Wednesday, May 31, 2006


Here's what happens when you try to take a few days off:

a. You don't finish cleaning your knitting corner.

b. You do succumb to the dishcloth/warshrag trend and knit this:

Yarn: Peaches & Cream (purchased at the hated Wal-Mart that I'm trying to avoid, but I couldn't find this at my LYS).
Needles: Size 7 - 9 (depending on how tight you want the fabric to be)
Pattern: 13 Point Dishcloth (from my lovely Aunt Alice - she of the red cowboy hat)
Cast on 16 sts.
Row 1: K
Row 2: K 4, YO, K 10, turn
Row 3: K
Row 4: K4, YO, K9, turn
Row 5: K
Row 6: K4, YO, K8, turn
Row 7: K
Row 8: K4, YO, K7, turn
Row 9: K
Row 10: Bind 0ff 4 stitches, k remainder of row.

Row 11: K across all 16 stitches.

Repeat Rows 2 - 11 until you have 13 "points". Thread end yarn through top stitches to close the center, stitch seam, and warsh!

Today, I warshed with this -- a gift from an "Swap-a-rama" exchange on knitty. Just the thing for a day that is starting out in the 80's, and expected to climb to (gasp) close to 100. Put that in your global warming cowboy hat, Mr. Delusional President!

3. You do go to a yard sale, and buy these, for 10 cents a set!

4. You swelter in the heat, and wonder if the feline methods of keeping cool will work:

5. You go back to the office and get buried in paperwork, but continue to keep those Stanley Cup hopes alive! Go Sabres! Wouldn't socks knit in SabreTooth's colors be wonderful? Wonder who might make the yarn ...

Friday, May 26, 2006

Don't let this happen to you ...

My knitting corner (actually one of many):

I decide to organize it:

Miss Kitty helps (not) :

Will my feet ever become untangled?

Will I ever reach the bottom of the pile?

Tune in tomorrow ...

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

You know it's a bad day when ...

your new client consultation tells you about the time she just spent at the psych ward ... and giggles when she confesses she did hit her husband, maybe a few times.

I'm going out for ice cream.

Monday, May 22, 2006

I love this yarn!

Sockotta -- I call it "Creamsicle", but the label says "Fruit". It's so bright and cheerful, it almost makes me forget about the porn motel.


And the case I'm about to go to trial on.
And the biology experiment in my refrigerator. The entire refrigerator.
And the dustballs the size of kittens in every corner.
And my overdue billing statements to be sent to clients.

Enough said.

Puck drop -- 7:30. GO SABRES!!!!!!!! Hope I don't snap a needle from the suspense!

Sunday, May 21, 2006

A Tale of Two Sisters ...

or a muddy graduation and a night at the Porn Motel.

Elmsford, New York. What do they have in common?

Dead to me, forever. Dead to me.

I'll start at the beginning -- a happy event. Oldest daughter graduating from college, Magna Cum Laude. A trip to SUNY Purchase planned well in advance, with reservations (2 rooms) at the Elmsford Motel. How did I find this lovely establishment, you ask? Ever the Girl Scout, I surfed the internet in February, well aware that motel rooms would be at a premium in May, as proud parents of eager graduates from both SUNY and Pace University would be flooding into White Plains, New York.

Enter Expedia.

Also aware that one could easily spend upwards of $189 a night at a hotel right in White Plains, I searched surrounding areas. And found the aforementioned Motel. Or should I say, Mot-hell. It was listed as a modest establishment, no amenities such as fitness room or free continental breakfast, but it had non-smoking rooms available, and an in-room refrigerator. Okay, said I, clicking on "reserve two rooms". For some reason, I couldn't book both rooms under my name, so I used the spouse's name for the second (this will be important later). One room with a king sized bed, one with two double beds (for my sister and son).

Enter arthroscopic knee surgery for Jack. Suffice it to say that men do NOT bounce back as quickly as women (no bouncing at all, in fact), so I cancel the room with the king size bed. The son is invited to spend the night at the college with older sisters (and what 15 year boy could resist), so it's just my darling sib and me making the trip.

On to Purchase, and a fun-filled day culminating in dinner at a vegetarian restaurant in NYC. I had already called the mot-hell to let them know we'd be checking in late, and all was cool.

So, at roughly 10:30 p.m., the sister and I pull in to the Elmsford Motel. My first clue that all was not right was the bullet-proof glass separating me from the check-in clerk. This was followed by an escalating "discussion" involving check-in itself -- it seems that I cancelled the room in my name, and that as I was not "Jack", I couldn't have the room. No matter that I was Mrs. Jack. No matter that the room was paid by my credit card. In a fit of pique, I called Expedia, and, half an hour later, they faxed a name change on the reservation to the mot-hell. All was well.

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The true name of this place should be "The Porn Motel." Truly. Picture this -- (my camera's batteries mysteriously faded out immediately upon entering the room) -- two double beds, with orange and brown bedpreads. A wall of mirrors. Floor to ceiling. A bathtub replete with mold. A filthy carpet. And, ashtrays. Yes, it was a smoking room. In spite of my fear of Legionnaire's disease, we turned on the AC, and opened the window.

(In the meantime, frantic calls to local "real" hotels informed us that the PGA was in town and there were no rooms to be had at any inns).

So, carefully peeling back the bedspreads, we sigh in relief at the clean sheets. I pick up the remote, hoping for a little Jon Stewart, maybe Leno and get .... a giant penis rubbing up against an unidentifiable body part. Free Porn!!!

I'll say no more on that subject, except to say that we unplugged the tv.

For those of you who don't know my sister, in all of our travels, no matter how long the stay, she is the organized type who unpacks her suitcase into the dresser drawers, lays out her toiletries on the bathroom vanity, all within the first ten minutes. This is the only time in history she did not.

