Winter Is Coming

Or so the voice of Sean Bean as Ned Stark that currently seems to be living inside my head tells me. And surely someday, hopefully?

As imaginary Ned intoning dramatically has got me to finally pick up the needles again I won't look to hard at what having an imaginary Ned might say about my mental health. Yes, take encouragement where I can find it, that's me.

Have finally finished the purple sweater vest. Well, sort of. I'm not too happy with the applied i-cord edging, the bottom still rolls up a little. So, at some point I'll rip that out and go for some ribbing magic. I just couldn't face it straight away, it had already killed any yay finished buzz I might have had and I didn't want to look at it any more.

I would let you look at it, but it looks stupid when it's not on me and on me it shows off my panza. And I'll do many things, but putting my belly on display for all of the internet is just not one of them.

Instead of actually finishing said vest I cast on for my second ever sweat. It'll have sleeves and everything! Very exciting.

Also, it's a pretty warm gray which means that when winter does get here (imaginary Ned would never lie to me, right?) I'll be wearing the hell out of it.



The pattern is Gavotte, the yarn Caron Spa, their bamboo blend. Definitely can't beat it for the price and I wish my lamp light didn't photograph so yellow so you could see this color properly. So in love with it. As for the pattern, I'm pretty in love with that too. To the point where I'm giving serious thought to making it again straight away out of wool for the three days of actual cold weather, not just what central Texas calls cold weather.

I'm also trying to keep a pair of socks on the needle, but it seems the world has other ideas. First, I was all set to cast on right before my trip to Vegas* when it dawned on me that as a person of brownness, taking the sometimes ok sometimes not knitting needles through security would lead to me in Guantanamo. Mostly because I'd be a giant jerk about it.

I packed them with me, but I really don't know when I thought I was going to knit while in Vegas. I'm not entirely sure I actually slept and as someone who would medal if sleeping were an Olympic event that's seriously saying something.

Got home, started making pretty good progress on the first when one of the needles mysteriously snapped. I really don't know what happened. My best theory is that somehow it's structural integrity was weakened after being x-rayed, pawed by the TSA and then subject to rapid air pressure changes. Or it got knocked around a little too much while in the checked luggage. Something.

I do have a spare set but they're just a touch too short for me to use comfortably. The very pokey tips, which I would usually adore, dig quite irritatingly into my palm. Of course, this means a trip to the yarn store tomorrow and that's something I'll never ever complain about.

The current set of fosters (the furry piranhas of the last post, now returned from the babysitter) think they've discovered heaven with all this yarn out and about. But I've discovered that if I put them in the hood of my sweatshirt they'll happily play with my hair/bandana instead.



It gets a little tricky if I try to wedge all three in there.

* Oh yeah, I went to Vegas. It was Vegas-y and I really don't know what else to say about it. Other than my feet are all busted because of an unfortunate shoe choice (ballet flats! I thought I was being sensible!) and while I very much appreciate the bosses putting us up in the Venetian (oh so swank!) if I ever hear another song from Phantom of the Opera, which they had on loop, my head will actually explode. And it's a damn good thing there's not a Sugar Factory here because I could seriously spend all of my money there and never eat another vegetable in my life.

Patronized

A while ago I told you about a series of drawings I did inspired by Dia de Los Muertos ofrendas, including a skeletal St. Catherine of Bologna. I always meant to come back and do more skeleton saints and apparently to make that happen I needed someone to say, 'I want that and two more like it and in exchange I'll give you dollars.'
Of course, said benefactor is a family member and while I know in my head he's just being a nice guy, I'm not going to look at it too hard. Also, if he'd asked for anything else, anything but colored pencil, I'd have given him the usual family discount of, 'take it, it's just cluttering up my house and one of the cats might wee on it.'
But as these things take forever and absolutely wreck me physically (went for a massage after finishing one and was promptly scolded for all the weird noises my bones and tendons were making really take a break and stretch out ever, god, what is that you're arm is doing, that doesn't even make sense) so I'm not really feeling the guilt of charging a relative. Also, we come back to he's being a nice guy and I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
As I'm playacting at being professional, I decided that I will mat and frame them. Which seems an excellent yet relatively simple idea, but I didn't really leave enough room for matting on St. Catherine and so I've had to redo her. Along with coming up with two more pieces. Way to go, self.
At ny rate, here's is St. Catherine v. 2:

Unfortunately, I'd don't like it as much as the first. I had some human faces, how do they work problems. The Boyfriend pointed out that they usually have skin, which was about as helpful as it sounds.
Up next was St. Luke:

Or, 'cross-dressing Ghandi in a Hello Kitty not wearing a windsor.' Which translates from the original Boyfriend to 'looks a bit like Ghandi, but he has a red smudge on his forehead, in a reliquary and he's not wearing a wimple because he wasn't a nun.'
I've currently sketched out the frame for the third but am stumped on which saint to do. I initially wanted to do St. Anthony but Pater pointed out a painting of St. Agnes in his Lives of the Saints book. She's typically depicted carrying a lamb, and a skeleton lamb tickles me greatly.
All of these were / are being done with Prismacolor colored pencils, which are notorious for their easily breakable leads. And it's not just the bit that pokes out of the wood, oh no, the leads will and do break inside the pencil leading to many frustrated attempts at sharpening which end with a lovely point that promptly falls out of the barrel.


