The Knitting Curmudgeon

When I Die, I'm Coming Back as Julie Andrews

2008-05-02T21:49:00.001-04:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
When it's my turn to march up to glory
I'm gonna have one hell of a story--Dixie Chicks, Sin Wagon

I'm feeling quite sinful these days. As if I don't, as a rule. However, it's an enjoyable state of sin. Certainly not a state of grace.

Julie Andrews. Here's a trivia question for you. What movie, featuring two British comedians, had one of them saying "Julie Andrews" to get out of demonic trouble?

My sister knows the answer to this so she must recuse herself. Got it, Kar? Shut the fuck up and let everyone sweat this one. I know you know.

Franklin's Tower
I know I'm almost two weeks behind myself but I did have a fabulous time down in Kennett Square with Carol, Franklin, Jacqui, and a bunch of readers who showed up at Jacqui's wonderful shop, Woolgathering.

The lovely Jacqui had lots of caloric stuff to eat, as well as a shop filled with absolutely finest kind yarn. I'll definitely make the trip again, just to hang out with her.

The crowds were fierce. It was take-a-number time, well organized but truly heads above waiting at the deli counter.

And then, of course, was my hard-working gay son, gracious to all, in a photographic Zen mode. I believe the final count was 135 knitters.

I did ask him what the fuck he was going to do with this "scarf" that is of Brobdingagian proportions. He's not sure yet but I would think that the Smithsonian Institution might like to have it for America's Attic.

Looks like a roll of knitted toilet paper. Wait. This could be a concept that would stand up to knitted uteri, knitted cocks, knitted eyeballs, ad nauseam. Go forth and spread the idea. Someone will do it. You know they will.

Almost on a par with the knitted Elvis wigs, methinks.

Anyway, we had a wonderful time. I don't know why I didn't get a picture of Sissyboo Deux, Carol. Sweetie, I am so sorry! You eluded my lens. Damn. But gang, her book is exquisite. I saw the advance copy and this belongs in everyone's library. Only one month to go before it's out.

Buy it. Or else.

By the way, Franklin darling, were your parents Deadheads? I need to know.

Obligatory Knitting Shit
Still chugging away on the shawl. I was very surprised to have a number of people at Wool Gathering identify the yarn correctly as Black Pearl.

In fact, one person was working on a piece (I believe it was a Clapotis, but my memory sucks) using Black Pearl and it was astonishing how different the color saturation was. The purples in hers were bright. Mine are more muted.

This is a stupidly simple pattern. The challenge will come in easing the edging around the border. I remember Ted angsting about this. I'm not going to angst but I will write about it. This is a maneuver that takes some thought.

Pattern Skill Ratings
Longtime readers know how I feel about this crap. Would my first sweater have been an Aran had it been marked "Expert"? Probably, because I ignore warnings, unless they pertain to hazardous materials and men.

Rather, I think it would be far more helpful to develop a meaningful system of rating, one that pertains to taste.

KnitDweeb--this category contains warshcloths, ponchos, pompom'ed anything, aimless garter stitch modular knitting, mocsox, knitted coasters and beercan cozies. Working with Fun Fur is a prerequisite.
GlitzGrrrllls--this category contains any item made from yarn by an Italian company, preferably either a too-short bolero or a ghastly evening bag with matching beanie.
FiberSnots--this category is specifically for perpetual Koigu users. Give it a break, it ain't that fucking wonderful. Nor are the designs that go with it.
OhNaturellas--this category pertains to those who have bought into the eco-friendly yarn marketing. Garments include any shapeless schmatteh, including drop-shoulder kimonos. Please, someone tell these knitters that all natural fibers are "eco-friendly."
DaRestOfUs--this category belongs to all knitters who are fearless, try to stick to good quality yarns, and don't avoid a challenge. And who actually read the directions at least three times and swatch, too.

OK, enough of that. Honestly, I've been guilty of all five categories at any given time in my years of knitting. But at least I learned a little bit from experience.

J'endorse
Those of you who know me personally know that I'm highly political, highly critical of the sorry path this country has taken under the leadership of a mentally challenged, blinded individual and his evil Ann Sullivan, the Dickster.

I am an Obama supporter, after months of watching both him and Clinton and weighing each of them carefully. I believe he is a man of honor, of thought, of responsibility, and above all, highly intelligent with a will to listen. I will not vote for Hillary or McCain. I do not believe either of them has or will shaken the dirty dust of DC from their respective boots.

A change you can believe in. I'm no one's fool. I believe, however, that we can change and we must, to survive. In this time of economic upheaval, we need to hang tight and believe in ourselves. And this self-entitlement that is epidemic among many Americans, particularly the younger ones, needs to be swapped for the old "can-do" of my parents' generation. It stood them in good stead. They were indeed rare and handy.

Is 90 the New 80?

2008-04-25T08:29:00.002-04:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
It takes a long time to grow young--Pablo Picasso

Let's see. Yes, it's true. I'm 35 today. Mentally.

There's been much rumination and ensuing angst about turning 58. Now the day is here and I'm in a relatively sanguine mood. Even though I'm looking down the gun at 60. Shit, so what.

So Happy fucking Birthday to me. (There may be some of that later, too. One never knows.)

I try not to dwell on my age but it's almost impossible to avoid it. However, the past week, with a whirlwind trip to Indy this past Monday and Tuesday, I had a great deal of time in airports to knit and ponder.

Over the past few years, I've made some incredible friends. My beloved Neal, for one. Johnny Hargreaves, aka Iron Sausage, who just called me to wish me a happy birthday. What a sweetheart. There's Loopy, who's been with me through the tough times. She's always there, always funny, always someone I can lean on. Joe, Carol, Lisa, Ted, the whole knitting crew. Need I say more? Susan, my boss. I'm sure I'm forgetting someone here but these post-Jimmy people have helped me in turning my life around. You can't do it alone.

My 40th high school reunion is looming. June 21st, to be exact. And I am actually looking forward to it because I'll be reunited with my dear childhood friends, Marcia and Dottie.

I almost never write about my non-knitting friends. I do have quite a few who are dear to my heart. Marcia Ancier , Dottie Melcher and I have been friends for almost 50 years. Marcia and I went to the same elementary school, Watchung, so I guess we kinda knew each other in kindergarten, although I really more remember her from 3rd grade. She invited me to her birthday party (which she doesn't remember now, but I do).

Dottie has always been a constant in my life. In 4th grade, I moved from one end of town to the other, to Uppah Montclair, the chi-chi part of town. Right before my 10th birthday, I'm riding my bike around the corner to explore the new neighborhood, going up the hill on Macopin Avenue. And there's this kid, with blonde frizzy hair, sort of hanging out vaguely on the street. I stopped and we talked, as young kids do to strange kids. Dottie struck me as almost as weird as I was. I was a very odd child. And so was she. She drew, I wrote. We made an instant connection, one that has never ceased throughout the years.

In high school, the three of us melded. Marcia had and still has this wry sense of humor. Dottie was always delightfully drifty, although probably one of the smartest people I've ever known. And then there was me, off the wall writer, musician, general freak who didn't give a fuck if she was "unpopular." Peggy aka Pegret was added to our girl group, a beautiful Janis Joplin lookalike who wrote poetry, had big tits, and was the ethereal one. (Yes, there were freak guys too--my high school crush, Bert Eisenstadt, Jimmy Henry, Jimmy Garland, Jimmy and Kevin Brown, Aaron Myett, Chris and Tim Andres, Tracy Jones, and many more.)

Our high school crowd, the freaks, were far more interesting a group than the blonde cheerleader types. So Cindy Binzen, what the fuck did you do with your life? I guess I'll find out if you show up on June 21.

