Blogging! Now with less photos!

I still can't bring myself to buy batteries for the camera...actually, I can't find time to buy batteries for the damn thing, and the moment I do, the photo-type-deal will resume.

So, onto the eat local thing.

There was a thread on the knittyboards that got a little snarky...what with folks saying that they didn't have a farmer's market, ect, ect...

I went sluthing, just for shits and giggles on LocalHarvest http://www.localharvest.org, and wanted to see what I could get if I lived in Arizona.
See, there was a woman who claimed that she could get nothing but peppers and potholders.
Uh, not so much...

I was curious about why so many had so much hate for this book...seems that people felt it was unnecessarily political, and were turned off by the fact that she left the Southwest because she felt like the climate, the car driven lifestyle, and the non-water-havin' of the area were not condusive to leaving a small carbon footprint.

Well...it's not. Seriously. That's like being upset that someone leaves SouthBeach, Miami because they don't feel intellectually stimulated.

Major urban areas in the southwest can't fill their own water needs. They beg, borrow, or steal water from other parts of the country. If the damns broke, and couldn't be repaired, there wouldn't be enough water for the residents. The Colorado River now trickles into nothingness.

If one decides to live there, one should know. No judgments from me, just stop being deluded.

Now, if you live in Tuscon, you can eat local, maybe take a bus, and stop trying to grow roses, maybe plant some native plants in your yard, and you can reduce your footprint. It's not impossible.

It does take a little work to recycle...and in Chicago, it's really questionable to recycle at all. Our system sucks. However, almost everyone can compost their kitchen waste, and reduce the amount of garbage bags that end up in landfills.

It's maybe a little more work to buy veggies and fruits at the Farmer's Market...you might have to shop when you might like to be sleeping...but, here at the little house in the ghetto, we think it's worth it. If you don't...that's okay.

Not everybody can bike or bus to work, but almost everybody could decide to bike or walk to some small errand once in a while...I know people who take their car everywhere, even if it's close enough to walk.

I still buy wine made all over the world, but I'm trying really hard to drink local beer.

I don't know, it just seems like we don't have to make these grand, sweeping plans, or stop living in a way that makes us comfortable...just be mindful, and do what we can, when we can do it.

Is that really so political?

I guess so. I'm not sure why, but in many people's minds ecology=hippy.
I live with an ecologist, so it's just sorta part of our lives, everyday.
I don't want to destroy habitat, or kill things with noxious chemicals because I will enjoy my life a little more without tumors and with animals and plants.

I remember when I found out that most household cleaning can be done without a ton of chemicals, and that vinegar and salt are a kick-ass tool. I still buy windex and bleach, I just use it really sparingly.

Having had a health crisis when I was younger of the vaguely spooky kind, I'm more willing to embrace things that don't have a proven tumor-growing effect.

Is that political? or personal?

Oh, and i'm not going to say I'm sorry for getting all heavy, or possibly offending someone.
I think that we, as women, are taught to 'be nice', which turns into 'be nice in public, but say and do really nasty things behind people's backs". And I hate that.

Oh, and I might start trading yarn for soap at my farmer's market, and I'm jazzed about that, just jazzed.

What's that? No Photos? Shocked, truely shocked

Ahhh, now to continue onward with my photoless blogging. My batteries are dead, and thus, not so much with the camera. Someday.

Yesterday I cooked down 15 lbs of Roma tomatoes with 4 cups of homemade Syrah (no spices, no nothing...this is a basic starter sauce for this winter. I wanted to be able to have options.)
for about 4 hours on simmer, and made approximately 9 cups of tomatoe sauce. I froze it all in freezer bags in 2 cup portions. I may do this again before summer is over.

I also made a huge batch of 'everything' stock. I had 3 chicken carcasses in the freezer, so I tossed in some beef bones, some onions, some shallots, carrots, bay leaf, salt, pepper, and three fire roasted green peppers, and simmered for about 4-5 hours. Strained, and let sit overnight in the fridge so I can pull the fat off the stop, and package, once again, in 2 cup portions, and freeze.

The kitchen was hot last night with all the simmering, so I decided, what the fuck, let's bake.

