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.
In my own defense, I try not to use the heater in the winter. It's better for the environment.
So I snuggle under a blanket when I'm sitting still. Often when I'm sitting still, I'm knitting. Often when I'm knitting, I have a movie on, one that I've watched before. Often when I watch a movie, it's Pride and Prejudice.
Okay. So, to save money, a few weeks ago I moved into an apartment that I share with two other people who are never there. It's like a fake apartment: I'm the only one who's ever around, and it's not like I'm home much myself. Works for everybody.
One of the roommates and his girlfriend dropped by tonight, unannounced. That doesn't bother me; after all, he's paying rent, isn't he?
Only, they dropped by as I was knitting a sock under a blanket in a chair in front of the TV watching an old movie.
Quick: I'm going to go do a keg stand before I start looking like the 80-year-old I apparently am.
Sock-knitting has a lot of advantages. Plenty of other people have noted them before me. Portability, ease, quickness, versatility: socks have it all.
I'm only on my second pair ever, so my speediness isn't up there just yet. I knit socks in chunks, split apart by the inertia of not wanting to go back to the computer to figure out exactly how one does a toe, foot, heel, or leg.
The best thing about socks, however, is that they are nowhere near your face.
Here's the thing: I love pinks and purples and reds and corals. They are very pretty. They make my face look like the wall of my last apartment: dull, rental-white, and you don't want to look for very long.
Socks, however, are nowhere near my face. Having discovered this, I have set off on a whole new palette of exploration.
Seriously, have you ever seen purple and pink together on this blog before?
These are the Twilight Socks from 2-at-a-Time Socks, converted into toe-up because I'm always fiddling with yarn weight and gauge and it's better to know you've screwed up early on. I am also not knitting them two at a time, because I'm too cheap for all those circular needles. (You should see what I do with recipes in the kitchen.)
The yarn is delish: Seacoast Handpainted Yarns, a sock yarn in Raspberry Mocha. This is another treat from my mother's attempt at reducing her stash. (You may have heard me mention that before... Love ya, Mom!)
Betcha didn't know that, did you, Cailyn?
I'm not actually trying to spook the lady, who writes very engaging posts over at The Daily Skein. I just want to give her props for saving a knitter in trouble. Namely me.
She and I apparently have what is either a total knitting kismet-thing going on, or else we just both like Knit Picks. (Okay, probably the latter, but I just like the word kismet.) Total coincidence here: I totally fell in love with the Estes Vest from the Fall '08 Interweave Knits. I am a cheap lady, so as soon as I decided must have, must have, I dashed on over to Knit Picks for an affordable yarn substitute. I settled on Wool of the Andes Bulky, in Scuba.
I totally and completely did my math wrong and only ordered five skeins instead of six. I'm smart like that.
About the time I realized this, I happened across a blog post from The Daily Skein. I knit her Albuquerque Gloves (and have been pimping them ever since) this summer, and haven't been reading all that long. But lo and behold, guess who was knitting the exact same pattern -- in the exact same yarn -- ordered at exactly the same time?
A quick email and a friendly sale and I now have enough yarn in the same dye lot to finish the pattern and add an inch or two to the length, as several others have chosen to do.
Thanks, lady. You really saved me there.
By the way... I'm knitting these on those self-same 10.5 Boye Needlemaster needles that my blue suede love seat has developed such an appetite for. Just to show how you can make just about all things work for the best, I'm using the spare 10.5 needle as a cable needle, along with my two replacements, to knit this piece. I never use cable needles, either, but I couldn't get gauge without.
It's all about the love seat, I'm telling you.
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