Sassy Does It

I’m not dead.  My blog has seemed far, far away from the bottom of the rabbit hole that sucked me in, but I’m still breathing, and in fact clutching my way back to the surface.

Mostly I blame being slapped upside the head at work lately, but I did take a vacation in there somewhere, so at least part of my absence is due to something good. 

Yes, vacation.  My family’s lake cottage is my favorite place to be.  Usually it’s crazy busy with boats zipping around with skiiers, and usually I’m not up at sunrise, but I managed to grab this shot on the morning we left.  Peace, man.

But.  This is a knitting blog.  There’s no denying I’m way behind here.

Feefers is long since done; will post her FO shortly. 

I don’t have much else to show for my time, knitting-wise.

It’s fair to say I entered a bit of a slump when I finished Fifi, mostly due to a misestimation of the collection of flab I’ve been building. 

Fifi fits like a glove that’s a couple sizes too small after accidentally getting dropped in the hot cycle. 

I saw it coming as I was knitting, but I decided to forge ahead (motivation to work on that spare tire around the waist!).

But basically, my dear Fifi makes me feel like Two-Ton Tessie, so I can’t wear her for a little while unless everything below the boobs is obscured by a suit jacket.  It’s not horrific, just disappointing, because she’s so pretty. 

Photos with me sucking in my gut as much as possible will be posted all too soon.

[Note to self:  my bust size = small; the rest of my abdomen = not small.  Remember this.  Make adjustments.]

So  - my knitting ego took a blow in my apparent inability to judge my own girth, and I downgraded my aspirations from making another summer thing or two to acknowledging I might as well crack into Christmas gifts.  Seriously.  I mean it this time.

And I’m sticking to things like mittens that are hard to screw-up size-wise so as to avoid making someone feel fat.

That said, my remaining WIP is still hanging around like a bad rash.  I’ve spent a random smattering of minutes furthering my efforts to close out the pair of socks that have been on my needles for…oh, a year.  

Those poor Raindrop Lace Socks. 

Maybe they’ll wiggle their way off to make it under the tree in December.

My big ambitious project now is a blanket..but not a real one (I’m done with those for a while).  It’s a 8×10-inch mini-me version for Maizy’s doll called Baby, who, strangely, is approximately the size of a baby. 

Yes, this means it’s basically an over-grown swatch, but such is the nature of my knitting motivation. 

She requested one a couple of months ago after realizing she got the short end of the gift stick when her baby sister was born. 

The new kid received fresh-off-the-needles knitlove and Maizy got squat from her visiting auntie. 

Not to be duped, she draped said sister’s Summer Baby Blanket around herself and pranced around the living room - nude as a bee - twirling and striking poses for her adoring audience.  She garnered as much attention as possible before putting her clothes back on and shifting into What I Need You To Knit ME mode, starting with a blanket for her Baby.

She rallied for about six other things, too, and I took copious notes, but an 8 by 10-inch swatch is about all I can handle.  Sorry Maiz.

Here’s a photo of my impressive work:

No Babies in sight, so a pepper grinder filled in as the stunt double.

I’ll rebound, I know.  I think I feel guilty for getting behind on all of my blog-reading, too…all my friends are moving on without me! 

Knitting mojo - I command you to return.

Pretty please.

Fifi is nearly off the needles and - oh, for pete’s sake - she’s been in that sad state for over a week.

I’m going to try to blame this on the whole Michael Jackson thing.  It took a good long while to peel my eyes off of the media coverage, as extensive as it’s been.  I think I was overcompensating because when the news first hit I was too busy and far away from a TV to immediately soothe myself with The Making of Thriller on loop for hours on CNN. 

Everybody else was getting their MJ fix with funky Motown compilations of Little Michael singing his way into Weird Michael, and poor me, I was left to suffer in silence, stuck in yucky meetings.

Well, I made up for it by subsequently planting myself in front of the telly with my dancing shoes on.  My knitting took the blow into the backseat.

