knit and tonic

Book Signing and Trunk Show on Saturday

I wanted to let you know that I'll be at Anacapa Fine Yarns in Ventura, California on Saturday from 1 - 3:00 p.m. It's a great shop, there's a ton of good yarn, some weaving supplies, and nice people. I hope to see you there!

The Lonely Pursuit (of Doing-it-Yourself-i-Ness)

Dear Diary,

I just got back from running out and getting Girlfriend at summer camp. I threw on some old jeans and although they are ones I consider my "skinny" jeans, they felt pretty good. I flashed a smile of relief at myself in the mirror and got going.

Man, those suckers must have shrunk from the heat in the car. Five minutes into the ride over there, they got so tight around my thighs I could swear they could double as twin tourniquets in a pinch. Or, maybe those compression stockings they put you into after surgery. So much for the "skinny" jeans.

Which makes me say, after the past month or so of stops, starts, stops and more stops, that life can be pretty hard some times. I've been sad, lately. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I've been sad. I don't know when it started, but it has been brewing for awhile.

I think the seed was sown a long time ago, when I realized that I'm sort of an outsider in my circle of friends. Like when I told them that I was going to write a book and I told them what it was about and more than one of them informed me that it was cute that I was so crafty and that "they never knew!" And I know that there are times that I dramatize the whole "you're so crafty!" take that my circle of friends apply to me, but honestly, it does bug me a little. In fact, it bugs me a lot, and that is partially why I no longer keep in touch with a handful of folks. I don't know. On one hand, I'm embarrassed. On the other hand, I think that I've realized we have very little in common, so...

I do have one neighbor friend, though, who I really, really like. Thing is, she takes on odd-jobs from the teacher at her son's school (it is private and the parents are supposed to "assist" in certain activities for a number of hours each school year). She decided that she would help cut out shapes from construction paper for the second grade class, for the second year in a row. The first year she helped, I basically cut the shapes out for her. Why? Because she would take hours and hours to cut three shapes out of one piece of paper and it would drive me nuts watching her on our bi-monthly lunch out. She'd bring them with and I'd watch her struggle while we waited for our sodas. After about five minutes, I grabbed the paper out of her hands, the scissors, and knocked out a stack of papers before the food was served.

I love her; I do. But doesn't anyone use a pair of scissors for anything other than cutting chicken wings anymore? (Wait: No one does that anymore. They buy those pre-cut party wings at the grocery, instead.)

Ugh. Although I have a group of knitting acquaintances and friends, I don't know anyone, anymore, at least close by, who does anything from scratch or even from a box. And make a sock monkey? No way. I did, and I will admit that it's not that great--we took a pic of Girlfriend with hers because his arm was falling off and I had to fix my "handy work,"--but it still felt good to do it.

I feel so lonely these days.

Signed,

"Crafty" Girl in Suburban Southern California.

P.S. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow? I'm going to my friend's to cut out shapes for her. She tells me she'll pay me, but I won't let her. I told her wine and hours in her pool will do fine, thank you very much. BTW: I'm bringing my own pair of scissors that are nice and sharp.

Double P.S. Here is a link to a pre-fab, but not entirely finished sock monkey kit.

Facebook is My Friend, My Confidant, my Advisor.

The hardest part about keeping this blog is that there are times when I want to say what is really going on, or I want to tell my true feelings about something, but I can't. I can't because I've discovered, after a handful of years, that people actually read this thing and I don't want to be called out.

I have had a couple criticisms in the past that once in awhile I don't tell the whole story or I leave a few items of interest out. It's true. I don't always tell all, but come on, I have a personal life, and although I do have a public blog, it is up to me to tell what I tell and to not tell what I don't want to.

But it is killing me.

That said, I will list some truths and some "falses." You can decide what is true or what isn't, and make your own story up. In my little way, I will at least tell some of the story that is killing me to tell you, but at the same time, I will not tell the whole story. Or, at least I can argue that I actually didn't say anything about it. Because I promised not to.

