knit and tonic

Two Days, Two Mittens and a Bowl

I tell you what, do yourselves a favor and don't attempt anything within 20 square miles of Disneyland on a Thursday after Christmas.

After waiting for over an hour in a line that would have taken over two to buy tickets, we bailed. Disney was a bust. And just an hour later, while looking mournfully out our hotel window across the street, I spotted a big flashing sign over the park that said: "Sold out."

Part of me was relieved because the last thing I wanted was to stand in line for fifteen hours so I could have "It's a Small World" playing and replaying in my head for days after.

But I feel horrible for poor Girlfriend. Big liars and guilty parents that we are, we took her to a shop, bought her some pink Minnie Mouse ears, and tried to convince her that the shop was actually Disneyland. Then we took her to an outdoor mall, put her on the carousel, and tried to convince her that the carousel was Disneyland, too. Then, we tried to get into the outdoor ice rink, but it was sold out.

Later that night, and after waiting for more than two hours for dinner, we gave her a giant piece of chocolate cake, and tried to convince her that the chocolate cake was from Disneyland. Then on the way home, we decided to hit the L.A. Zoo. On the way, I got car sick (from knitting in the car) and we had to go home. While I convalesced, HWWV took Girlfriend to Chuck-E Cheese. Today, HWWV took Girlfriend to the Santa Barbara Zoo (and tried to convince her it was the L.A. Zoo).

Now HWWV is talking about Super Bowl Weekend. He's convinced Disneyland will be empty and we'll have the park all to ourselves.

Disneyland is the last thing on my list, but the prospect of two hours each way of knitting time sounds alright to me. On this short trip, I completed all that you see here. A felted bowl (I felted it when I got home although I bet I could have done it at the hotel) and a pair of fingerless mittens for my sister out of the Koigu. The fingerless mittens are the kind I like: Ones without leaf motifs, doo-dads or yarnovers.

If you want to make some:

1. Do a gauge swatch.
2. Measure around your wrist.
3 Cast on enough stitches to reach around your wrist plus about a half inch (round numbers to either an even number for 1x1 rib, or to a number divisible by 4 for 2x2 rib).
4. Join in round and work in ribbing for about 1.5 inches, or desired ribbing width.
5. Change to stockinette and work until the mitten reaches just above your thumb joint.
6. Bind off 8 sts at beginning of the next round (or about an inch worth of sts).
7. At the end of that round, cast on 8 sts just above those that you bound off.
8. Work in stockinette again until the mitten is just over your knuckles.
9. Change to ribbing again, for about an inch. Bind off.

If you use the Koigu, it'll take just one skein! (But that is, of course, if you make a small size). I used 3mm needles.

Happy New Year! (Oh, and by the way, the yarn inside the bowl is this amazing superwash merino from Scout's Swag. Can you believe the gorgeous color, the Orchids colorway? I love it! I also bought a Namaste knitting bag which I'll show later. And the red felted bowl was an easy-do. When I have the time, I'll tell you how I did it. I was going to store yarn labels in it, but Girlfriend likes it. Maybe I can convince her that I got it at Disneyland.)

The Happiest Place on Earth

Kids, guys and gals, friends, neighbors and lurkers. I have something to tell you:

Whatever it is that I said that the LYS Owner said about that Euroflax Chunky Linen and how it would take just one hank for a scarf, well, throw it in the trash. Ix-nay on the one-hank-ay.

Beware mon freres, mon siste-eres and all you who read. The one-hank linen scarf is a misnomer. It is a lie. It is a true-blue fake and it won't, no matter how skinny your neck is, fit around your neck in the jaunty and fashionable fashion you're after. You'll need to buy a second hank.

I hurt my hip on the treadmill today and sat outside waiting for HWWV to finish his workout. I limped to the car and grabbed my bit of scarf and whatever-it-is I had left of the linen for some knitting in public. And just like my own personal Universal Fact of Life Rule, the one that says no matter what--or wherever the planets happen to be--I'll most definitely enter the stinkiest stall in the public bathroom, I discovered that the little bit of what I had left would not, could not, shall not, no matter what, allow me to knit that scarf until it is "long enough."

So, the question is, do I just use the other hank I bought in a different color for the ends and do some striping action with the little bit I have leftover of the original color? (I can see it now: Part of me thinks I'll look like I hijacked Yentl or I worked up your traditional University scarf in the wrong fiber....Or, maybe I got the Harry Potter thing, you know, "Waldorf," or whatever the name of that particular group of kids is, all wrong.)

