Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Nudge nudge, wink wink

I've begun receiving Monty Python's Flying Circus DVDs from Netflix. The Girls were hanging around while I watched it. If I heard the words, "What does that mean?" or "Why is that funny?" one more time. . .

I suppose I should be relieved that my kids didn't "get it". They are a bit young for all that. Still, we need to work on The Irony Thing with them. (Interviewers who spend the entire segment yammering about what they should call the interviewee = irony. Rain on wedding day IS NOT irony.)

Friday, May 26, 2006

Cable Blues

I thought it would be fun to knit Samus from Knitty. (I'm doing it in Knitpicks Wool of the Andes - Blue Bonnet, rather than bright orange.) Looks mildly challenging - a little cable and the rest is stockinette. What could go wrong?

Oh, maybe just the cable -- the first thing in this cardi from hell. I have do this nasty 32 row repeating cable 9 times to make the lower band of the sweater. Each repeat is taking me a day or two, because I have to do it when I have the time to concentrate on the pattern and refer back to it a million times. I'm at the very beginning of the third repeat. I did something wrong, but I can't figure out what row I'm supposed to be on. I spent 3 hours last night knitting, then frogging (and repeating) rows 1 through 12 or so.

Here's my dilemma: Do I just frog down to wherever I can possibly find my way (even if it is the whole thing), or spend countless more hours trying to figure out where I am? Neither option is particularly attractive.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Homespun: a "gateway" yarn

I'll get to all that soon. You can skip down if you like. But first, some bidness. . .

I told ya I'd get you some pictures, and I gots them. First, some news about me being a doofus. See that post about The Yarn Store that Time Forgot? Well, I was just about to post something here, lamenting the loss of that post, when I realized that I posted it to the wrong blog. The kind folks at the Mason-Dixon Knit-a-long site were either too polite to comment, or found it amusing. Either way, I'm glad I found the post because the memory of Pops made me feel warm and fuzzy the rest of the day.

And could someone please tell me the proprietress' name? I forgot it. And I'd like to think of her as someone other than "Really Old Woman with Dowager Hump Who Called Me 'Francisco' All the Time."

Preemie Hats
and
Boy Scout Scarves

Homespun: The "gateway" yarn
I know there are strong feelings on the Homespun issue. You can barely get a group of knitters together without someone causing trouble by bring it up. But allow me bear witness: if there were no Homespun, then I'd still be knitting with Caron Wintuk. Not that there's anything wrong with it.

I went to college just down the street from Knits Incredible on Lex b/t 70 & 71. Probably 3x in 4 years, I wandered into the store and what just SHOCKED at what I saw. Where else but on the Upper Freakin' East Side of NYC would anyone spend $5 on a ball of freakin' yarn (okay, stop laughing at me). I backed out of the store as quickly as I could without upsetting any of the spun gold on the shelves. I didn't even try to "pass" as a browser.

Fast forward a few years, I'm employed and I'm starting to knit again. I buy me some buck-a-skein yarn on sale at my local craft-o-rama. It is fun. Then, I splurge on the $3.69 (on sale) Homespun. It is fluffy. It knits up fast. It feels different from those other yarns. I buy more. Then, I wander into a yarn store. . .

Well, you can see where this is going right? Next thing I know, I've got a room full of yarn that I'll never finish knitting. My maximum price point is around $10, but I'll go higher for 1 or 2 skeins of something special. For me, it's like they found a way to spin crack. And it's all thanks to Homespun.

The Yarn Store That Time Forgot

So I was totally jonesing for some fibers this yesterday morning. I checked the hours of the yarn store I pass on the way home but they close at 5:00(well, I really just pass the exit, but it wouldn't be inconvenient to take a small side-trip. And my firm has a mostly empty satellite office across that shares a parking lot with the shop, so I guess I could call the side-trip work-related), same thing for the store near my house. GRRR. Must. Fondle. Fibers.

So I google "yarn store Waterbury" and come up with the Yarn Store That Time Forgot - Two Sisters Yarn Shop, not 1/4 mi from here.

Lunch time comes. Must. Fondle. Fibers. And the new Interweave Knits is supposed to be out today.

