Balm for the troubled soul

You’ll be happy to know that I’m much less whiny than I was yesterday. Amazing what 9 hours of sleep can do for a girl.

Dan and I went out to Hot Topic last night to use a gift certificate from his mom. We were dismayed to find that they’re in one of their punk cycles, so all he got was a few pens and a bookmark. He’ll hang on to the rest until something good comes up.

I made a stop at Michael’s to use a gift card of my own to get yarn to start Banff. Because nothing clears up the doldrums like starting something new (and visiting a craft store). And I was really feeling a need for a warm cozy sweater, that is (hopefully) easy and fast. Zombie knitting at its best.**



That’s the first 11 rows of ribbing, though you can’t tell through all those boucle loops. I’m not at all convinced that I chose the right yarn for it, but I am getting gauge. If it doesn’t look right when I’m done, it’ll just be a bum around the house sweater. I think I’ll do the sleeve and neck ribbing on a smaller needle, to see if I can tighten it up some.

For the first time ever, I’m making a Knitting New Year’s Resolution. After toying briefly with the concept of trying to get WIPs done (I rejected that as completely unrealistic), I settled on this one: I will always have at least one gift project on the needles. In theory, this means that next Christmas won’t turn into knitting hell. But you’ll notice that I didn’t say anything about finishing them, which means that in all likelihood, I’ll have a bunch of incomplete gift projects to frantically finish next December. But hey, that’s better than where I was this year.

That’s about it from the house of Palmer. Have a happy new year. Have fun and be safe.

** The "zombie knitting" designation was quite amusing to Dan, who wandered around the house saying "Arggg.....yarrrrrrn".

Blehness

This post contains a lot of whining and not much knitting content. This has been a Public Service Announcement. Thank you.

Bleh.

I think that about sums it up. Another day of the doldrums. I don't want to be at work, I don't want to be at home, I just want to sleep. Call me weak, but I really do need at least 7 hours of sleep a night, and anything less than 8 1/2 seems stingy. Otherwise, the whole day is tinged with a pale aura of grey.

I did get some crocheting done on the doily last night while watching the worst officiated college football game ever. Seriously. It was so bad I can't even properly rant about it. Suffice it to say that the announcers resorted to calling the officials "incompetent" at least twice in every quarter. Michigan finishes out it's season 7-6: the worst season since 1984, which would be before I was old enough to watch football. Bleh.

During the game, we found out that a bunch of kids in our complex had gone around breaking windows out of cars. A friend that was over got his truck topper's windows broken, and they hit Dan's car, too. Most of the time I don't mind living in low rent townhouses, but nights like that make me dream of squeaky-clean suburbs. The autoglass place is going to come take care of it today, but Dan had to miss a day of work. Bleh.

I feel a desperate need to cheer myself up. I think I'll go organize my knitting bookmarks. Even if I can't be knitting with a luxurious yarn right now, I can console myself with pictures. And maybe even plan.

Hoping your all wrapped in wool and happiness. (And if you are, would you mind sending some my way?)

But you don't love her!

I've been putting off writing this entry all day. It's not that it's sensitive, or thought-provoking, or anything else. I just ... didn't feel like it, like I was being all pouty about it. Here it is anyway.

Yesterday afternoon, Dan asked me what I was doing. (What I was supposed to be doing is working, seeing as how I was at work, but that’s irrelevant.) When I told him I was looking through doily patterns for one to make Aunt Marilyn, he was almost speechless. Why on earth was I thinking about making a present for someone that I don’t like to begin with, so close to the time when I was with her, and realized anew how much I don’t like her?

Well, I’m a little strange that way, I guess. Part of it (I’ll admit, probably a big part) is that she requested it. No one ever has specifically asked me to make them something knitted. (Crocheted in this instance, but still.) To request it means that not only do you want the item, you believe the knitter in question has the skill and creativity to make what you want, and how you would want it. That’s real appreciation. It means that you’re not just receiving the yearly hand-knit items in good grace and stowing them in a closet. It means that the item is wanted. That’s … well, it’s a damn good ego boost.

Also, I’m not a good person. Really. Harlot says that knitting is wrapping someone in wool and love. And it is for me too, but not for the most part. For one thing, I just don’t know a lot of people that want handknit items. The sweater, it seems, is just not “in” for my crowd. So I have a shortage of people to wrap in handknits. Those that do receive them anyway, well, that goes into this next part.