So you Montclair skanks, if you're reading this, we can turn back the clock and dance on. That is, if Melcher can ever learn how to do the Mashed Potatoes, which I doubt. I love you

My birthday means I can look back on those halcyon days with great fondness. When we were young. As we still are. Rock on, gang. And be rare and handy no matter what. And Happy Birthday tomorrow to my sweet Ian, known as Birthday Present, my rapidly growing grandson. Who I love more than life itself.

Gimme that remote. NOW!!

2008-04-15T16:11:00.004-04:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Men don't care what's on TV. They only care what else is on TV.--Jerry Seinfeld

Here's what I really don't get, as much as I like to think I understand men well enough to communicate with them on any level.

The remote issue, butt of many jokes. Except that it's true. The other day, watching the Yankees game, I felt compelled to hand my love the remote, even though I didn't think he'd switch it. He didn't, because it was the Yankees.

Otherwise, it's deference to the TV God. Yikes. Flip, flip, flip, every channel a mere shadowy image and then another, and another, and another. I will never truly know how one can determine what's worth watching if you don't spend a minimum of 20 seconds on each station. And then there's checking the TV listings. Heaven forfend. Like asking for fucking directions.

Men complain that these are stereotypes. Not with the men I know. It's reality. They do it and it's not funny. It's annoying. But I love them nonetheless. And since I don't shop 'til I drop, whine if they forget an important date, want to change their sorry t-shirt clad asses into a GQ poster boy, expect them always to pay for dinner, and all the other female bits they complain about, I figure I can knock 'em for this.

Knitter's
So, you want my take on this? OK. There are not words venial enough to express my utter disgust. And the cover? By the so-called "Knitter's Design Team"? Positively guaranteed to provoke gastro-intestinal eruptions.

What's with this Design Team? And who, besides DragonBoy, is a member? Speaking of whom, my fantasy is to corner him at Stitches and color his awful red leather pants (and his hair as well) a fine shade of lime green with a paintball gun. And then take a picture. Carol came as close as anyone I know to letting him have it full force. I would prefer to do some damage but he'd probably press charges. Unless I appear incognito, perhaps dressed up as the Tiny Diva.

Except that I think he'd guess it was a faux TD. Since I tower over her and I have about 75 lbs. on her, too.

But I could be as shrill and manic as she is. Give me a few months to practice. With Franklin coming next weekend, I may ask Dolores for lessons. She's so good at it. A true pro.

Spun-k
Thanks for the compliments on my spinning. It's been a long road and I still am not always happy with my consistency but then, I have Ted as a model, so I'm doomed. Perhaps. As I mentioned in the last set of comments, I bought my Matchless at the 1998 MD S&W, brought it home, along with about 3 pounds of merino/silk/angora. Clueless as I was, I didn't realize that this blend of fibers would be horrifically difficult for a beginner to handle. It was. And I made a gobby mess of it.

So the wheel became a quaint living room decoration. Until about 3 years ago, when I saw what Joe was spinning on his Louet. Shit, I said to myself, if he can do it, WTF is the matter with you? And then I realized--I needed to spin plain ole wool, not some exotic fiber. Within a couple of hours, the brain engaged the hand and I was able to spin a lot better. Here's a picture of some of the first plyed wool I made, on the right. And a recent BBF angora skein.
I dare to publish the close-up of the old stuff:
Pretty ratty looking. But everyone starts this way, except for Ted. I swear he began spinning laceweight the moment his hands touched a spindle.

Anyway, for those beginning spinners out there, keep doing it. Every day, if you can. I spin for at least 5 or 10 minutes when I get home every night, and I try to do 1-2 hours each weekend day. The more you do it, like sex, the better you get. Promise.

Scary Blogger Feature
Blogger has just added a video upload tool. I own a webcam that I never use. So...maybe I'll think about doing a video for anyone who's not met me and is interested in how truly psychotic I am. I like to think I'm rare and handy but in the case of a video, I may hand it over to the next-door neighbor, who's the video/sound nerd. And let him guide me. Or tell me to live in the real world, which he frequently does.

P.S. To my friends mentioned in this post, sorry I didn't set up the links. I'm tired, lazy, and want to sit outside in the beautiful late afternoon so I can knit. Everyone knows where you guys live, after all.

Just Shut the Fuck Up, Already

2008-04-11T13:58:00.004-04:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Jesus! Where will it end? How low do you have to stoop in this country to be President? �Hunter S. Thompson

As always, the Duke is the best source for a pithy comment. Whatever happened to gonzo journalism? That was writing that teetered on the edge, always radical, always insightful, if you dared to accept it. Now it�s nothing but talking heads. And talking, bickering candidates of the Democratic Party persuasion.

Prior It Tease
�are becoming skewed, slivered, and fricass�ed. At this point in time, it would appear that my life�s list is as follows:

1. Work�write endlessly boring text about how to click buttons, track vehicles, run reports. And becoming an expert on DOT regulations for �motor carriers.� Trucks. Of all shapes and sizes.A thrill of a learning experience.

2. Sleep and food, the latter generally provided by Neal, the former by medication.

3. Knitting and spinning

4. My family and friends

5. My blogs

One month since I posted. Sheesh. Work is sucking the life blood out of me and that�s going to come to a screeching halt. I need this job, especially with the recession enveloping us, but they need me more, in a way, than I need them. So I�ve decided what my priorities will be and make sure all of them get equal attention.

Traveling Mar
Yeah, it�s going to be one of those months�just spent two days in Uncasville/Taftville, CT, working with a new client. However, I stayed at Mohegan Sun, a place glitzy enough to cause epileptic seizures. Staying there was the idea of our high-roller VP of Sales, who got us all rooms on the cheap. I played the slots for approximately a half hour and lost $30. That was more than enough. God, what a mindless activity.

Off to Newburgh, NY, then Indy. That�s April. In May, off to Russellville, Arkansas. Bleah. But that may do it for the travel until next fall. I hope. I�d druther stay home these days.

Technology Roolz or Droolz, Take Yer Pick
Kinda. For the first time, I�m using Word 2007 to publish my blog entry. Think about that. Blogs have so proliferated that Billy Gates figured he should add a blog publishing feature in the latest version of Word. You connect Word with your blog account�Word gives you a number of blog publishing choices�and then you can click �Publish� when you�re finished and up it goes. We�ll see. This could be a good thing.

Obligatory Knitting Shit
I finished the Icelandic Lace Shawl. My one comment on this freebie shawl is that I would have decreased the crocheted chains on the edging by 25%. Too many�they should have been spaced more equably. The pattern itself is somewhat on the odd side, constructionwise. It was not terribly straightforward, with a center stitch that disappeared in one stitch pattern, resurfacing in the next.

I�m busy working out the sock designs for the book�Chantilly Lace is charted and I�m proving it out. Born in the USA�s prototype is done. Two down, 16 to go.

I also finished the Las Vegas Brights silk, plyed it, and skeined it up. From 4 ounces, I got 853 yards of laceweight. Not enough for a shawl, too much for a scarf. So maybe it will do for two scarves. And yes, Sissy Scrappy, I might give you one.

As soon as the LVB was off the bobbins, I started spinning some black alpaca I bought from Mel and David at Rhinebeck. Now of this, I have 14 ounces, more than enough for a shawl. Yes, I know. Knitting lace in black is a bitch. And your point would be? It�s too HARD, as Junior Bush has said? I can handle it. Although I may whine about it at some point, once I start knitting lace with it.

