Souvenir Yarn

Yes, there is such a thing, and here is some:

I bought it last week at Williamsburg. It is from a sheep named Meathead (because no one likes him and everyone says he is mean and a pain to work with), and it was hand-spun and hand-dyed---with indigo---on premises.  Meathead is a Leicester Long Wool sheep, which means that the fibers are long and spin up nicely into a strong yarn.

Now there is a rule about souvenir yarn (I just created it) and that is:

*It doesn't have to be bought with any project in mind.  It's a souvenir. It might never be made into anything.  It might just be admired.  

So proclaims Knittergran.

It's its?

For those of you who, like me, twitch a little each time you see it's used instead of its or, less commonly, its used instead of it's, no less than a former president says, "So what?"

I spotted this at his house when I visited last week:

A sign at Monticello, home of Thomas Jefferson

So we should just get over ourselves already.

But I'll probably still twitch a bit.

TFCC

When I went to my FINAL appointment with my orthopedist's pa yesterday, I expected it to be my FINAL appointment.  But she diagnosed this smallish pain I have as this:

and told me to come back in six weeks.

Don't use the googles.  It's not interesting. 

So, the official medical rx is:

1.  Use rx anti-inflammatories.
2.  Six more weeks of pt.
3.  Wear the removable cast.
4.  Use ice.

My plan:

1.  No thank you.  I'll use Advil.
2.  H*ll no.  I mean, no thank you.
3.  Are you freaking kidding me? No thank you.
4.  Maybe...... but probably not.

It only hurts when I press down hard on the area, so my theory is that I won't touch it or bother it in any way and it will go away on its own.  No need for follow-up in six weeks.

So says Knittergran, MD.  

Plethora

I have a plethora, an overabundance, an excess of knitting projects started. It's no one's fault but mine, unless I can think of someone or something else to blame it on, but actually, turns out that this time, it's a good thing.

I am trying to use Judy's #$%^&* Magic Cast On and it's not going well, not well at all, because

a.  I've never done it before so I'm clumsy at it, 
b.  I have to put 145 stitches of lace weight yarn on each of two size 4 needles at the same time and
c.  I seem to be swearing a lot, which distracts me. (Because I don't swear.)

SO, having something else to work on while the Nuvem sits in time out is a good thing.

I've been working on the Trillium sweater, and I have two sleeves and the band for the body of the sweater completed.  It's easy going from here on (I hope).

Judy can wait.

Last night's knit night was packed; last week's was almost empty. No predicting attendance at knit night. And with lots of people there, I get distracted. I went intending to return this yarn:

Claudia Hand Painted Yarn/Silky Wool Lace

because it's meant for this enormous wrap, made on size three needles, and will take forever.

Nuvem by Martina Behm

But Sallyknit is making one, and she assured me that I will love it and that I won't mind having to work on it FOREVER. So I kept the yarn and this makes it..about four things? I have going at one time. Maybe five.

When I came home and checked the mail, this yarn from Miss Babs was in it.

Miss Babs Cygnus Gradient Set

It's a spectrum selection of colors meant for this:

Spectral by Debbi Stone

as soon as I figure out how to do the stitch.  

So yet another project.  I am also working on two sweaters and the aforementioned lace.

I must be crazy.  

AND we had consensus regarding William (of William and Kate). He is both a prince and a duke. The Prince title was given to him when he was born and the Duke title was given to him whenever. He is entitled to be a prince because he was, you know, born, but the duke is just a bonus. Or something.  

Hey All Y'all!

I hear that is the plural of y'all.  

So, hey!

I am making progress after tearing this out and starting over.

I am three repeats in and I will post a photo every time I get another three repeats of the total of twenty-seven. And you are so welcome!

Spring Bouquet Scarf/Jojoland Cashmere

The title of my blog is As the Spirit Moves Me, but the spirit is not religious, or a muse (because I don't have one. I would like one.); it just means that I'll write when I feel like it or when I have something to say. Or not  And Odds and Ends means that I'll write about any old thing, whether or not it has anything to do with anything. Or not.