What finally put us over the edge was this:
Sister: Do you see that?
Me: See what?
Sister: The peephole in the door.
Me. What peephole?

It was stuffed with toilet paper so no one could look in. Really.

We finally slept, in one position with heads on our own pillows which we luckily travel with, took the world's fastest shower standing on the world's thinnest towels, and left, never to return. Thanks to daughter's congenial roommate, we spent the next night in her dorm apartment, blissfully free from fear of fungus, bed bugs, and giant penises.

Expedia will be getting quite the letter from me, legal letterhead and all. And I will dispute the charges on my Visa. I realize there is probably a teeny tiny disclaimer at the bottom of the website, written by lawyers such as me, but there is no way this should have happened. What if my son had indeed checked in with us? And, as 15 year olds normally do, grabbed the remote? Quite the education I don't want him to have.

But all ended well, in spite of the rain,

And the mud:

She graduated!

PS There was absolutely no knitting at the Porn Motel; we didn't want to soil the yarn.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Sari Yarn bag

I promised Kozmic from the coffeeshop that I'd post photos of my sari bag. I ordered the yarn from ebay, and used only I skein. The pattern is adapted from the S-n-B charm bag, and lined with a lime green cotton.

Here's a close-up of the beads I added, just for fun:
It makes a great knitting bag, and the colors go with everything. I'll probably make another one or two for gifts, but this one (she said gleefully), is mine.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Warning: Hockey and Knitting Don't Mix

I'm miserable. I'm ecstatic. Why, you ask?

The good news: My team is in the conference finals. Let's Go Buffalo!

The bad news: I'm knitting away on my cotton cardigan, using luscious King Tut yarn, feeling smug because I modified the pattern to eliminate side seams, so I finish the back section, tie on the yarn to the left front and knit away. Yes, knit away. Do I remember to bind off for the underarm? Of course not! Am I too wrapped up in the back and forth, the checks, the overtime? Yes! And I wasn't even drinking beer ...

So I've frogged back, no longer smug. Sigh. I'm too abashed even to post a progress photo. Next round, I think I'll do a garter stitch scarf.

On to Mother's Day -- a lovely morning sitting in my favorite chair, watching the birds at the feeder, an equally nice afternoon with 2 of my offspring, seeing a movie, browsing at Barnes & Noble, getting free ice cream (the stretch marks were definitely worth it) at Coldstone Creamery -- strawberry, with m&ms, tiny chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles -- a yarn browse at Michael's, then dinner at Applebee's. Phone calls from the 2 who are away, and now its time for "The Sopranos".

Here are my finished Colorado socks, unblocked, and definitely fraternal twins. I tried and tried to find a match after finishing the first one, but no luck. My own twins would say they're not "real twins", being identical down to their eyelashes, but I can accept them as is.

And here is the Colorado yarn -- hand dyed and spun merino, in a nice fingering weight. I foresee Fair Isle knee socks, so if anyone has a lead on a pattern, please send it on. I love the combination of colors, but will probably not start until I recover from the trauma of playoff knitting error!

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Knit on, MacDuff

No knitting photos today -- just a cheerful picture to remind me that summer is on the horizon.

I'm back at work, sort of. Jack was scheduled for arthroscopic knee surgery today, so yesterday was look at all the piles of work, and today is think about the piles of work. Tomorrow -- I may actually work!

Thanks to all who left comments and sent e-mails regarding Aunt Louise. The funeral and services went well (as well as those events can go), but two incidents bear blogging about. The first is that, yes Virginia, I knit at the funeral home. The first evening, I completely fell apart, and was comforted by, of all people, my 89 year old Aunt Alice! And I thought I was going to be strong for her! So the next day, I knit on my socks. It kept me from crying, and Aunt Louise would have approved.

But the more meaningful incident occurred at the cemetary. After the final words were said, my brilliant sister said, "We should give the woman a round of applause for a live well lived." And we did. It was perfect.

I did finish the sock, today, and am winding more yarn for the cotton cardigan I started about a month ago. Soon, I'll post photos of the wonderful fingering weight heathered wool I bought in Colorado, and foresee as a pair or two of fair isle knee socks.

And I'm drooling over a few patterns in the new Interweave Knits. Which is particularly dangerous because the local Spinners & Weaver's Guild is having a yarn sale this Saturday at the library. I'm not sure whether or not to hope they take credit cards!

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Louise M. Decker -- August 8, 1919 ---- May 5, 2006

After a valiant struggle with an aggressive cancer, my beloved Aunt Louise died early yesterday morning. Heaven is richer for her presence, and no amount of knitting can heal the hole left in my heart.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Another day in Paradise

The Paradise Theatre in Paonia, Colorado, that is! Newly re-opened by Jason and Regna Jones, and the coolest place in town. Last night I sat in the projection room, and found it fascinating to watch how the film reels through from giant platters, how the sound works, splicing ... And the popcorn with real butter ain't bad either!

Here's another shot of the building itself, built in the 1920's. They've totally redone the inside, with these great theatre seats that rock back and have cup holders! The plan is to show independent films, some main-stream features, and have concerts. Paonia seems just the community for this type of place -- as one local from a neighboring town said, "Paonia? You goin' there? What are you, hippies?" Oh yeah!

And here's the Colorado sock, started on the plane. I love the colors, but am having a ratzin' fratzin' problem with the gussets. It could, of course, be that I was drinking a local steam ale at the time I was picking up the stitches along the sides, but nah, that can't be true! So what's a little gap or two? Instead of frogging, I'm just going to thread the old yarn needle and close the gap later. And maybe pull out some garter stitch next time I'm imbibing!

No yarn stores yet, but I have a lead on a place in Hotchkiss for today. Hopefully, some hand-spun fibers from local sheep and ... llamas!