exhibition in the summer. The standard response to that, of course, is to throw things. But I don't think the yarn hurt too much, and she says that the needle puncture wounds are healing nicely.

And the intellectual continued. For it was the quiz final for our WI federation. (No, we didn't win - but at least this year we didn't quite get threatened with being thrown out for disruptive behaviour. But how can you resist acting out the answers in the Heraldry identification round - and my Lion Rampant was considered a triumph.)

So far, so fairly regular. But midnight saw things moving a little more unusally. For, of course, it was the Halo 3 release. Will Master Chief win? Will Cortana stay evil, or see the error of her ways? Will I survive being in a small intimate gaming shop with so many spotty boys dressed in combat gear? Will I ever get my tv back? ('Can I play Halo now?' 'Yes, you *may*, but only after you've done the washing-up.' Actually, it sort of works quite well, as a way of getting out of housework.)

So Wednesday was spent balling up, by hand, a most beautiful present (while shouting 'Go left, no left, you idiot. Move, now, oh look, you died. And now you have to start all over again.'). Nearly a whole mile of navy blue laceweight.

A present, all the way from the Faroes, from Wye Sue. Who somehow just seemed to know that I don't have nearly enough on the needles. And that the lack of lace in my life was ludicrous. (But as always, once balled, the laceweight, she has to sit there, until inspiration strikes. Gradually collecting cat hair.)

So far, so good. Until Thursday, when strange and fascinating blogging connections all got just a little six degrees. For it turns out that one of the bloggers I got to know through the Knitting Olympics (she got a medal, I didn't, and no I'm not bitter at all) not only used to live 5 minutes away from where I am now, but is that daughter of a member of my local WI. And she was up, visiting. So we got together. And I had one of the funniest, easiest, most interesting evenings I have had for a long time. Meeting An Elegant Sufficient, in the live flesh, was a delight. And then Gill went and topped it all, by giving me yarn. And things to do things to the yarn with. A sumptuous skein of Knit Picks sock yarn, and a bunch of Kool-Aid to dye it with!

Though I must admit, I am a little afeard of the powder packets, given that even though they are still sealed, and not sweetened, I'm getting an anticipatory sugar high off of them! So, if I am seen wandering around with berry-cherry stained hands for the next few days, it is all Gill's fault.

And the week was topped off with an minor emergency visit to the Vet, when one of the beasts (the one pictured at the top of the post, the one looking all butter wouldn't melt) decided to get conjunctivitis. I swear they do it on purpose. I swear they get together, and decide it is time for one of them to get something minor and irritating, but expensive. I swear that they were plotting, while I was out eating posh fish and chips, playing with humans, that I needed to be punished for returning past their dinner time (as if they piles of protest hair balls weren't enough).

And the week came to an end, as I battered some slate paving stones (and yes, I did manage to break one by jumping on it too much) into the dead lawn, in a pair of swanky new spotty wellington-boots, just so I could get to the new compost bin without wading through mud. While waiting for my house-mate extraordinaire to finish making madeleines.

I don't know that I ever had a very clear idea of where I would be by the age of 39, of the kinds of things I woud be doing. But I don't think I imagined this.

the animal edition

Because I promised, and because I am in love with them, herewith prawn pr0n and sheep. (And a cat, being a prawn.)


So first, and look carefully, for there is a delicate crocheted prawn - with antenna - nestling among the sugar prawn sweets. A prawn, when seen, that I practically wrested untimely from its maker's hands. (Actually, I did trade for them, with some shockingly pink Rowan something or other. Which, fortunately, the lovely and kind Marie (non-blogging, but deeply talented) likes - shockingly pink, that is.) And after losing prawn at least twice at knit club that night, he did finally make it home, to be sewn onto a brooch back, and then carefully placed to adorn my coat. But do you remember those shockingly sugary prawn sweets? Well, I couldn't resist buying a packet, just to see what they were like. And to know, now, in my growing dotage, that I much prefer the crocheted kind. (Though I would never say no to a bowl of perhaps delicately garlic and chili scented finger dripping loveliness of the real kind.)

Happily, fortuitously, Prawn then got a friend, to keep him company. For the deeply talented Mary-Lou, in a moment of incredible kindness, and stunning organisation, sent a little care package my way for my recent birthday. (Which arrived, on the day itself. More than anything I got from either of my brothers. Though one of them did call that evening, and sing a stunningly drunken and out-of-tune song to me. And even though the singing was shockingly bad, the fact that he remembered, for the first time in over a decade, was more of a shock.) So Sheep arrived. And where better to put Sheep, than next to Prawn, on my coat.


Mary-Lou also had the intelligence to send chocolate (well, of course it isn't still around), and a delightful book on shoes. (By the way, I have become so attached to my farting shoes, that I now have three pairs. Such joy and bouncy comfort do they bring to my life. And so much fun to wear, especially when chairing meetings of my local WI.)