Does that excuse fly?

A few parting words on MJ, because really, it does suck that he died.  I know he’d turned indisputably wacko and all, but still.

All I could think of last week was dancing with Sissy B in our Flashdance outfits on the shag carpet in the basement, rewinding and forwarding the Thriller cassette a few hundred times to get Billie Jean and Beat It to play ad nauseam. 

Those dance routines were in tip-top shape for our stage debut in front of Dad’s video camera.  I think I’ve mentioned this before.  I fell down a few times.

Not ready to post that clip yet.

Anyhoo.  Farewell, Michael.  Object of my teenage affection.  Source of my delight on the big Grammy night.  Enabler whenever and wherever I want to Blame It on the Boogie, from now until I just can’t boogie no more.

In the absence of knitting news, I did want to make mention of a little gem I discovered in the way of yummy treats.

Allison over at The Whole Ball of Yarn(s) is open for business with Lilah Bug Bakes.  She’s the kind of person who comes up with recipes for things like Mojito Truffles, so you can understand why this chickadee has my attention.

Holy Yummy. 

Check her out.   Totally bookmark-worthy.

Upon learning about her store (after months of drool-inducing evidence of prowess in the kitchen had mounted on her blog), I scurried on over to her website to see what she had on offer. 

And then I ordered. 

Oh, the goodness she delivers with fresh-picked berries and the occasional irresistible twist (chocolate! amaretto! ginger! wine!).

When I received my package after ordering, I tore into the box to find two jars of Agave-Sweetened Strawberry Vanilla Jam and a jar of Bittersweet Chocolate-Pear Sauce.  There was some Pear With Caramel, Lavender, and Vanilla Sauce in there, too.

I went a little overboard in my initial sampling of each.

It started out innocently enough.  I thought I’d have a tasting party.  Um, a party for one:  these were my own sneaky treats.  I opened them when no one else was home to bust me. 

I tried the Strawberry-Vanilla Jam on bread, on bread with butter, and on bread with peanut butter (so it goes, right?).  But then I cracked open the Chocolate-Pear Sauce and drizzled it on vanilla Häagen-Dazs that I went out especially to buy.  Hey, the sauce needed a suitable partner.

Then, a few hours and a Corona or two later, I waddled to the freezer for another scoop of ice cream (”Those containers need to be bigger,” says my tummy; “Noooooo!” says my waistline).  This time I put the Chocolate-Pear AND the Strawberry-Vanilla on top.  OK, and a tiny dollop of peanut butter, since it was already out.

What a little piggy!  Oh well, we all need a bit of excess now and then.  (Wait, can there be only a bit of excess? or does it have to be a lot of excess? or maybe just plain excess?) 

On a healthier note, my proto-garden is still taking baby steps.  Any forward progress I consider a victory.

The tomatoes didn’t take the first time so I had to re-plant the seeds when they didn’t show signs of life after two weeks.

The one plant in front has been flaunting its comparative girth in front of its tiny backup dancers. 

I’ll transplant a few of them now that they’re growing (note that this is well outside any gardening skills I even pretend to possess) to give them all a little more room to accommodate the fatty in front.

The beans took off running from the beginning, so they’re considerably ahead.

Let’s see if these guys can hold my attention long enough for me to notice if and/or when they actually bear fruit.

Bear veggies.

But technically the tomato…really fruit…right?  Whatever. Something’s growing.

Ah, finally - I’m done with the primary color on my Summer Baby Blanket.  Bound off.  Goodbye Pear, hello Birch.

The appearance of Birch means it’s time to forge ahead to the questionably-gender-neutral-but-I-don’t-care-if-it’s-feminine crochet border.

I’m excited about the crochet bit.  I know I’ve mentioned this before.  Not that I’m thinking of switching teams or anything, because I think it’s fair to say I’m firmly rooted in Team Knit.

But.