1. I know a woman who claims she has knit for over 12 years but reports that she has yet to purl.
2. Facebook is great for getting in touch with old friends.
3. An un-named individual brought a stinky tuna salad to the LYS and ate it with a plastic spoon. From what I could tell, there were no pickles in it.
4. It's funny how, when you get in touch with an old friend, you are reminded, after about five minutes, why you are no longer friends.
5. Lace is overrated.
6. I have been asked in book/magazine interviews at least three times in the last two weeks what technique I hope to accomplish.
7. In every case I said: "None. It's all knits and purls."
8. I was lying.
9. Friends, if you ever wonder about an old flame for 16 years, know that if you get in touch with him again he's gonna remind you why you broke up with him in the first place. (See #4.)
10. We have had our ups and downs, but HWWV is the best husband a girl could ask for.
11. Why people discuss their knitting needles and the pros and cons of various types is beyond me. Shut up and knit.
12. The other day, one of my sister's friends tried to tell me that he found me attractive, "even though I'm a little older."
13. I had a nice conversation with an ex of mine the other day. We talked for over an hour about old times. It felt great to talk about old times. It did!
14. I wore braces for about 8 years of my life, off and on, and I just finished a fourth stint.
15. I really can't stand those Inox needles.
16. When you finally talk to an ex-boyfriend about old times, it's sort of a relief and it feels great!
17. ...Until he tells you that he had a menage a trois with who you thought was an old friend--and her husband.
18. Knitting is cool.
19. Facebook is great for getting in touch with old friends.

EDITED...to renumber. I think I was typing so fast with this one that I just went willy nilly on the numbering system I thought I understood.

Got Canned Heat in My Heels Tonight, Baby

Listening to Canned Heat, thinking about last night and yarn. Now, I'm sure you're asking me what the heck July Fourth or any poolside holiday can possibly to do with yarn. The answer is: lots. (You know this boogie is for real...)

First, too many people would say that it isn't good to have a bowl of Lay's potato chips poolside, especially with a six-year old nearby. I'll admit, they got pretty wet, and more than a handful got dumped into the pool but the other people at the party sort of looked down at us like we were some kind of nuts, eating chips while in the pool. Would they get soggy? Dirty the pool? Yes and yes, but who the heck cares? They're chips, for gosh sakes, and I'll take them soggy, dirty, or with dog hair (there were a lot of dogs there, like oh, six), as long as I'm chilling in the pool and I don't have to think about working, knitting, or paying bills. (Hey- dance, yeah nothing left for me to do but dance/All these bad times I'm going through just dance,/Hey, got canned heat in my heels tonight baby.)

As for the yarn: Local yarn stores, I know you want to keep that yarn nice and safe, but except for the people who waltz in and stick their noses deep into the skeins or rub them hard on their deeply moisturized and rouged cheeks, you need to make the yarn available for the buyers. Otherwise, how could we visualize it in our homes? How could we visualize all those skeins in our homes that expose the yarn to all manner of dangerousness like potato chip dust or maybe a dog hair or two? Or smoke?

Which reminds me what brought me to this thread of thought. Last night, Dooze, whose home we were at last night, came in from the front where the BBQ was, and I heard her say, while she pointed to each one of her guests:

"So you're having the turkey burger, right?"

"As long as it doesn't touch the beef."

"...and you're having, what? The veggie sausage?"

"Yes, but it has to go on the other side of the grill."

"Cool. And you? You're having the Hebrew National, right?"

"But don't let it touch the cheese."

"Right."

And then the turkey and the veggie sausage and the Hebrew National, after they ate, all went outside for a smoke.

Just sayin'.

(You know that this boogie is for real./Got so much Canned Heat in my heels /Gonna dance, gonna dance my blues away tonight/Whoooooooo!)

Who To Call When a Bug Flies Into Your Ear

I got a frantic phone call from my sister this afternoon. She said that a bug flew into her ear when she was gardening and didn't know what to do. Her husband is in Cabo San Lucas with friends so she didn't know who to ask.