What brings me even more delight are the looks I get, with Prawn and Sheep on my coat. The looks, as people stare, double-take, and stare again (hey, their eyes are up and to the left of where they sometimes are, which is always an improvement). And sometimes even have the bravery to ask questions, in a 'Is that a..., well, no, it couldn't be..., is it really...,' kind of way. Don't you just love having talented friends?

And finally, one of the dreaded beasts. Doing her best to imitate a prawn. Looking innocent. No at all as if she had been hairballing with a vengeance recently, in an attempt to get the premium, ridiculously over-priced cat food, rather than supermarket own-brand. (One small bit of success, though. For we are starting to wean her off her cravings for raw potato peelings - though she isn't so keen on summer varities, and really isn't a fan of new potatoes, she is a King Edward girl all that way - and have discovered that cucumber peel is an almost acceptable alternative.)


Still to come, mitten (and now mi), and more pressies - something from the very prescient Wye Sue (owner of the niftiest combinations I have seen, ever) who just knew that I need something to kick start the lace.

And Avast, ye land-lubbers, for tomorrow, 19th of the fair month of September, is of course, Talk Like a Pirate Day. (Lookie, lookie, Mary-Lou even has appropriate clothing for you!) Arrrr!


(edited because I can't spell today)

it was a 'special' day yesterday

And I forgot to mention it. It was, in fact, Wye Sue's Birthday. (Mine too, as it turns out.)

And I got mighty spoilt, for I received cards, and presents (details to come, but many, many thanks, Mary-Lou). And I took myself off to go and see the KCG - which is code for spending money on things knitterly. And then I took myself off to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, to eat bambi and cranberries and ice-cream, and be stilled in awe by the Andy Goldsworthy exhibition.

And seeing as it is birthday season, the last of my recent birthday knits:


Seemingly, a rather strange thing - but in fact a version of Elizabeth Zimmermann's 'Very Warm Hat' (from 'The Opinionated Knitter').


Knit in just over one ball of Jaeger cashmina (the grey), and using that darned Buffalo gold yarn for the brown. And after all the possibly snitty things I may have said about Buffalo gold, I have got to say that it is beautiful to work with. Because it feels like your hands are running through the softest undercoat of your favourite pet (but without all the requisite wet dog smell). And it does knit up ridiculously warm and soft. So I shall cherish my memories of working with this yarn, because unless I get very, very rich, I shall never work with it again. (Oh, and the problem with birthday knits, is it helps to check the head size you are knitting for before you are nearly finished, so that you have to start all over again, and end up washing and blocking the hat at 4.30am, to be given, still damp, at noon the next day.)

Many thanks for the kindness about the tea-pot cozy. The latest report is that it is now completely liberated from the tea-pot, and has become the hat-du-jour for the twins. Which is delightful, but does mean that when I visit for tea, my tea will still be cold. So my cunning plan went awry. Again.

Amy, I wish there had been a pattern, it would have made life much easier - but instead I just cannabalised one of the frilly neck/cuff patterns out of Nicky Epstein's 'Knitting Beyond the Edge' (which has some very, very beautiful things in it), and topped it off with a selection of her flower patterns from the same book. The thing which saved me was knitting the base in a lovely, forgiving, elastic 100% shetland wool yarn, which meant I could get it good and wet, and stretch it heinously, and block it fiercely on the tea-pot itself, because of course, not starting with a swatch, it was slightly too small. (Everything I make tends to be either slightly too small, or slightly too large. My inability to judge size correctly must be related to my refusal to accept that I am no longer a size 8, or even vaguely near to a size 8, and haven't been for the past 20 years.)

Right, now that I am older, I must away to bed, for the midnight bells have struck. But still to come are prawns, and mitten and socks in a myriad of sizes. And a sheep. Can't wait...

not blogging, been knitting

And so, may I present, the 'Functionally Frou-Frou Teapot Cozy':

Behold, first, in its pinning on of the insane, using up lots of yarn oddments, flowers. Hmm, fun. (And many thanks for Hiding Pup, for the sewing up of the insane flowers.)


Then, the side view. Note the functional frills - for added insulation. And the flower topping, for added insulation, and added frou-frou. (Note, as well, how flower placement decided to change. Gah, you try to plan something, and do you think it behaves...)


And finally, the top - if only Carmen Miranda had liked flowers instead of tropical fruit - view.


The teapot has been presented, accepted, and used. More importantly, no sooner had young god-daughter and twin sister seen teapot cozy, than they did what every sensible, and fashion-conscious, 18 month old does, which is place cozy on head. Where it looked mighty fetching. (And, gloriously, this has solved all present giving for many years to come. Because the younglings like hats. And I can make hats. And then in a few years I can present them with knitting needles and yarn, and they can make their own hats. Bliss.)

So when I say functional, I actually mean multi-functional, for the cozy can keep warm both tea and tiny tot têtes. I loves a bit of form meets function, I does.

I'm still far, far behind on blogging, and emailing, and just generally things. But in my defense, I have indeed been knitting. So to come, more hats, mitten, the most beauteous crocheted prawn, and an almost completed pair of tumescent socks. Just like buses, you wait forever for one, and then three come at once...

summertime.... so it's time to make cozies

People cozies, and teapot cozies, that is.