So whatever. This is one thing that's on my mind. The other is travel knitting. I'm off to the Happiest Place on Earth (ugh) tomorrow and we'll spend exactly 24 hours in the area. Truth be told, the drive is only an hour or two, but I'm all in a panic about what to take with and whether or not I can fit in a few rows while waiting for the Tea Cup ride or if the whole experience will be ruined by dragging along a knitting bag. Further, I'm wondering how I'll survive the 58-degree cool, and whether or not it warrants a hat, gloves and a nice long green scarf that'll wrap around and around, or if I'll just be hotter than heck and wish I were at home knitting, instead.

This is one thing I do know for sure: I'm taking along the Koiguuuuuuuu......(which, I promise you, will not disappoint.)

P.S. I'm told by HWWV that I can use Photoshop to get rid of the shiny nose and forehead you see in the picture. But, I'm all for truth in advertising, or whatever. Just like the scarf. Tell me it'll take two hanks. Even if one hank costs 18 bucks. Just tell me.

The Flaws.

Just when you think things are returning to normal and you're cleaning up the joint, turning a new leaf as it were, your brute-husband swings the super heavy duvet up over his head to settle in the feather down-thingy and knocks the faux antler chandelier off its coffers.

Then you send your brother-in-law into your closet to help HWWV who is up in the attic checking the joists and all the stuff guys seem to know about (the attic opening is in my closet), and the next thing you know, you're realizing--to your horror--that there's a huge four-pack of Summer's Eve in there, smack dab under his nose.

I suppose things could be worse.

In fact, things are looking up. In spite of the broken antlers and all the glue we're using to put the thing back together, I just finished pattern number two in the series of 10 that are due 2/1 and HWWV (He Who Wears Versace for the newer readers, and just so you know, the moniker is sort of joke because the last time we could afford the stuff was when Versace was alive) just made reservations at a hotel near Disneyland. I guess we'll be going this week. Ugh. That means  I'll lose two full days' work. Then, there's TNNA in January which is sure to put me behind another few. Ugh. Double Ugh.

BTW: I fell in love with some Louet Euroflax Heathers in a chunky weight. I don't know why people don't love the linen and that other stuff more than they do because I got to feel a scarf made out of the Chunky Linen that sent me into a fever the likes from which I haven't yet recovered. Apparently, you can make a scarf in linen stitch with just one hank of it and I'm working on it. Thing is, the only time I've had to work on it is after a couple of wine-y Christmas parties, and well, let's just hope that a good wash and a tumble dry will hide a few of the flaws.

Invitation to a Kiss

HWWV just threw a nice, new Lucky Brand hoodie in the trash--one that MIL gifted to me this morning--He threw it in the trash.

I feel bad and I want it back because there is this nice Koi fish painted on the front, but it was a size large and it doesn't fit and she has been giving me size larges for years.

She knows that that size doesn't fit me, and although I wore it all day and it was nice, after they left, and when we were cleaning up the guest room, we discovered that one of Girlfriend's framed pictures we placed in there before they arrived was stuffed into a box below the guest-room desk.

When I discovered that the picture was missing and that it was stuffed into that box, I got mad. I stormed into the family room and hollered: "She bought me a size large and she knows it won't fit, and worse, Girlfriend's picture was stuffed in a box and I don't know why they'd do that! They love her, don't they?"

So, off HWWV stormed, and picked up the Lucy-Desi multi-level side table, broke it in half, (he's such a brute), grabbed my hoodie, and threw them all in the trash with one fell swoop.

Now I don't have my hoodie (or the Lucy-Desi multi-level side table), and I'm sad. There's at least one hundred bucks worth of hoodie in the trash right about now. And even though it didn't fit, I am thinking about it, stuffed into the trash there, with all the shrimp tails and pork bones.

More than 10 years ago I would have said that I am simply unthankful. But after 10 or more years of this, I am convinced that there's something else going on here. I've thought long and hard about it.

And I tell you what I've learned: My MIL is buying herself clothes and then gifting them to me when they're not right, or if they don't fit.

Two hours ago, I would have said she bought the wrong size to rattle me, but no. She just bought the stuff for herself, took them home, and regifted them. I have thought about it and thought about it, and I can honestly say that she doesn't want me to feel bad, but I do.

Ugh ugh ugh. Triple ugh.

I feel like I am a scrooge, telling you this. But this will be my last ever in-law story, ever. It doesn't make sense to me to go into 2007 with all these crazy feelings. I need to take control. I need, after many, many years, to have my life back. I can't be hosting my house, knitting like a banshee for 10 patterns due on 2/1/07, and worrying about whether regular, non-duck-like roasted chicken will do, or if the Satsuma's are sweet enough for their palate.