Cue fit throwing.
I'm doing two things to help minimize the frustration. One, I'm making perhaps the longest pencil roll ever to keep them from rattling around and suffering indignities as the pretty tin they come in isn't so great at actually, you know, holding them. This won't magically piece back together what's already been broken, but I can at least now pack them up in a bag without having seventeen heart attacks every time they're jostled.
Two, I've ordered a new set. I've heard of people having better luck ordering sets from the internet than picking them up at a brick and mortar as far as internal breakage is concerned so I'm testing this theory out. That their largest set now comes in 132 colors is what finally tipped me over into switching my current collection to traveling mode. 132 colors! I can hardly imagine. Also purchased, two fancy pants pencil cases that I've heard wonderful things about as far as providing the coddling these pencils require.
Sensible!resa knows that she just ought to use her perfectly serviceable 72 colored pencils to finish this project up but waiting until I have 132 colors at my disposal is so tempting. I'm going to be coloring all the things when it gets here. It's a coloring party at my house.

68

That's how many days we've had 100+ temps here. Today's going to be the 69th, tying us with the previous record of oh god I don't care about historical tidbits. I don't care how many records we're breaking and while I do care about climate change intellectually, right now all I can think about is the minor miracle that is lying on the tile floor in my drawers.

Seriously, this floor was the best decision we ever could have made.

I've actually hit the point where I'm happy about hurricane season. Which makes me feel like a terrible person because hurricanes aren't exactly a good time, but if a hurricane is what breaks this heat wave I'm seriously considering getting its name tattooed on my butt.

As a result of living on the surface of Mercury, I've given up on dressing myself. Being a hermit has the advantage of allowing me to lie on the floor in my underpants most of the time but I do still occasionally have to leave the house. While I'm sure most of us would prefer to go out as close to nekkid as possible (shoes would be the obvious requirement) it's still one of those frowned upon behaviors.

I hit upon a solution pretty early on in this summer of death - cotton dresses. The breezier the better. I had to expend just enough effort to pull something overly head, it was as cool as I could get and I would look like I still kind of tried.

Unfortunately, pretty much every single store I tried had other ideas. Oh, there were so called summer sun dresses a plenty, but every damn one of them had some sort of polyester lining. And it seemed the cuter the dress the cheaper and nastier feeling the lining.

I gave in and bought one that had said polyester lining and felt like I was walking around wrapped in a garbage bag. At least I was going to a movie where the air conditioner was guaranteed to be set to morgue.

I briefly gave up my quest for perfect cotton sacks and set to suffer through doing laundry every day so that I could recycle my limited ohgodhot wardrobe as much as possible.

Then it dawned on me. I ostensibly knew how to use a sewing machine and I still had a drawer full of patterns bought throughout the years every time I decided no really, this time I'm making myself some cute clothes.

So I shamelessly stole Maters machine after she kindly gave me a box full of fabric from a friend cleaning out her stash and attempted this sewing business.

Figuring I needed to get my sewing legs back under me, since I hadn't touched the machine since making last year's Halloween costume I went with the tried and true project of sew some rectangles together, pop in an elastic and voila skirt!

And while it did take me 45 minutes just to thread the damn machine I did end up with a skirt. So, yay.



Cotton sacks here I come!

Found a simple shift dress pattern went to town and produced a dress from start to finish that, while not exactly the best example of a dress, is comfortable and breathable and I made it my damn self.



I figure that as long as I'm ok with the wonky seams here and one strap being wider than the other, I might as well make a more complicated imperfect dress.

So I can learn things. Or something.



Hopefully I can continue to increase my collection of cotton sacks and continue to avoid being arrested for public nekkidness until fall gets here. Which it had damn well better soon.

Finally

I try not to keep too many projects on the needles at once mostly because, like a Skinner pigeon, the positive reinforcement of a completed object keeps me pressing the lever. I mean knitting. Or something. Well, that simile got away from me.

Usually socks are my go to quick project to keep me chugging along on the longer stuff. But the pair that I'm currently working on, while not particularly difficult, are taking forever. I'm looking forward to having the finished pair, but for whatever reason I'm just not feeling working on them. I've been carrying around the yarn and needles to start the second of the pair but it hasn't happened yet.

Soooo taaaallll.

Here's the first of the two. I think next time I make socks they'll be super plain stockinette anklets, because blarrrrgh.

Another thing I'm still working on is that purple sweater vest I started ages ago. It got put away during the renovations and I've recently pulled it out again. The stitch pattern is simple enough that it should be a relatively mindless tv-watching-project, but since I'm not following a pattern, or drafting one so much as making it up as I go along it's making me think morer than I'm comfortable with.

What can I say, thinking is hard. In happier news, I finally managed to take a photo that's relatively true to the pretty pretty color:

Definitely not a neutral.

I picked up a couple of skeins of a super bulky novelty yarn on a whim yesterday and, despite really wanting to finish up what I've been working on, cast on for a scarf immediately.

