Fricknits

41-50

Remember how I'm breaking up the 100 Things into 10-thing sections?  Remember the 100 Things?  Remember me?  Well, you need not remember any of the above to enjoy this, the HURRAH edition of my fragmented 100 Things.  These are 10 things that make JulieFrick celebrate!

41.  HURRAH for baking with kids.  Yes, there was flour everywhere afterward, necessitating the use of the vacuum cleaner, which both boys hate with the fire of seven suns, but that is the price they pay for quality time with Mama.  

 

(See the Fricklet there in the reflection?  Awwww.)

42. HURRAH for challah!  It's my new favorite baking-with-kids project.  Why?  It involves use of the mixer (spinny!), witnessing the miracle of bread rising (science!), punching and kneading dough (aggression!), and "painting" with the pastry brush (art!).  I mean, come ON.  Way better than chocolate chip cookie making.  (I used the recipe in the Enchanted Broccoli Forest.)

 

43.  Hurrah for handspun!  Spinning wool is something I'm keeping at a flailing arm's length for now, but that doesn't keep me from hoarding beautiful handspun yarn and friends who spin.  Yes, you read that right.  I am hoarding people now.  There's no end to my sickness. 

Speaking of which, 44. Hurrah for Kirsten!  I unabashedly declare myself terribly, undeniably, inappropriately in love with her and her family.  She designs such gorgeous patterns and has allowed me to test knit for her a few times.  Witness the glory that is a Rectangular Ulmus in Crown Mountain Farms handspun, people:

(More details on the Ravelry page.)

5.  HURRAH for nostalgia food.  As a kid my favorite lunches were:

a.  Kraft Mac & C with cut-up Oscar Meyer hot dogs in it. (No other hot dog brands allowed, to this day.)

b.  Stouffer's French Bread pizza, with the triangle-cut pepperonis.

c.  Ramen with peanut buttered apples on the side.

Good news!  If you eat your nostalgia food on a totally grownup plate, like the fancy Italian pottery you got for your wedding, that makes it grownup food.  Promise.

(Note the cheese powder is not entirely stirred in, and the hot dogs were cut and charred a bit.  This is key.)

46. HURRAH for kismet.  I may have squealed a bit when that appeared on my Google Reader.

47.  HURRAH for thank you notes.  No, really.  If you don't hurrah them, you still have to do them, and then it's just drudgery.  I was brought up by southerners, which means that I do thank-you's, because the thank-you's I don't do (and there have been some) haunt me endlessly.  Get yourself some pretty, pretty postcards (48. HURRAH for those!).  They make the job easier.  And shorter!

(I got mine from Moo.  They have some lovely ready-made ones.)

49.  HURRAH for hanging art!  I am horrible at this.  Mr. Frick is forever wringing his hands over our bare walls.  I'm just so bad at committing.  Once it's up there, there's a Hole In The Wall, after all.  But my parents gave me a fantastic piece for the holidays and I was so excited about it that I whipped out the hammer and special hardened nails and WHAMMO.

10. And finally, HURRAH for projects that are quick, easy, and oh, so sweet.  I love how these scraps Caro sent me have livened up the cover of my quilt-planning molskine!  (Idea from Last Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts).

Have a super-duper bubbly-infused New Year, y'all.  I'm headed to the mountains for a couple of days.  That's where the macrame owl lives.  I promise to steal it take pictures for you.

The Ring Trilogy

What's that you say?  You're not going to buy that Rowan, damnit?  So I should just get on with it and blog already?  Because you're sick of seeing the same old stash sale post on Fricknits?  And you're on to the next big charitable opportunity?  The one with the incredibly awesome prizes?  So I need to just get with the knitting, else you're taking your business elsewhere?  Phew.  Tough crowd.  Count to four (guaranteed mood-lifter) and come back.  Better?  Ready to forgive me?  Yay!

  

It's just one of those things.  Those do-I-craft-or-do-I-blog things.  You might know how it is.  Right?