I’m a selfish knitter. I knit things that I enjoy, that I think are pretty, or that challenge me. Yes, I have knit and crocheted absolutely hideous (but well-executed) items, just to show I could. (Of course, these are the largest percentage of my UFO’s, since once I’ve mastered the technique, the challenge – the whole reason for the project in the first place – is lost. Where was I?) Then I sort of cast around looking for someone to give them to. I’ve always thought that doilies were particularly pretty, and also a testament of skill depending on the size of thread used. But there’s no way in a cold hell that I’d have one in my house somewhere … definitely not my speed. BUT I now have the perfect opportunity to knit one guilt-free – no wondering “what the heck am I going to do with this? Why am I making it?” It’s a gift, and gifts are worthy ways to spend your time. (We can discuss my issues with “allowing” myself to knit or crochet just for the hell of it at your leisure.)

So I’m going to crochet a doily for my Aunt Marilyn, though I don’t like her and she isn’t worthy of the time and love that goes into a handmade project, because she asked for one and gave me the perfect excuse to make one.

The pattern is White Sapphire. Of course, it isn’t for size 20 thread, even though that’s what I bought, and it really could have obliged me. Instead, it’s on size 30 thread, so I bought some of that. I present to you the first four rows of a doily:

Merry Christmas, reprise

I realize that my last post may have been a bit cynical. Let me start by saying that I have very good, loving memories of my family. It’s only since I’ve become an adult that things have gotten a bit dodgy. I think my family loved me as a cute little girl, but is not so fond of the adult I’ve become. And since I am (more or less) fond of who I’ve become, conflicts inevitably arise. It’s only since I’ve moved away from them, and gained some real and figurative distance that I’ve realized that my family is full of prejudiced, bigoted, closed-minded individuals. Ah, well.



It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared, though there were some isolated incidents that I will do my best to forget. But, really, it could have been much worse. The report:

Day 1:
Flew into Grand Rapids with little difficulty, to find my family waiting. I had decided on the plane that I would not be cowed back into playing the child by my family, and would in fact act my age. I was reasonably successful. The afternoon passed slowly, with some knitting and harmless conversation. We only do small talk in my family, which is just as well – there is very little in my life that I would willing disclose to this particular branch. Went coat shopping, as I had asked for one for Christmas.

Day 2:
Picked up my cousin at the airport. I breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief and snort of annoyance. Jeff, despite the fact that we are nothing alike, is my salvation at these events. The only other member of my family that’s under 60, he and I have the bond of being the only kids in the family. However, Jeff is doted on incessantly by his mother, whom I detest. (Point: his mother pays his room, board, schooling, car, and insurance. He still lives at home. He’s 26 years old, and a father at that.) He’s also the “baby” of the family, being a whole two years younger than I am.

We opened gifts as soon as he got home. Not too bad on my end, lots of books, as well as a few really terrible gifts from the previously mentioned detested aunt. (Body care items? Snowman cookie supplies? Yeah.) Not one knitting related book, though, so all my self-discipline and not buying them for myself was in vain.



We played games for most of the night. Our family has the “games table” tradition. Everyone brings several small gifts with them that we pile on a table. When you win a game, you get to go over to the table and pick something. This continues for as long as the gifts hold out. This was, by far, the most enjoyable part of my trip, as I enjoy playing games. Actually, it’s not a bad idea in general, and I’d like to start a similar tradition at other gatherings.





I did actually get quite a bit of knitting done. I worked one sock all the way to the gusset, picked up the gusset stitches, then had a complete mind blank, and forgot which decrease to use on which side of the gusset, so I set that aside. (I had briefly considered bringing a sock pattern, then dismissed the idea because a)I know how to make socks, and b)I would never get that far. Ah, Pride.) Got all five rows of bobbles done on the shrug, only to discover that I had missed one. After trying unsuccessfully to convince myself that no one would see a completely missing inch wide bobble, that too got set aside.

Day 3:
Ah, another high point. For one thing, I woke up knowing that I was going home that day. Then we went shopping. I got a pair of jeans to replace the ones that I had gotten for Christmas that didn’t fit, and finalized my coat decision. Then, they took me to Hobby Lobby. Ah, Hobby Lobby.