This is what I'm interested in: Memories. I just visited my sister's new place and I discovered she scored one of the better busts my gutsy grandpa Herman sculpted way back when. This one is entitled: "Invitation to a Kiss."

Now, you tell me: Is there anything more important than enjoying anticipating a kiss? (Well, one that you really want and one that doesn't include garlicky condiments or early morning fuzz and stale breath. Heh.)

On Yarn News: I have none.

Merry Christmas. I love you all.

Edited to Add: Thanks, all, for your sweet comments and all the extra tidbits. I changed the post title because I got Herman's title of the bust wrong: It is really "Invitation to a Kiss." I kept thinking that "Anticipation to a Kiss" wasn't good grammar, and I guess I was right. That Herman could do no wrong, I tell you what.

On Prejudice

There's always something special about looking in your own backyard (well, practically in your own backyard) and seeing through tourist's eyes for just a second. I went to the Ronald Reagan Library for the second time yesterday.

The first time I went was days after he passed. The jets flew over our home--over to the library while the memorial service went on--for what seemed ten times. Every time they passed over the roof, we'd run out into the backyard and look up into the sky. The noise and the vibration of it all sent me into a place I can't quite describe. I wanted to throw my arms up over my head and grab the wings.

I wasn't ever all that political. But, when I called a neighbor and told her how my heart swelled when the jets flew over in pattern and how touched I was that all those thousands of people lined the streets for miles waiting for the motorcade to pass, and she said: "He was a Republican, Wendy. So, I hate him and I'm glad he is dead," I felt defeated.

Stay with me here. I'm not going to talk about politics. I'm going to talk about yarn.

So we went to the library with the you-know-who's and we looked at Air Force One. I read some love letters from him to her (I was moved to tears) and looked at film about the assassination attempt and I strolled through a big room with many of the gifts different leaders and organizations around the world gifted him during his presidency.

And lo' and behold: A giant yarn ball. And this wasn't just an ordinary yarn ball. This was a yarn ball that wouldn't fit in a decent-sized television box. It wouldn't fit in my oven, either. Or a bread box. It was this huge yarn ball rolled up by an Organization on Aging and, well, there it was, in all its glory.

The first thing that popped into my head: "Geez. It looks like Red Heart Acrylic."

The second thing that popped into my head: "Quit it with the yarn prejudice."

I've worked with the Wool-Ease. I've worked with the Artyarns Regal Silk. I've worked with the Karabella Empire Silk (Grab some; you'll die), I've worked with the Euroflax linen, Louet Gems and the Allhemp three and six. I've worked with some of the worst and I've worked with some of the best.

Thing is, some of the "best" is sometimes the worst. There are yarns that are dear to the pocketbook and have a certain cache, but let me tell you, if it weren't for the cache, I'd probably stick the stuff in a drawer or maybe make a yarn ball out of it instead.

And then, last night while playing Mahjong and MIL called me a "White Woman with a Forked Tongue," I decided that prejudice has no place in my life. My feelings were hurt.

I'm convinced that yarn has feelings, too. So, from this day forward, I will no longer be a yarn bigot.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

There's this one lady who comes to the LYS on Thursdays sometimes and I don't know why the heck she does except to sit and eat smelly, crunchy pickle-y items out of a Styrofoam cup and generally disagree with a hundred percent of what anyone has to say, no matter the subject.

This past Thursday I popped in for a little cheer and one of the clerks there was talking about how she went on safari, and offered herself as a second wife to the tour guide, Robbie. Apparently, Robbie is a safari-hat wearing hunk (as opposed to my safari-hat wearing mailman who is not) and all the safari-goers were quite impressed.

Smelly, Crunchy Pickle Eater: "Eh, I didn't think he was that cute."

LYS Clerk: "Didn't you see his picture?"

Smelly, Crunchy Pickel Eater (waving her plastic spoon and splattering smelly pickle juice here and there) : "I did. Remember, you showed it to me? He's not all that special."

Me: "Well, if you think Robbie's not all that special, who do you think is? Give us an idea about your taste in men."

Smelly, Crunchy Pickle Eater: "My taste in men? What are you talking about, my taste in men? I haven't had a boyfriend or been alone with a man in over twenty years!"

It could be I'm feeling slightly sideways due to the fact there are people in my kitchen making lots of noise and clanking dishes (I'm convinced they do that to alert me it is time to cook), or burn down the joint. Just now, I smelled something burning and noticed a particular relative heating up a bagel in the toaster. He had turned it on without taking the paper bagel bag off the top of the appliance.