So what have I been knitting?  Blankets.  Lots of blankets.  Starting with these three Hemlock Rings.  Because I'm actually, finally committing to some serious stash-busting.  I'm going to clean out these Ikea baskets, these underbed boxes, these beside-every-chair-in-the-house baskets, these bookshelves, these bags, these closets, these stashed-in-the-car-trunk hideway mini-stashes once and for all.  Yep.  Gotta pare down this yarn collection, STAT.

'Cause Mama's got a brand new addiction, and she needs that trunk space.  More to come on that soon. 

PS- As you may have heard, Send a Kid to Camp exceeded its goal, in part thanks to you- huzzah! 

Hey There, Gorgeous

I've been away from the Internet since Tuesday.  School and all its attendant meetings and report cards and classroom clean-ups was over at 4:00 pm and, by some cruel twist of fate, our neighbors decided to move their wireless hub or forgo wireless for the summer or some such nonsense, because there is currently no 'Net Chez Frick.  It took a few deep breaths, but then I realized that this could be a good thing.  While I'm NOT obsessively checking your Flickr streams and my Ravelry friend activity, I can, say, potty train my son.  Finally de-clutter the dining room table.  Learn to quilt (!)  And make good on the promise I've made to Ms. Kingsolver to become part of the solution.  To that end, I've planted three varieties of heirloom tomatoes in the past three days (Cherokee Purple, Hillbilly, and Green Zebra) and brought home a whopping haul from the farmer's market on Friday:

It's nice to know you're a part of a movement.  A real, honest-to-gosh change taking place in our culture (taking the optimist's view here).  Like this blogging/photo/knitting/crafting space we've created for ourselves on the Internet.  People talk about friendship and community and getting back to the roots of handcraft when they reference blogging as a movement, but there's something else about this craft movement that I think is really special and I haven't seen folks talking about, and that's beauty.  Redefining beauty.  Taking beauty BACK from the magazines and the movies and the Botox parties and the red carpet.  Taking it back into our own hands.  Have you noticed how we're doing that?

First of all, there's the power inherent in having the ability to make beautiful things with one's own hands.  As I've grown as a knitter, I've honed my aesthetic sense.  Every pretty, flirty skein that winks at me from the shelf doesn't automatically end up in the basket.  I'm choosier about colors in some ways, bolder about them in others.  I'm less likely to second-guess my gut when it comes to style.  Knitting has both expanded and refined what I think of as beautiful because it's put the creation part into my hands.

 

 

Lately, though, maybe because of all that stuff absence does to your heart, I've been thinking more about how being a part of this community has reached all the way back into my pre-adolescent, Barbie-torturing, running-wild-in-the-woods childhood and revived my sense of what makes a truly beautiful female.  Back then, I thought my mom was the most gorgeous woman alive.  Consciously or not, I thought this way about my friends, too.  Scraped kness, twigs in pigtails, crooked noses, dirty feet- it didn't matter.  At the end of the day, I still wanted to be rolled up in a sleeping bag with them, just staring at each other's faces and giggling.  And I thought I was a pretty hot mama, too.  Lip synching to Sheena Easton with the hairbrush and the bottom of my t-shirt pulled through the neck, insta-kini style? You know you did it, and you know you were thinking, "I am hawt."  Right?  Then came seventh grade.

That's what I love about Project 365.  Folks will tell you it's narcisistic, but I don't buy that.  How many of us are really initially comfortable with putting our faces out there, day after day?  It's taken me almost two years to show mine on this blog.  But all over Flickr you can find these amazing photographs of beautiful women whose stories and knitting you know.  And if you look at them enough, you start to think, "Where's my sleeping bag?  My hairbrush?  My Sheena Easton tape?"  Screw mass media's idea of what beautiful is.  I mean, Rolling Stone's got nothing on Carrie.  Want to jump-start your workout?  Forget Shape- check out Brenda for inspiration.  Want to read a great parenting story?  Move over, Angelina, Jen, Madonna, JLo.  Diana's got yer heartstrings right here.  Jen Aniston's shag is SO out.  Get the Ashley.  Betcha haven't wanted Jell-O this much since you were five.  (Erin can sell me just about anything.)  Pigtails!  Oh, and Pam?  Anthropologie called.  They want their mojo back.