So here goes:

When I was in Mexico a couple of months ago, I waited in the car while my friend was looking for something in a market. It took her awhile, even though the market was tiny, and I watched these guys get pavers or whatever they are called from the pile on the sidewalk to the roof.  By hand.  For at least twenty minutes. They appeared to be enjoying their work, talking to each other as the guy on the street level tossed the blocks one by one to the worker on the roof.  

This gave me a chance to try out some of my new Spanish:  Hola joven!  Yo es muy fuerte.

(Hey there young man, you are very strong!)

They laughed and one of the guys teased the other. I think. I don't speak enough Spanish to really know, but they were laughing. Maybe at my Spanish, but that's ok.  

When we had a new roof put on our house, the roofers used a platform that attached to the ladder, was run by a compressor, and it ratcheted the packages of shingles up the ladder. It was really, really noisy, but certainly easier and quicker than tossing them up by hand.

So, which is better:  machine or human?

I report; you decide.


And while I can't put accents in Spanish text because I don't know where they go, I discovered while I was at the Apple bar waiting for my computer that I can in French.  A screen playing overhead showed all sorts of tips for using a Mac and one was for accents. Just hold down the key for the letter you want the accent for, and up pops a series of choices.  

Sometimes it is good to have to wait for something.

Like the time a friend and I went to NY to see some plays. On Sunday morning we went to a restaurant with outdoor seating for breakfast and once we were taken to a table, the wait was interminable. They ran out of cups and saucers, then they ran out of coffee, they didn't have enough servers, and on and on. We were sitting near the sidewalk of a side street, and suddenly, there was Paul McCartney!  

I called younger daughter and told her that Paul McCartney was standing on the sidewalk next to our table and she said Mom!!!  He's one of the Beatles!!!

I know!

He was walking with his then-wife, Linda (the second one), and everyone left them alone. They stood there for a good five minutes, studying a piece of paper, maybe a map, and then walked on.

So Yay! for slow service.

And another odds or ends:

My younger daughter put this photo on Facebook for Mothers' Day. (And since I have already mentioned younger daughter, this is a proper segue to a new topic, in case you were grading this.)

This is of my daughter and me some thirty-odd years ago.  I do not look like this anymore; in fact anyone who knew me then would not recognize me now.  I bemoaned whined about this to my husband, who said that the problem is that I now don't smile naturally for the camera. Nope. That's not it. The problem is that it is now thirty-odd years later and somehow I lost my face.  I don't know where it went.

And my daughter doesn't look like this any longer either, but she looks pretty and all grown up.

This was taken over the weekend when she was in Palm Springs for a weekend with friends.  She was lying (I hope) in the shade.

And here is a picture of her with her family:

Not really. 

BTW:  Is he a Prince or a Duke, or both? It's confusing.   

Knittergran Said

Let there be peonies .... pulleeze?

And there are!

First time in years!

They are my FAVORITE flowers (until the roses bloom, and then there are the hydrangeas.....).

Frogged

Spring Bouquet/Lijuan Jing/Jojoland Crown 100% Cashmere

sniff...sniff...sniff....

I started this Spring Bouquet lace scarf so many years ago that I don't remember how long ago it was. I bought the pattern and yarn at the Old Oaks Ranch and Fiber Arts Center in Wimberley, TX and it is not even in business as a yarn shop any longer. I think I was there pre-Elizabeth, and she is now five years old. So the project has been in limbo for quite a while.

I just pulled it out of its time-out to work on it again.  It is not a difficult pattern, especially when compared to the pattern for Currant, the many-cabled sweater I made for my daughter. When I first worked on this pattern, I was completely confused by the chart and there are now so many mistakes in this that I can't make it work.  I tried.  For ten rows or so. But where there were supposed to be 31 stitches, there were sometimes 30, sometimes 28. Never 31.  I tried adding random yarn overs to make up the count, but that didn't work either and I still wouldn't have 31.  Where did the stitches go?