I open the door and I am nearly knocked over by the smell of stale cigarettes. Holy indoor air pollution, Batman! The store is maybe 12 ft by 20 ft, with shelves of yarn still in the bag (not a bad idea in light of the smoke), many of the bags are yellowed from smoke. The shop attendant (one of the sisters?) was a well-groomed 80+ yo woman, wearing a fetching hand-knit suit. I look around -- there is enough acrylic in this room to . . . uh. . . well, it was mostly acrylic yarn. I find a stash of 100% wool and mercerized cotton. I wonder if they've ordered stock since 1984. Indeed, one of the yarn companies seems to have dropped off the planet, and the other, well I'd only ever seen it in a stash Mom bought from a neighbor who moved away in the 80s.

I look at the notions and it resembles that area to the far right of the candy counter at Pops. (You know what I mean. Ancient packaging of strange implements that were probably would have been useful during the months one expected to spend underground in the fallout shelter.)

But there's something strangely charming about it. (Except for the smoke.) I've grown weary of the tragically hip yarn shop. I knew the honeymoon was over for me in 10/04 when I went to Knit New York with my kids. I felt a little too unpierced and untatooed (I was, at that time, utterly untatooed). A salesperson saw the handknit sweater on Katie and exclaimed, "Is THAT Zara? I love Zara. Zara is THE BEST. We have it up front for like $9.99"(per 50 gram ball) My answer, "uh, no. I think it is Plymouth Dreambabies." (3.25 per 50 gram ball) And she looked sad for me and my use of pathetic, pedestrian fibers for something that would just be yacked and pooped on. Clearly, my child wasn't loved. It was hard for me to get her attention after that and in that store, you need someone to fetch your entire order for you.

Don't look at me! My Mommy knits with ACRYLIC!

Anyway, back to TYSTTF. I wanted to sit around for a few hours and pick the brains of this woman who had undoubtedly knit everything on Earth with every fiber known to man (but mostly acrylic). She pulled out a few pattern collections for me. Yes, they were from 1975 at the VERY latest, but the cuts were so different from today's knit wear that it could have been inspirational. There was a jacket or two that would have looked just as snappy now as it did during the Eisenhower Administration.

And, I bought 3 skeins of 100% silk worsted for $6.00. That $6.00 total, not each. Of course, my suit will have to be dry cleaned to get the scent out, but I'm still ahead cash-wise.

I'll head back another time I'm jonesing, and spend some time with the patterns.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Random Thoughts

It's been a while, so this is going to be more of a brain dump than organized commentary. And the digital camera is in my bedroom (I type from the underground lair), so there will be no pix -- only promises of pix in the future.

1. Last week, I sent 6 preemie hats to Stitches from the Heart and three scarves to DB Bernie for his one of his wannabe Eagle Scouts' projects.

2. It's been a while since anyone's tried to make Mass more relevant for the kids today. I think our parish attempted a Rock 'n Roll mass a few years back, but nothing's taken off quite like the Folk Masses of the 1970s.

During my uncle's funeral on Friday, the solution for the 21st century occurred to me: the Hip Hop Mass. Who wouldn't enjoy listening to Father rappin' the Liturgy of the Eucharist? (Of course the altar servers' costumes might have to be Beyonce'd.) Attendance would soar. Pilate was a hero to most, after all, but he never meant shit to me. . .

3. Some are born Codd, some achieve Codd, and others have Codd thrust upon them. (TMI? Well, how else would anyone be born Codd?!) After seeing my cugines on Friday, it occurred to me that a Codd Blog might be fun. Something we all could contribute our stories and pix to.

4. My uncle's funeral mass was the best I'd ever gone to. The priest knew my uncle well and had true affection for him. It was beautiful to hear a homily that was more than "don't be sad, he's enjoying everlasting life, blah blah blah". The homily was very affirming -- the priest told us what we already knew about Uncle Bart, but he also tied it rather beautifully to the Gospel.

Cousin Bart's eulogy revealed important similarities to BPC -- a surprising love for low-brow TV entertainment. Uncle Bart was an A-Team fan!!! I'd like to think that the deceased Codd brothers (and Aunt Catherine) are sitting in a parlor somewhere, drinking their 8th pot of tea, discussing the various hijinks of B.A. Barracas and Co.

5. And speaking of George Peppard. . . I'm usually a little quicker than this, but I only recently realized that Holly Golightly was a prostitute. I was reading Entertainment Weekly and it said something to that effect and I thought, "Prostitute? Holly Golightly wasn't a prostitute!! She ... dated ... men ... and ... told them that she needed $50 to tip the washroom attendant . . . oh."

6. West Side Story is a very cool movie.

7. I have to get ready for work now. Really.