The original plan was to make a little triangular kerchief but it just didn't hang right with the weight of the yarn, so a regular old rectangle it was. I'd like to try again for the kerchief in a more appropriate yarn with the same stitch pattern.




Since the 'novelty' part of the yarn didn't show up in that photo have another.

Tiny sequins yay!

The elongated stitches helped move it along pretty quickly and two Harry Potter movies later I was all set for a winter that, in the midst of months of 100+ temperatures, I'm pretty sure will never show up.

Living in an almost literal lake of fire isn't exactly conducive to a knitting habit, but damn I try anyway.

Being able to knock out a scarf in one evening, almost twice if you count the original triangle satisfied my need for finished project warm fuzzies and I've gone back to plugging away at that vest. Once I get that done, I've got a sweater's worth of yarn in a pretty warm gray (back to neutrals, no one is shocked) that's calling my name.

Maybe I'll get a pair of socks at some point in there too.

AMAZING

Top down sweaters that I can try on as I make them have changed my knitting life, I can't even.

I've already admitted that I don't make sweaters because they confuse me and take too long and I forget about them and all of the other reasons that I use to rationalize my laziness. I say that while wearing my ill fitting sweater beast that was supposed to be a Mrs. Darcy Cardigan, which is about to lose it's coveted spot as the coziest damn thing I've ever made.

While packing up all my stuff for the renovations I found yarn that had been squirreled away in the monkey box that Mater bought for me the first time I went knitting nutty. Which was years ago, and it was way past time for me to do something with it.

Does not contain actual monkeys.  Does contain wonder.

First up was the now discontinued Skacel Contrasto, a silk nylon blend in a taupe color.

I figured I only had enough for a sweater vest (something that's always been on the list of things I should make but hadn't gotten around to), found the Bramblewood Vest and went to town.

Well, after making gauge swatches because I have finally learned.

I assumed this was going to fall prey to the usual downfall of all my crafty projects that I can't finish in one sitting, namely, I'd forget about and start something new and shiny. But no! I actually sat down and worked on it almost constantly, mostly because every time I could try it on I got all excited and it was awesome again - pushing me through the, 'god, will the stockinette ever end?' phase.

So, here's the obligatory super classy bathroom mirror shot:


I turned it into a v-neck, omitted the back cable and decreased for the waist rather than go down a needle size as per the pattern.

And I'm so in love with it, it's a little sad. If I could wear this every day I would, but it's April in Texas so not so much.

Since I can't wear it every day and admire my handiwork, I've dived into another sweater vest. Because clearly, one could never be enough for someone who wears as many button-down shirts as I do.

The monkey box provided some Debbie Bliss Alpaca Silk, the Vogue Stitchionary provided a dimpled stitch pattern and all I had to do was provide the magic sweater math. Since I've successfully knit two garments that fit as they should I'm clearly some sort of sweater master. A veritable Obi-Wan Knitobi.

If I'd stopped to think about my history with any sort of math, let alone magic math I'd have realized that perhaps the above list of assembled ingredients for the alchemy of sweater design was lacking a critical component. After some pretty pathetic attempts to extrapolate how many stitches I needed to cast on in order to cover me but not drown me in alpacasilky goodness were less than successful I went with the tried but certainly not always true method of 'eh, that looks about right.'

So far I seem to be doing all right, even if it's verging on sausage casing territory. The promising news is that it looks as though I may have enough for short sleeves, so that I don't have to wear it over a shirt. Which would be a definite plus because as close fitting as it is, layering might not work out so well for me.

And as the yarn was a gift from Mater it is an actual color.  An egg-planty purple which is refusing to be captured by the iPhone camera and The Boyfriend has absconded with the real one.  But if it fits (which, my god it had better, because really) I will wear it to pieces*.  Once December rolls around, naturally.


*I may mean pieces literally, unfortunately.  While the yarn is ridiculously lovely right now, all soft and shiny, I'm afraid that said softness may lead to a sweater that's covered in fuzz and pills after a wearing..  We will see.  I may go ahead and invest in a heavy duty sweater shaver right now because oooh, it's so soft..  It's gonna be mad cozy.

Skill + 1UP

And it's day two of blog week (2KCBWDAY2) and the prompt is:

Look back over your last year of projects and compare where you are in terms of skill and knowledge of your craft to this time last year. Have you learned any new skills or forms of knitting/crochet (can you crochet cable stitches now where you didn’t even know such things existed last year? Have you recently put a foot in the tiled world of entrelac? Had you even picked up a pair of needles or crochet hook this time last year?

 Hmm.  I rather wish I was better at keeping note of what I've made so that I could do a proper job of this prompt.  Frankly, I'm probably more curious about the answer than anyone else.

Pater's hat that I gave him for Christmas was both the first bit of stranded color work I did in the round and managed to keep even tension with so it didn't pucker and look strange.  Here's Pater's hat, what you can see of it because he liked it pushed back on his head:

I also bought a copy of Custom Knits by Wendy Bernard which has know convinced me that I can make sweaters that actually fit me in the way they're meant.  I haven't shown you a finished picture of Slinky Ribs (Ravelry link) here on the blog yet because it's still technically unfinished.  I still have the sleeves to do.  But, I know it fits and fits well because I might have worn it as a vest once or twice.

Ahem.