I have no idea.  

So starting over is the solution, I hope.  I don't consider it giving up; I think of it as correcting mistakes.

Many, many mistakes.  

May Day Plus One

In other words, it is May 2nd.

At knit night last night, knitters discussed May Day traditions from their childhoods, but some of us didn't have any. I didn't. These traditions weren't regional at all, which is surprising. North? South? Didn't matter.

My husband arrived home earlier than I did last night, and he found flowers hanging from our front door. No tag from a florist. No note from a friend or neighbor. 

Just these pretty flowers.

This morning while he was checking out new posts on Facebook, my husband saw a photograph of what looked like our front door. It was our front door, complete with the flowers. The poster, a neighbor, wrote that she had revived a May Day tradition from her childhood by presenting flowers to a randomly chosen person. We are random! I plan on doing the same next year because it's a treat and a nice surprise.

At knit night, I almost finished these socks, and I would have if I hadn't thought that I had knitted 20 more rows than I needed for the length of the sock. So I tinked it by a few rows, tucked it back in my bag and came home. Today I discovered that I hadn't knit too many rows; I had counted from the wrong place. So I re-knit the tinked rows, decreased for the toe and kitchnered the toe. Once I soak the pair in SOAK, I will be finished with them. They are a gift for a friend who is a birder, and I think the camouflage colors are appropriate.  I admit, though, that I had no idea that this is what the yarn would look like knitted up.  Kind of an unwelcome surprise, but I guess they will be ok.  

MissBabs Hand-dyed Yarns and Fibers, Cosmic Sock Yarn

I blame my counting error on being distracted by this cute little puppy. She is our new shop dog, Blanche, and she belongs to the shop owner.  5 1/2 weeks old! She plays really hard for a few minutes then sleeps really hard. And she BARKS!!! The tiniest bark I have ever heard.  

I sometimes think it would be fun to have a puppy, but I have Baxter (and Molly) and Baxter is my challenge, although I think I have pretty much given up.

See the runner on the table? When I brought it home and put it on the table the first time, it had creases on it where it had been folded.  I didn't get to it right away, and Baxter paid no attention to it. I finally washed it and ironed it and put it back on the table.  

Baxter loves it. He plays with it, tries to hide under it.   

 I give up.  

BREAKING NEWS

Georgia Outguns Texas

I'm just so proud scared.

Thanks, gun nuts.

Not My Fault!

See the cute bunny?

SallyKnit made a dozen or so of them and let knitters choose their favorite at last week's Knit Night. The bunnies hide Cadbury creme eggs inside.  

I had never had one, even though my children have had many of them and love them. I knew there was imitation egg yolk and white in them ..... euwwww........

However, I craved chocolate the other day and ate the one in the bunny. I HAD to buy a replacement, but they come in boxes of four. So I bought four, replaced the one I had eaten, and ate a second one.  Yummmm.......... All those years, I was wrong.

I told my husband that he could eat them as well, but he said that he doesn't like creme fillings.

So they are MINE, all MINE, and it's SallyKnit's fault and my husband's fault that I will have to eat all four.  

Really! What else could I do?

Tweet?

I have had a Twitter account.  

My younger daughter set it up for me last summer.  I have looked at it once or twice, but I: 

1. don’t get the point of it.
2. can’t not read every entry. 

I was an English major in school;  what a wonderful major it was for someone who loves to read. While math majors were busy puzzling out calculus and trigonometry and who-know-what, while science majors and history majors were memorizing, I was reading. And writing.  Heaven for a reader.

Years and years later when I was subbing in my daughters’ school, another teacher in the break room asked me what I was reading.

A biography of Isak Dinesen, and it’s really boring.

She asked me why I was reading it since I didn’t like it.

