No Red, White, and Blue Ackrilic Knitted Objects Allowed on the Premises

Best Quote I Heard All Day

July 4. Statistics show that we lose more fools on this day than in all the other days of the year put together. This proves, by the number left in stock, that one 4th of July per year is now inadequate, the country has grown so.--Mark Twain

I love fireworks. Here in PA they are legal and you can even buy them in the supermarket. I was so fucking tempted to buy a bunch and shoot 'em off tomorrow. If it doesn't rain, which it's supposed to.

Friggin' Flag Knitting
The only garment made from a flag that was truly cool was worn by The Who back in the '60s. When Carnaby St. was the fashion universe, at least to this then 17 year old.

Here's the perfect KnitDweeb patriotic project. Red, white, and blue warshcloth done in the Old Shale pattern. Nice, huh? Of course, this is done in Sugar 'n Cream, available at the Michaels, AC Moore, WalMart, Hobby Lobby, and other wonderful KnitDweeb emporia.

Or perhaps you'd prefer to crochet a lovely flag afghan? Materials: Red Heart, but of course.

Now, these American flag socks are rather funky. And made with real wool, gang. I'd almost be tempted to make these, just to be obnoxious.

And, in keeping with the true KnitDweeb spirit, all of the aforementioned patterns are FREE, FREE, FREE.

Sorry, can't do white on white. Just white on rice.

Open Mic Thursday
OK, I've given you plenty of ammo. Ya wanna knit patriotic? Then tell the world...

Which of the three patterns above would you knit?

And if you have other sources for patriotic knitted stuff, feel free to shut the fuck up, please. Three are more than enough. Unless you have found something completely absurd. In which case, I'm sure we'd all be intrigued and disgusted.

Warped Speed
After having been sent this link by my dear sister, Ms. Scrappy, I may have to restrict my knitting web surfing. Be afraid, be very afraid of this link. It's not patriotic, just completely bizarre. Knit it because you can. I double dog-dared the blogging Wolvies to knit a pair and be photographed wearing them. No takers. Clearly, I have balls and I'll have to do it.

Obligatory Knitting Shit
The Las Vegas Brights scarf is almost done. Then it's back to the Cobweb Crepe shawl.

In the meanwhile, for all of us who spin, Katherine Matthews once again is having the Tour de Fleece.



I'm in. The Tour begins on July 5th and you must use fiber from your stash, which I think is a capital idea.

This is not the sum total of my fiber stash by a long shot. Just the smaller amounts. We won't talk about the 3 pounds of Romney, the endless supply of Tintagel Farm stuff, and other large purchases.

Please ignore all the Black Bunny Fibers purchases. I can't stay away from Carol's shit.

It's going to be one of these two. And I think I've already chosen the one. Both are silk.





So as of Saturday, the Joy will be cleaned and oiled. And then used for the Tour. Hot damn. I'll be taking photos as I go along. Gotta get it spun and plyed by the 27th so I qualify for the Maillot Jaune button. This one of the few "alongs" that I find worthwhile.

Because "alongs" are not particularly rare and handy, in my opinion. They belong with memes.

Note: The 6th anniversary of The Knitting Curmudgeon is fast approaching. July 25th. If any readers have good ideas for an anniversary blog topic, I'd appreciate the suggestions. God knows I never thought the blog would last this long.

Best Quote I Heard All Day

If you be sick, your own thoughts will make you sick--Ben Jonson

Based on the rash of infested groups that have sprung up on Ravelry, I'd say that there are a lot of sick knitters out there. A plethora of disease-filled needle 'hos, if you will.

Knit 1, Wheeze Too--perfect for those of you with respiratory ailments who want to share your sputum with other infected and affected souls.

Knitting With Pain. Yep, chronic pain sufferers.

Thyroid Yarnies. Self-explanatory.

Neuro-Diversity. OCD, ADD, and any other neuro-abbreviation.

These are real Ravelry groups, gang. Along with other excitingly contagious groups such as Crunchy Christian Crafters, *fiber faeries* (whose tag says: "fiber makers who believe in faeries note: joining will save faerie lives! "), Busdriver's That Knits (yes, busdrivers who knit in Norway) and a bunch more.

Fortunately, there are worthwhile groups to join, that eschew this nonsense. I rather fancy Porn-knitographers, myself. Those who write erotica, knit, and sometimes do both at the same time. I practice what I preach.

Many groups have few members. I understand people's need for support if they are dealing with an illness. However, I have found that if you are needy, you will tend not to manage your disease or disorder but look for tea and sympathy. Looking for information and direction is fine. So find a group solely dedicated to your problem and leave knitting out of it.

But let's be glad that Jess and Casey have opened up the forums for these people who seem to need to add yet another attachment or malady to their knitting talk. At least we don't need to read this crap on the lists. And in actuality, I've pretty much given up reading the lists anyway.

These groups do affirm my believe in the species KnitDweeb, how-some-ever.

Some knitting lists have started groups on the Ravelry Forum. I find that quite interesting as a social dynamic.

So I guess you can see where this will lead. Yes, to...

Open Mic Thursday

A bifurcated topic this week. Because, as we all know, I'm rather bifurcated myself.

1) Do you think that the Ravelry groups portend the demise of knitting mailing lists as we've known them?

2) What disease/disorder/malady would you like to see represented on the Ravelry Forum? Use your imagination.

If this ain't grist for your mill, it sure is for mine. By the way, ask Carol about her group. It has to do with kielbasi. And Koigu. Together. A greasy, merino-y combination. Ravelry, if nothing else, is an equal opportunity community. Me, I'm all for big sausages. Fuck the Koigu. Really, you don't want to know about this group.