So, with the leftover red hen chocolate bread, and some frozen overripe bananas, I made some chocolate bread pudding, and with the zuchinni from the garden I made chocolate zuchinni cake.

I will start freezing blueberries from the farmer's market today,and will be making a batch of freezer jam, as well.

Whoa, you say...that's alot of cooking.

Yup, but when I have frozen organic blueberry jam this winter, it's gonna be worth it. Sooooo worth it.

I read Animal, Vegtable, Miracle last week, and it really changed the way I think about food...I was always for eating seasonally...that's the snooty restaurant training, but I never thought about perserving the food for later...that's the Kingsolver message, and I'm totally down with it.

I'm not sure if I'm going to take the canning plunge, but I'm for sure going to stuff my freezer with the goodness of summer, and my wine cellar is going to have to share with potatoes and onions from the farmer's market.


Now to finish up those slippers for Dan, and to make sure the house is okay for business visitors.
I'm starting the tastings for the new Cheeseworld, and I have reps comming over to taste this afternoon.

I know, it's weird that I'm forced to taste beautiful wines for free in my own home. Sometimes, I have the best job ever.

Summer. Whah. Boom. Crash

So, we've had houseguests. The good kind. The kind where you are all "You guys don't really have to leave in August, right? You can just stay here forever."

However, since I love our houseguests, I haven't been doing much blogging. I have been doing some knitting, and frankly, I'll be taking some pictures, soon, 'cause I know that pictureless blogging, is sooooo, like, uncool and boring.

Knittingwise...Fingerless gloves are almost done. I just have to do a thumb, and then finished.

I started slippers for Dan, and the Fuzzy Feet (from knitty.com) are halfway done.

Socks of Hate? Still one lonely sock. fuck them.


Winewise?
Gruner Veltliner. Wine of the Summer. Oh, and dry reisling.
I can hear you now. "Reisling isn't dry, it's sweet. I know this 'cause I spent one summer in Germany and..." Shut up now. Wine doesn't decide how sweet it is. Winemakers follow their heart. Sometimes, local tradion rules their heart (like in Germany). Sometimes they just want to drink a delicious, aromatic reisling...and they make it dry.

Try 2006 Charles Smith Winery's
"Kung Fu Girl" Reisling, Washington State

It's about 14-16 bucks almost everywhere.

I'll wait.

Okay, now wasn't that amazing? Aren't you like, falling all over yourself? Me too, the first time I tried one.
Think about it, how many other wines have you not tried 'cause you made assumptions?
Get out there and drink.

Chez Ghetto

Yeah, that's exactly where I live.

I'm not talking about the 'oh, somewhat gentrified area that still has some drug deals on the corner'...no, that would be Logan Square. Or, 'used to be bad, but now has million dollar condos'...that would be Wicker Park. Or, 'still isn't great, but there's a whole bunch of us, and we're trying'...that would be Garfield Park.

I'm in the "where?"

People ask me where I live, and there's a pause, and then they say "where?"

Then I tell them, and they sorta squint. They have no idea where I live. It's sorta funny. Chicago is the 'city of neighbourhoods', and truely it is. It's just freaky that most people, unless they were born and bred in Chicago, have no idea about many of these 'hoods.

Ask your friends (if they live or used to live in Chicago) if they know where these neighborhoods are

Bridgeport. Maybe.
Canaryville. Bet they don't.
Blue Island. Fat Chance
Back of the Yards. Perhaps, but I'll betcha they've never been there.
Ukranian Village. Probably
Oz Park. They've been there, they just didn't know it had a name, because it's been swallowed up by Lakeview.
Austin. My home. Nobody has any clue.
Pilsen. Perhaps. It's my favorite 'hood right now. I wish I lived there.

Oh, and there's all the hoods in the far northwest side of the city, and all the hoods on the south side, and, and....but, odds are, if there's not a starbucks, and there's no faux Irish pub, they haven't been there.

It's sad, really. People fear where I live, and yet, it's filled with kids playing safely, who are called in when it gets dark, and mowed lawns, and construction and people who work for the city and the county...garbagemen and postal workers and cops.

I'll give you two guesses why.

Lessee...could it be race?
Um, yeah.