I've also learned quite a bit about shaping knitting when it comes to making toys.  I got the hang of making various geometric shapes (like Cezanne, I see toys as basic geometric solids that simply need to be put together in the correct way) and so have gone from Monkey Mark I, who I made after quite a few improvements when it came to thinking three dimensionally in knitting, I should add:

to the more appealing Monkey Mark IV (it was apparently quite the learning curve):

On the crochet front, I've finally jumped on board with granny squares.  It's not that I didn't like them, it was that it took quite a while to power through my mental block about crochet.

My great aunt made me this granny square afghan out of bits and bobs and it's one of my most treasured possessions.

Now, once I'd thought I'd gotten the hang of crochet one of the first things I did was make a basic granny square, so I can't say that this is much of a step up.  It just took me a while to get there.  But I think that I finally understand granny squares, enough that I can stop following patterns to the letter.  Now, I don't want to say that I've come up with an all new afghan block, I used motifs from several existing squares to get where I am now.

Unfortunately, all the finished squares have been packed up because of the impending new floors, but I can show the center of one of the squares:

Sorry about the dark photo, the red was making my camera have a nutty under the lamp.

If you could just imagine the usual granny square dc 'shells' in white around it until its about seven inches, then a black sc border, I'd appreciate it.

And that's all I can think of.  Aside from learning that I should use the project notebook on Ravelry more frequently because I like the time capsule into my crafting that it provides.  But as that's a lesson I didn't learn until today I don't think it should count.

Renovations at Casa del Asterismos

The need for home improvements is quickly becoming more and more desperate. Unfortunately, there are few things I hate more than home improvement.

I know I should try and see the fun in it. I mean, we're completely redoing the downstairs - there are loads of decisions to be made that shouldn't be tedious and frustrating, but I guess I'm just not wired in whatever way it is that makes one have an opinion on whether how much I like the color of one tile outweighs how much I like the texture of the other.

I wish I was, it honestly seems like a good time when Martha Stewart does it on television.

But! The tile has been chosen. A scheme has been made. It would help greatly if the packing was done which is of course mostly my stuff since The Boyfriend is a responsible adult who can take care of his shizz. Well, there's also the heavy furniture but the floor guys will apparently help with that. Except fish tanks. They won't touch fish tanks. Which means that we've got the fifty-five gallon to try and heave somewhere. The very idea of trying to shift that behemoth makes my brain itch. At least The Boyfriend already took care of the twenty and thirty gallon tanks.

We painted swatches of possible paint colors last night which was probably the most fun I've had with this whole mess so far. Unsurprisingly I got a bit silly with it. To be fair, The Boyfriend started it. Here's what we initially came up with:


Now, for the last few years that I've lived here I've always thought that the walls were maybe one shade away from institutional white but clearly I was mistaken.

I'm not crazy about sticking to white but whoever the dweeb that designed this house was, he was definitely a big believer in the 'open plan.' Which basically means that I have no rooms or even clear delineations of rooms. So the entire first floor of the house? One color. And about half of the second floor. Thank god he believed in something as conventional as doors for the bedrooms other wise I don't even know.

I pitched the idea of declaring arbitrary lines so that I could have my cheery yellow kitchen and my blue living room and my orange entryway, but The Boyfriend was less than impressed. Apparently arbitrary lines would bug him. As well as he, for some reason, has the idea that using color in home decorating is trendy.

No, I don't know where he came up with that either.

At any rate, after being less than impressed with our collection of off whites we went and picked up more samples today. Don't get too excited, they're still safely in the land of neutral, but I think the winner's going to be the one most likely to be called a color.

A million years ago I promised you silly swatches. So here we go:


The Boyfriend did the house, I added the legless robot. Today we were more boring - the 'Y' is for 'yellow.'


And then the wall of punctuation marks.

The darkest color on the far right (the colon) I think is gonna be the one. Fingers crossed it doesn't look terrible tomorrow once sunlight hits it.

Making Plans

Every year I buy a planner/date book/ diary/ agenda/ what have you and compulsively mark everyone's birthdays with stickers, make up elaborate color codes and all sorts of nerdy nonsense in a desperate bid to be the least bit organized.  And when I remember to a) have my date book with me at all times so that I can actually write in it and b) remember to check it, at all, ever it's a very useful thing.  But neither a nor b happens on the regular.  No one is shocked.

Apparently what I needed to do was write down in last years planner to buy a new one for this year.  At least then I'd have a chance of remembering before the pickings got slim.  Something tells me it's wrong to for a voting adult to have a Justin Bieber Homework Planner.*  And I definitely need one, even if I'm not the best at using it.  If only for hair cut appointments.  Speaking of Bieber, these bangs are out of control.  It's ok, I wasn't too attached to seeing or anything, but I seem to be doing my best to grow a femmullet and that is very much not ok.  Curly hair doesn't lend itself to DIY haircuts, but I'm about to give it a go anyway.

No matter how stupid it looks, it's better than a mullet.

Back to the point: planners!  I have had a nutty but possibly brilliant idea.  I have a spare pocket sized note book.  I have a ruler.  Onward, to making my own date book.  Maybe.  Because while making my own would spare me the embarrassment of pulling out my Team Jacob ♥ planner in front of other people, this may be a project too anal retentive even for me.