Thoughts on Lace
It dawned on me the other day that of late, meaning the past two years, I�ve only really been interested in lace. Hence the newest train knitting project, the Cobweb Crepe shawl from Sharon Miller�s book Heirloom Knitting. This is constructed in the center square/diamond-border-edging method, one that I like very much. This is done in Helen�s Lace by Lorna�s Laces, quite nice to knit with. It does look like a bag one might buy in the Salvation Army store.

Sharon offers different ways of working this construction�you can pick up around the edges of the center for the border, then knit on the lace edging. Or you can work the damned thing flat, with seams to sew. Supposedly working this in the round is HARD, or at least for �experienced� knitters. Nonsense. In my mind, working something in the round and eliminating seams, particularly in lace, is far easier than fucking around with flat pieces. It is truly not at all hard, as long as you pay attention, work the edge stitches of the center properly so that they can be used in the border pick-up, and remember that garter stitch in the round is knit one round, purl one round. No big deal.

So here�s the �bag� so far. The border is a simple Old Shale derivative, the edging Clematis. This is a construction that is relatively easy to design with. I worked the center diamond as written, in garter stitch, but a scattered eyelet pattern would be nice. I wish I had thought about doing that before I started. I particularly like what I call �columnar� edgings, ones that are vertical rather than horizontal. I think that the symmetry found in these types of borders lends itself well to the mitering of the shawl�s corners. Just my opinion, for what it�s worth.

Mags
Well, I bought the new Vague. About the only design I found appealing was Kaffe�s cardigan. Other than that, it was the usual snoozer. However, you spinners out there�buy this issue of Spin-Off. It�s one of the best they�ve published in a while. With most of the other fiber magazines thudding along, Spin-Off has pulled itself together with the new layout, new editor, and it�s well worth buying. I highly recommend Abby Franquemont�s article on plying. I found it extraordinarily good and enlightening. The article on making cabled yarn was the one that intrigued me the most, although it�s rather a belabored process.

A Franklin Extravaganza, with Hot Wolverinas Attending

My darling gay son will be in Philly in a week. (I'm stealing from his lovely mother, and Franklin is the same age as my daughter Corinne, so he could be her gay twin brother--except that she's blonde.) Read all about his shoot at Wool Gathering in Kennett Square, PA. And if you live within driving range, getcher ass there. It's Saturday the 19th. I'll be there, as will Carol Sulcoski, maybe Joe, maybe some other Wolverinas, although Liza can't make it.

I don't recall ever hearing of any other knitting gaggle (or is it a murder of knitters?) quite like the Wolvies. And who are the Wolvies? I will give big kudos (such an oily word) to any reader who can name all 8 members of the Wolverinas. You've got 4 already if you read carefully. Now, come up with the other four. I bet ya can't do it

Anyway, kids, my lunch hour is well over. But it�s Friday, so fuck �em if they can�t take a joke. I�m glad to have had a few minutes to write something that means more to me than any other prose that leaks from my electronic pen. Here�s some close personal Hoboken friends, who greet me every morning as I walk towards the Light Rail that takes me to Jersey City.

Some rare and handy birds, although they shit all over the place. But my Oma always told me that bird crap on your head means you�ll be lucky. I can do without luck in that instance.

Ob-la-di Ob-la-da life goes on bra

2008-03-08T08:34:00.004-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
When you're drowning, you don't say "I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me," you just scream.--John Lennon

Drowning in work and yet I seem to be able to find the time to do my shit. How is that?

I guess it's all "time management." Feh. I hate that corporate jargon crap, though. If anyone at work ever uses "impact" as a verb again, I'm gonna fucking strangle them. And "utilize" is better than "use"? Bite me.

Knitting Buckets
That's another stupid corporate term, as in "let's put that task in the Operations bucket." Shut the fuck up. Shove THIS up your bucket.

Anyway, I've actually accomplished some knitting and some spinning. Here's the lineup:

These are the Kureyon socks. Believe it or not, I didn't even try to match the color changes. Somehow, it just happened. I will say that although I like the colors, the socks are felting already, as one of my readers noted in earlier Comments. I don't really give a rat's ass about that, since most socks felt to a degree anyway after repeated wearing. I might use it again. Maybe.

Remember the Las Vegas Brights silk? Here it is, getting plyed. As you can see, I spun it quite fine and gave it plenty of twist, as silk needs. The colors won't be evident until I skein it but I suppose it will make a nice lace scarf.

Loopy and I both have a pile of yarn that we've spun and never used. Loop sez: "Oh hell, I have stuff that I spun years (and I mean *years*) ago that I've never yet done anything with. The worst part is that they were spun for specific projects and I still haven't found the motivation
to start them."

Remember Starry Night? I have a shitload of that and never decided upon a suitable project. And then, there certainly is the motivation factor to be considered.

Finally, I've been diddling around with IK's freebie, the Icelandic Lace Shawl, done in some of the piles of Morehouse laceweight I own. The original is done in natural shades. I thought the design would do well for this kind of "hand-dyed" yarn.

What a peculiar little pattern it is, though. In the band of reverse stockinette, which is right above the feather-and-fan-ish bottom pattern, there are no central decreases, despite the fact that the stitch patterns before and after do have decs in the center. WTF? This causes a bubble on that band, one that can be blocked out.

I understand that putting decreases in this reverse st st band would somewhat upset the visual line. But still. I think I would have opted to put the decreases in.

The Fiber Nest
I had forgotten that I took this picture back in early January, right after we moved all my furniture up. The boxes are gone from the kitchen, the curio cabinet is filled, and the bookcases are jammed with all of my books. (Please, someone stop me from buying books.)

My loom is crammed into my bedroom, my winding station is next to my bedroom closet, and my swift is in the living room closet. But hey, it works for me. The stash is located in two other closets. This place does have good closet space, as small as it is.

And of course, I do have run of the next-door neighbor's place. With me, it's yarn, books, two wheels, and a loom. With him, it's cables, receivers, speakers, woofers, tweeters, mixing boards, tools up the wazoo, and a CD/DVD collection that begs description. Yikes.

He's the nerd, I'm the geek, as he says. True. However, both of us are packrats. Because you never know when you might need some stuff.

Rock Sox
Thank God for the Punk Princess. She has been very helpful in suggesting New Millenium artists and songs. She approved of my choices. And I love her for saying that the book idea is "kewl!" Liz suggested that I fit Bob Marley in, with "No Woman No Cry" as her choice, in Rasta colors. Of course, she wanted to know if she could have all the socks after they are photographed and the book is done. Well, maybe. I think I'll go with the Bob Marley concept, though. But that would go into the '70s section.

I liked the idea of using the Dixie Chicks instead of Green Day, Good Charlotte, or Blink 182. When I get to that point, I'll decide. I love the Dixie Chicks--perhaps I'll use "The Long Way Around" as a song. It's one of my favorites and certainly hits home with me. I always take the long way around, dontcha know?

The Chantilly Lace prototype is on the needles, after much swatching and fucking around. Those of you who design know this truism: If ya think it's gonna fly by what you see in your head, fuggedaboudit when it's on the needles.

Ruminations
Lately, I've been feeling that the knitting craze is coming to a screeching halt. I don't know why I have that sense of the end, but I do. After all, the real estate market has had el crasho grande. What goes up, must come down. We'll still see a plethora of knitting books for the next year or so, due to the length of time it takes to get a book out.

Nonetheless, I think the weekend knitting warriors have been weeded out and are on to another hobby, perhaps beermaking or macrame. Or golf.

That's not to say that the KnitDweebs are gone. They're alive and well on the lists and on Ravelry too. Ravelry being the perfect place for them to run amok. No matter. I do the la-la-la thing if I come across them. Loop found a real gem who is infesting the Heirloom Knitting list and the SnitU list. I won't out this woman here. The only hint I can give you is this: Let it snow. If you read these lists, you'll know who I mean.

