Best Quote I Heard All Day

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city. --George Burns

Well, it's not large--there are, at last count, 25 of us, which includes two wives and one husband who married in. The Meyers, the Robertses. the Petersons, the Roths. And the two Carsten girls, Eleanor and Nancy, from whence all of this goodness emanated.

It's been seven years since all of us were in one place at one time. But this weekend, the sibs and I took Mammy up to Connecticut to see her sister, my wonderful Aunt Nan, and we got to see two of the cousins, Carole and Mark.

Carole definitely displayed the fine family trait of snarkiness with some choice comments. If she knit, she could do me one better in knitsnark. I gave her the URL for the blog. Now, if she reads it, she'll find out just how snotty her cuz is.

Here are the ladies and the bro, on a lovely May Saturday in Connecticut.

From left: Ma, Rich, Karen, Nan, and Carole

Sherman's March
I've never bothered to do toe-up socks. Why? Because I have my Formula 1 sock pattern that fits nicely and that I have memorized. But having finished one pair on Sunday, I decided to muck around with a toe-up to see what all the fuss is about.

First, there was the Sock Wizard-generated pattern. The short-rowing in the Sock Wizard is wrapped, so I decided to give that a shot with some of Carol's wonderful merino sock yarn, Rainbow Bright, which I bought a few weeks ago.

Well, the wrapped short-rowing sucked, big time. Hated how it looked. And it was a royal pain in the ass, besides, picking up those damned wraps. You can't really tell from the picture but trust me, it sucked.

Then, I remembered reading last week about the Sherman technique on Mel's blog. So I ripped out this toe, read the excellent tutorial Mel has done on the Sherman shortrowing, and reworked the toe. This is unwrapped shortrowing, with compensation for the wraps by making one and then decreasing it with the prior stitch or, as Mary Sherman Lycan, the originator, calls them, "encroachments." Just read Mel's tutorial and you'll get it immediately.

Much better. Whether this will fit better than my stock cuff-down sock with common heel and wedge toe remains to be seen. I don't like the look of it as much but then, fit and function count heavily. You need to try it all. I really need to pull out Lucy Neatby's Cool Socks Warm Feet and revisit it.

Open Mike Tuesday
In an e-mail, Carol brought to the Wolvies' attention an ad in this Sunday's New York Times that evidently shows a woman of babyboomer age knitting. She had heard at MD S&W that knitters were fomenting a protest. So the topic this week is:

Do you give a rat's ass as to how knitters are portrayed in the media? Or do you have your posters ready for the protest march?

Go for it, babies. More cowbell.

Woolee Winder Banshee
I had thought at first it was simply a noisy bobbin. Not. While spinning Carol's alpaca, the Matchless started to make gawd-awful clacking noises. OK, out comes the oil. No good. New drive band. No good. Tighten all the screws. No good. Then off comes the winder and on goes the original flyer. That worked.

I've not had this problem with the winder on the Joy but I'll be taking apart the Matchless Woolee Winder at some point to see if I can find wherein the problem lies. It took me a while to get used to using the old flyer but I'm back on track.

Birthday Presents
Now, Barb insists this was not a birthday present; however, it did arrive during the Mar Birthday Festival Week. A thoughtful gift from a good friend, much appreciated. Barb's company, Wild Geese Fibres, has much worth buying. My fingers are itching to work with this alpaca/silk laceweight.

And then, there was my sister's birthday present, which she claims isn't my "real" present. Huh.

Yes, Wallace & Gromit lovers, it is Shaun posing as a hot-water bottle cover. Which delightful article Karen found at a garage sale. The seller said that it was bought at Bootts. No doubt. You'd never find anything like this in the States. I haven't decided whether or not that is in our favor as Americans.

However, there is a certain charm to it. You have to search, but it's there.

Some Enchanted Evening
I'm so disappointed that I didn't receive an invite to the white tie extravaganza at the House o' Shrub. It's highly likely that I was excluded from the guest list because my hat collection does not meet HRM's standards.

It would be a treat to see Shrub give her a shoulder massage. Or perhaps say, "Hey, Queenie, how y'all doin'?" Unfortunately, behavior like that is not rare for the Fucktard-in-Chief, and it's continuously unhandy.

Best Quote I Heard All Day

It takes a long time to grow young.--Pablo Picasso

So, another year will bite the dust tomorrow. Numero 57. Yikes!

The older I get, the more ambivalent I become about my birthday. On the one hand, I'd like to celebrate the fact that I'm alive for yet another spring. Watching the mallard float on the pool upon the pool the other day made me laugh. Dopey duck. He kept diving and finding nothing.

On the other hand, I hate looking down the barrel of the gun that is 60. Sheesh. Whyfore how come I don't feel any older than, um, 35?

Yeah, numbers are numbers. I'm still the wild child I ever was. That hasn't changed much.

Any birthday dinner invitations will be gleefully accepted. Heh.

Spring on the Delaware with the Wolvies
Well, Joe and Carol beat me to it but I'll throw up some pictures, with blessedly none of me. It was a perfect spring day down in Stockton, NJ and we had a lovely brunch. I hadn't seen Kathy since Rhinebeck, so that made it all the betterer. The Punk Princess deigned to come along, knowing full well that Carol would make her pay if she didn't show.