Thus far I've made it mostly through most of March without setting it on fire out of boredom and frustration.  Though I have killed a pen.  To be fair, it was probably on it's last legs, but still.  At any rate, the exciting bits aren't the lines and my awful printing.  No, the exciting bits are that at the beginning of each month I've done a doodle.  Well, so far I just have January:

I have decided that if I can manage to finish it this year (April will have to wait until I find a replacement pen.  I know I have another package around here somewhere.) that next year I ought to use a sturdier notebook.  Because the paper in this one is so thin media choice is pretty limited.

I'll be sure to pencil that in toward the end of December.  Or at least on one of the blank pages after March.

*A Justin Timberlake Homework Planner on the other hand.... I can't pretend that I wouldn't spend good money on that because heeeee.

Linoleum - Not Just For Floors

I had initially thought that I'd do a water color painting for the one holiday card that I'm sure to send (thanks again to Susie at Useless Beauty Designs for hosting the swap!) but I made the mistake of telling people that I'd be making this card for my swap partner.

And now other people want one.  People that like to think that I care about them and think that a small little something in the mail would be such a lovely way of expressing that, don't you think, and really if you're already making one....

Crap.

The thing is, despite my whining, I would very much like to be the with-it, have my stuff together sort of adult who can manage to send out a few holiday cards.  After all, these people are my friends and I really do like them, and enjoy making things for them.  It really shouldn't be such a burden.  And yet every year I put it off again and again until I realize that it's January and hey, maybe I should make a resolution of it.  Not that I ever keep the rest of them.*

This year I'm determined.  I will make holiday cards, I will send them out before the end of December and I will be a with-it, have my stuff together sort of adult.  In this one aspect, at least.

But I'm certainly not doing an individual painting on each of them, because if being an adult means giving up on being completely lazy then I want no part of it.

Having prints done would be the obvious solution, but that's one more step between making the cards and sending the cards which ups the chances that I'll be sitting here January 3rd, look over and see the painting and then hit my head repeatedly on the table for once again being a failure.  As this would likely cause brain damage and I really don't need that I've opted to go the linoleum print route.  Print making in the comfort of my stretch pants!  I really couldn't ask for anything better.

Of course, I haven't done linoleum carving in about ten years but really.  It's like riding a bike, I'm sure.**

Firstly, the image.  For this one, I chose a simple armadillo motif and copied him (a wee bit smaller) onto a piece of paper.  Through the magic of technology you can of course re-size your chosen image (if you're not winging it) as you see fit but again with the lazy, so I didn't.

Armadillo!

I feel I should point out that he is rather tiny and not for the cards so much as an attempt to remember how the hell this works.

Onward.  I've gone over my pencil lines to make sure they're nice and dark so that they'll transfer.  Image goes onto the linoleum block and with a good rub there should now be an armadillo on the block.  Now, I've never been able to have a nice clean transfer though I hear some people can manage it.  But even if it comes out like this:

A little less armadillo-y.

Never fear.  Filling in the gaps is quick work.

Much better.

And now the carving.  I usually do the big bits, then come in with my smallest blade to do the detail work. Also, slowly and gently, cutting away a little bit at a time because like with a lot of things taking away is easier than adding.  Since I want the background white here, I spent an extra bit of time with the largest blade cutting away the block until the background was well below the central image.

Not pictured: the fit I had when I nicked his ear.

Note to self: dots are way harder than you remembered.  Should probably avoid those in the future.

And now I give it a test run.  Ink up the brayer (thinner is better, here.  Gloopy brayers are no one's friend) and give it a roll onto the carving.  I've never been good at placing the paper down on the block, so I cheat and put the block onto the paper and flip it over.  This has ended badly before, but it didn't this time so I think I'll continue with my bad habits.

This time around, since Mr. Armadillo is about an inch and a half square and I was using a spare bit of rice paper for extra absorbency I was able to get away with just using my thumb to rub the paper onto the block.  Sometimes this will work, most of the time it won't.  There's a fancy tool for this called a baren, but I usually use the bottom of a glass.  Fancy tools are for sissies!  Or possibly professionals. 

Lift up the paper to check it out:

Two!  Two armadillos, ahahaha.

Some of the detail work was lost (spots!  Damn you for being difficult) and I missed a few ridges on the back ground.  So, the stamp gets rinsed off, and I get back to carving.

Round two:

Spots, why you gotta hate?

He could be better, but for a first run I think I'm satisfied.  I've learned my lesson about spots and I think when I'm working on a larger scale it'll be a little easier.  At the very least I'll worry less about slipping with the cutter and taking a gouge of finger instead of linoleum.  Of course now that I've said that....

*  'Become coy sex kitten' has been on the top of my resolution list for about 7 years now.  Mater, don't make that face, it really means cut back on the excessive flailing and not talk at length about Doctor Who at fancy grown-up parties.  Possibly learn ballroom dance and brush my hair on a regular basis.

**  I've never managed to learn how to ride a bike, all attempts have ended in tragedy and bodily harm.  So, I rather hope it's not anything like that.

Heh, filled.