Mom crocheted back in the day (she also went through a macramé phase in the early 80s, a fad that seemed to crash and burn as the cool thing to do shortly thereafter - at least in the hip happenings of the church craft circle).  She didn’t knit, so crochet is it in terms of my maternal influence in all things yarn.  Well, if you don’t count the little projects with snippets of yarn, Tacky Glue, and popsicle sticks, because that featured pretty heavily.

I’ve never more than dabbled in the single-needle hookiness of crochet, and in the few times I’ve tried it, it’s weird how vividly it brings to mind the smooth, repetitive movement of my mother’s hand, from my child’s view.  Not that weird, I guess, considering that when you’re a kid that’s what you do - watch your mom’s every move - but it’s cool to remember something that seems unuseful for the brain to store. 

The only time I ever crocheted with the intention of actually making something was for a little blanket in my university colors.  It was made out of scratchy acrylic, because A) that’s what I could afford, and B) I don’t think I knew that anyone bought yarn if it didn’t come from Jo-Ann’s.  Not that there’s anything wrong with Jo-Ann’s.  I just didn’t know.  Did. not. know what awaited outside the world of Jo-Ann’s.

But I digress.  I don’t think I even finished that blanket, which is understandable, considering I probably wouldn’t have used it unless it was sandwiched in-between two things appreciably softer.  It certainly wasn’t complicated:  I’m pretty sure it was entirely comprised of double-crochet stitches.  In two colors, though - hot stuff.

I think the Summer Blanket border will be pretty, based on the nice smorgasbord of stitches that are charted out on the pattern.  That and the proud-as-punch picture from the pattern that says, “Check me out, I look so awesome all finished.”

In planning ahead (a few minutes ago) by looking at my handy-dandy Ravelry needle chart (which took me a year to fill out, but I did it), I can see that I don’t have the crochet hook I need.  Um, not surprising considering that the only hooks I have (for weaving in ends) I bought in a little convenience pack.  F, H, I, J and K. 

Mr. G is suspiciously missing, so I might have lost him.  Who knows. 

Maybe he’s just less popular than the other kids and doesn’t get picked for the convenience packs.

So in Japan, where my designer originally slapped this border on the blanket, their millimeter-based sizes don’t always jive with the US lettering system.  Of course they used a 2.5-mm hook, which is between a B and a C.  Neither of which I have; guess I’ll round up and make this sucker with a C, 2.75 mm.

Come on, LYS - don’t let me down when I come knocking. I don’t want to drive all over creation.  Stock those crochet hooks.

Maybe I’ll go nuts and buy another convenience pack that has the rest of the elusive crochet needles I’m missing.  Maybe even Mr. G.

UPDATE:  LYS did not hook me up with the C.  The smallest they had was D, so for $1.95 and half a millimeter difference, I paid the lady and hustled out of there, slightly embarrassed to be popping in solely for crochet purposes.  I’ll give it a shot.  Scratch the itch for tonight.

Oh, and I saw Mr. G Hook.  There were plenty of him in stock, darn it.  Nobody wants to take him home. Poor little bugger.

OK, so since we’re at about a month from blast-off, I’ll go ahead and unveil my Summer Baby Gift in the making.

Not that it’s some huge impressive project, or even that big of a surprise to at least one person reading this, but since it’s for a baby that’s not born yet, it seems worth putting a little drumroll to it, a nice sense of occasion.

Usually I wait until the kid makes an appearance, but ehhh.  Spill the beans.

So Sissy B is having another one; this’ll make three.  She’s already got plenty on her hands with my two little nieces, and this will spice up all 24 of her waking hours come June.  Not sure if this one’s a boy or girl as they’ve elected to wait to find out. 

At least that’s what they’ve told me.  It’s possible they are sneaking around giggling behind everyone’s backs, secretly knowing.

Maizy calls her little brother- or sister-to-be “Cellpho” (as in, yeah, get ready to dial), and she does this with some confidence, as if this common name has already won the contest for her sibling’s playground moniker.  Hence the blog name of this child is born, ahead of the physical debut.