Yes, I Still Do Fiber Shit

So this week, I managed to get some spinning done. Finally finished plying all of the Black Bunny Fiber alpaca that Carol gave me for my last birthday. A pleasure to spin.

Not satisfied with that, I started spinning some silk roving that I bought at Rhinebeck last year, suitably called "Las Vegas Brights."

I do love bright colors. Like a magpie. And I have two lengths of this roving, 2 ounces each. Enough for a scarf or something. Silk is one of my very favorite fibers to spin.

I'm liking this single a lot. I started with the blue and segued into the hot pink.

And a day or so ago, I was reading Carol's complaint that she couldn't seem to spin thinner.

Ted gave Carol some very good advice: Stop worrying about how thin you're spinning and be more concerned about consistent drafting.

Well, here's the key. As Mabel Ross always said, "Measure and count." You must consistently enter the same amount of fiber into the twist, while you treadle evenly, with the same number of wheel rotations for every length of fiber introduced into the twist.

It's all a matter of that, plus knowing how much twist the fiber needs. Combining treadling speed with whorl size and tension to get the grist you want takes some experience. And that's where sampling comes in.

A new spinner should sample, sample, sample. Until all of the aforementioned actions become instinctive and the desired thickness of yarn is achieved. This is not something that can be taught, in my opinion. It must be felt. Brain connects to hands, and you're in.

As Ted says, it's actually harder for an experienced spinner who has produced thin singles to spin heavier weight singles. However, if you have the feel for how much fiber you need to introduce for the weight you want, you can do it.

Just remember the first time you held knitting needles and tried to make a stitch. Awkward. Klutzy. And then, brain engaged hands and you had it. Same thing here. (Of course, I was only 8 when I learned to knit but I remember the brain-hands marriage as clear as day.)

And now, it's time to return to the rare and handy wheel because that silk is calling me before I go to bed. And then there's the boxes of stash lined up in my dining room, ready to go to E'burg. So I've kept out what I need and the rest goes over the Gap on Saturday. (And yes, this is being published prior to 12 midnight, as is my habit.)

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
I think a poet is anybody who wouldn't call himself a poet. --Bob Dylan

It's National Poetry Month. So in keeping with the spirit of things, I'll be printing some of my favorites.

My first writing efforts as a child were poems. I wish I still had them. However, these years, I find poetry in music lyrics that speak to me. Here's one of my favorites, And She Was, by David Byrne of Talking Heads.


My Talking Heads
Well, that was quite the onslaught of comments. I have no comment, other than to say that some of you are almost, if not more, vitriolic than I am.

One thing I don't do these days is badmouth other bloggers in public. (Well, there's one I have jabbed in the past but that blogger is so boring, it's gotten to the point where I don't bother, since she's now a parody of herself.) That's not to say that I don't have my opinions but you may presume that if I don't mention them, I don't read them.

There is one thing for which I will be forever grateful. The comments that I get are not from asskissing idiots who have nothing better to say than

"I luuuurvvve your blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Spare me. What may interest you is that a few of the "popular" bloggers have less of the milk of human kindness running through their veins than they'd like you to believe. But since they write their blogs for the great unwashed, that's what they get in return. I'm pleased that my Comments are a forum rather than a mass paean to my wonderfulness.

I started off opinionated from the get-go. You know what you're getting with me. If you don't, you'd better leave in a hot New York minute.

That said, I will entertain Patsi Purl's suggestion about bloggers you don't like. But I'd like other suggestions from the rest of you. It can be controversial. Or not.

Personally, I'd like to see opinions about the excrutiating difficulty endured by lefthanded knitters, whether knitting needles would have been considered weapons of mass destruction on a JetBlue plane resting on a runway for eight hours, or whether combined knitting is a bigger pain in the ass than it's worth.

Sogs
That's how I'm feeling about them lately. It would seem that this week, all the knitting I've been able to manage has been on these ubiquitous sogs.

My endless fascination with socks has to do with several potential personality flaws.

• I love symmetry. It must be the German in me.
  
• I can be anal-retentive when it comes to matching the dye repeats perfectly
• Sometimes I have a short attention span when it comes to knitting and I need to get something finished

Sock-making happens in the spring and the summer, in order to replenish my sock drawer and to make something knitted for my loved ones. Socks are almost always welcome gifts.

Today brightened considerably when a package from Black Bunny Fibers arrived, posthaste.


Yeah, more sock yarn. Nobody dyes like Carol does. Rainbow Bright on the left, Lively on the right. There's nothing I like better than bright colors for socks that I wear.

I was once described by a certain doctor as an effervescent breath of fresh air. Well, maybe sometimes. I think you can tell by the socks I'm wearing if that's the case on the particular day. With my 57th birthday looming, I'm rather seeing through a glass, darkly. However, it will pass and I'll be back to my teenage mentality shortly.

Bright socks help. A lot. So does sex.

Weavin'
Not this week. Too much work and the eyes are too tired after 5. I'm going to try to get my towel warp on the loom tomorrow. Sunday is Easter, so die ganze Familie is coming over for ham, raisin sauce, red potatoes, fresh asparagus and green beans. I enjoy having an excuse to cook.

I'm sure Mammy and I will sit and knit. I have to re-educate her as to Lavold's particular increase methods. She can't figure it out. Jenn and Rin will run their mouths, Norm and brother Rich will chat about movies, Liz will make a 5-minute cameo for dinner and then go back to her room to talk to her friends. The self-named Scrap Curmudgeon will show up with my nephews, I hope, if her in-laws leave at a reasonable hour.

In other words, a typical family get-together. Rare? No. Handy? Absolutely. Because they're the best and I love them to pieces.