I was once having a conversation with a good friend about our respective cases of ennui.  Unfortunately, another person was a part of this conversation.  I know that sounds awful but the meaning of that statement will become clear, I promise.

So, we're riffing off of each other, adding various activities to the list of things for which we can simply find no inspiration.

Painting (her)
Drawing (me.  I've always been absolutely crap at painting.)
School work (her.  As you can see this conversation took place a few years ago.)
Making supposedly clever comics about my life (me.  I was never a very good student.)
Writing (her)

Yes, writing!  I agreed.  I so enjoy the physical act of writing- I'm not so much an author as I am a graphomaniac.  I couldn't care less what it is that I'm actually writing on the page, there is a profound joy in putting a well-balanced pen to well-made paper for me.  She didn't agree with this notion, being an actual Proper Writer, she didn't care if she was using a ten cent Bic on a napkin, but we could both commiserate on the drying up of the well of inspiration in regards to a mutual hobby.  Even if we came at it from very different viewpoints.

It was at this point that the third party made a rather lovely statement about not waiting for inspiration, about seeking new experiences to defeat this languishing boredom that was more than boredom.  Unfortunately, he ended his point with the statement, "If you're not fulfilled now then you just need to go out and get filled."

Personality tidbit:  I have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.  It's one of those things I was hoping I'd grow out of, but I think at this point it's safe to say that if I haven't by now I won't.  So, of course, the only thing I took away from the conversation was, 'heeeee, need to get filled.  That could possibly be referring to sex and that titillates me.  Heeeee, titillate.'

The point of this story is to talk about NaNoWriMo.  I've been participating in NaNo for seven years now with varied success, if you measure it by the usual metric of writing 50,000 words.  And I have to admit, I feel a bit like an impostor.  Because I still throw my hat into the novel in a month ring for two reasons: 1) the physical act of writing is so satisfying 2) my local group is comprised of lovely people and I enjoy seeing them.  The majority of people I know who participate are actual Proper Writers that have a story to tell.  I have long since let go of the delusion that I am a Proper Writer.

If I were saying this in front of my parents Pater would interject at this point to say that I'm a very good writer (despite not reading any of my fiction since I was about twelve) and Mater would say, 'I think your blog is funny.'  Bless.

NaNo's been a bit different for me this year (as much of it as there's been.)  I'm returning to a world I established in a previous NaNo novel.  I would call it a sequel, but I think I ought to finish the first one before I go saying it's a series.  And while I've struggled in years past to come up with something to fill the page, this year is like coming home.  I've been able to produce more words (not readable words, mind you, refer to the part where I said I was a pretty crap author.) than ever in the amount of time that I've had.  Writing this story is like coming home.  I already know who everyone is and what it is they're meant to be doing.  It's a bit like fanfic.  Yeah, I said it.

I wish that someone who made it a habit of writing stories that spanned multiple novels had told me how fun this is.  Of course, maybe Proper Writers don't think that continuing the story they have to tell is at all easy.  I don't know.  But I hope the momentum keeps up.  At this rate I may actually have a completed story by the end of the month as opposed to hitting my word count and saying 'well, fuck off then,' to the plot that had been sustaining me through thirty glorious days of writing*.  Maybe then I might have a work of fiction that, with a serious amount of editing, might be called decent.  It's been a while.  Since I was, oh, about twelve.

So this post isn't all ramblings about the ~creative process~ have a picture of the notebook I've been using this month.  I think it's super cute, even if they are Royal typewriters.  My Underwood would be so offended if it were, you know, sentient and capable of caring.

Color capture fail!

 While I'm at it, I cannot recommend the Lamy Al-Star enough, even if you aren't a fountain pen enthusiast.  It's all right if you aren't, I may not understand but I've come to realize that not getting giddy every time a new pen catalog comes in the mail is the normal state of being.  I bought one a few years ago to use as an everyday knockabout pen that I could keep in my purse without worrying about it being damaged and I haven't been disappointed.  It's an easy and reliable writer, though the medium nib can be a bit wet with some inks.  Currently using the fine nib with Private Reserves' Chocolat and it's delightful.  A combination I come back to again and again.

Right.  I'd better get back to the so-called novel.  I want to hit 18k before heading to bed.


*It feels strange saying this because November is generally a month of endless whining.  My story isn't going anywhere.  My characters are stupid and I want them to die, but then I won't hit my word count.  I say I don't care about the plot, but maybe if I cared a little less I wouldn't be plagued with writers' block nearly as often.

Getting WIPed*

I have a tendency to obsessively throw myself into a new interest- living, eating and breathing whatever has currently caught my attention.  Sometimes the interest lasts (like pen and ink drawing, knitting, politics and activism, baking) but usually I'm quickly bored and forget that I was so desperate to learn everything I could and spend all of my time with whatever it was that intrigued me.  Like scrap booking, bead loom bracelets, watercolor, Russian, swing dancing, linoleum print making, embroidery, nearly every thing I studied in college, college in general, now that I think of it.... All of these were abandoned, and I have the half finished projects to prove it.

I mention this because I think my histamine response is the same way.  While the ragweed pollen is still in the air, my allergies seem to have petered out.  After the initial punch in the face, my immune system has decided it's bored now and is letting me live my life like a normal person again.  So, hurrah.

