Austin Chronicle Music Poll: Best Label!

The Austin Chronicle is holding its annual Austin Music Awards poll. Last year Beats Broke (yes, that's my fella's answer to my knitting, so let's keep him happy, shall we?) was voted the fifth best label in Austin, and this year we’re trying to break into the top three.

If you could take a minute of your time, please write “Beats Broke” in the last entry field (Local Label - before the Hall of Fame nominees) on the ballot below:
http://www.austinchronicle.com/feedback/musicpoll/08/

The poll ends January 31. Promise, no junk mail will be sent as a result of this poll!

FO: Fetching as Hypnotics

I've figured it out.

Every time I knit a piar of Fetching, I forget to change the direction of the cables on the second glove. This most recent pair, I even left a note for myself on the pattern.

Nope: C4F, both times.

As we know, knitting in the round is in fact a spiral affair. Adding cables just adds mini-spirals to the larger spiral.

And what do spirals upon spirals produce?

That's right: hypnoses! I'm simply not in control.

(That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

pattern: Fetching, by Cheryl Niamath, from Knitty Summer '06 (free at www.knitty.com/issuesummer06/PATTfetching.html)
yarn: Knitpicks Swish Superwash (100% superwas merino wool, bordeaux)
needles: size 7 dpn
made for: my boss
notes: I cast on 35 instead of the prescribed 45, and they fit perfectly. Don't ask me, I just know they fit perfectly.

Update on the MalaBREAKo

After querying some Malabrigo die-hards on Ravelry about the yarn's sturdiness (or lack thereof), I have been given a few votes for "single-ply is sucky" and a far greater number of votes for "There are moths eating your yarn."

Crud.

I only post this in fairness to the company, who do not deserve to have their product besmirched unjustly.

Run. Hide. Now.

I'll be in the kitchen, tucking balls of wool in between the frozen pizzas and waffles.

Malabrigo? MalaBREAKo!

Stupid yarn.

I came home tonight worn thin, as is becoming a bit usual. Little did I know.

I felt like working on some lace, which I haven't done in a while. I wanted to work with something delicate, something tender, something with holes in it: precisely how I feel myself.

So I picked up the Lace Leaf Scarf (Rav link), of which I had only worked two inches, tops, and never intended to put down for six months, but you know how it goes. I started it with some lucious, lovely, gorgeous, green, soft-to-the-touch Malabrigo Lace yarn. I dug through the stash to find wherever on earth I'd packed the thing before my move in November, and pulled it out of a plastic bin...

To discover that the knitting was no longer attached to the ball. Funny, I think, I don't remember cutting the yarn.

Then I noticed a little bit more damage.

The obvious is that perhaps a silverfish or moth got to my precious green stuff. I doubt it, because I have scoured other yarn for signs of munchies, and besides, I'm in denial. Just to be safe, I put the ball in a Ziploc bag in the freezer, to kill whatever might have decided to take up residence, but I really don't think it got eaten. Doesn't seem like there's anything missing, just that it's not strong enough to handle a little wrap-around-the-needle-and-leave-me-sitting-for-six-months. You think?

I don't know if I ought to dare use any more of this ball of soft, beautiful yarn. Nicki tells the story of knitting an entire lace stole out of Malabrigo Lace only to stretch it gently with her hands before washing and having the yarn snap at a row near the end.

Dang it!

At least Barack Obama is president now.

(I have a feeling I'll be saying that to myself a lot in the coming months...)

Fetching Mitts: The Discount Drug

No kidding. I started another pair of Fetching last night, and I already have one glove finished, minus the thumb.

Yarn cost? $3.79 for one ball of Knit Picks Swish Worsted.

This is the fourth pair I've knit. They give a good high -- crazy-fast, and the cables provide a little interest along the way.

Just the thing for a second depression.

I've Been Socktoed

I'm going to coin a phrase this morning.

This week has brought with it an array of events, most of them related to the crappy economy and our nation's health insurance idiocy, that have left me in one of those states in which one is mentally whited out and unable to process much besides "Get food to mouth. Take bath. Try not to get hit by car."

To cheer myself up, last night I watched a documentary on the History Channel about the Dust Bowl.

So as far as knitting goes, I haven't been able to work on any projects that require mental agility. That basically means I'm left with socks, but only up to a point. I still can't do a heel without looking up the directions, which falls in the category of "too much, too much." So I've been working on sock toes only.

And that's the perfect way to describe this mental state: I've been socktoed.

These are a close approximation of Anne-Marie Kavulla's Red Hot Socks (Rav link), which are in turn adapted from a Charlene Schurch pattern. I'm calling them "Chino Cool Socks," and they shall be excellent. Assuming I ever finish them.

In other news...

Before the news of the economic grand slamaroo of personal suckiness hit my little sphere, I bought a digital camera with Christmas money.

It's nothing fantabulous, but it is a perfectly serviceable Sony Cybershot DSC-S750. It was also more than 25 percent off, so I jumped. Here, this is my Saturday morning "Is this thing working?" face:

Won't this be fun?

There Comes a Time in a Young Woman's Life

Today, I came home from running some errands to discover Bobo the Stuffed Chimp like this:

The night before, I'd decided it was finally time to break the news to him that I'm engaged now. Actually, it happened a few months ago -- I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it, since Bobo and I have been together for so long. (Plus there's all that weirdness of a blog announcement, but after so long, it's weird if you don't mention it.)

At the time, I thought he took the news pretty well. He just sort of sat there quietly, as usual.

The tough part came when I explained to him that we wouldn't be able to sleep together any more. Suffice to say, he was dumbstruck. So I left him alone for a bit. I thought I should, you know. Give him some space to work through what he was feeling. After all, he and I date back to long before I met my fella. And even though I was always clear we wouldn't be together forever, I guess he just let himself get attached. (Chimps are always doing that!)

But when I found him like that, alone with a beer six times the size of his head, a little piece of my heart just sort of broke. The guy's followed me to three cities. He never said anything about expectations, but he was always there for me when I wanted a little body to hug and snuggle. He's not a bad stuffed chimp.

So I had a little talk with him.

"Look, Bobo," I said. "We can still see each other. It's just, there comes a time in a girl's life when she has to move on from these kinds of affairs where it's just about sleeping together."

That kind of left him speechless.

"It isn't that I don't care about you!" I added. "I do, and I always will. I'll always remember our times together... even though I was asleep for a lot of that... and I couldn't exactly introduce you to my friends or anything... But look, I really care about you, I do. We just don't have the kind of relationship that I'm looking for now. I'll always be so grateful for what you offered me, and for the way your widdle arms wrap about my neck in that adorable way. Just because I'm getting married doesn't change any of that. Okay?"

I think he looked at me with a change in his eyes.

"Come on, Bobo. Don't do this to yourself. Let's honor the times we've had together, and let's move on."

Still, there was silence.

"Look, I'll even clear a space on the closet shelf for you when I'm married," I told him. "It'll be yours. All yours, no strings attached. It's the least I can do for you, after everything we've been through.

"Even though you don't want to hear this now," I said, "I want you to know that you're not just any old stuffed chimp to me. You're my stuffed chimp. And no matter what happens, you always will be."

I think that made a difference.