"Oh. This is a "mom call," I said.

"But it flew in and it was buzzing around and it wouldn't come out. So I got a q-tip and stuck it in there and I must have killed it because there is blood. Now, I can't get it out of there. What should I do?"

After we talked for a few minutes and I hung up, Girlfriend asked me why I said that it was a "mom call."

"You know our mom died before you were born, right? She was your grandma. So, now Dooze is all alone and since I'm her big sister, she will call me if a weird thing like a bug flying into her ear happens. Or, she'll call me to find out if it is okay to use a six-month old frozen turkey. For me, since I don't have a mom anymore, I'll call my friend Wilma to ask a question like that. Or I'll call Betty at the yarn shop."

Or, if it is about money, I call my dad, and if he isn't there, I'll call my big brother."

"So if you are gone and daddy is gone, who am I gonna call?"

Ugh. I hate it that she is alone.

My Life is a Seinfeld Episode

Ever since they asked the guy who'd get that Hawaiian carry-out and circle the cardio area whilst eating it to go home, my gym hasn't been the same. I spotted him another time, like a year or two ago, can't remember exactly where or when, but he lit up my day.

Yesterday, I noticed that the gym has been attracting more interesting types again. Finally. I don't know if this was a managerial decision of some sort, but things have gotten more interesting for sure. As an aside, yesterday, I forgot my iPod--something that would have made me turn around and go home in the recent past--but I could tell that I'd be entertained, nonetheless, given the gal on the elliptical next to me, the gal who literally stopped what she was doing and turned to me and stared.

We looked at each other for a minute and she won the staring contest. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I got my Kindle out, started pedaling and reading. She continued to stare. So, I pulled out my Blackberry and texted HWWV. I wrote: "There's this woman on the elliptical next to me. When she saw me get on the bike next to her, she stopped what she was doing and started to stare. She's still staring at me as I type this."

"Maybe she's a knitter," he texted back.

Then, on the other side of me, a woman started to do these crazy arm swoops while she was pedaling. She nearly hit me upside the head, yet the gal on my right didn't even veer from the course of her staring. After 17 minutes of arm swoops on the left and another attempt to stare the gal on the right down, I gave up and got on the treadmill 20 feet away.

She started doing her elliptical again, but every once in awhile, she'd stop to turn around to see if I was still there, on the treadmill behind her.

And no, I'm not some sort of conspiracy theorist or a Paranoid of some sort.

Confession: I finished about 10 patterns for my next book and I think I'm in a funk. After I finished my other book, I did that, but it was about 20 patterns that caused my funk. At least I know that it will pass. In the meantime, I did find some yarn NewHueHandspuns sent me to try out. There was enough of her bamboo/wool blend sock yarn for me to make a simple triangular neck scarf. Here is a pic of it pre-wash. I have to tell you that this is the most charming yarn. It is handspun and Cheryl hand paints the fiber before she spins it, so it turns out multi-colored within the plies and, oy, I'm just not good at describing yarn, but let me just say that the addition of the bamboo gives it a super nice sheen and I LOVE it. This particular colorway is called "Ancient Roses." I could totally see making a much larger wrap out of this sock yarn. I used size 5 needles and did the old "cast on 5 sts, do some yarnovers on the next row and then on every row, k1, yo, and knit to end. Then I threw in the old "once there are three garter rows stacked together, do the old ' k1, yo, k1, *[yo, k2tog] to the end of the row and if it doesn't line up perfectly, just k1 at the end sort of thing' thing until you run out of yarn."

BTW: My staring story reminds me of something HWWV told me awhile back. He is in sales so he is in his car in the city quite a lot. One day, he came home and said, "I was at a stop sign a couple of days ago. While I was waiting for the light to turn, I looked to my right and there was a guy with a paperbag lunch on his lap, sitting on the bench waiting for the bus. Our eyes met, then the light turned green and off I went. So, today, I was in the city again and stopped at a different light. I looked to my right, and the same guy was sitting there, on a bench. Our eyes met, and next thing I know, a smile breaks out and he's waving at me like we were long lost friends."