I'm a little sick of it, frankly. We have nice people living on my block. We don't have shootings on my block. We have families who live and work, and kiss their kids, and paint their houses, and remodel their kitchens and many of them are just like most people in this city. Okay, in the name of full disclosure, my across the way neighbors are not. They are a leetle trashy. The older son just got out of prision. He said it was drugs, but, it's not. I used the internets and he was arrested for sexual assault on a minor. He is creepy. I don't like him. He keeps trying to get into the house by starting long conversations with me, and asking if he can borrow tools. He is moving, soon, back to Michigan. Godspeed, child molester, Godspeed.

The whole west side isn't one drug-deal filled shooting gallery full of thugs. We don't have drug deals going on all night outside our house. We have a quiet block, one that has lightning bugs after dark, and the chirping of frogs when they mate.

Lovely, really. Big trees and turn of the century houses. Seriously. Drop by on a Saturday night. People will be in their back yards. They will be grilling. or sometimes Barbequing. (different things entirely).

However, if you do a search on the internets for your block, you might be surprised at some of the things that happen.

Chicagocrime.org is a great pastime.

Or, you can look up all the child molesters. Illinois has pictures of them all, along with what they've been convicted of, with the first numbers of their address, and the rest blocked out...for privacy.

I'm just sayin'.


Oh, and on the Etsy/craftfair front, I'm thinking that I'll do shows in October, November and December, and I'll start posting stuff on Etsy soon. I'm thinking that I'll get a retailer tax number, and that way, I can order fiber and yarn wholesale. I'm going to jump on the dying bandwagon, and see how that goes.

Maybe it's just that my empathy is off...

So, last summer, I was reading a back issue of the Utne Reader, and there was an article about living in empathy...basically that sympathy is not so useful, but that empathy, that you really take the time to try and 'feel' how someone else feels, is good.

That it can cut down on conflict, make you understand that your own point of view is not the only valid view, ect...

So, I'm walking around, trying do be more mindful and shit.
Day 1.


Morning:
Fine. I'm about a skijillion times less bitchy than I had been, and was feeling all good about how I'm finally a little more in contact with other's feelings and shit.

Afternoon:
Okay, it might have been a slightly trying day at Cheeseworld, but, you know, I'm still into the idea. I sorta wish everybody else was trying too, but wtf, I'm not in it to have others love me, I'm in it to learn how to love others.

5pm:
So, my shift at Cheeseworld is over, and I stop by Apple Bite (the real name of the corner store)
and buy a can of starbuck's frappiwhatever, mocha flavored.
I was caffine-deficient, and it was hot, and even though I never buy those things, sometimes, they just seem like a good idea. Mostly, they just taste like chemicals, and I think they suck, and frankly, this was no exception. But, the caffine calls....

...so, I then figure out that I've left my cellphone at Cheeseworld. I run back to Cheeseworld, and grab my phone.

Back, back towards the bus stop.

There is one problem with Lakeview (just one? well, for the sake of this story, just one. I'll write a full list later), and that is the gross amount of traffic and congestion of said streets. The 'hood just isn't built for that many cars.

Many of the north/south streets get clogged durning rush hour, and I was walking along one of those major arteries.

There are many little one way side streets, and they get clogged as well.


Then I see it.

There is an old, old woman. She is using a walker. She is bent over nearly double, and she wasn't all that tall to begin with. She is trying to cross the one way side street (which has a stop sign).

There is an asshole (I'll call him Todd) who is driving his huge SUV, talking on his phone, or blackberry or whatever, messing with his stereo, and inching out from the one way street into traffic. He hasn't come to a complete stop, because, the car in front of him is trying the same passive-aggressive manuver into the the North/South street. Traffic is not moving in any direction. It's now about 5:30pm. Nobody is going any where any time soon.

Todd, however, just really needs to go...now. Even if it's an inch at a time, Todd is not going to just sit at a stopsign. Noooooooo, Todd is Important. On The Move.

Todd hasn't noticed the woman with the walker, because she is...

Not Taller than Todd's Hood.

Myself, I'm not much taller than Todd's hood, 'cause Todd's got the Big Wheels and the Jacked up, and the Bling, and the Really Big Car.

Todd, living in his bubble, is running this poor woman down an inch at a time.

She is trying to scoot out of his way, and is not moving fast enough, but Todd is moving slowly, and it's scary.