Finally, some shots of the Yoda coat - modelled by Hiding Pup - teamed with its yarn-mate, the My Dear Stalker hat. Both made in glorious Garthenor Organic Jacob.


And the coat may not be pretty (but the buttons are), but it will be absolutely perfect for winter. Because it does what it says on the tin - it will keep me warm, and has places to store things. And I got to work on various techniques while making it, what with those afterthought pockets (lawks a mercy, and blessings on you, Elizabeth Zimmermann, says I as I tug my forelock), short row bust darts (which are just about in the right place), three-needle bind offs on the shoulder.


And dudes, check out those side seams. Finally, I think I may be cracking the mysteries of the sewing up (which is much, much easier in a big chunky wool, 'cause it is so much easier to see things). I am insanely proud of those seams.

Originally, it was a Rowan pattern - Kim Hargreaves' 'Snow', from Rowan 26, but the modifications have made it my own. That, and that the model in the magazine looks cool and interesting and attractively windswept, whereas I look somewhat like a cross between a small child in a home-made Paddington Bear coat, and a muddy Michelin man. But I care not, and when worn with the hat, the Jacob yarn will protect me from all slings and arrows, and any possible name-calling. Because I will be the warmest thing around, and moreover, I will have pockets to put things in.

Second, behold the teapot cozy in progress. A mad confection of frills, which has yet to fall into the knitted flower garden (yes, the pink is going to be covered in knitted roses). The sharp, and assiduous blog-readers among you may recognize the influence of Yarnstorm - for it was her pineapple cozy that is the inspiration. (Yet somehow, Yarnstorm's pineapple cozy has a certain kitsch splendour, whereas mine is, inadvertantly, going for the crocheted toilet roll cover on acid...) I've just got to hope that functionality wins out over lack of taste, and that the soon to be owner (why yes, it is going to be foisted on someone as a birthday present - but they get the tea pot too) can cope with the sheer amount of yardage in the ruffles.


Right, I must go and knit flowers now. And check on the painting of the garage door - child labour you know, such a useful thing (well, it is the summer holidays, and my next-door neighbour gets to look after her grandchildren, and the garage door badly needed doing, and the kids were at a loose end, and it is so much cheaper than paying a grown-up to work. And the littlest one is just about small enough to send up the chimney.)

And then I must go and remove the pillaged bird's nest. Which has been ravaged over the past few nights by killer. Who does not believe in giving her prey a sporting chance. Because where is the fun in that, when she can nip out at night, and catch the birds a-napping. Behold, I am the pawbinger of doom.


And I've got a feeling that I owe quite a few people emails and such. But I've melted my brain, wearing a too warm yoda coat in the finally, it might almost be summer temperatures.

ps - glad you like the sock post, but I am shocked, I tell you, shocked to my core, at how some of you saw such dirty things there. Go and was your minds out with soap.

is it just me....

.... or does this look like something it shouldn't?


Yup, that's right, a too tight sock. In the latest Socks that Rock Club colourway and pattern.


Have a good weekend, y'all.

ker-nitting, ker-not finishing

The Cosmos Jacket, she is done. Well, she is knit. And she is now waiting for all the ends to be sewn in, the sleeves set, and the seams sewn up. And then we play the sizing game - will she fit, won't she fit. But a lovely knit to make, where the designer cunningly has you working on lots of techniques, fair isle and intarsia, mattress stitch and picking up. Jamieson's patterns tend to assume a degree on knitting know-how, and I would have been terrified a couple of years ago, worrying about whether I was using the 'right' cast-on, or joining the yarns 'properly'. But with the internet, and an out-of-control book buying habit, knitting has become a more natural craft to me. Just wish I were better at the sewing up! (I found some old junior school reports the other day - apparently, the teacher thought I really, really like sewing. Just because I used to be fastidious about washing my hands every five minutes - meaning less time spent actually sewing - and because I used to take things home, and get mum to do it for me. Because I really, really didn't like sewing. At all.) Oh, and a word of warning - check your yarn amounts. The yarn pack contained much too much of the accent colours, and not quite enough of the main. (But, despair not, for this means I managed to score some free stash yarn, and Jamieson's sent down the extra.)

And even though Cosmos is not quite wearable-finished, my lust for Jamieson's is undiminished, for Winter Sunset is growing fast(ish). I am absolutely hypnotised by fairisle in the round (remind me of that when I get to steeking, and cutting). I love the rhythm, and watching and feeling as my hand dips up and down, main and background, counting each repeat, finishing each row sooner than I think possible. The sense of accomplishment, as each pattern repeat, each row, each block is completed, the tiny sense of loss, as you know that that section is finished, and the anticipation as you look to see what comes next. I know that I am losing all sense of proportion, but it is better than looking up, looking around, and realising you need to do the hoovering, again. So excuse me, while I ignore the world around, and get back to watching a sunset grow.