Casting On Without a Plan

So, this is what happens when I cast on without a plan. Don't get me wrong, it'll all be okay, but the thing is, I couldn't decide how to finish the yoke so I cast on and worked bottom up thinking that if I just knit and knit and knit, that by the time I got there, I'd have a perfect solution.

Thing is, once I got to the underarms and started shaping them I still didn't have a plan.

And I don't have a plan as I type this, either.

(Originally, I wanted to attach a few vertical ruffles along the center of the yoke, but I fiddled with different ways of doing it, including crocheting them on, but it was too fiddly. If the yoke looks short, it is supposed to. The top has an empire waist-ish thing going on.)

As always, I'm open for ideas. And if you're wondering, the yarn is a dk weight cotton called Katia Bombay and I'll use less than two balls for this top for Girlfriend.

BTW: I have had a great response to my de-stashes. I have more to come. I just need a little time to take some more photos...

Stash Dysmorphic Disorder

That's right; I have it. I have it bad. And it's gonna get better very soon, because any of you who still have Stash Dysmorphic Disorder (I will no longer have it in a matter of weeks), can benefit from a good deal and a whole lotta yarn.

Like past de-stashing ativities, I will pass a discount onto you if I got a discount in the beginning. Postage will be included in the price, unless you live outside the U.S. If you do, I'm cool with it, but we'll have to add a little bit of dough for the shipping. I'll put up a handful of yarn at a time so I can keep up with shipping, etc., and still get some work done.

Full Exposure: All yarn has been exposed to children, animals, wheat, dairy, etc.,  although, if it hasn't been on display it has been kept in plastic bags or stuffed in old luggage where no one would be the wiser.

Sale starts soon.

Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

The Old Days and Knitting for Babies

I was sitting in my LYS today and a certain woman across the table from me whipped out a container from a local food store and announced that she did not like cilantro; she did not like it at all. Lucky I saw that coming from far far away, because, nanoseconds before she cracked that sucker open, I leaped from across the table, over the knitting books and piles of magazines, two random baskets of new yarn and whatnot, and saved my purse and knitting projects from the potential spray of rank pickle juice.

That was close. Seriously. It was really close. I should be more like that woman on Golden Girls and never let my purse out of my sight.

Which reminds me: I took your collective word for it and left my purse in my car today when I went into the gym. I left everything in there except for my keys and a towel (I brought my iPod, too). It was all good and it was even better that my car windows are tinted. Otherwise, I'd worry some random thief would want to break in and take my wallet out, or something.

Overall, I felt a lot more springy, a lot more jaunty, there at the gym. More with it, if you will. Until, at least, I was sitting there doing some bicep curls and a young so and so decided to get on the roman chair in front of me with a weight over her neck and do these crazy extensions with her behind in my face. I sat there like the typical guy in front of a TV with any kind of moving picture. Mouth open, unable to function. I could barely squeek out: "Hey babe, get me a sandwich."

That said, I got a baby pattern book the other day, a Vintage baby pattern book called "Vintage Baby Knits." Kristen Rengren wrote the book and had it sent to me. Looking at it brings me back to the days when I first discovered the Erika Knight book, the one whose title escapes me a the moment, but you know what I mean. This one is sort of like it but it contains actual re-renditions, if you will, of vintage patterns for babies and toddlers. There are a couple in there that I could swear I wore when I was little. My mom never knit a stitch. She never crocheted, either. But, her mom and her mom-in-law did. And I'm sure that they knit for me and my brother. I know this because I can see a radiator in my mind's eye with knitted items on them for drying. I can see it all and wow, Kristen's book really brings me back.

So when I mentioned to the ladies at the LYS that I was smitten with this book, one of them reminded me of my pregnacies while I was at the LYS and how they remembered me making baby items and sitting there at the table. I confess I had forgotten about those times, because those weren't the best of times, but one thing I do remember is the way I felt when looking through the baby pattern books and wanting to knit this and that and dreaming about her first tooth or the day she would ride her bike without training wheels.