You see, we don’t have one here. I only had time to look at yarn, and was mildly disappointed. I had expected, well, more in some way, after hearing all the rave reviews. It was, with very little exception, acrylic, and most all of it I’d seen before. They do have an in house brand named “Yarn Bee” that was intriguing, and I picked up a skein of it to make myself a scarf to go with the new coat. I only bought four skeins, and some size 20 crochet cotton, due to a restricted budget (which means that I spent the money I was supposed to be spending on food, but not money I need to spend on bills).



I flew home, through interminable airports, and had a little mini Christmas with Dan, Lyn, and Ryan. We exchanged gifts and went out to dinner. Then I expressed my joy at being home in a more concrete manner with Dan, and slept the sleep of being back in my own bed, surrounded by love and cats.

And now, here I am, back at work.



Note to self:
Watrous family wants photos of me for Christmas next year. (They’re getting photos of me and Dan, and they’ll deal.)
Aunt Marilyn wants a doily the size of a placemat (size 20 thread already purchased)
Grandma wants a warm scarf for her brown coat (already conveniently half done from this year’s abortive Christmas present), and her black coat.
Aunt Cheryl wants a big tin of my candies, and maybe slippers.

You know, I wanted this post to be about something profound, or at least amusing, but it seems I must settle for a travelogue. Perhaps this is why I have trouble blogging frequently. With such creative geniuses out there, I feel my prose is uninspired at best.

Three whole days

(Do you see the two-days-in-a-row action I have going on here? Wow.)

Finished one row of evil bobbles last night, without too much lasting pain. So now only two more to go on this edge. Tonight is a no-knitting night, so I should have ample time to recover. Dan thought I was nuts for knitting while I was in pain last night. He should be used to it.

Tonight, I finish packing. Last night, I laid out the essentials.



Three knitting magazines, two knitting books, and two projects. For Three. Whole. Days. By contrast, I'm bring one change of clothes. (Hey, I'm going to be on a plane for a portion of two of those days. Who's going to care?) We won't talk about how many non-knitting distractions are coming with me.

But see, this is An Obligation. The yearly trek to see the parts of my family that, well, I love them because I'm supposed to. I see them because I'm supposed to. I need as many things as I can to distract them from talking to me. Plus, they scheduled me with three layovers on the way home. Sitting in airports is a painful experience, mitigated only by having something to focus on, so I don't end up staring at the lady sitting there with her kid, who's crying. And coming up with creative ways to mangle said child's vocal cords without being noticed ... have I mentioned I don't do kids well?

So, as usual, my holidays will be spent with people that I don't like (who I'm pretty sure don't like me), trying to avoid talking to them. Merry Christmas, y'all.

I may have knit too much

(Okay, blog, I know we've had our ups and downs. But I'm back now, so let's just pretend that the apologies have been said and we've made up, okay?)

My wrist was hurting during work today. It's my right wrist, which was especially perplexing, as I'm left-handed. I thought it may have been due to too much mousing while working .... er, okay and some goofing off.

When I was leaving work, that little tendon at the bottom of my thumb twinged a bit. Uh-oh. That's the one that hurts when I knit too mu....oh, crap.

This, this is what has been hurting too much. The pattern taunted me with words like "gypsy" and "bohemian." It promised to be knit on huge plastic needles that were probably plane-friendly for Christmas. Bobblicious. Have I mentioned that I hate bobbles? Not that I've knitted them before, but I hate doing all versions of bobbles in crochet. Knitting them would surely be no easier. It's not. It's hell. A painful, "increase 5 sts in next st" hell.



I present to you a very messy glass coffee table, and two whole rows of bobbles. Now, this really represents 4 rows of bobbles, as I have knit row 1 a total of three times. The first time ... we're not going to talk about the first time. Suffice it to say that I'd never knit bobbles before. The second time Leia decided that mom's knitting (as always) was a good place to lie down for a nap. In the act of extricating it from underneath her, it completely disintegrated. I told her I hated her, and I meant it for about 5 seconds, too.

Now, this third time appears to have been too much for my poor hand. But I'm driven. Two more rows of bobbles and I get 45 or so inches of pure stockinette stitch (we'll worry about that later). Just two more rows. 22 more bobbles.

I was doing hand exercises in the car on the way home. Lyn comes over in half an hour. How many bobbles do you think I can get done before then?

Edit - I just looked at the pattern again. I have 3 more rows of bobbles left to do. *sigh*