Well, gang, it's off to Montclair for lunch with Mammy, brother Rich, and the ubiquitous Queen of Chaos, Scrappy aka Sissyboo aka Karen. Rich turned 54 yesterday. Happy birthday, bro. You are the rarest and handiest brother anyone could have. Just be glad I don't kick your ass anymore.

KTHXBYE.

If U Cn Rd Ths, U Cn b an Edtr n Wrtr

2008-02-26T21:52:00.003-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day

Editing should be, especially in the case of old writers, a counseling rather than a collaborating task. The tendency of the writer-editor to collaborate is natural, but he should say to himself, ''How can I help this writer to say it better in his own style?'' and avoid ''How can I show him how I would write it, if it were my piece?'�James Thurber

De Emendator non est Disputandum

At various times in my life, from a number of people, I�ve heard:

�You were born to be an editor.�

�You�re a born writer.�

It is true, since I am certainly ill-suited to be your server for this evening. I know how to write. It�s in my blood. And I know how to edit without trying to be the writer�s voice. Thurber�s quote really hits home, this week especially, since my irritation about being summarily edited without the courtesy of seeing the edits has been festering like a suppurating sore.

It�s often said, to paraphrase the well-known quote about teachers, �Those who can�t write, edit.� There is some truth to this, although as an editor for small specialty magazines, I had to wear many hats: editor, writer, art director, layout artist, marketing manager, even accountant (well, I had to deal with budgets). But first and foremost, I have always been a writer. That came first, at age eight, when I learned to knit and learned that I could take words that rhymed and make little poems that expressed my young thoughts and feelings.

Being a good editor means that you do not silence the writer�s voice, ever. It means that you form a partnership with the writer. It�s the difference between helping a writer to tune their voice so that it rings true to them, not to you, so that they communicate with clarity without sacrificing their tone. Nurture. Suggest. Pure and simple. It�s not just the grammar and the spelling. It�s respecting the writer�s essence. Sometimes grammar has to be tossed out the window in favor of soul.

I will not allow my voice to be muffled again. By any amateur editor. And any analogies to music are strictly intentional. Tone, voice, meter�as I was once also a musician, I can only apply musicality to my opera. OK, no more bad Latin.

LOLCAT IZ TEH LANGUAGE OV TEH FUCHUR

I may write my next article in LOLCAT�like Carol, I�m a big fan.

I LUV TEH ABSURD AN KATS R ABSURD. MI KAT CLEO DOEZ NOT SPEEK LOLCAT. SHEZ MOAR BLANCHE DUBOIS. "I HAS ALWAYS DEPENDD ON TEH KINDNES OV STRANGERS."

It�s so much more elegant a populist language than, say, Pig Latin, or for those of my age from the NY Metro area, Me-a-surry, created by the late, great Murray the K.

GEEK WARNING: If you don�t do computers, skip this bit.

Along with being a writer, I�m a frustrated junior programmer, who can edit but not write pure code. Those of you who are geeks will know what I mean when I say that well-written code can be a beautiful thing. LOLCAT has metamorphosed into a programming language. One that enthralls me far more than Java, Perl, C#, .NET, or even SQL. Here�s a wonderful example, GIMMEH, found on the LOLCODE site:

HAI

CAN HAS STDIO?

I HAS A VAR

GIMMEH VAR

VISIBLE "You said " N VAR N " !!"

KTHXBYE

You gotta love the start block delimiter, HAI, and the closer, KTHXBYE. And yes, people are using LOLCODE on legit platforms.

So Yeah, This is a Knitting Blog, More or Less

And so much more, no? Yes, I�ve been knitting, socks and a shawl. In fact, after playing footsie with writing a book for the past three years, I finally realized that my original book idea was indeed the most viable. No, it�s not the book I began writing two years ago and dropped because I didn�t want to produce yet another �My Speshul Knitting Encyclopedia According to Me� kind of tome. This time, it�s happening. And I will publish it myself because I�m not going to have no steenkin� publisher fuck it up.

The book that has been in my head for almost four years now is pretty much roughed out. Are ya ready?

Rock Sox.

That�s right, socks inspired by rock �n� roll. Not just the designs, but background on the songs and the artists, too, along with my twisted prose. I�ve begun the first design already, Chantilly Lace, and the prototype is looking pretty good. Because I�ll own the material, I�ll print pictures as I go along, and I would expect my Tontant Weaders to give their unadulterated opinions. That's presuming that you skanks have learned something from reading me.

It seemed to me that I have managed to knit quite a few pairs of socks recently. If that�s what I can manage, why not turn it into a fun book to design and write. Here are my raw notes:

50s

� Chantilly Lace (Big Bopper)�lace pattern�black lace with pink eyelet ruffle

� Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini (Brian Hylan)�Fair Isle dots on yellow

� Jailhouse Rock (Elvis)�mosaic stripes?

60s

� Eleanor Rigby (Beatles)�mauve plain sock with a lace cuff?

� Get Off of My Cloud (Stones)

� Purple Haze (Hendrix)�Kidsilk Haze with fine cotton binder?

70s

� Tangled Up in Blue (Dylan)

� Pinball Wizard (The Who)�Large silver beads annoyingly placed

� Stairway to Heaven (Led Zep)

80s

� Born in the USA (Springsteen)�something with red/white/blue, tri-colored cables?

� Cheap Sunglasses (ZZ Top)�intarsia sunglasses

� Burning Down the House (Talking Heads) flame pattern?

90s

� Tears In Heaven (Eric Clapton)

� Heart-shaped Box (Nirvana)

� Wilbury Twist (The Traveling Wilburys)�rocking cable?

The New Millenium

� Good Charlotte

� Green Day

� Blink 182

As you can see, this is not yet fully formed. It's mostly plug and play, if you get my drift. I�ll be checking with Liz as to what songs will be apropos from the New Millenium artists. I fully admit, I know little about these bands. And I�ll listen to her advice.

OK, gang, this has been more than I�ve written in a long time. Thanks for missing me. I missed you, too. The rare and handy hiatus is over. I'm back. Back in the New York groove. Or whatever.

KTHXBYE

Helloooo? Anybody Home?

2008-02-21T20:05:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day

I think writer's block is simply the dread that you are going to write something horrible. But as a writer, I believe that if you sit down at the keys long enough, sooner or later something will come out.�Roy Blount, Jr.I

Sure, something will come out. Like shit? Possibly. I've been sitting on the potty for too long now, and not much has come out.

I know. It�s been five weeks or so since last I posted. Primarily because I hit the writer�s wall, that dreaded failure of flowing words. I�m fine, in relatively good health, despite a recent bout of the flu.

It�s not just a blockage, though. It�s the six-hour daily commute, with my scant free time devoted to some mindless knitting. The state of total exhaustion as I drag my ass into my apartment�I knew it would be this way and I also knew that something in my life would suffer. It was the writing. Night after night I would think about writing but ended up with brain freeze. I didn�t even have the wherewithal to read my friends� blogs, either.

At one point last week, I seriously thought about just dumping the blog. After all, I thought, after almost six years, what do I have left to say? Platitudes not being my strong suit, it�s often difficult to come up with interesting material. But then my Taurean stubborn streak kicked in. Fuck it, I�m not going gently into that good night.

So how to juggle? I don�t know, yet. It�s going to have to be a squeeze play on my part. But I feel rejuvenated these past few days, so I�ll let �er rip and see what happens. As it is, I�m partially writing this at work, something I would rather not do. However, having just gotten out a chunk of documentation, I reckon I can spend a few minutes on my own shit. And the blog is much too important to me to let it sink into the Blog Bog.