Blogging has spolied me for the slick mass media version of beauty.  Kind of makes me want to get all the girls I teach a Typepad account.

The photos in this post are of my best friend Adrianna.  She's a farmer and an artist and a mother and one of the most gentle, graceful, beautiful people I know.  I wouldn't trade her as a model for anyone.  In fact, she looked so beautiful in my Sheltland Triangle that I gave it to her on the spot.  That's another thing blogging has taught me.  Generosity.  But that's for another post.

Not If I See You First

It was two years ago that I started this blog- right after Maryland Sheep and Wool '06.  Boy, has a lot happened since then.

Biscuit grew up.

Fricklet appeared on the scene.

I edited an edition of Yarnival, hosted some contests, won some contests, joined Flickr, joined Ravelry, knit a whole mess of stuff, learned some basic crochet, fended off the urge to spin (though a certain someone who shall remain nameless has designated herself my spinny godmother/pusher), ran Ravelraiser ($71,000!  $71,000!!), opened an Etsy shop...what am I missing?

Oh, yes- I've made SO many friends...who have never actually seen me in person.

(Gloria cowl in Knittery Sock yarn won in one of the aforementioned contests from Nora Raveled here.)

I think I could get away without being recognized at MDSW pretty easily.  And it's tempting.  After all, in person I'm way awkward and nervous and dorky.  I've only ever shown my face once or twice around here, and you'd have to dig to find those posts.  But my cover's gonna totally be blown because El Biscuit-o is going to be my escort, and he's pretty hard to disguise (though a tiny mustache would be AWESOME, no?).   So I'll see you there!  And the world will finally know the truth-

I do, in fact, have a forehead.

PS- New set is up in the shop, and it's my favorite so far!  Take a peek:  Treat Yourself.

Holy Guacamole!

The theme of this post is GREEN.

Ravelry is GREEN!  In case you haven't been able to keep up- and I spend about six hours a day on this and don't keep up as well as I'd like- we've raised over $50K for Ravelry in the last few days.  The response to Ravelraiser has been overwhelming.  We bought the server, and then went on to erase Ravelry's startup debt to put them in the black, and then Casey put Ravelry "in the green" by contributing to projects that build and maintain renewable energy resources in order to offset Ravelry's carbon costs.  If you gave to Ravelraiser, please do post your story in the Why I Gave thread.  It is officially Jess's happy place now! 

I celebrate Ravelry's greenness with my completed Balsam!


2 hanks Malabrigo Worsted in Verde Adriana, Raveled here.

Speaking of GREEN, my dad, who is a pro photographer, and I are thinking of making a little of it.  He took most of the photos in the Flickr set for the Ravelraiser prizes, and is becoming quite the yarnie.  Texture, color, yarn that looks like food- he's reading up on it all (he may be in your Flickr sets RIGHT NOW!).  He comes over to our house and steals the Ravelraiser packages before I can even get home.  (The postman has given us our own little basket under the mailbox, as we were getting so many packages each day.)  Yesterday he made a little groaning noise over some Malabrigo.  Yep.  My dad.  So we're thinking of going into the notecard-making business.  More on this to come!  I celebrate this new venture with my Tudora!

Less than one hank Malabrigo Worsted, Forest.  Raveled here.

Oh- did I mention that all these are GREEN cowls?  (You can argue with me about the Tudora, but I will stick my fingers in my ears and hum La Marseillaise and go to my happy place where all non-dangly neckwear has one name.)  Yes, I'm still knitting cowls.  And making Flickr groups for cowls (come join!).  And moderating Ravelry groups for cowls (git yer 'tocks in there!).  And soon to come- cowl swap, which will be organized through that Ravelry group.  (Didn't I tell you to join?)  And to add a lovely exclamation point, I present my Aibhlinn.

A tad more than one hank of Malabrigo Worsted, in Olive.  (I modified the original pattern to be a one-skein-er.)  Raveled here.  And on a side note- I LOVE BOBBLES!