It had never occurred to me to not finish reading something I had started.  I had never done that.  Sacrilege!!!  But who would have thought that the biography of someone who could write such a beautiful story as Out of Africa and who had lived such a fascinating life could be the subject of such a boring biography? I had finally made it to the part of the book where all the author wrote about were dinner parties Dinesen had attended and whom she had been seated near, what they had eaten.  Dinesen at this point was old and ill from syphilis and perhaps attending dinners was all she could do. Either that or a mediocre writer was making a mess out of good material.

I put the book down and never finished it.

But therein lies my problem with Twitter.  My daughter selected people for me to follow, and apparently all of these people tweet many, many times a day.  I felt obligated to read everything because that’s what readers do.  I would be scrolling down through all the tweets, noticing how long ago they had been tweeted, and OMGah, 2 minutes ago???  And there’s a whole 24 hours left?  Maybe even days left???

The only solution was to delete the account.  I hated to disappoint my two followers (who are a mystery to me since I had never tweeted anything. What on earth were they following?) but I clicked on the delete account key.

I haven’t resorted to shouting in the streets yet.  I’ll save that for when I’m senile and confused. 

Which I don’t plan to be.  

Lilacs

I love lilacs.  When I lived in the north I used to cut huge bouquets of them for my bedroom. The same varieties of lilac don't grow here in the heat of the south,

but I'll settle for these:

The flowers are more delicate than those in the north, and the aroma isn't quite as strong, but still, they are beautiful and I'm quite happy to have these instead.

Gauge

So far, so good.

I have made more gauge swatches for this sweater than I have for any other project.  I have discovered the joys of making sweaters that FIT, so now I understand that swatching, no matter how boring, how mundane, is something I should do.  

So I did.  And I even wet-blocked the swatches.

I am getting gauge with size 4 (instead of 6) wooden needles for the cuff of the sweater, and with size 6 (instead of 8) metal needles for the sleeve itself.  Whew.

I have been warned, though, that gauge can change during the course of knitting. Maybe because of the phases of the moon; maybe not enough chocolate; maybe bad hair days vs good hair days?  Who knows?  So I will keep checking gauge and hope that I can continue getting it correct.

But if all else fails, I will tell myself what I told my daughter when I mailed her sweater off to her:  

1.  If it's too small, lose weight.
2.  If it's too large, gain weight.
3.  If it's too short, wear higher shoes.
4.  If it's too long, wear flats.
5.  (Or 3 and 4 the other way around.  I'm not sure.)

Now I do know that numbers 3 and 4 won't actually work, but it's all I've got.

Oh, and for the record, it turns out that UPS does not let you insure packages for a million zillion dollars.

I insured the sweater for something less than that, and I am hoping for the best.  

(Please, get the sweater to LA safely, UPS.  It will not fit Tom Hanks.)

Finished!

I started working on this sweater last August, and I have now finished it.  

I am thrilled.  Maybe even more thrilled than my daughter will be to get it---Finally!

(And no, she won't keep it on a hanger.)

Here is the back:

After it is properly introduced at knit night this Thursday, it will go in the mail, insured for a million zillion dollars.  

Because I'm not making another one.  

Do You See a Seam?

No, you do not see a seam.

Because....I haz the skillz.

But mostly--- because I watched a Craftsy class on seaming and finishing and because I took off my cast in order to sew.  (Shhhh...)

The entire sweater is now sewn together and ready for the button bands.  And I even have the buttons.  

They do match.  The colors aren't showing true.

See?  They match.

I started knitting this sweater last August and it may actually be finished tomorrow.

Except for final blocking.  It seems as if there has always been an "except."

I Have Learned

that wearing a cast means

not having to empty the dishwasher.  

Rats.  (about the plate, not about not unloading the dishwasher!)

However, with the permission of my PT, I am allowed to take off my cast to knit (which I had been doing without permission...shhhh), and I have now finished both sleeves.  I was almost finished with the first one when dH said Let's go ride bikes and we all know how that turned out.

I am so happy to be able to work on this but not so happy that now I have to rip out about four inches of the right front.  All I can think is that in an apparent bout of misplaced optimism, I decided to work the last few inches without the chart.  