Knitting America and Cables. Oh My.

So during my hiatus, I gave myself two little presents. The first one, Knitting America, by Susan M. Strawn, is simply wonderful. I�ve been picking away at it, mostly looking at the pictures, which are just superb. The prose strikes me as a bit heavy-handed, although truthfully, I haven�t read enough of the book�s text to cement this opinion. But if you enjoyed No Idle Hands and are a Richard Rutt devotee, I highly recommend you plunk down the money for this book. To me, knitting history is fascinating, as is all history. Not everyone�s cup of tea perhaps, but a valuable book in the scope of its research.

My other gift to myself was Janet Szabo�s Cable Book, Vol. 1. Buy it. Even though many of the cables are familiar, Janet gives you options and food for thought on how to vary them. And�there is the Woven Cable, a brilliant idea that I wish I had thought up.

Wat U Bin Nidding Mar?

Well, another pair of Jarbo Raggi socks for Neal, who had better stick �em on his feet so I can photograph them. (Dude, you�ve gotten four pairs of socks outta me this winter. So pose.) And a pair for me. These socks work up so damned fast, I don�t even count them as projects. Actually, I never really count socks as much of anything.

I did discover the new Noro Kureyon sock yarn, which is just outstanding. It�s the Kureyon feel and look, in a standard sock yarn blend of 70% wool/30% nylon. I have the one sock done, the second on the needles.

And the other true project is Interweave Knits� freebie, the Icelandic Lace shawl. With a pile of Morehouse laceweight hanging around, I decided that this shawl would do justice to the yarn�s space dye. Rather than do the suggested colors, I�m just letting the Morehouse do its thing. With the reverse stockinette ridges, I think the sculptured look works well with the yarn. Having seen Sheila�s version done in Anne, down at my not-so-local yarn shop, Stix-n-Stitches, I was inspired by that, although I couldn�t seem to locate my Anne in the stash. No matter.

Now, about all that unfinished shit I have lying around, like the Lavold pullover, Jenn�s Campanula, and the sizing of the Gansey socks. I dunno, maybe in a month or two. Maybe.

Latest IK

Yeah, well, there�s the Ravelry article by yours truly. Ma bought this issue and promptly told me that my article meant nothing to her. This is a woman who leaves the internet to her children. And there were a couple of nice garments. The photography seems better, although I�m beginning to change my mind about the layout. Initially, it didn�t bother me. This issue, it did, for some reason. I dunno. It�s lost its handmade ambience, I think. It�s not quite on the level of Vague Knitting�I don�t know what level it�s seeking.

Political Junkie

As Joe Klein so eloquently wrote in last week�s essay in Time magazine, there is no 12-step program for political junkies. I am one, Neal is one, MSNBC is often the channel of choice, although we do watch Faux News for a nanosecond sometimes, just to vomit slightly. (Thanks, Olbermann. For that, and for Ann �Coultergeist�.) I can�t get enough of this political season.

I�m not pleased with the choices at this point.

If Hillary gets in or McCain gets in, I fear it will be Business As Usual in DC. Something needs to change drastically, and I don�t know yet if Obama is the one to institute change, either.

Frankly, Congress is a disgrace. We need new blood there. Blood that will actually do something. I say, throw out the non-performers. And there�s plenty of them, both Democrats and Republicans. A true do-nothing, know-nothing group.

Whether you agree with me or not, here�s the one thing we should all agree on:

EVERYBODY VOTES IN �08!

That�s Neal�s sig and we should all adopt it. Because voting is a rare and handy privilege and right.

Watch this space. I got my voice back. Hrmph. Choke. Gag.

Snippy? Me? You Bet Your Sweet Ass.

2008-01-17T21:28:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
The advocates for either side are under enormous pressure, and, of course, they're being pretty snippy with each other from time to time.--Bill Clinton

So yes, I'm following all the snippiness going on in the political cesspool. Even though I generally don't use the blog for my political views, I gotta say just this to all the candidates:

Shut the fuck up if you have nothing worthwhile to say. And I haven't heard anything that qualifies, so far.

Can you imagine politically incorrect me running for office? Ye gods and little fishes. I'd give 'em good sound bites. And probably some substance.

The Long Way Home
It's been brutal, these past couple of weeks, but then, I knew it would be. Six hours a day to commute, get home at 8, get fed by Neal (he usually is home before me), and then it's el crasho grande and back up at 4:30, coffee chez Neal at 5, and we're both out the door at 6 a.m.

The train is for sleeping and knitting Neal his heavy-weight Jarbo socks. I have to say, I'm settling in now and I'm about to attempt something more pithy than stoopid socks. But I highly recommend the Jarbo. Loopy has used it for awhile and she got me hooked on the stuff. Neal is about to wear his first pair out, I swear. So now I have another pair almost done for him so he can put one set in the wash. Before they walk out the door.

This weekend will be another whirlwind. But with Mammy in the hospital this week for an overnight scare (she has diverticulitis but no pain and will be OK), I haven't had one minute to write the blog.

So fucking bite me. But I am truly snippy from lack of sleep, not lack of meds. That's what Neal calls me, when I'm crabby. You say snippy, I say crabby. Same diff.

Open Mic Thursday
Yeah, I finally found a topic that I think deserves your consideration. Actually, it's a product that I think is completely useless. So that's my opinion. But here we go:

What do you think of audio knitting books?

I know lots of people love those books on tape or whatever the fuck they're called. Moi, I prefer paper in hand and not some overpaid actor talking prose to me. If I have earphones on, it's strictly for music.

For the life of me, I cannot see the value of having Ann Feitelson's The Art of Fair Isle on any audio media. Gimme the book. Paper. No steenkin' e-book, either.

I realize it's late Thursday night, but it still counts. So go rip me a new asshole. I'm in that kind of mood. But you do know I lerves you all. And I will be writing more, now that I'm firmly ensconced in E'burg.

The New VK
While Mammy was in the hospital, I stopped by Stix-n-Stitches, my favorite yarn shop in NJ, and hung out with Sheila for a bit. She had the new VK. I was completely underwhelmed, as I am usually with Vague these years. However, Brandon Mably had a wonderful dress therein and if I were thin and under 30, I'd make it in a hot NY minute. There were a couple of OK things, and some seemingly good articles but I didn't read them all. I suspect that IK has done them previously, and frankly, better.

Sheila showed me some new sock yarn by Berroco, Comfort, completely acrylic but amazingly nice. And she had a few other Berroco yarns that were also half decent. I think that Norah Gaughan has made her mark on Berroco and hopefully the company will cease and desist producing hideous designs made with wretched yarn. So let's keep an eye on Berroco. And Classic Elite, too. I'm starting to see better ads and I know that's Pam Allen's influence.

So. It's off to bed with me. Cleo is happier than a pig in shit, these days. She has peace and quiet, no other cats to disturb her, and as she always says, "Hai, Mar. Wur u bin? Nidding? Werkin? Wat?" I depend on her Imperial Rare and Handiness to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Kiss My German Ass

2008-01-03T16:33:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Whenever the literary German dives into a sentence, that is the last you are going to see of him until he emerges on the other side of his Atlantic with his verb in his mouth--Mark Twain

Ich bin eine Amerikanische Schlampe.

A dollah-three-eighty for anyone who can successfully translate that phrase. (All Germans must recuse themselves.) I thought it apropos to begin the first entry of the new year with a language quiz.

Open Mic Thursday
Well, of course, Neal and I both forgot what the fuck his topic was. However, knowing him as well as I do, I can think of a topic that would titillate. (Isn't that a wonderful word?)