As a result my brain seems to have come back (not being totally zonked out on Benadryl probably helps) and I have an attention span again.  Which means I've actually been able to do something more productive with my time than watching Law and Order reruns and folding Kleenex into decorative shapes before stuffing it up my nose.

I've spent the last couple of evenings at my parents' to use Mater's sewing machine and have her hand hold me through my first ever pattern.  It was initially supposed to be for the epic Halloween costume of nerdiness, but after cutting out the pattern pieces Mater announced that it's construction would look stupid in the fabric we picked out.  We decided to give it a test run just in case, and rather than use plain muslin we raided her stash and picked out something that had enough yardage.  Which is how I came to be making the most hilarious dress ever.

Actual pattern pieces!  Also, I hate pinning.

Pinning can go right to hell if you ask me.  I understand the necessity, but my fingers definitely spent a good amount of time being quite hurty.  Maybe if I was a little less useless at doing it I wouldn't hate it so much, but here we are.  Also, ow.

Here's the half finished dress:

I'm holding the dress up, not doing the chicken dance, promise.

I know, the '80s have thrown up all over me.  It's awesome.  And it's vintage, which proves that I can't hop on board with the current resurgence of '80s fashion even if I wanted to because I was there the first time.  I'm just a little sad that I don't think I can ever really wear this because it is so outside my comfort zone even though the dress itself would be quite flattering.  But happily, we found another heap of fabric in Mater's stash that is within my comfort zone, so I'll be returning to this pattern and making a dress that I'll wear more than once.

Since Halloween is fast approaching the '80s dress of fluorescence is being put on hold so that I can actually have something to wear.  Went and bought a new pattern today and rather than actually work on it I ate my weight in pizza, watched Univision's coverage of the Chilean miners' rescue and played with my niece.  After several hours at my parents' I have this to show for myself:

I am a paper cutting champion.

I've also been working on a sweater for myself.

It's very pink.  I may dye it.  Because color freaks me right out.

Even though I have a veritable heap of things to be done for holiday gifts.  Progress is slow because of both the kittens refusing to not try and kill my wiggling needles and yarn and surprise moth damage necessitating me splicing every other row or so.

Yes, moths.  The majority of my yarn stash is in zipped plastic bags, so I'm not terribly concerned, but I have a large box of wool that was given to me by a friend that is unprotected.  The yarn I'm currently using came from that box, so I just know that there's an even larger tragedy lurking in it's depths.

I have a hard time being too concerned about not finishing knits for other people because, if I continue with my usual habit, I'll think it's too boring to look at in a few days and leave it abandoned for at least a few months.  Wait, this sounds familiar....

*Title courtesy of the Boyfriend.  Because, hee.

Next on Hoarders

I once again have an overwhelming urge to have a dedicated studio space.  There are a few problems with this.  The best room for me to use is the guest bedroom.  In fact, it currently has a bunch of my art supplies, a folding table acting as a desk and the broken sewing machine from the last time I decided that I would use it as a studio.  Aside from the so called useful things, like a bed, desk and night stands it's also crammed with an ungodly amount of crap that's accumulated over the years.  Because the Boyfriend and I are both packrats with no real organizational skills.  One a scale of one to exploded meth lab it's about at 'livable crack den.'

That's an unholy amount of stuff.

I can't blame you for judging me for my serious lack of housekeeping skills.  I will ask you not to tell me about how much of an unbelievable slob I am, I'm very sensitive.  So, going through it all, throwing things out (always so difficult for me- what if I need those half finished notebooks at some point?) and organizing the things that remain more effectively than my current system of 'stacks of semi-related stuff' will be more than slightly challenging.

Aside from the desperately overdue spring cleaning there's a problem with the room itself.  The reason why it didn't work out as a studio the first time and therefore became a repository for boxes of random crap and unused furniture is because I find the large picture window incredibly creepy.

As an incurable night owl, I do most of my work at night.  But I'm afraid of the dark.  Especially dark windows.  Especially this window:

HATE

A few years ago the Boyfriend and I redid the floors in the guest bedroom and gave it a much needed fresh coat of paint.  One night I was in there by myself painting trim with the window open to keep from getting too high from the fumes.  Unbeknownst to me, the Boyfriend's cat Tigger, who never goes outside and I'm convinced hates me with the fires of a thousand suns, had wandered out onto the eave just outside the window. 

Rather than doing something sensible like calmly and quietly walking through the open window when she wanted to come back inside, she came flying out of the night with a squawk and gave me about seventeen and a half heart attacks (I can't be sure, it was hard to count) then trotted off wondering why the new girl was such a weirdo.  There may have been some nonchalant butt-licking, I don't remember.

I'm hoping with some ridiculously cheery curtains that actually fit (as opposed to the last set, which is why it's currently uncovered)  I'll be able to use it.  At the very least I'll have a place to put up guests again and I suppose that's nice.

Still, I can't help but feel that my cleaning efforts will end up something like this:

Tell Mater I loved her.

On the plus side, if I die in a landslide of accumulated bits and bobs I won't have to clean ever again.