There is an air of quiet desperation to this struggle, and, at the time, it seemed like a metaphor for a lot of things.

I, feeling all empathetic, RUN out in front of Todd's car and jump up and down, waving my arms.

"Hey Stop! STOP!"

Todd's stereo, his blackberry and whatnot, are all taking up all of Todd's brain. He doesn't Stop, because he doesn't see me, and since he's assuming that his low-speed crawl is sooo safe, he's just keeping it up. An inch at a time.

I finally bang on Todd's hood. He looks up, puzzled.
He stops.

I usher the woman past the Hummer of Death, and Todd leans out the window and says,

"What the Fuck" Todd's angry.

I get the woman to the curb, and turn around.
I walk back up to Todd's gas guzzler.

"You were running that woman down. You didn't see her. She almost fell, and you almost ran her down..."

Todd squints, "You hit my car"

"You didn't stop when I was yelling"

Todd Rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, I didn't hit anyone"


"Did you see her?"

"Crazy Bitch"

This, pisses me off. I'm way past empathy for Todd.

I do it.

I lob my almost full can of starbucks into his open window, splashing Todd and his Electronics,
scream "Fuck You", and run, as fast as I can.

Todd starts to get out of his car, but then doesn't. I am glad I'm not wearing the Cheeseworld uniform.


My empathy thing didn't go so well.

The more things change...

So, lately, I've come to accept that certain things will never change.
I will always be who I am. Others will be who they are.
But why do the two always have to come into conflict?

I'm thinking of one person in particular, at work.

It is mucho irritating to have someone that believes that their way is the -only- way, it's -right-, and nothing should ever get better, even if it takes a tiny bit of effort on their part to solve a huge, honkin' problem that affects everyone.

I tried something new this week. I spoke up, and alerted the bosses that there might be a problem, and gave them a way to resolve it.

It's like I peed on their Prada.

It's freaky.

I'm not the only person who wants said changes to happen. It's a tiny change. Just a bit of code on a website.

But no.

"People just have to work harder"

They already work really hard, and this tiny bit of code could make them more efficient. It's just about three minutes at the computer. I could fix it.

"Don't you dare."

I get the part about them not wanting to do the fix, but if I'm willing to do the fix, what's the big deal?

Personal Pride.

I am stubborn, and when something really matters, I'll dig my heels in and not let go.
However, right around this time last year, I made a choice to sorta...let go on the little stuff.

I'm happier. Seriously. More people should try it.

Oh, and stop asking me to knit you mittens right after you're a ginormous bitch.

I'll have pictures soon, I promise. My camera has about 15 million photos that don't have anything to do with knitting, and I have to take care of those.

What I'm knitting.

The Socks of Hate (see open letter to Lorna's Laces)
The Sweater of Fuzz
The Sweater that's not going to get done, cause it's freakin' hot here.
Slippers.

What I finished?

Purple socks for my Mom.
in an astounding 2 weeks. That's a sock a week! For me, that's like a personal best.

I'm in love with the Fitted Knits book, and that's the Sweater of Fuzz. I'm using the suggested yarn, which is wool and llama, and it's a loosely spun single, and seriously, I'm sick of picking fuzz out of my nose, which because it's hot, sticks. and itches.

I've begun listening to podcasts. They rock.

I've decided that the more tolerant I am, the more of a Buddhist 'fuck you' it is to those who aren't.

What's a Buddhist 'fuck you'? It's something that started when I waited tables. When there was a guest who was seriously into their own "bitchy for the sake of hating" trip, I'd smile, and jump through hoops to make them happy. I'd love them, in my heart, in all seriousness until they stopped. I didn't take it personally. I didn't get involved...in fact a certain amount of distance was part of it.
Every single person who got this treatment stopped their stupid behavior.
Why?

Well, because most people who behave badly, do so because they want a negative response. It's like the person who's in a bad mood walking in and dissing everyone at the party.
They feel bad, and they want company.

When they were getting what they said they wanted ie...a different glass of wine, no parsley on their plate, a different table, a pepper grinder that met their own personal standards, coffee that wasn't as hot (seriously, wtf? It'll get colder.), with a smile, they got to the point (I think) that
they had a moment of clarity.