Sorry, Kermie.  It's SO easy (and fun!) being green today.

Gretel

said she didn't know anything about ovens,
so the witch crawled in to show her
and Bam! went the big door.

Then she strolled out to the shed where
her brother was fattening, knocked down
a wall, and lifted him high in the air.

Not long after the adventure in the forest
Gretel married so she could live happily.
Her husband was soft like Hansel.  Her
husband liked to eat.

Ever after was the size of a kitchen.
Gretel remembered when times were better.
She'd laughed out loud when the witch
popped like a weenie.

"Gretel!  Stop fooling around and fix
my dinner."

"There's something wrong with this oven,"
she says, her eyes bright as treasure.
"Can you come here a minute?"

- Ron Koertge

After last year's fun, I couldn't stand to miss this year's Blogger's Silent Poetry Reading, so I'm late to the party, but I'm bringing Malabrigo, so I hope I'm forgiven.

Koertge was faculty in my MFA program.  Think Billy Collins as a dirty old man with less critical acclaim, wearing pajamas and flirting with the former-stripper-turned-writer-for-kids.

Gretel is Raveled here.

And for those of you who read to the bottom, take a sneak peek here at the magic that's coming to Fricknits in a few days!

My Funny Valentines

Once, in college, some friends and I sat down over wine and Keebler Chachos to discuss All that Was Wrong With the World.  The fact that, despite our mother's assurances, the dumb girls were still getting all the guys, the demise of "Twin Peaks," and whether or not it was worth it to mount the inner-thigh machine (you know the one) in the student rec center were among the topics at hand.  And also, the theory that female characters in film and on television seemed to almost always exist to give the male characters some sort of motivation or crisis.  But there's another much-maligned character I'm thinking about today- the male love interest's best friends. They're always whisking him away to a Vegas bachelor party rife with strippers, booze, and an inconvenient murder.  (You might replace Vegas with Mexico, the strippers with video games, the booze with Keebler Chachos, the murder with a big bag of stolen heroin- whatever.  You know the drill.)

I guess my life isn't  exactly cinematic, then, because  Mr. Frick's friends rank among the top reasons I had for choosing to spend my life with him.  Granted, for Valentine's Day they did show up at our front door with pantyhose over their heads and kidnap him away for a day of Rock Band, paintball, beer, and diner food, but no strippers, heroin, or indeed Keebler products were involved (to my knowledge).  To this girl- whose best friends were always boys, who yearned for a brother, and whose idea of flirting has always been the old ice-down-the-back trick (noogies work well, too)- the Guys are all that (and a bag of Cinnamon Crispana).

Eric the Lionhearted (Cran Kool)- He'll hold your head in his lap when you're all boozy from your bachelorette party.  He'll stay up all night baking a birthday cake for your three year-old when he finds out, last minute, that said three year-old thinks that the surprise baby shower being thrown the next day is actually a birthday party for him.  He writes beautiful love letters to his wife (sorry, girls).  He runs marathons like it's going out of style, is a passionate advocate of eating locally, and is quite likely the most generous person I'll ever know.

Tim, my new BFF (Paris Kool)- He's the kind of teacher you hope your child will have every year from Kindergarten through college- he's that patient, wise, funny, and smart.  Although he doesn't like to admit it, he's one of the strongest people I know, having experienced unthinkable loss and having the grace to appreciate all of our bumbling efforts at understanding, helping, and coping along with him.  Every day I walk into work and he's still there in the classroom next to me is a day I have to resist running in and hugging him just for still being there.  OK, sometimes I don't resist.  And you know sixth graders- The rumors!

Chris, my Love (Kool Forest)- You should see him with the Biscuit.  One night I came home from a late meeting at school and found him singing Thomas the Tank Engine songs and doing a little jig, all for the amusement of my cranky little guy.  He never fails to show up with a gift (small hand-held fans are called "the Chris fans" in our house).   He organizes fantastic parties, digs Tori, and has the most mahvelous eyes.