I just can't help myself. Too kewl.

A good picture of Kathy and a rather goofy one of Carol. What does Joe have in his hand?

Live fast, die fun. Certainly my motto, too.

Why I love spring in New Jersey

They Say It's Your Birthday--It's My Birthday Too, Yeah

My sibs and I sing that to each other on our respective birthdays. Karen was born a week before me, albeit 12 years later, and brother Rich exactly 7 weeks before, 4 years later.

Carol gave me the most wonderful birthday present. Look at this--alpaca top, dyed by herself, the Mistress of All Messy Dyepots.

And you know that as soon as I got home, I hit the Matchless with a vengeance. (Well, after oiling it, fucking around with a new drive band, and fiddling with the tension.)
This begs to be laceweight. It cannot be anything else but a lace shawl. So for the hell of it, I separated the two plys of some leftover Jaggerspun (formerly used for the Melanie shawl) and compared my single. I've made some observations about spinning laceweight that I'll write about in my next entry.

Topeka! (Shut the fuck up, I'll make my puns and be damned.)

My pictures do not do this alpaca top justice. It is a magnificent sunset of pinks, reds, and a dab of purple, orgasmic to spin. The shading is unbelievable. If you don't buy from Black Bunny Fibers, then you've lost out on an experience worth having time and time again.

Open Mike Tuesday
OK, gang, we're back to this. And I promised a topic that's more positive, so here it is, courtesy of Carol, if I recall correctly:

Who's the best new knitting designer
(say within the past two years)?

I know who my choice would be, but I'll leave for you to clutter the comments.

You know it's time to go to bed when Letterman has Sanjaya doing the Top Ten. Sleep is much rarer and handier than a 17-year-old talentless wonder enjoying the last of his 15 minutes.

Please, God, let him drift back into obscurity. For music's sake.

Best Quote I Heard All Day
We'll explain the appeal of curling to you if you explain the appeal of the National Rifle Association to us.--Andy Barrie

For those of you who don't know who Andy Barrie is, read this. Now you know.

O, Canada!
Today was Canada Day in my house. I had a wonderful phone-o-rama with my beloved friend, Ted Myatt, and read Lee Ann's blog.

And realized (or is it realised?) how many Canadian knitters and Canadian yarn companies have influenced me.

The short list, besides the two aforementioned people:

• Veronik Avery
• Kate Gilbert
• Lucy Neatby
• Sivia Harding
• JoVE
• Barb Brown
• Katherine Matthews
• Lars Rains
• Koigu
• Fleece Artist
• Fiddlesticks Knitting

I know, I've left out just a few. No offense intended and some were omitted on purpose. But those listed are the ones that I appreciate the most. (I'd do links but it's late and I'm lazy, so Google.)

The first Canadian I ever met was at college. She was born in Canada but raised in Brasilia, her father being a Canadian diplomat posted there, and could sing Tommy James and The Shondells' Hanky Panky in Portuguese. What a pisser she was. And it was the first time I heard anyone say "aboot" and "hoose." I was completely gobsmacked. Of course, my skanky New Jersey accent was the butt of her jokes, too.

Some guys I knew from high school fled to Canada to avoid the Vietnam War, and are still there, Canadian citizens, despite the amnesty. Makes you wonder if it's worth fleeing there now. Such a sane country.

I'm looking forward to seeing my Canadian friends at Rhinebeck. As well as my Aussie friends.

Of the knitting blogs I read, half are Canadian, Australian, and British. Probably because they lack the idiotic flavor that has permeated the American knitting blogs.

Rapunzel Rulez
Or some shit like that. Spinning was about it today. After being invaded this afternoon by daughter Jenn, grandson Ian, and Jenn's boyfriend Norm, I got absolutely no warping done. Eh, so what. I always love seeing Ian, who's never had his picture published solo on the blog. So here he is, the most recent picture I have, taken at Christmas:

He was born the day after my birthday, hence his nickname "Birthday Present." Ian's modus operandi is to run into the house, say "Hi Gram, bye Gram," and then run outside, hopefully with one of cousin Liz's skateboards. If Liz is not at home.

Anyway, I decided to spend my evening spinning the Grape merino/tussah silk. The bobbin never seems to get any fuller. It defies the laws of physics, possibly. I'm sure there's some rocket scientist who reads this blog and will correct me.

I've not been spinning much during the past four months or so. Time to get back to the wheels. After talking to Ted about his dyeing efforts, I'm tempted to fiddle with some of the Bluefaced Leicester I have ageing in the stash.

April's Fool
It's now after midnight, which means that it's April 1. Three more days until Joe's birthday. Twenty-four until my 57th. I could have done another April Fool's post, as I did last year, but I'm rather retarded tonight. It's enough to write this and update the Bizarro Link of the Month.

However, I do have some news to impart.

Two days ago, I received a call from the David Letterman show, asking me to appear on the show next month doing a Stupid Human Trick. I won't spoil the surprise but those who know me can guess what I'll be doing.

Yes, it's rare and handy. And almost superhuman, too. Will I beat the Tiny Diva at her own game? Stay tuned.