"Shit, it's not these things that are making me unhappy. It's me. I'm unhappy. No matter what."

"What a miserable human being I've become."

They didn't leave happier, they just knew where their awful behavior sprang from.

I'm trying to be mindful. I'm trying to be empathetic. Last time I tried this, I ended up throwing a starbucks through the open window of an SUV because they almost ran a little old lady over.

I might write that story down as well.

Purple socks, you are done...an open letter to the folks at Lorna's Laces

Dear Yarn People,

My purple socks are done. I did them in the 'Purple Club' colorway, and in sportweight, because these were really ment to be 'house socks', and they are beautiful, just loverly.

I buy your yarn because you are local, because Beth buys cheese and wine at cheeseworld, because I have a friend who (albeit for a single hot second) dated one of your employees.

Because you are part of the local community. I totally get that, okay? Don't think that I don't love you, because I do, but can we talk about the misleading name of your 'stripe' collection?

Sure, technically, it stripes, but I really, really thought that there would be a longer color run, which would result in a thicker, more substantial stripe. Something with some heft, as it were.

I think your stripe is paltry. Barely a stripe at all, and I'm feeling a little cheated.

Thanks,

Me

New Knitty:open letter to Amy

Thank you, Amy.

I know that I was a little harsh in the past, what with the hatey and everything.
Don't get me wrong, I ment it. But the new summer Knitty is pretty awsome. There are cool socks, and an awsome little cardie, and only two cute kids things, that, quite frankly, I would knit for the kidlets that are not mine.

You are doing this full time now, it's a business. I am thrilled for you. That does come with a downside.

I expect great things from you. Amazing things, because you rock. You are a Public Figure.
Like EZ, or the Harlot.

The very first thing I knit was from Knitty. You were there for me, with my stupid questions, and the not understanding tension, and the witless fuckwittery. I was a moron, and you made me slightly more informed.

You tell me cool things, and support my habit, and let me feel less alone.

I'm sure that you are up to the challenge.

Thank you from the little house in the ghetto.

Wine and happiness and knitting

I was thinking about the fact that most knitters don't drink amazing wine. I wonder why?
I mean, they're happy when they get a knitting or fiber related wine that has a name like "Funky Llama" (real wine, btw), but wouldn't everyone be happier if they got a wine with a real, solid fiber link that tasted really, really good?


So, here it is, the beginning of a short list of wines that are made by folks with a real fiber content:


Owen Roe (I see you frowning. Owen Roe? What's up with that?)
Google the wines.
He's a Irishman who makes amazing wines in Oregon, and the last time I went to a trade tasting (His name's not Owen btw...) he and I had a nice little chat about his sheep. He owns sheep. and shears them. and makes cheese out of their milk. He's a sheep guy.

I like the Abbot's Table. It's not super-expensive, it's a fun blend, and it's complex and lovely.

Of course, he's got a second lable, as well, that's less expensive.
O'Reilly's. He makes a stunning dry, citrusy Pinot Gris that's amazing.

So, drink handmade wine. With real fibery content, not just some stupid name.

We fiber people value so many things handmade...there seems to be bleed over from the fiber stuff into the slow food movement and eating local. Think about the booze.

My focus at Cheese Wonderland (not it's real name) is handmade, organic or sustainable or biodynamic wine that's made by people and not by machine.

It's not all expensive, and it's not all snotty, and really, it tastes better.

Try it.

My rock n' roll life

Or not. Depends on how you view it.

The good doctor has taken up rock. He's learning how to play. Rock. Loud.


I am not learning to play. Not even rock. Because I don't want to.


The Teva Loop Lace Whatever sweater, however...that will be beat into submission today. Come hell or high water, I will have that sweater sewn and kitchnered, buttoned and washed today. Period.


I have massive amounts of leftovers from Sunday's get together. I think we had many people say 'yes, I will come', then remember it was mother's day, and not come. I have a whole roasted chicken with lavender, sage, rosemary, garlic and lemon in my fridge. Chicken salad sandwiches, here I come.


Russon played the fuck out of that cello. It was amazing...awsome. It was great meeting his mom, and frankly, I got to catch up with people in a way that would have been impossible if we had more people over, so it was a blessing.