So here's something to weigh in on:

What's your opinion on wearing skanky lingerie in the bedroom? Do ya do it? Would you admit it publicly? And how many of you have shown your partner Joan M-M's knitted lingerie (and bought the kit)?

I'll leave it to you to guess where I stand on this topic. I'm sure you know.

More Moving Angst
Still not done. This is the agony that does not seem to be followed by any ecstasy. I moved Cleo today. She rode the 43 miles in great dignity, crammed into the cat carrier. Almost no whining, as long as I drove with one hand and stuck a finger through the grille to comfort her.

She is now ensconced in E'burg, with her food, her litter, and me. She made herself quite to home.

This is a short entry for today. I need some coffee, along with a nap. However, with my bookcases available, I need to put away books. Why the fuck did I ever buy so many books? Rhetorical question, of course. This rare and handy life cannot exist without the prerequisite tomes right at hand. More on Sunday. If I survive the furniture move on Saturday.

Another One Bites The Dust

2007-12-31T11:13:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust
Hey, I'm gonna get you too
Another one bites the dust
--John Deacon (Queen)

You know me--no fucking resolutions for the New Year. If I'm gonna do something, I do it. Whenever I decide to do it.

What I prefer to do is look back over what I've done the past year, analyze it, and see what I can do to make my life better. It's been yet another tumultuous year, albeit one that saw a few milestones:

Went back to Telargo in August (this bears review, for sure)
Had two articles published in Interweave Knits
Half-assed moved to East Stroudsburg next door to Neal
Drew Carey takes over as host of The Price Is Right--but wait! there's more!

It's still not completed, the move. I'm living in the apartment but the furniture won't be moved until next Saturday, after a couple of delays. I live like the gypsy I am.

You can see that the important crap has been moved already. This is the living room taken from the bedroom hallway.

And then, there was Christmas. With die ganze Familie, below.
Well, almost the whole family. Scrappy the Sister (Ted calls her Scrappy and I think that's more apropos than the Scrap Curmudgeon) and family show up for dessert.

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters. Yes, her necklace did light up. You can get cool stuff if you work for Party City.

And now for the obligatory cute grandchildren pictures. Ian Skywalker, whose Force is something to be reckoned with, and the Punk Princess, who had to have her picture taken three times before I got her to stop mugging it up for the camera.

It was a nice Christmas. And probably the last one I'll cook. In a way, I'll miss it. But then, it will be nice to be the feedee instead of the feeder.

Obligatory Knitting Shit
As it is with Joe, right now I simply feel like knitting small projects. I finished a pair of socks for Neal while in Tampa, plus another diagonal scarf. And then, I picked up the latest issue of Spin-Off, an outstanding issue filled with lots of good stuff. The gloves made from fingering weight handspun intrigued me. I knew I had a ball of the Starry Night in my spinning basket, which had 376 yards, just enough for the gloves. I can use these, too.

Knitter's Shit
Oh. My. God. Did any of you catch the incredibly awful picture of DragonBoy in the latest issue of Knitter's? It took my breath away. And caused small amounts of puke to disgorge themselves.

The issue itself was a stone bore. Who the fuck is still reading this? Other than last spring's issue, which was half decent, it's back on track with its trajectory to the recycling bin.

I realize that I am tremendously biased towards Interweave publications. There's a reason for this, besides the fact that I write for them (next, an article on Ravelry). I will not write for some rag that deserves my contempt. I can afford to be picky because I don't depend on this income. I have always appreciated Interweave's efforts to be the best they could, although they've stumbled here and there. That's not a big deal. No magazine can be perfect every issue. I do hope that the next issue's photography is improved. The last one was terrible.

2008
I hope this coming year brings a bit more stability. I think it will. And I would like to thank all of my readers for showing up for the extravaganza. This month has been a bugger and I couldn't write as much as I would have liked. With things settling down now, I'll be back to my regularly scheduled entries.

Open Mic Thursday will begin again on January 3. This will give me some time to think of a good topic. Of course, Neal did come up with one that has absolutely nothing to do with knitting and everything to do with sex. If you'd like, I'll do his topic. I know he'd get cheap thrills from reading your responses. Such a rare and handy man. With friends like that, one can go far in life. Sorta.

Happy New Year, skanks!

Merry Christmas, Baby

2007-12-21T23:09:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live--George Carlin

I know, I used this quote before, on a Christmas entry past. But it's particularly apropos this year. I've been a very bad girl. In a very good way. Use your imagination.

Long time, no post. I've been insane with work...and Neal. A week in Tampa too, stuck there an extra two days because of the storm that hit the Northeast last week and canceled my flight.

Not that I was really complaining with a view like this from the hotel terrace where I had my morning coffee and got done what little knitting I could manage. The ubiquitous socks.

Welcome to my real work world. My ecstatic trainees, waiting for me to put the camera down and start training them in the fabulousness of our mobile asset management system.

Now it's done and I have some peace. The peace I get in E'burg. The final move will be New Year's weekend. But first, I do my Christmas dinner for the troops. And start a two-week vacation that is needed badly, although most of it will entail buggylugging shit up to the apartment.

However, Neal has made sure that our network is now completely wired. We pulled cable last weekend and I'm ready to go live as soon as the desktop gets moved up. As he says, "I'm the nerd, you're the geek." So true. He's the hardware magician, I'm the apps pro, although you'd be amazed watching me help him pull cables on his job the other Saturday. Untangling cables is very much like yarn messes. I don't know that I would want to do what he does, which is set up complicated multi-media systems. But I get him, completely. And he gets me. So there you have it. That's why you've not heard from me.

But life seems to be returning to normal, whatever the fuck that is.

So, my dears, I will probably have a lot more to post soon. Right now, I'm about to pick up the Lavold sweater that has been languishing in its bag and get it finished. One spinning wheel is in E'burg, the next is about to follow. And the loom is going too. I'm going to keep it.

Have a wonderful Christmas, you skanks. And this song, by my favorite Jersey boy, is for everyone and especially for my nerd, who is one rare and handy man. I'm blessed.

Oh. Hai. Mar, Wur U Bin? Nidding?

2007-12-02T12:21:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
The trouble with cats is that they have no tact--Sir Phillip Sydney

While not strictly an lolcat, this picture is certainly indicative of my vast improvement over the past two days. And possibly indicative of how my brain perceives language. That's fine wid me. Hai. I'm back. Nidding.

Stoopid Scraf 101

I wasn't kidding. This is the best I've been able to do. There's something positively mind-numbing about garter stitch. Garter stitch + Seroquel = karmic bliss. Or some such shit.

In any case, if my whiny sister really wants it, she can have it. Never mind that my mother has already made her two of these. This is actually a very good pattern for Noro Silk Garden. It's free--you can find it here, if you're not already familiar with it. It's been around for a while, designed by Karen Baumer.

I used Silk Garden Lite, 2 balls of 2018, one ball of 2017. Sale shit that I found while trying to gather up all the odds and ends that I've planted around the house. (Have I mentioned that I find pseudo-words like "lite" and "nite" terminally offensive?)

Let's just say that I've been contemplating winding some Morehouse laceweight and working out a lace pattern on KnitVisualizer. Plus, I'm headed up to E'burg later. Camping out for a few days. I need to start acclimating myself. Neal's been on my case for weeks to do this but I didn't feel up to it until now. After having a nice conversation with Mammy yesterday, where she also pushed me to get up to the apartment for some of the coming week, I figured that was a powerful combo--Neal and Ma.

One Week to Tampa

This is the view from my bedroom. Great. Fucking snow. Neal says the roads are clear, so I guess I'll venture out to I80 and hit the road.