Now I will rip back and knit using the chart.  

And those little white feet?  Baxter, my supervisor, checking my work.

Shhhh.......

Don't tell anyone.

Especially my surgeon, his PA, or my PT.

But I've been knitting.  

Without my cast.

My New Toy

Aren't you glad you tuned in?

Five more @#$%^&* weeks.

Progress

Really and truly, this is progress, because two weeks ago today I broke my wrist and last Friday, I had this:

installed in my wrist.

The surgeon told me that once the cast and stitches were removed (on Monday, two days from now), I could try to knit.

Hah! said I (to no one in particular) and I just finished my second Sundry.

I even put on the picot edging!

What I have learned from all of this is that exercise is bad for us.  I was riding falling off my bike when I broke my wrist and to add insult to injury, I fell into a swamp.  I was covered with mud and muck and I might hold the record for the dirtiest person ever to arrive at our local emergency room.

But now I can knit, and on Monday, I bet I will be able to work on finishing younger daughter's sweater, the one I started in August.  

I hope.

Happy Valentine's Day, Ya'll

Slope at Gore Mountain Ski Resort, NYS

My Valentine's Day started with my cleaning up cat barf.

And yes, that is a photo of a ski slope at Gore Mountain in New York State.  So what do cat barf and Gore Mountain have to do with Valentine's Day?

Let me explain:

Usually dh cleans up cat barf and other disgusting things.  But he is not here; he is skiing at Gore Mountain.  And the ski slopes at Gore Mountain were a big test of our relationship decades ago.

We were dating, and we decided to join some of the members of dh's family at Gore Mountain for a day.  Of course I can ski, I assured him.  I had taken group ski classes one day with a group from college.  ONE DAY.

I truly did think I could ski, but when we got to the top of the mountain and I looked down the mountain, I told him that I could not ski that well.  

OMG---can anyone ski that well???

Well, future dh could, but he spent the whole day acting as ski instructor, and skiing small bits of each trail down the mountain with me following behind.  He skied a bit; I skied a bit. Until I ran into something or fell down.  I was very good at running into trees, other skiers and falling down.  Not so good at actually skiing.

It took the whole day to get in one run. Not the day future dh had planned.

He had just enough time left to get in one run which took him all of about twenty minutes.  

BUT, four decades +, two daughters, and four grandchildren later, we are still together.

I get to clean up cat barf; he gets to ski.  

But that's OK.  I probably owed him.

Our Long National Nightmare is Over!

So I exaggerate.  A little.

MY LONG local nightmare is over.  

I have finished the back of the Currant sweater, the one I started August 15, 2013.  And I know this exact date because, unlike SOME people I could name, but won't (you're welcome Sallyknit and Lucille), I enter my projects on Ravelry.  

I like to share.  

Here 'tis:

I cannot understand how this project has kicked my b*tt, but it sure has.  I'm hoping that I have learned all the new things I needed to learn in order to do this and that I remember them because I still need to knit the two sleeves and the two fronts.

Maybe it could be sleeveless....hmmmm.....


And yes, I am back from my week in Mexico.  A very l.o.n.g week.  And because as a child I was taught that if I can't say anything nice, I shouldn't say anything, I will list only the three things that were good during the week.  

1.  Gorgeous weather the entire time.  Upper sixties through the mid-seventies, cloudless blue skies.

2.  I saw whales the second morning there.  They were where they were supposed to be, out in the ocean, eating and making their way north.  There were three for sure and possibly a fourth. They wouldn't hold still enough to be accurately counted.  

3.  The place we rented (and I still can't explain how we came to be in a residence with no walls in the living areas) was 100 feet from the ocean.  So---perfect views and a lovely ocean breeze all of the time.  

And now I'm home.

Knitting indoors.  

My Second Sundry

Room With A View

Hola from Mexico.

The reason for this lovely view, aside from the fact that I am in Mexico, is that the living room, dining room and kitchen have no walls.