The Not-So Dying Breed

I just read something somewhere about blogs and how, with Facebook and Twitter and all that crazy mini-blogging going on, that they'll soon be in the trash bin, the virtual trash bin, as it were, and all us bloggers will be left out in the cold with no readers.

Oh well. Since I never looked at my stats except for when I had to do the last two book proposals I am not too worried. I just like writing the words and sending them out there. I love the comments and knowing you readers (LOVE seeing your names in the comments, etc.), but I will confess that if I didn't have the blog I'd be writing the same old stuff onto the back of paper menus or into those little memo books you can get at the five and dime for a penny less than a dollar.

But before you all go off to Facebook, I have to tell you something: I haven't been to the gym in a week or so, which is a long time for me because I was schooled in the 80's by Jane Fonda who started me up with the thong and hopping all around and then, by Linda Hamilton in the 90's, bless her heart, who turned me into a gym rat. So, lastnight, when I was reading another article, this time about how weight training is really the way to go, I remembered my gym rat roots and realized that the last few years I haven't ventured beyond the cardio area and it was about time, dang it, to hit the weights again.

So today, I dragged myself into the weight area of the gym. Feeling jaunty and nodding to the gal who can do a complete workout on the treadmill without even turning it on (she moved to a nice location near a one-way window), I decided it was going to be upper body today and that it was high time I worked the back "muscles" first. I dropped my bag, my bottle and my hoodie onto the floor and did a few sets.

Then, I picked up my bag, my bottle and my hoodie and headed off to the chest press. Oh, I do love the chest press. A few sets, and then I heard my Blackberry bleep from within my bag, I reached in, found it, and then grabbed my glasses, put them on, and read a message. I replied, took off my glasses, dropped them into the bag pocket, and moved to the shoulder press. But not before I picked up my bag, my hoodie, and my drink. Wouldn't want to forget them.

On and on, I moved from station to station and when I heard my Blackberry ding or needed to apply some lip balm or put my glasses on, I had my bag with me and just stuck my hand in and went on from there.

All of a sudden, it hit me like a wild slap in the face: I have become the woman who I swore I'd never be. The woman at the gym who hoists her crap along with her from place to place, refusing to let it out of her sight.

Peace out. See you on Facebook, Twitter, or horrors of all horrors, in the whirpool at my gym with my bag leaning against the wall.

Never Trust a Photo--And the Power of the Shooter

Ten million to one, I bet you would never know that I have an ailing 72-year old husband's uncle living in my house right now. He's alright, he is, but oh man. All the cooking. All the cleaning. All the making of one-sided conversation with someone who doesn't hear real well.

To boot, last night, he told me that my house was immaculate. I was excited that he said that until I noticed he had his pants on backwards.

And tonight, we took some pics of a new Yogini Bolero I just finished. My husband's uncle took one look at them and declared that the girl in the photos wasn't me.

At least he's honest. I don't recognize myself, either.

This is what happens when your husband is a professional photographer. He makes you look good. And in this case, he made me look a heck of a lot better than I do in real life.

So here is what I really look like:

BTW: I finally decided what to do with that Loop-d-Loop Quartz. I rarely knit something more than once. But as I swatched and swatched and tried to decide what is best for this yarn, I realized that it is perfect to use it for something that I wear often. Not a scarf, a shawl, or a garment that gets used only once in awhile, because this yarn drapes perfectly. And since I actually do wear my Yogini Bolero often, I decided that this yarn should be just that. The metallic that they talk about in the description isn't all that sparkly. It just adds a bit of shine. But, the fabric it makes is sooo nice, I can hardly tell you how nice except to say that if you are in the mood for the best summer yarn, this is it. (Especially if you don't normally like linen or hemp because this is way softer.)

BBTW: When I put these sunglasses on after a couple of years in hiatus, I wondered why everything was so clear. Turns out, they were prescription lenses and I had forgotten about it.