Next Sunday, at this time, I'll be airborne and on my way to sunnier climes, even though I'll be working. Nice digs at the Tampa airport Embassy Suites, two days with Susan to get stuff ready for the sales training. Home on Thursday. But I'll have the laptop with me, of course. And now that I have an air card, it's internet all the time.

I do have a love-hate relationship with this shit. On the one hand, there's nothing that thrills me more than opening up a new computer box, trying out a new app and learning it, getting a new gadget (next purchase, a jawbone to replace my Bluetooth earpiece). On the other, I find peace spinning and knitting, and an almost sexual thrill at starting a new project.

While it's true that I'm a geek girl, there are moments when I'd like to throw it all out the window.

Old Friends

That said, if it weren't for the internet, Marcia wouldn't have found me. Two days ago, on Classmates. com, I get an email from her. I have not seen Marcia since June 1968, yet we were good friends in high school. All of a sudden, here she is. My dear friend Peggy Carroll found me through Classmates two years ago.

Through a series of email, I found out that Marcia lives in the Poconos, not far from E'burg. We're going to get together. I still see her as she was at 18. Yikes. That's probably how she sees me, too.

Well, I don't look bad for 57 but it's been a long, hard road since 18. And we have almost 40 years to catch up on. Marcia was always a rare and handy person, and that has not changed.

Mar in Wonderland

2007-11-29T19:36:00.000-05:00

Not much time to blog, sorry to say. I'm extraordinarily busy at work, and half the time I feel woozy from the drugs. So...I'm taking a respite from Open Mic Thursday because A) I haven't had time for a topic and B) I'm writing all day long in preparation for my Tampa trip.

This weekend, I hope I have a few minutes to take some pictures and write about my Knitting for Dummies. Because that's about all I've been doing. Stoopid scarves that I'll give to someone.

When the fog lifts, I'll have something more pithy to say. But right now, I'm more pits than pithy.

Legacy with Legs

2007-11-22T00:01:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks--William Shakespeare

Tomorrow I will cook the last Thanksgiving dinner in my long career of providing holiday meals. I'm a bit wistful and yet a bit glad that next year, I can go off to my sister's or wherever and chow down.

In any case, I'm sure thankful that I have four days off, in which I will move stuff, go listen to some great live music on Saturday night in Bethlehem, PA, perhaps get a tad of knitting and spinning done, and in general take it a little easier.

Feeling good, gang. That's the word up. My thanks tomorrow go to my dear friends who have been there for me the past few weeks. You know who you are. And you know how much I love you. And Swing Time is back in full force.

Gone and Never Forgotten
Reading the NY Times online the other day, in between doing training and writing, I saw that Mary Walker Phillips had died. To quote the Times's obituary:

What Miss Phillips did, starting in the early 1960s, was to liberate knitting from the yoke of the sweater. Where traditional knitters were classical artists, faithfully reproducing a score, Miss Phillips knit jazz. In her hands, knitting became a free-form, improvisational art, with no rules, no patterns and no utilitarian end in sight.

Phillips's Creative Knitting was one of the first knitting books I ever owned. And although I do not treat my knitting as art, in many ways, she was a greater influence on me than Elizabeth Zimmermann, to whom I came rather late in my knitting studies, around 1982.

Through Phillips's work, I understood the freedom in my fingers, far more than I did by reading Zimmermann. Her other knitting book, Knitting Counterpanes, is a wonderful resource. I'm sorry that she was not more prolific in her writing.

Back when I worked in NYC and went regularly to the Strand bookstore to cull it for knitting books, I remember asking a clerk why there seemed to be a lack of them. I found out that Mary Walker Phillips lived on Horatio St. and was in the Strand all the time buying up all the knitting books. I couldn't beat her out on the books, damn it. But I was really blown away that she went to the Strand too.

Another great knitter gone, leaving a wonderful legacy.

Last Saturday
I thought I would have time to write about my get-together with Joe and James on Sunday but I ended up feeling unmotivated to write. Probably the medication but nonetheless, I just couldn't seem to sit down at the computer.

Joe did a fine job chronicling our day, though. And I will put up pictures of James's gifts to me. Including the possum fur giftie. They are quite extraordinary. As is James. What a sweetheart he is! And such fun to be with. We had a wonderful time and I wish he lived closer. And I do wish Mary-Helen had been with us as well. Don't worry, M-H. He had nothing but nice things to say about you.

I love my Aussie and Kiwi knitting friends. Someday, I'd like to get down there and inflict myself on them.

Open Mic Thursday
Yeah, I know it's Thanksgiving, and I hope to hell you're enjoying the day and not reading my blog. However, if you are, thanks.

The topic from last week certainly brought out some strong opinions, with which I did not disagree. The photography was disappointing, at best. The garments, while not ugly, didn't excite me. And I am at least happy to see shaping returning to where it should be.

I don't care one way or the other about the layout. I'm only interested in clear pictures of the designs. Where those pictures live doesn't make me no never mind.

Over the course of the past few years, due primarily to the mediocrity of the knitting magazines, I have tended to either turn to books or my own creativity for my projects. I would rather invest in a knitting book by a favored designer, which may yield a number of projects, than depend on magazines to pique my interest.

So, tell me.

From what source do you get your knitting projects? Magazines, books, or your idea-jammed brain?

Celeste's Campanula is the only magazine-published design that I've done in quite some time.

I Promise
There will be more pictures and stuff this long weekend, probably Sunday night. I got a copy of Kristin's book in the mail and it's hot. Plus I've finally finished that last sleeve to Lavold's Estrid from Book #9, so I'll be doing some finishing this weekend, time permitting. I always think I'm going to get more done than I do, but I swear there will be some time set aside just for that. Because for me, finishing something is rare and handy.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya turkeys. Eat heavy.

Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot

2007-11-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Speak when you're angry, and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret--Dr. Laurence J. Peter

Boy, I do love a good knockdown, drag-out fight, especially if I'm an innocent bystander. We had a doozy at work yesterday. The CFO and VP of Sales, both of whom should have behaved themselves, screaming at each other over an expense report. Stupid.

I thought about offering them some pharmaceuticals. And then thought better of it. I am peaceable. Usually.

Open Mic Thursday
Not much time tonight to write. I'm in the middle of writing a pile of stuff at work, plus another article for IK, on Ravelry this time. I'm glad you all enjoyed my stuff. I probably had a better time writing the articles than you did reading them.

This past week, there's been a lot of perhaps not-so-trash talk about this issue of Interweave Knits. The new layout and the photography, to be precise.

So I ask you to lay your thoughts out on the table.

What did you think of the Winter issue of Interweave Knits?

Leave my articles out of it. I appreciate your thoughts but I'd be interested in hearing what you have to say about the rest of the issue.

Obligatory Knitting Shit
Still working on that damned sleeve. Finagle's Law of Dynamic Negatives says this: The last sleeve is always endless.

This is a truism. I'm managing to knit a little on the train but seem to fall asleep with needles in hand. This morning, a nice woman had to shake me when we got to Hoboken.

Which is why this is a short entry. Sunday I'll have lots to write about, since Joe and I are taking the Kiwi Terrifico of Fibre Alive fame, James, around to local yarn shops on Saturday. Lots of pictures and maybe even some of my work, although a slowly growing sleeve is a stone bore. I'm really looking forward to meeting James. Joe I already know all too well, my gay brother.

I gotta get to bed earlier, so that's it for tonight. But there's a rare and handy four-day weekend coming up. Moving will take first place. And extra sleep.