Regardless of whether Cellpho is a girl or a boy, this kid is going to get a lot of girly influence, what with the two older sisters and all.  (It seems weird to call E-dot - pictured here: awwwwww - an older sister, since so far she’s been the little guy.  Girl.  You know.)

So is it weird that I always make blankets when it comes to baby gifts? 

I know it takes much longer than booties or a layette set, but I always think to myself:  if you’re going to knit something, then really knit something.  Something that the little bundle of joy won’t grow out of in five minutes. 

Sweaters for toddlers make more sense to me: you might get a good year out of that before it’s handed down.  But for a baby, a blanket seems like something they can really use (to the extent they can use anything, other than a breast).  They can lay around on it, drool on it, burp up on it (ah, the joy of machine-washable cotton), all for a good little while.  

Then, once they can walk, that blanket can be really used. 

Beat up.  Dragged around for a long time.  Colored on.

Loved.

But.  Am I boring?  Should I branch out?  Put a little more thought into it?  If you had a kid, what would you want to receive?

Too late now on this one - but your opinions would either pacify my concerns that I’m in a rut with baby creativity or spur me on to make interesting-er tiny things in the future.

On the color, as I believe I announced when I started this thing, we have Blue Sky Alpacas Skinny Dyed in Pear (yes, that’s another name for green, and I think this may have been the start of what Clumsy Knitter kindly called Greenmersion, rather than a Green Problem).  But this hue seemed a good bet for a maybeboymabyegirl baby.

Here’s a little preview.  The repeats bunch up a bit unless they’re nice and stretched: blocking will help this.  (Yes, that is my new red bedspread behind it.  Oh, glorious red.)

Now that I look at it (a lot, often), the lace pattern on my Summer Blanket (otherwise known as “24-25-48 Lace Baby Blanket“, which is the catchy name the Japanese designer gave it) does look a bit more feminine than not feminine.  I was shooting for neutral in the beginning.  But hey - even boy babies are all soft and pretty.  I think a daisy-like pattern will probably fly if indeed a penis makes an appearance.

And there is the aforementioned girly factor that will surround this child. 

Right, OK, stop worrying about the lace pattern.  Good thing, since I’m probably about 2/3 through on the length.

I think what sold me on this pattern is the cool crochet border.  Not everyone who made this (and reported back to Ravelry) followed through with the border, but for me the blanket is a bit lukewarm without it.  I’m not usually a crocheter, but I can hold my own, and this border is going to be spectacular.  I hope.

Feefers is chugging along in the few minutes I can find here and there to work on it.

More time lately on Summer Blanket, which tends to get done on planes, when for some reason the monotony doesn’t bother me as much.  And I don’t like hassling with patterns when other people’s elbows are already touching mine in a fight for the armrest.

So this is the state of affairs that leads me into the weekend.  At this point I’m craving quiet:  sweet, still, quiet laziness.

And some fries with that.

My affinity for things green continues, as evidenced by the new moss-green purse I bought over the weekend.  I wasn’t out to get a green one on purpose, but lo and behold, all the finalists in front of me on the store shelf came up shades of grass.  In the same store I had another Green Incident:  I needed new sheets…hmmmm, how about these sage-green ones?

I know my Green Problem is likely to fade away before too long and be replaced by some other newfangled color, so it’ll be fun while it lasts.  I do have a history when it comes to such things.  Ah, who can forget Black (the New York and London years), Periwinkle (ever since I bought a suit jacket the exact Crayola color), and Red (intermittent, usually when I want to feel busy and important, à la Bridget Jones answering Daniel Cleaver’s phone calls)?

The Red Problem hits me hard when it comes to toenails.  For the life of me I can’t seem to commit to anything other than blood red, usually something named “Vixen” or “Not Just A Cocktail Waitress”.  Friends, sisters, nail technicians:  “Hmmm, where have I seen this before,” they say.  “Maybe…on your toes right now?” 