"You can't put paper or plastic on top of the toaster," I said. "Otherwise, it will burn or melt."

"...So, you're telling me the toaster isn't the same as a microwave?"

The yarn pictured up top is the new Lanas Puras Worsted Weight Merino in Mountain Sky. I could swear it is the same as the Malabrigo, but it's not. This is beautifully handpainted and the colors are  amazing. I'm designing something for One Planet Yarn and Fiber, a kids' hooded pullover (boys and girls to age 12) and we'll use this. The boy's will be in the Mountain Sky and the girl's will be in the Hibiscus (the pink colorway). The Peach Cream--which looks more like a milky coffee color--is for moi. I'm thinking I'll use it for a throw afghan-type thing. Can you believe, I have never ever knitted a throw or an afghan or a baby blanket in my life?

Five Things

Sile tagged me, and although I don't normally do the memes--I figure you've had your fill of my stuff by now--but I got to thinking about blogs.

The thing about writing a blog is that people want to know about you. In normal people-practice, I generally want to know the usual things, you know: Name; City of Residence; Number of Children; Whether You're Good, Bad, Sad or Funny or a Cynic; or if I Want to be a Little Like You, or Lot Like You.

So what's up with the blogging thing? Does the blogging thing do something magical to the writer of the blog so that the readers develop a fascination with what it is they do not say, write or imply?

At any rate. It's the holidays. I'm tired. The you-knows will likely be demanding lamb and truth be told, I wouldn't know the difference between a lamb, a pig, or a chicken when dead and naked.

So, here you go.

I betcha didn't know that I wore a patch on my left eye until I was probably eight years old, and wore contacts at age two. (I think I told you that, so I guess this one doesn't count out of the five).

My father beat the Minnesota Mid-Weight Wrestling Champion in a match, but apparently, the officials weren't looking at the moment. (Oops; that's not about me, so this one doesn't count, either.)

I never went to prom. I wasn't asked, and when I asked someone else; I got turned down. (But you knew that, though.)

When I spin on roller skates, I spin in the wrong direction, (You knew that, too).

I've always been a blonde until I accidentally went brunette and then ended up purple. In a rash move, I shaved my head. This was on my college graduation day, but I will say that the mortar board fit terrifically. (That counts as Number One.)

I have a death wish: The last time I went skiing, I dislocated both my knees when I attempted the splits while going downhill. And, whenever I'm standing up on top a tall building, my feet tingle and I have a sudden urge to fly. (Number Two.)

I've been pregnant with four children. Twins--a girl and a boy--a boy, and a girl. Only one survived. (Number Three.)

My mom's last words to me were: "I'll never forget you." (Number Four.)

When we were kids, my brother once jumped out of the closet to startle me, and I fainted. (Number Five.)

Whew. That was easy.

Oh, and I'm kind of sick about not showing off stuff I'm working on for the you-know. I figure, since readership is slow due to the holidays, I am safe in showing just a tidbit. I've been knitting like crazy and some days when I write this blog, I feel like I'm some sort of a cheat by not sharing what's going on.

You're my friends and my family, after all, and although I think it is sort of nuts that I'm knitting and modeling and the whole blogging thing is semi-surrealistic, that we understand each other...

No Pictures but Lots of Hair

Just three short hours after spending a little time knitting at the LYS and arguing whether the American Male's "I'm-not-Gay-Seat" in the cinema really exists, I had the chance to dine with a friendly neighbor of mine in one of those fondue restaurants.

Other than the fact that the food they put in front of the two us could have fed the city of Houston, I sat in that joint for so long and for so long and for so long that I am no longer in the dark about what they call a "dining experience."

A "Dining Experience" is what the restaurant calls it, and for me, the dining experience is a completely three-dimensional one. First, I'm so full I can barely lay here and type; second, my hair smells of strong, salty court bouillon, and third, the hostess-gal at the front desk somehow recognized me either from the LYS or the blog and showed me her crocheted rectangular doo-dad.

"I just love to knit," she said. "And I'm knitting this for the bartender. Wool Ease. I'm getting a rash from it. Look at my fingers. They're just so red."

"It's lovely; I just love the chocolate and green. It looks like a chocolate minty thingy! You know, one of those restaurant chocolates!" I exclaimed.

"Assshhh--leyyy...That's crochet, you know!" piped in her co-hostess.