Mmmmm, Psychotropic Drugs. Just Like M&Ms

2007-11-12T20:22:00.000-05:00

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Some may never live, but the crazy never die.--Hunter S. Thompson

Here's another one lost to the perils of manic depression. God, I miss the Duke. But you'll be glad to know that I'm back, medicated, and feeling much, much better.

Seroquel is my lifesaver. With a soupcon of Lamictal. Well, perhaps a tad more than just a soupcon.

Thank you all so much for caring so much. The email I've received, from friends and readers alike, and the wonderful comments you wrote jump-started my morale.

You know, of course, that I'm a stubborn bitch and that I won't rest until I get what I need. I didn't. Damn the system and full speed ahead. That said, I've reinstituted, regurgitated, and generally resurrected Swing Time, the blog I wrote specifically about my manic depression. It's got some good links that I've collected and a far better place to write about my disorder than here.

I stopped writing Swing Time more than a year ago, in part because I thought perhaps it wasn't healthy to write about my disorder and also because I abhor pity parties. I was wrong. First, my writing style does not tolerate my feeling sorry for myself. Second, I think it does help others of my ilk to read about what I do, to talk about disorder management, and to pass on information that I churn up from the depths of wherever.

Seems to me that there are a lot of bipolars who read this blog. Well, get your butt over to Swing Time and let's tawk. And leave this blog for the fiber shit.

Brackets
I finally got my copy of Winter IK. I'm not going to say much about the issue other than to say thanks to all who wrote me about my articles. Needless to say, they edited "Brackets" to the extent where a lot of good stuff was left out. Oh well. I'm not complaining. I'm OK with the editing.

I always give credit where credit is due. And honestly, Brackets is not my invention. It's Neal's. When I first met Neal, he wrote me this absolutely cracked email, written in part by Brackets. Neal's Brackets. [Why do I ALWAYS have to explain everything to everybody in here. I need a raise...or at least better billing...Brackets, what kind of name is that?...MOVE ON!!!..."]

That's Nealie's Brackets talking. So Neal, you're the best, for being my muse and for being my friend. And for being there for me last week when I wasn't exactly too well put together. [Oh Jesus fucking Christ, willya just stick to knitting, ya lazy skank. Enough with the thank-yous. Why don't you fucking start thanking your mother since this is disintergrating into an Oscar circle-jerk?]

Now, that's the Brackets you didn't read in IK. [And obviously, the medication didn't take the edge off, did it?]

Obligatory Knitting Shit

So in the spirit of my newly anointed and medicated self, I actually got some knitting done this weekend, despite moving more stuff up to E'burg. Remember this?

Well, I finally got off my ass and started the last sleeve. Because I really want it finished. It's a pretty sweater and it was about to grow mold in my knitting basket, along with a couple of other projects like the Magenta Diamonds shawl, and several unfinished pairs of socks. And I did finish one bobbin of the Las Vegas Brights silk and started the second.

Perhaps Seroquel should be renamed UFOquel.

So, that said, I will leave you now for my Ikea chair and TV, where I can watch rare and handy crap while I actually get something done.

Due to Circumstances Beyond My Control

2007-11-08T00:01:00.000-05:00

No Open Mic Thursday this week. Why? Because I'm tired, stressed out, and dysphoric. Hence the story below, which yesterday and today still makes me hot under the collar.

As many of you know, I am bipolar. A well-managed, functional bipolar, to be sure, and one who's always on the lookout for those situational and seasonal triggers that can cause me to feel lousy and need medication adjustment.

Sunday, after running around like an idiot, I realized when I finally got to E'burg with my carload of boxes that my mood swings were spiking fast and furious. As it's known in the psych biz, rapid cycling. Always a big red flag for me. Neal, the world's perfect new next-door neighbor, grabbed me and fed me some of his famous spaghetti because for some reason, I hadn't been thinking about eating. And had managed to drop 8 pounds in a week. Another red flag.

Time to get a checkup from the neck up. And lo! My former doctor is no longer with the clinic, retired. Shit. And I can't get another doctor for at least three weeks. So Monday, I call the insurance company's behavioral services, figuring that I'll walk the party line.

Aetna was surprisingly helpful. They offered to find me a new doctor and suggested that, in the meanwhile, I go to the ER and they'll evaluate me and get me fixed up with a med change or increase, whatever is best.

Sounded like a good idea to me. So I leave work, go to my local ER, explain to the triage nurse exactly why I was there and what the insurance company told me to expect. Fine. She puts me in a treatment room. And there I sit. For two hours, which was briefly alleviated by the comic-relief appearance of a Filipino nurse who ordered me into a hospital gown. She didn't quite realize who she was ordering. A dysphoric, very cranky, bipolar woman, who basically told her to take the gown and shove it where the sun don't shine.

Finally, a woman from the psych ward appears. "Oh, no, we don't prescribe medication here, we only admit and you're not sick enough for that." Gee, so you're telling me that I got to sit here for more than two hours and you won't help me? Right. And here I thought I was being "proactive" in managing my disorder. So, if I had taken the blood pressure cuff, wrapped it around my neck, and pumped it up, they would have given me some drugs?

I was upset. And Mary, the psych ward lady, gave me two phone numbers to call the next day, one for the local behavioral center and the other for a crisis intervention center. "One of these will help you with your meds right away," she says. OK, now three hours gone and still nothing, so I decide it's time to leave the hospital and go home. I was in tears, completely frustrated.

But wait. There's more. Now, the ER head nurse comes in and says, "Oh no, you can't leave. You told the triage nurse that you were agitated and you wanted to hurt someone, so you can't be discharged."

What the fuck? Discharged? I didn't know I had been admitted. I stared at her and I knew that if I blew my stack, they'd probably commit me. Or worse. So I took a deep breath and said, "No, that's not at all true. Yes, I don't feel well but no, I would never harm anyone." (And Brackets, the little voice in my head, said, "But we'll gladly make an exception in your case.")

Fortunately, Mary turned to the nurse and said, "Oh, that's ridiculous. This woman only came in to see if we could help her with some medication. I gave her some contact numbers and she's going home." So the ER nurse, giving me the evil eye, said, "Fine, Mary. YOU can take responsibility for her." And left, her skull unsullied by my fist.

Out the door I went, disgusted by the state of mental health care in this country. I suppose if you want to get immediate help, you'd better wait until you're a raging homicidal and suicidal maniac. Let yourself stew until all of your juices are at boiling point and then the only solution is to admit you to the hospital, thus making the whole episode even pricier than it needed to be. I ask you, who's making bucks from this? Not hard to guess.

As it all turned out, I have an appointment tomorrow morning for a med review at the crisis intervention center with their shrink, and have an appointment with a new doctor at the end of the month. Two days later, granted. But I was able to hang in there, persevere, and ultimately get the treatment I needed, albeit not when I needed it. I made the calls. I got nothing from Aetna, at least so far. I thanked Mary profusely, because she cared enough to help me. The only one.

The one thing that I've decided is that it's important for me to increase my mental health advocacy. It's time to become an activist. And I will because with the Parity Act languishing in Congress, which, if passed, would put mental illness on an insurance par with physical illness, it's time for those of us who suffer from mental disorders to put our money where our proverbial mouths are.

I want the care I need. Without a runaround, without having to go to a psychiatrist who will not take insurance because the insurance companies do not want to cover it. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance, as best as we know now. Here's a sobering statistic: As many as 1 out of every three people with bipolar disorder try to kill themselves. It can be deadly.

So let's make care and medication immediately available to those of us who are willing to seek it in order to manage our disorders and live a happy, productive life. I don't think that's asking a lot.

And now I'm going to bed and get some sleep, a critical component of feeling well.