Brothers, best friends, opportunities for Mr. Frick-sanctioned flirting (watch your backs!)- I love you.

All the while I was knitting these hats, I couldn't get a line from a movie out of my head.  The very movie that inspired the discussion about women's film roles.  And so, at the risk of becoming just as irritating as Patricia Arquette: "You're so Kool.  You're so Kool.  You're so Kool."

LolFricks

OHAI!

OKBAI!

(Confused?  Be initiated into the loluniverse here or -my favorite- here.  Thanks to LolBeth for help with the pics.  Ravelry link here.)

Scarf Ex Machina

So the kids are always asking me, "Why are all the parents in books written for kids dead?  Or in jail?  Or mentally incapacitated/kidnapped/mind-controlled/abducted by aliens/drug addicts/lost at sea/away at war/marionettes of the fascist regime/childlike hippie cult members?"  To which I answer, "Because that's good fiction.  And you forgot evil overlords."

But really.  The answer is that good, responsible, available, eager-to-listen-and-make-sandwiches-with-the-crusts-cut-off parents are always meddling in their kids' business and therefore run the risk of swooping in and solving everything for our protagonist while s/he is busy unsticking the peanut butter from the roof of her/his mouth.  And it's a rule of good fiction that the protagonist must solve his/her own problem.

Which is why I'd like to be able to write that I clawed my way out of the dragon's cave single-handedly, Sword of Reason strapped to my back, Dagger of Self-Confidence in my boot, Ninja Throwing Stars of I Kicked Anxiety's Ass tucked in my pockets.  Because that would make for an exciting Return from Obscurity blog entry.  But oh, no.  Folks had to come swooping in and get all deus ex machina on my ass with their Elvis e-cards, emails,  I've-been-there-too phone calls and referalls to good doctors and info on meds. And then there were the You Make My Day awards, the Christmas cards, the packages, and the just-checking-in messages left in the comments for months and months.

Seriously: Thank you to all of you for peeking your heads into the cave to check up on me, and the occasional lending of the Mace of Good Friendship and the Big Honkin' Battle Ax of Community. 

This scarf brought me back to knitting.  (Ravelry link.)  So I have Larissa to thank for that.  There's been knitting and smiling and blog reading and raveling and eating and working and loads and loads of other things that were absent during the dark days.  For some reason, it's taken me forever to get back to blogging.  But I haven't really felt complete for a while.  And I think I know why.  Somehow, I think pushing the "post" button below might do it for me.  It's good to be back.  Thank you, thank you, thank you for waiting.

I Met Him in a Swamp Down in Dagoba...

...where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbonated soda.
S-O-D-A soda.

I saw the little runt sitting there on a log.
I asked him his name and in a raspy voice he said Yoda.
Y-O-D-A Yoda.

Well, I left home just a week before
And Ive never ever been a Jedi before
But Obi Wan, he set me straight, of course
He said, go to Yoda and he'll show you the force.

Well I'm sleep-deprived but I cannot complain
Since this costume rescued my blog temporarily from lame
Yep, it was Yoda
Y-O-D-A Yoda.
Yo-yo-yo-yo-Yoda.

Sweater pattern here, blogged here, Raveled here.
Hat pattern here, with a groovy soundtrack!
Lyrics thanks to His Weirdness.

I loved the guesses!  Glue bottle cozy?  Christmas stocking (gah- gotta get on that one)?  And I do plan to make that Back to School Vest someday.  But the Yodas have it this time.  My winner, I decided, would be the  commenter whose place in the commenting line matched up with Biscuit's Halloween haul, correct answer or no.  Since there was no guarantee we'd even get him to go to one house, the number could've been zero!  However, our little clown did get into the groove and earned himself 28 treats, which makes my winner L-O-L-A Lola!  How incredibly perfect!

Crafty historical tidbit- my mother made this clown costume and I wore it when I was four.  She's an interior designer, and the fabric was something she'd used on a custom ceiling tent in someone's house in...yes...the 70's.  Can you imagine?  It has a hat, but the Biscuit does not "do" hats.

Thanks for playing!