Yesterday, was awesome, and sad. Awesome because it was a whole day with nothing on my plate. Alan and Chris and I went on the long walk to ice cream, and sadly, Peterson's has closed. Sniff.

However, it didn't suck just to walk around Oak Park, look at great plants and housed and just soak up the pre-summer day.

Amazing day it was.

Blue Wednesday

So, here at the little house in the ghetto we've been having big, big, big fun.

Firstly, a soffet fell off the side of the house. Whee!

We'll fix it, but seriously, this homeowner shit is getting troublesome.

Also, Florida!

Both Miami, and Key West.

Someday I'll blog about the trip, but right now, let's just talk about the snow here in Chicago.

Snow. After Easter.

Why?

It's beautiful, frankly. The kind of wet spring snow that we used to get in South Dakota around this time of year.

I'm not pissed, because frankly, I don't pack away the winter clothes until oh, about July. Because of the South Dakota in me. One year we had the fireplace buring on the 4th of July, it was so cold. The fireplace was our main source of heat. Cold hard butter in the mornings. Cold, cold floors.

A Day Off, and and what the fuck is up with Knitty?

So, I finally have a day off. And I'm doing absolutely nothin' with it. Which was my plan. After kind of getting roped into to too much work, and missing things I wanted to do....like knitting and book club stuff, and not being able to just hang out, I'm at a dead stop. For a day. Then, I get back on.
Don't think that I'm not grateful for the money...I know that I will need money for Burning Man and Miami. I just don't like to work all that much.
Don't think that I'm too good to wait tables...with my title and all...I'm not. It's just funny to me when some second-rate wine snob lips off to me like I'm a moron because I'm taking their order. It's hilarious.
Jerk, in two weeks you'll pay good money to hear me talk (I know, because you were bragging to your asshole friends about it. Oh, I'll kill you with kindness then.)

There will be a Knittin' and Drinkin' or Poundin' and Purlin' at Bin Wine Cafe (Wicker Park)

Monday, March 19th

6pm to whenever

Non-smoking. We do have a small selection of Beers. There is a full bar.


So, now on to the non-knitting crap. (this does have knitting content...it's mostly about what I'm not knitting)

I haven't been knitting because everything I touch seems to turn to crap. Maybe, after a long bath, I might start on the neck of the Loop D Loop Sweater that I started. Teva, seriously, you are kicking my ass with your lack of stitch counts on the increase rows.
Are you to good to give them out? Too busy because of your vast fame and general Englishness? Well, I've frogged and reknit about 11 times now, only to have the lace leaf become wonky, and I'm sick of it.

Oh, and the socks for me? Not so much. However much I like to look at sock books, the next time I drop 80 skizillion stitches off size 2 needles, remind me why I said I was going to just frog that shit and be done.

Feather and Fan Triangle shawl from Folk Shawls. yesh. It languishes.
Mostly because of my lack of stitch markers that aren't really heavy.

And now to the meat of the matter.

What the fuck is up with Knitty.com? This latest batch of patterns is weak. Weeeeeeeeak.
Oh, my a skilzillion sock patterns, and one good sweater? A 'manly' reworking of an already exsisting pattern? Oh, and the seriously un-shaped cardigan. Ick. Double Ick. I expect more, especially now that Amy R. Singer is doing this full time. When this was just a serious hobby, I was okay with a few small missteps. Not anymore. The 2006 summer issue was bad enough, but now this. Jeez. Maybe the book took away some time from your online mag, huh? Oh, and the Spinknitty section, with the clever tie-in to your book. Very subtle.


How about the serious lack of articles?

What the Fuck?

I'm a little dissapointed, to say the least. Oh, and just do a kids issue already, okay? I'm okay with it. It's just that, well, there are a lot of kids patterns out there already. But just stop slipping them in...and if you do, make sure they are seriously different than the ones you already published. Thanks

Oh, and moving on to other betrayals. The new issue of IK. Thanks for making it just like Vogue Knits. Awsome Idea.

Good thing you drastically cut back on editoral content and articles, because that means if I don't like most of the patterns, I can't even fall back on that. Really. Great job.

Thanks, no really, I mean it.

Okay, so it seems that I have not missed the knittig and books thing.