Well, at least I’m not putting green on my toes.  Yet.

In both knitting and green news, my Tree-colored Fifi is coming right on along. 

This was my first time using the cable cast-on and I loved the way it came out; such a nice smooth, pretty edge. 

I swear, knitting with Calmer makes me feel like I’m a better knitter than I am.  The slightly elastic version of the yarn keeps the stitches looking very uniform even as they’re flying off the needle.

It kind of feels like cheating, but I’m not going to stop.

That said, when I don’t spend more than 10 minutes knitting in a week, it tends to make that knitting-machine feeling grind to a halt.

Work has once again sucked the life out of me in the past two weeks, and I’m grateful to have a moment to connect with my computer that doesn’t have to do with a presentation or a deadline.

In the bit of knitting time I afforded myself this weekend, I went back to the Summer Baby Gift to knock out the remaining bit of my third skein so I could hook up the fourth and feel some progress.  Five skeins total will knock out the bulk of the project, and then I’ve got another skein of Skinny Organic for the trim.  No, I’m not ready to talk about the details of this little gem yet!  More when I’m in the home stretch.

Queue-wise, I’ve got a couple of other ideas brewing.  I’m targeting quick items that might be construed by some as summer garments, but could go the distance later in cooler months to be worn over blouses or layered under suits.  Case in point is Wendy Bernard’s Jewel, which is a pattern out of Custom Knits, a book I resisted buying until a few weeks ago when the Rav-generated Jewel craving started up.

Yes, OK, the picture in the pattern book shows the sweater in green - ha, ha, laugh all you want.

This may be reason I fancy it, since there’s not much to the design, really; simple enough that I probably wouldn’t need the pattern.  The variegation might be working its charm, even though I’m not easily wooed by variegation.  The drape of the tank with the silk fiber is nice - yeah, it’s probably the silk I like.  It’s shown in Regal Silk, but I’m not sure that’s what I’d choose.  I’ve never knit with silk, but given my recent brush with cashmere I’m feeling fancy.  Life’s too short.  And it’s not a huge sweater, just a little guy.

Probably the other reason I like it is because all of the projects in Wendy’s book are pictured on models that are ridiculously pretty and trim.  Note to self: phone is not ringing off hook with offers to model in knitting magazines.

So - grain of salt then, before purchasing yarn.

The other book I bought is another manifestation of my embarrassing cowl fetish.

Once again, I ran across a pattern that I probably don’t need in order to make the garment pictured, and once again, the influence of color is probably stoking my burning desire to look fabulous in it.  The pattern book is an older one from Adrienne Vittadinni, Fall 2004 (hard to find; I bought it here).  I like the pattern on the cover, but that’s not the one that sucked me in.

The red tank on the left has a removable cowl (kind of looks just like the cowl top on Sheer Poncho, eh?).  As knit in that to-die-for shade, the overall look is similar to a Target special I had a few years ago.  I wore it so much that they had to drag me away from it when the Goodwill truck came by to pick it up, lost among others in the well-loved-but-time-to-let-go pile.

The red sweater on the right illustrates the other neckline preference toward which a gravitate:  straight-line, boatneck-y type looks.  Not so much as to be off-the-shoulder, usually, but I like this look.  Again, not a complicated design that requires a pattern to figure out how to make, but this is how it works, right?  We look at patterns, we get inspired, we buy patterns.

There were a few other cute designs in this book, but it was this red-infused spread that got me. 

Ah, the very same red that is now covering my bed, since I caved and bought a (goregeous, wonderful) quilt in the same store as the aforementioned sheets this weekend (good to myself lately, huh?).  The sheets didn’t end up green, though (shocker!), since the quilt won first and I didn’t want to sleep in Christmas colors.

So maybe Green is losing its hold and really it’s my old friend Red that should keep me on my toes.  Toes!  Red nail polish!  Oh la la.