And during the meat course, I sat through a colorful description given by my dinner partner about all the hairs on her body that grow in all the wrong places.

(Gosh knows, I suffer from the same affliction, albeit on a smaller scale, and have been known to fish for an errant hair on the chin before a dental appointment, give toe electrolysis a shot, but hey. I'm trying to cut a mushroom and a little tenderloin, here.)

Anyhow. If only I could show off all that I'm working on at the moment. Just know this: I've fallen in love with the New Cotton from Lana Grossa. To die for. If you want to knit with a cotton and microfiber blend that's springy and soft and a nice gauge (and with good yardage), give it a try. I have it in a fuchsia color and although it's for the you-know, I'm having second thoughts about the color and wonder if I should make a sweater for myself with it, instead.

Thing is, I have no time. I have 10 patterns due by 2/1! And I only have one finished! And my you-know's are here! And I have to cook! I have to clean! And what am I doing? (Dusting a new end-table.)

Just kidding about the end-table. I put a hex on it this morning.

EDITED TO ADD: There was an error in the scarf section of the Natty Pattern. I placed an updated pdf on my Free Patterns sidebar!

Living in One Place for Too Long

Anyhow, when I was just turning 30 and doing a zillion sit-ups at the gym during lunch hour one day, a 22-year old boy on the bench next to me said, mid-sit up and with a wink and an asthmatic wheeze: "Do you always work out 90 miles an hour?"

That was the beginning of a two-week romance that ended when the tallish gal with long, curly hair sauntered in, leaned against the wall while waiting for the step class at 7:00 p.m., swung her hair in his direction, and gave him the same wink he gave me a week or so before, while applying a fresh stroke of lip gloss.

At any rate. That boy was taking bartending class while we knew each other and when he came over to my tiny apartment one evening and he asked, "Can I fix you a drink?" I answered with a swerve of the hip: "I'll have a gin and tonic, of course."

"Great! Can I have a spoon so I can stir it?"

Talk about a quick end to the romance.

Fast-forward 13 years. Girlfriend's in "private" preschool three days a week:

One morning a few weeks ago, I'm signing her in and I see HIS name above what must be his daughter's name. HIS name. And it turns out his daughter is in Girlfriend's class. PLUS, it turns out he ended up marrying the cute leaning-gal, but is now in the midst of a divorce, AND, from what Girlfriend's teacher tells me, he has a fifth child (four from his marriage to the the curly haired disco step class taker), a love-child with a lover who has frizz-bomb hair, a skinny bottom, and well, I've spoken to her a few times, and I like her.

I like her a lot.

Do I tell her I know her boyfriend?

And kismet above all kismet's: We're walking out this evening, taking our children home, and she's holding his daughter's hand, and her own son's--the hand of the boy my daughter is in love with, and talks about all the time...

So, she turns to me--the Girlfriend of the two-week Boyfriend says to me--"I overheard you saying to the teacher that you had your in-laws in town?"

"Yes, I do," I say, "but they're in search of snow for skiing, which is good. And you know, that could take a week or more in these parts."

"In-laws," she said. "That is exactly why my boyfriend ended up divorcing his wife."

"...From what I understand, they'd come to visit for a month or two at a time, bring along their three big dogs, and sit and watch football for hours on end. My boyfriend, he likes the football like most guys do, but his asthma acted up like all get out, and the dogs--they just had to go--and the in-laws, they didn't take to the news too well."

On knitting news: The Garter Belt Design team has just released their Winter Newsletter. In it, you'll find three free quickie scarf patterns, as well as the hat and scarf pattern I showed off a few days ago, Natty (pictured above). You'll find a couple articles on holiday and scarf knitting, too.

We are also happy to welcome a new member, Rebecca Hatcher, whose designs have been included in the pages of Knitty. You can download the newsletter and the patterns, here.

P.S. The yarn I used for the hat and scarf WAS on sale at Elann.com for under three bucks a ball. Looks like the sold out...

Le′Slouch

Okay, enough of the pork talk. Let's talk about stuff that really matters: Yarn and knitting. Knitting and yarn, and cool caps.

This is really just a beret, but with a much longer crown. Usually, a beret that isn't slouchy like this one measures just four inches or so. Even three. This one's way extended so it drapes "just so."

I figure this cap will be in fashion for a season, two at the most. So if you really want to make the most of it, use a non-washable wool for the cap. This way, when it loses its cool factor, you can throw the thing in the washer and felt it.

It'll make a heckuva great bowl.

Le′Slouch is here. You can download the free pattern from my Free Pattern side bar. Enjoy!