hello my name is mr monkers
it is nice to meet u, do u like my pickture
sumbody gave me to cobbalicious for chrissmuss, it was her brother
dont listen to what they say, i am not an "embarrassing reversion to pre-adolescent security issues" grown women can have fluffy friends too
i am soft and round and squishy
will u be my friend?
love
mr monkers
This whole lack-of-a-camera thing has really grown stale. I am saving for a new one and can't wait to get back to technicolor. Hopefully in another month or two I'll be in control of my visuals again, and you won't hear me complain ever again about having to borrow someone else's.
Although, really, that's sorta turned into my tag, hasn't it? By that I mean, with all the knit blogs I read, I can't keep straight one from another just by their titles, except for a few with whom I occasionally correspond. Otherwise, it's the Manhattan chick who just got married, or it's the San Francisco lesbian who just got her first book published, or it's the preacher lady with two of the cutest twin boys I've ever seen. I think there's someone out there raising chickens, too... I guess I'm the Austin gal who keeps whining about not haivng a camera. Note to self: must work on re-branding.
Anywho!
Christmas knitting. Boo on that.
I got one gift done out of four, and you're so going to laugh at me.
Yeah, that's a Noro Scarf. One of the easiest and most common projects in existence. The Harlot made a multiple number of these scarves in one week, and me? Took me over three weeks just to eke out one.
In all fairness, during that time, I organized a group garage sale (the fella and I are now $250 richer), wrote two reviews and one article, read most of a book, went to Nebraska, came to Dallas, and I'm sure did some other things that did not involve knitting.
But the fella, who at present is still shivering in Nebraska's negative wind chills, won't be able to wear it until we see each other again on December 29 here in Texas, where it's likely to be about as cold as a fish can fly. Mea culpa, once again.
The other three gifts? Not even gonna talk about it.
Nothing kills your buzz like pledge drive on PBS.
But, I have just the thing. Let me explain...
I went into Thanksgiving blissfully free of any and all Christmas gift knitting. It wasn't that I had finished it -- it was that I never promised to do any in the first place. Smart, n'est-ce pas?
Yet somehow, by the end of the weekend, I had gotten myself tangled up with a promise for four gifts. That three of those gifts are promises I'm keeping with myself and nobody but me has to know if I fail is beside the point; they'd make great gifts! Y'know?
Here's the list:
- two ______ ______ hats for ______ in _____
- a _____ _____ for my _____
- a pair of _____ for my _____ in _____
The second on the list was the one I went for. (Obviously. I mean, who can resist knitting a _____ ______?)
Okay, I'll give a hint that is _____-proof: The Harlot recently knit sixteen of them in, like, two days. Yup: according to Ravelry, over 3,000 people have tread this stripey path before I, and while conformity is irksome... sometimes you find that everybody is doing a thing because it's a really awesome thing!
The _____ _____ is especially awesome. In fact, it's much like reading a novel, in that you can't wait for the next transition. I'd call it very Dickensian in pace: slow, thorough, plodding, rhythmic, and just when you're about to toss the thing down the disposal and go turn your lights repeatedly on and off to remind yourself you're living in modern times and not a Victorian debtor's prison, something completely new and beautiful comes along.
If you have patience, that is. I do not. When I read Dickens, or anybody else for that matter, I tend to jump ahead to see when the next neat thing happens.
Translated to the terms of the _____ _____, that means that every so often the suspense gets the better of me and I yank out about twenty yards of yarn, just so see how long I have to wait until I get a little kick of green.
And I keep knitting. In fact, last night, after Stephen Colbert signed off (his Christmas special was so disappointing, wasn't it?), I switched to PBS, only to be insulted by the inane blabber that it pledge drive. Didn't realize it immediately, although my first hint should have been that I was being shown a long succession of nature shots with trippy narration about the Wonderous Power of Nature over a New Age synthesized soundtrack.
The second hint was the comparison between the Grand Canyon and PBS, made by a guy who I had pegged for working at a GM dealership. (Until last week, when there ceased to be any work at GM dealerships.)
However, the _____ _____ didn't want to be put down, even just long enough for me to channel surf my way to safety. Can you blame me? I was just around the corner from purple!
And onto the temperate rain forests of the Pacific Northwest, and more idiotic philanthropic nonsense. I'm telling you: boom, ten inches. And I'm barely out of dark gray on one of my skeins.
This is one Christmas gift that will surely be done in time.
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