Secret Shame

I've been knitting for quite a while now.  It sort of sneaked up on me, because I very much still consider myself a novice.  I've learned a lot and I've made a lot but there is so much more that I haven't.

Part of it is that I have such a short attention span.  More complicated and time intensive projects get ignored for years in favor of yet another pair of wrist warmers or socks.  I love knitted accessories, both to make and to wear and so, I have an embarrassing confession.

I don't knit sweaters.  I very much want to, there are so many lovely patterns and there are very few things I love more than a nice sweater.  I live in central Texas, a good sweater is usually all the winter wear I need for the year.  I've certainly tried to.  When I first learned to knit in high school, my second or third project was a sweater.  Despite having only just mastered the concept of knit and purl, owning one set of needles, having erratic tension and absolutely no concept of gauge I dove right in.  I bought three skeins of (the now discontinued) Lion Brand's Chunky USA, cast on an amount that 'looked about right' on 5mm needles and went to town.

I successfully made one of the densest acrylic squares (a term used very loosely) known to man.  Because I'm a compulsive pack rat I still have it somewhere, waiting to be reclaimed and the yarn used for something a little more reasonable.

After that I sort of broke up with sweaters, at least until I had some more skills under my belt.  A few years of an on again off again relationship with knitting I started developing an interest in something more complicated than garter stitch scarves.

I enjoy learning by just jumping straight in and making an absolute mess of things all the while hoping for a reasonable outcome so once I felt relatively confident I had the hang of basic shaping I cast on Mrs. Dacy's Cardigan. 

Now, this is a lovely pattern.  It should have produced a lovely cardigan.  But with me at the wheel, so to speak, it didn't so much.

Because I was working on it so infrequently it took ages to finish.  And my tension seemed to change every time I picked up the needles.  So that long ago gauge swatch I knitted when I was picking out yarn was more than useless.  I ended up with a baggy, oddly proportioned sweater beast that I can never leave the house wearing because my god.  

 At least it's at all wearable.

Despite it's problems, I have to admit it's one of my favorite sweaters.  It's ridiculously cozy.  I take this as proof that I need more hand knit sweaters in my life.

So, I'm currently working on Ivy.  It's been an incredibly frustrating experience because of my inability to follow directions and some random small tragedies (usually cat related.  Thanks for the help, guys.)  I've restarted it at least twice and am currently working on the left front.  Again.  The Boyfriend has suggested just making it a wrap vest because at least that way the end is somewhat in sight.  But it feels like if I don't finish this damn thing then the sweater will have won.

I will not be defeated by an inanimate object let alone one that I'm making.

And that's the story of my misadventures with sweaters.  The End.

 Or is it?

Doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results?  I don't know what you're talking about, I would never.

Illustration Friday - Breakfast

I'm obviously not the healthiest person in the world.  Not pictured is NPR or one of the cable news channels playing in the background because I'm a total news junkie.

I've been putting off posting this because I don't think it's finished and just generally think it's a bit crap.  But I'm totally stumped on how I want to finish it and if I waited until I was completely satisfied with something to share it I would be consistently not sharing.  So this is me pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

I don't like it out here one bit.

Poor Impulse Control

Sadness.

Like a lot of people I've been watching the World Cup.  But because of my inability to just sit still and watch something on the TV (even for something as quick and exciting as a fútbol match) I needed a simple project that I wouldn't have to look at too much lest I miss an awesome tackle or a spectacular shot on goal.

So, I started a pair of simple toe-up socks.  Something I've done enough that I don't really need to think about it anymore and I can keep knitting at even while yelling for Brazil to get their shit together (spoilers: they didn't.)

Here's another personality tidbit: if I have the option of doing something that I've done before or changing it just enough so that it feels new I'm going to pick 'feels new' every time.

For these socks I decided that a very simple lace pattern up the back of the leg would do nicely for making it seem new.  Unfortunately, like so many things that I do, I didn't think it through all the way.  I tweaked the lace pattern so that it matched my stitch count because I am capable of thinking that far ahead, but didn't take into account that every example I'd seen of this pattern had a reverse stockinette or garter stitch border.

Turns out there's a reason for the border.  I noticed after a couple of repeats (because my eyes were only for Ghana v. Uruguay) that my lace leaves weren't looking very leafy.  After sitting and thinking for much too long about whether I could live with what I had or if I should rip back I ripped back.  Because I had this idea, see, and I wanted it to look like what I thought it would.

I need to find some way to reconcile my impulsiveness with my innate perfectionism.

Turning a Heel...

... is like magic.  Not rabbit out of a hat magic, but full on Harry Potter 'Heelus Turnus!' magic.  Or maybe Gandalf 'You shall turn' magic.

I don't particularly like doing it, it's fiddly and I have stupid fingers when it comes to needles smaller than about 3.5 mm.  But I still feel pretty awesome once I've done it.

Still flat....

Taking shape....

Presto!.


Yeah, I am that impressed.  On the other hand, I'm very rarely bored.

I'm using Paton's Kroy Socks FX for these in colorway 57210 (blues and greens.)  This is my first time using this yarn and I'm liking it so far.  It's itchier and a bit rougher than other sock yarns I've used but is more squishy than I would have thought.  If it wears well then I'll definitely be using it again because wow, is that a price I can get behind.