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Never fails. There I go making big pronouncements, and then, faster'n you can say "order up," there's a napkin tied around my neck and I'm bellying up to a platter of my own words. How do they taste? I can't lie- they're a bit heavy. I think I'll just have a salad for dinner, thanks.
Service with a smile by Bonne Marie.
Dear Family: Everyone's getting livestock this year for Christmas. I have too much to knit.
Way back when, in the days when I was reintroducing myself to the art of the knit, I developed a wee EBay habit. Not that I was just snatching up bargains left and right, undiscerning and, as the kids say, randomly. No, I had a System. And the System could be summed up thusly: If it is Rowan, I will buy it.
This was not because I was a Rowanette, or had the patience to scale Mount St. Mably, or even because I'm particularly good at making scones and love a good romp on the moors. No, it was just that I stumbled across that temptress Janette and become ensared in her tweedy web. I bought bags of Felted Tweed, Big Wool, and 4-ply Soft. I have a few skeins of True 4-ply Botany and even a small collection of Lightweight DK- just because it seemed popular, discontinued, and going fast! You could call me a sort of "Accidental Yarnsnob." But I'll put down my Earl Grey for a moment here because it just needs to be said: Rowan has a yardage issue.
I know this is all part of the packaging of privilege. It's why a good Cabernet comes in a bottle and a bargain one comes in a box. Why a short story is often viewed as a higher art form than the novel. Why the last season of "Arrested Development" is only two DVD's long (bastards!). We're supposed to appreciate the finer things in small doses. Oh, and pay more, too.
Now, I know no one thrills to the idea of "bulk yarn," but hear me out. This is how far I got on my Forecast before having to join another ball of Cascade 220:
That's almost to the underarm! Move over, Rowan. Fricknits is dipping into the bulk bin for the next three projects. Fare ye well, endless ends and ballband litter! Save me some lemon curd. I'll be back.
...and speaking of more being more, go watch this! Is it just me, or should she have cannibalized the DRESS before the hair?
For those new to the blog, I'm spacing out my 100 Things so as not to overwhelm myself or you. Please visit the 100 Things category if you'd like to go back to #1.
I know many of you are eager to hear about the tea party. Wouldn't you know it, two designers showed up, and one wasn't on the invite list. I love party crashers. We cozied up with the little sandwiches and the teacups and the tiny confessions flew. I slip-stitched my little heart out, planned this post, and daydreamed about my next two sweaters. Here are my next 10 Things, all tiny confessions, interspersed with photos of the finished Lily:
21. I like to work with the yarn suggested in the pattern. I know this makes me a "lesser" knitter somehow, but I can't help it. I just feel I'm more likely to get the effect I want that way. And also, I don't trust myself very much when it comes to subtleties such as drape. This may be a product of my perfectionism.
22. I once stopped reading an otherwise lovely knitting blog because the knitter expressed an affinity for a certain conservative pundit's radio show.
23. I cheated on every boyfriend I ever had with one exception: the fabulous Mr. Frick.
24. Over the course of my love affair with "The West Wing," I developed a huge crush on Toby Ziegler. Jim Caviezel fell quickly out of favor after that whole Jesus thing. (But "The Thin Red Line"? Where he wasn't actually Jesus but a pretty Jesusy-type soldier guy? Swoon.)
25. Over the course of the last month and a half I have lost 12 pounds, but never blogged about it because of a stupid hangup about weight that, despite my strong feminist leanings, is still an intrinsic part of my psychological makeup.
26. I think I am a better teacher of boys than of girls.
27. I have never eaten a Twinkie, but I did steal one in sixth grade. I have no Twinkie defense. Guilty as charged. (This is likely where the huge shoplifting habit I had in junior high originated.)
28. I kind of like the way it feels when I accidentally bite my own lip, and I sort of like the taste of blood and the smell of gasoline.
29. If I could be seduced and/or killed by any monster, I'd pick vampire faster than you could say, "bite me." That may be why I like this collar so much:
30. I wrote this post instead of grading two quizzes that my kids are begging to get back.
Oh! I just realized I never told you who my two tea party guests were! They dropped their buttons as they were leaving, so I put them in my sidebar. Apparently there are bigger parties out there in their honor, and I'm a-joining in!
With the end of Lily in sight- or at least glimpsed across a mile of edging that needs to be "slip-stitched neatly into place," it's time to contemplate my next sweater project.
Now, I don't know about you, but I seem to just stumble from project to project. I make endless lists of "dream projects" and "stash projects" and "gift projects" (need I mention I know of EIGHT babies on the way?), but something always seems to fall in my lap at the last minute, like when, the other day, I spied this perfect Rusted Root and decided that my birthday money from Oupa would be best spent on some Cotton Fleece, and quick.
...but the yarn hasn't arrived yet, and I'm itching to start planning something new. Therefore, I've decided to go about choosing the next project based on the question, "With whom would I rather spend the next couple of weeks?" Contestants appear below. All celebrity voices have been impersonated with utmost respect and love.
Contestant #1: "Pluck emergency shearpin out of outboard motor, first making sure said motor is not in use. One need not strand oneself, Crusoe-like, for the sake of one's sweater, or one might sup the porridge of regret with the spoon of sorrow." (See possible project here- a gift for Mr. Frick in some stashed Cascade 220. Oooh, and there's a KAL...)
Contestant #2: "Weave in ends, put on rollerskates, apply Chanel No. 5, and be mahhvelous, because you and the postman and all the wacky neighbors and past boyfriends and gym-goers that populate your world know you are." (This pattern in Silky Wool from the stash, for me.)