I can breath, thanks to knitmongrel.

So, really what have I done in the last few weeks, knit-wise.

Finished the sweater for Izzy.

Little, pink, fuzzy, and very, very, very, late.

I'm going to ask her daddy for a picture in it, because even though she wore the thing non-stop last weekend I have not one decent photo.

Finished Sweater for Dr. Al.
He hasn't let me block it. It's finally finished. It was about the 2nd thing I'd ever started, and it was in a bag, mellowing. I finially seamed it together, and then worked the sleeves in the round.

I'm now working on the lace leaf pull over from Teva Durham's book, and I've finished both sleeves.

Thing is, I found out when I worked on Izzy's sweater, that I suck ass at seaming. That, and I can't find a good pictured of how to do the fucking mattress stitch. Thank god Izzy's five, because otherwise, she'd simply turn her nose up at the mess that was her sleeve seams. Knitting for children is good.

Not even Domaknitrix, who has some of the best photo tutorials out there, gives me a good picture.
I know that it's supposed to be easy, and intuitive. That's just not me.

I'm now obsessed with Norwegian knitting and colorwork. Just the thing that when I started knitting, I wrinkled up my nose at, and thought, "Ew, just not for me, ever".

Well, now that I'm haunting Amazon for a copy of "Poems in Color" as history of Bohus-style knitting, I think we all know who's laughing last, and loudest.

Hint:

It's not me.

Ack. Just Ack.

When did I get so busy that I need a datebook? I seriously can't remember where I'm supposed to be and when.

That, and my emails that I save, with important info in them, just dissapear.

Knitdds, Knitmongrel, did I miss the knitting book club? Am I a crackhead?


Yes. Simply Yes.

That said, the documentary that I'm filming is going...ok. Just ok. Tech stuff has come up, but, frankly, I think I can get the help I need.

Talking for a living. That's going ok.

Wine buying. Sure. It's not shoveling shit, so I'm pretty happy with it.

Not being able to go to the Pogues on March 5 because I'm hosting a wine dinner? Sucks.


I'm picking up a couple of waitressing shifts as well, 'cause cash money is good.


Oh, and there will be a non-smoking, yet booze related knit night
on March 19th, Monday at Bin wine Cafe.

Peace out

Drinkin' and knittin'

No really, it's an idea of mine.

See, the stich n' bitch closest to my house is filled with really nice ladies, who can knit.
They meet at a coffee house on monday nights.

See, even though they are really nice, mondays are bad for me, and frankly, I want a adult beverage, sometimes.

So, Knittin' and drinkin' is born.
Anybody can come

The first meeting will be on January 22, at 6pm at The Webster wine bar.
You can Mapquest where it is, if you don't know.
(I know, I said mondays are bad for me...they are. Mostly because I'm usually in the city...the Oak Park stich n' bitch is closest to me.)

A couple of things to note:

The venue is not smoke free. This might be a problem for some. It isn't for us.
If it is a problem for you, simply don't show up. Really.

There are several newcomers to knitting. If you don't want to spend time helping them, you don't have to. Just. Be. Nice.

We haven't set the venue for all time. This is a purely experimental group. We are open to new places.

To wit, we are not associated with Webster wine bar. They will not know what the fuck you are talking about if you contact them. Please leave a comment if you have any questions.

Oh, and crochet and other needlework? Totally cool. I wouldn't recommend bringing a quit frame, however.

Cool.

So, I'm crazy into knitting now that my hand is almost back to full capacity. I can open a bottle of wine, too. Pretty cool, huh? Open jars? Check.

The problem seems to be that I have a choice.

Spin

or

Knit

Not both. So, I've been knitting. I finished the Doctor's socks. I'm working on a pair of my own.
I've finished a feather and fan lace scarf, and I've been plugging away on both Izzy's sweater and the good doctor's sweater.

I'm also buying tickets to burning man today.

Yes, I do want to run around, covered in dust, in the middle of the desert.
Yes, I have lost my fucking mind.
Yes, I do consider it a-poc-o-lyp-so training.

Freakin' Finally

Okay,

So, this is what I've been doing lately.

And yeah, that is commercially made rayon ribbon. I think it's pretty. It's not fun to work with, however, so, we'll probably never use it again.