Surprise!  It sure was to us and the reason for the surprise is a long and confusing story.

For another day.

It is siesta time.

If the crashing of the waves doesn't keep me awake...

Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive.

Yes, I know Sir Walter Scott wasn't talking about knitting, but he might have been if he had seen this: 

The sweater that has been torturing me suddenly seemed to make sense yesterday and I just knit like the wind, making PROGRESS for once.  I even made it to the decreases for the armholes.  

I was so encouraged that I kept on knitting, even though I had started making small mistakes, mistakes that were easy to fix.

And on I knit.

Until suddenly I had the wrong stitches in the wrong places for one set of cables. My apparently-tired mind figured it ALL out and fixed it, meaning that I sort of faked it, because really, who would know?  Anyone studying it closely enough to spot the errors would deserve to be smacked upside the head.  

But the faked fix didn't take. I still had the wrong number of stitches in the wrong places. This morning, with two cups of strong coffee in me, I frogged the six or seven (I don't even know and that is a bad sign) stitches and remade the cable. 

Success?

Nope. Now I have the wrong combination of purl and knit stitches for the other half of the cable.  

Attempted deceit didn't work.  I thought I could fake the fix and no one but me would ever know.  

Sir Walter Scott: Knitting Expert. 


And an update:

I have learned something valuable and I will pass it on to you.  Apparently it is not possible to fake repairs on cabled knitting when the cables sort of wander around the fabric.  After too many attempts to do this, and after too many times of thinking, incorrectly, that I could get away with it, the knitting demons (I am convinced that they exist) just totally rejected all my fixes. There were purl stitches where there should have been knit stitches and knit stitches where there should have been purl stitches. I don't know how or why. I had to take back all the rows I knitted yesterday, row by sad row, stitch by sad stitch.

I still don't understand WHY what I did didn't work.  But this is what I have ended up with tonight:

A tangled mess, indeed

It's very sad.  I'm very sad.

But determined, against all odds.

As Scarlett said:  ...tomorrow is another day.

And this time, this had better go perfectly...or else.  Or else what?  No idea.

I sweartagah

I keep knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting some more

and this sweater NEVER gets any longer than 11 1/4 inches long.  I've been knitting for days and weeks and......well, since AUGUST 15th!!!!!

and this is as far as it goes.  

I had thought that it was my fault, lack of initiative, lack of inspiration, lack of stick-to-it-ive-ness, but I have decided that it is not me.

It is the sweater.  

It is evil.  

Just like the Bunny Blanket Buddy I knit a few years ago.

So, younger daughter, it will be a sweater when IT decides to become one.  In the meantime, I will keep knitting and knitting and knitting, but it is ultimately up to the yarn and the needles.  

Really.

Where Variegated Yarn Comes From

MOLLY! NO!

I never say that, do I?  It's always BAXTER!  NO!

But nope, this time it was Molly and I caught her in the act.

Do you see Gertie?

This is Gertie.  Isn't she c.u.u.u.t.e?  She was a Christmas gift from Sallyknit, who made her and her nine buddies.  

Do you see where Gertie lives?   in a top row cubby, between a photo of younger daughter and some books, where cats can't get to her.  (Hah! say the cats.)

Do you see sweet, innocent, widdle Molly, sitting in front of the bookcase?  Hi Mom.  I'm just sitting here, doing nothing.  Yes, Gertie was on the floor.  I don't know HOW she got there. Really. Prolly Baxter did it.  Yes, it was Baxter. He's the bad cat.  

No, Molly, it wasn't Baxter. 

I just came upstairs and found poor Gertie, being assaulted, assaulted, I tell you, by Molly.  I rescued Gertie.  She is fine.  

Something happened while we were away for Christmas.

Molly learned many bad things from Baxter.  Soon after we came home, I looked into the kitchen to see Molly on the kitchen counter.  I had never seen her there before.

And now, poor Gertie.  

Molly---