Contestant #3: "Start at the seashore, marveling at the intricacies of the cosmos, and how they can all be expressed in the design of the tiniest cockle and mussel. Now pick up a gazillion stitches around a gazillion edges and spend more time assembling than you did knitting. Alive, alive-o." (The Sand Dollar Pullover from Knitting Nature, even though there seems to be some major glitch in said cosmos that does not allow me to join the KAL, despite repeated attempts.)
Contestant #4: Decrease one stitch at edge of fol 4 rows, and fol 2 fol alt rows, and at the same time, balance teakettle neatly atop crown of head whilst singing "God Save the Queen" and serving scones and clotted cream (homemade) to visiting dignitaries. Accent optional, but preferred. (This kit, bought in the same wild, credit-card-balance inflating moment as the one I've just finished. This one likely won't win. Not seasonal, and for now I can't even look at it without hearing this shrill, trilling voice announce, "The Princess BUTTERCUP!")
Contestant #5: "At this point you may be thinking, this sweater wants to be a hat. And so I would encourage you to put down your knitting immediately in exchange for a friendly little glass of wine. Or two. There. All better. Now go start knitting something new, before the voices begin again. See Chapter 4, entitled How to Insulate Your House with Failed Projects and Save 50% or More on Your Car Insurance for tips on what to do with the sweaterhat." (OK, so the Harlot isn't strictly a designer, but she's superfun to impersonate.)
I've got my tea set out, and the little sandwiches. I wonder who's coming to Fricknits? Stay tuned...
Would you agree with me that, as a society, we're having a bit of trouble figuring out what's newsworthy? Not that I'm a font of up-to-the-minute knowledge these days, as between the start of the school year, my lack of Internet at home, and the Biscuit's sudden insistance on listening to "Diff'nt music pleeeeese" during our daily commute, I have been cut off from my lifeline. That is, unless the lyrics to "Pay Me My Money Down" are breaking news. Didn't think so.
Every time I log on to Yahoo, I come face-to-face with a veritable cornucopia of faux news. Can they really call it "Dancing with the Stars" if what they mean is "Dancing with People You Have to Look Up On the Internet Because They Only Look Vaguely Familiar"? Where should I go on the Web if I want "all watermelon, all the time"? Is Justin Timberlake really going to bring sexy back, or should we all hold on to our sensible shoes for a while?
And I won't even mention the gaudy theatrics masquerading as news going on over in the Home of Geraldo. I mean, look at their website! Does the all-get-out, TGI Friday's Pieces of Flair look they have subscribed to lead you to believe that this is the home of "fair and balanced," serious newscasting? If so, please step out of the line.
See, what I love about NPR is that they give it to you straight, and that means they give it to you messy. They don't serve up a convenient Top 5 list. They don't employ Captain Caveman to tell you what to think (or to scream at you to shut up until you submit to the blunt force of his will). NPR is the between-the-lines, down-deep news, with strings and dangly bits hanging off where we're just not sure where this is all going. Do you see where I'm going?
Lately, I've been a bit hesitant to blog. After all, art imitates life here at Fricknits, and my life right now is a frayed, tangled mess, with hard, pricky bits twined in it, and a lot that remains to be done. But a quick trip over to a newfound friend's blog reminded me of what I believe, deep down, to be newsworthy- the mess, the process, the dangly bits of a work in progress. This is where we see the truth of a thing- not in the strikingly posed, seamed to perfection, pret a porter FO. And so I present Lily, in all her stringy, unseamed, in-progress glory. In Summer Tweed, colorway "ghost"- which at first looked to me like the color and texture of recycled newsprint. (It's growing on me.)
Sorry to all of you to whom I owe emails. I'll be stopping by your blogs in the next couple of days to leave comments, because that's what we all really want, right? Well, that, and to get the scoop on those zany Olsen twins!
Remember this post? Well...
In today's news (and I do believe this headline could battle it out with the riveting Yahoo News Top Stories- Paris Hilton Drives Drunk! Suri Cruise is Alive!) I'm allergic to my job. I've spent the last three days sneezing and squinching my nose up into various unattractive scrunchy shapes in order to keep from sneezing. Is it the chalk? Is it the mold? It is sudden daily contact with 51 awkward adolescents whose impeccable personal grooming habits belie the fact that they are, in fact, one big germ gymboree? How quickly do you think I'd be yanked into the headmaster's office for a little come-to-Jesus if I showed up one day wearing a dust mask and Tyvek suit?
My sinuses just won't allow me to be clever today, so here are a few first week of school stats for you. As Mom always taught me, when all else fails, make a list:
# of pairs of sexy/sassy new shoes bought for back-to-school: 1
# of people I asked to vet said shoes to ensure they weren't too sexy/sassy: 4
# of back-to-school meetings attended: 7
# of back-to-school meetings knitted in: 2
# of back-to-school meetings snored in: 1
# of back-to-school meetings felt were worthwhile: 1 (catnap)
# of students dressed in nauseatingly similar Lily Pulitzer outfits today: 9
# of African-American, non-blonde models in the average LP ad: 1/2
# of handknits worn to school so far: 2 (Green Gable and Fiery Bolero)
# of kids signed up for after-school knitting so far: 12
# of boys signed up for after-school knitting so far: 2
# of WIPs not appearing in the sidebar: 5
# of times I have told myself that this list is not good enough to post: 23
Sorry, friends. I'll emerge soon. In the meantime, go check out Yarnival! I'm super honored to be included. Off to the nurse for Benadryl.
Happy birthday, little love.
