was that in order to shack up with his new blonde plaything (I call her Edna; he likes to call her "Spinning Wheel." What-EVER. Like that's a name) he had to sell me to the gypsies.
I just escaped.
It was harrowing.
Actually, in light of his spinning and gigging and all the roving, my God, the roving, my fibery existence has been, shall we say ... blah.
I've been, um, knitting some things. I'll show them to you now.
This amorphous red blob is Eris. She was my Knitting Olympics project, and now she has a sleeve left to go. I hope to wear her to the contra dance weekend in Cincinnati this Friday.
These are a pair of knitted fingerless glove-things I am knitting for my dear friend Carrie. I've known her since we were both 12 and she has never been what one might call a girly girl. She's surrounded by guys in her house now, what with the husband and the two small boys, and so her love for things pink has skyrocketed.
Then, we have the frog socks. It took me a while to figure out exactly what kind of stitch pattern said "frog," other than one, say, with really badly planned cable crossings or lots of dropped stitches and ladders, or the wrong number of stitches altogether.
I found the answer in Charlene Schurch's sock book, cast on, and have been gratified with the result, a suitably textured, amphibious sock cuff. I think I'll try a short row heel. And the toes, in true tree-frog style, will be bright orange.
Behold! Frog socks!
Finally, thanks for all the kind birthday wishes. I got some knittery goodness in honor of the occasion. The aforementioned Carrie went to Loopy Yarns and picked out some yarn she thought I would find interesting. She's not a knitter (yet), but she sews very well, and so she has some definite ideas about fiber.
In kinder moments while fabric shopping, I've called her out for being a fabric snob. And she is. Of the worst kind. Her eyes glaze over when faced with bolts of raw silk, and she would sooner go topless than use a poly/cotton blend, ironing be damned.
This is what she picked out:
The red yarn is a cashmere/ silk blend (picked strictly for luxe fiber content), the blue yarn is a Cascade cotton blend (picked for its bright and cheery color) and the green yarn is a mohair/ synthetic blend (picked because of its color, and because she thought it would be interesting to make something out of.)
The best part?
When she told me, "I know you can't really make anything from one skein, so I got you two of each."
The Cat Bordhi book is from the Fool.
In direct contravention of the "Knit down the stash, dammit!" directive I issued earlier this year, I weakened while visiting a friend in Cleveland this weekend, and bought a skein of sock yarn. I'm trying to come up with a loophole as to how this doesn't count as yarn or something. If I'd only gotten the purple one, I could have tried to pass it off as an eggplant.
So, um, ha! Knitting.
I'll just get out of the way so the Fool can continue waxing poetic about Edna -- I know when I'm outclassed.