So, just a holiday hint:

Stay on your meds. Please.

Not for you. I really don't care how you feel. For us.

Thanks.

We're Experiencing Some Technical Difficulties...Please Stand By

That sound you hear?

Blank Silence.

That's the sound of my digital camera not downloading pictures.

I have no freakin' idea why.

Whatever. I was going to post a shitload of stuff on Etsy, but now? Not so much.

I'll figure it out. And I have another video cord lying around here somewhere.

So, we'll talk about Craft Shows:

October Handmade Market @ Shuba's
Great room, lots of natural light. No customers.

Not one. And it wasn't just me. It was everyone. Nobody sold shit. It was lame.
I blame the neighbourhood.

November Handmade Market @ The empty Bottle
Rockin' as always.

Here's my favorite discussion with a 'customer'...I'll use that term, because 'clueless fuckwit' doesn't sound very nice. The interaction took place at Shuba's.

Clueless Fuckwit fondles my yarn for a while, and her equally clueless daughter of about 40 stands next to her.

CF: So, we pick the yarns out, and you knit it into something for us?

Me: No, people buy the yarn, and then they do stuff with it. You know, knit, crochet, whatever.

CF: So, you don't make it into anything?

Me: Nope, I just hand spin the yarn. You know, like on a spinning wheel.

CF gives me a narrow-eyed look. She holds up a hank of yarn.

CF: So it's almost 20 dollars just for the yarn? That's too much money!

I imagine the satisfaction I feel as I rip the yarn out of her gnarled hand and kick her fragile, brittle bones to dust. I slap on a fake smile.

Me: We'll these are very special. Mostly rare breed, or locally shorn sheep.

I offer another fake, bright smile, willing them to just move on to the next table and torture her.

CF: At most kitting shops they knit it for you!

Okay, so she was old. And, things have changed. I decide to cut her a break.

Me: That used to be true. For a small price, many Yarn Stores (notice my clever phrasing) did have some knitters that, for a small price, would knit a custom item. That's really not so true anymore.

CF: I don't believe that!

Me: Well....

I pause here. She is leaning over my table, lower jaw jutting out, sort of looking like a nasty, elderly bulldog. I hate her. I could continue this exchange, which, really isn't pissing me off, but she would get madder and madder, until her wraith-like body started twitching. She -could- have some sort of stroke. Am I up for this? I take a deep breath.

Me: You know, there's a yarn shop right around the corner. You should go talk to them about it.
I'm probably wrong.

CF snorts, tossing down the yarn.

CF: You don't know anything about knitting.

Okay, so I do feel bad about sending this woman to a LYS. But they were kinda bitchy when I was there...

Blogger ate my brilliant post.

Fuck.

Out Damned Spot, Out.

My hands are stained with wine.
My bra is stained with wine.
My sweater was stained with wine.

Just another big night out?

I think not.

I was making custom wine blends for the Hospitality Mines with the Boss in California.

The Stats:
In two days:

I hand-corked 810 bottles of wine.

I drank 5 glasses of wine.

I had 4 Amazing Meals. (breakfast is breakfast everywhere you go)

I got no knitting done.

I drank 6 beers.

I handled over 120 gallons of wine.

I watched two cute guys stomp grapes.

I watched 10 tons of grapes get made into wine.

I had over 5 gallons of wine spilled on me.

I met one great dog.

I stayed in one amazing house.

My hands will never be clean. They are stained with wine.

I will be used, and I'll like it

So, I have been teeter-tottering about this California thing.

Sure it's great that I go. It's awesome. I'm thrilled, really.

But why? Why after almost 5 years of screaming indifference, or sometimes outright hostility, is The Wine One being nice to me? Really, really nice. Almost kind.

It freaks me out. I'm uncomfortable with it.

However, I've decided that it doesn't matter why this situation has turned around, it just has, and as long as I'm not dirt to be scraped of Himself's shoes, I should sit back and enjoy the ride.

Yarnwise, I'm in high gear. I've been spinning every second that I can to make yarn for the upcomming craft fair. At Shuba's. On Sunday. noon to 4pm.

I'm pretty excited. Keep your fingers crossed for me, and stop by and say hi!