I’m Trekkin’

May 31, 2006

My yarn is here! Trekking XXL is on the needles, and I’m good to go.

I’m knitting with color 100 and trying Grumperina’s Jaywalker socks. I’ll keep you posted!


The new color is here! The new color is here!

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And with it a questionnaire for my Colorswap pal who is moving tomorrow! Best wishes, Cecily. Hope it all goes smoothly!

Are you crafty? Yep.
Would you enjoy things like: Buttons, ribbons andembellishments? yep again
Do you dye your own wool? Not yet, but I’ve purchased the Koolaid in hopes of trying it soon.
Do you like to scrapbook or make homemade cards? It’s not my forte.
What are your favorite scents? Spicy, citrusy
Do you like stationary and cards? I’m a paper products and office supply harlot.
Do you like to sew or embroider items? In very small doses.
Do you like beads? Love ’em.
What kind of candy do you like? Dark chocolate, anything with caramel and pecans.
Do you like hand lotions or soaps? I do indeed.
Do you like to wear costume jewelry? Mostly dangly earrings.
Do you like to make/or use stitch markers? Love to use them, haven’t tried making them.
Do you collect anything? Yarn? Books? Felted bag patterns?
Do you have any allergies? Smoke, grass, mold, trees.
Do you have any hobbies? Don’t have time for hobbies with all the knitting I do. 🙂
Do you like scented or unscented candles? Scented
Are you a fiber snob? I think I’m becoming one.
Do you like to play cards or board games? Not so much.
Do you like neon colors, pastel, light or medium ranges in the color of the month? I love cobalt and periwinkle most, but most colors of blue are great except teal.
Do you like kitchen magnets or key rings? You betcha.
Do you like picture frames? Yes, but I don’t use them much. Very limited space.

Ring of Fire

May 31, 2006

I saw you today at the coffee shop.
Nice looking, friendly smile, engaging and engaged.



I stopped looking once I saw the ring.
No, stopped hoping, but continued watching.

You spoke to all around you, captivating with a smile
the barista who plays golf like you,
the heavy-set woman who took the comfy chair.

I rose to leave
And in came the girls in their summer dresses.

You began to fidget with that band of gold on your finger.
Did it feel too tight? Was it choking you?

I left before I saw where it ended–on your finger or in your pocket.
I guess it doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

What had been the garrison is now the prison.
What protected you
and me
and the summer girls
lies in ruins
and you don’t even know it

A ring of gold is replaced by a ring of fire

And we shall all be consumed.

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Check it out: June 10th, grab your needles and yarn and head to the nearest gathering for Worldwide Knit in Public Day! Places I might be spotted are here, by the bean or here. Actually the second one is June 21st, so I could technically do both.

Knitters unite!

And spinners too! In Central Park, no less, for a Spin Out! Cool, I want to go. And I want a t-shirt.

Magic Yarn Ball Swap

May 30, 2006

I’m swappin’ again! This time it’s the Magic Yarn Ball Swap. Check out Larissa’s tutorial at Whipup.net. I think it’s a great thing to do with kids, so I’ve already enlisted the aid of my nine-year old crafter-in-the-making. I’m getting in touch with my love language–gift giving (and receiving)!

Here are my pincushions for Booga J’s Pincushion Challenge. Very beginner, but I think they are a little cute. Something I can make with the kids, because you can never have too many felted apples.

And notice two of them are green, thus fulfilling my goal of making something by the end of May for Project Spectrum.

Or, back when cigarettes weren’t eight dollars a pack. (I’m not a smoker, but I’m pleading the fifth about my past.)

Believe it or don’t, but my 25th High School Reunion is this year. The fine grads of Vincent Massey High School, Class of ’81 have planned a big shindig. I don’t think I can go, but maybe I can swing it.

I know, I know, you’re asking, “Who the @#$# is Vincent Massey?”

Darned if I know. One semester of Canadian History, baby. Thank goodness for Wikipedia.

Anyway, many kudos and muchas gracias to Kev, Michelle, Dean and Mark–fellow Massey grads and all around nice people–for their hard work.

See if you can find my scary self.-

And look what we had made as senior merchandise:

I can’t believe I haven’t broken it yet with fourteen moves (counting college), two kids unloading the dishwasher and twenty-five years worth of drinks. Maybe the past isn’t as fragile as I thought.

May meets June

May 30, 2006

May is almost over, and I’ve posted no Project Spectrum photos yet. I know, I know. I’m not procrastinating, honest. May and June colors are both in my new and improved sac du marché (probably a sad Americanism there). I’ll post pics soon; now the only thing green thing I have is envy at the other knoggers who have finished projects and lovely photo essays of the greens in their lives. Check out Lynne’s May 21 posting.

I’m also working on my pincushion which needs to be done by tomorrow. Finishing touches are all that I have left.

Back to working on my sac du marché. auvoir.

P.S. Here’s a teensy peek at my Sac. I was shamed into taking photos for something else, so I’m posting it now. Blue is Noro Kureyon #40, green is Malabrigo Lettuce. It will be interesting to see how they felt together. My fingers are numb from knitting the Noro–callouses, nerve damage, broken Denises, three needle-size changes. It had better be gorgeous or I’m going to break something (besides my Denises).

I celebrated Memorial Day as all good Americans do, watching TV about Memorial Day. It rained like the dickens (not that I’d venture outdoors in the 93 degree weather with 200 percent humidity), so we couldn’t grill. Oh yeah, and I keep forgetting to refill the propane.

The History channel helped my patriotism by hosting a Band of Brothers marathon. I’m glad we have movies like that to help us remember what our soldiers sacrificed for us. I’m also glad that is was hours and hours of serious eye candy. You can dirty those boys up and still . . . yum. I’ve had a crush on Ron Livingston since Office Space.

And speaking of offices, watched season one of The Office (US edition). I am an unabashed fan of the original BBC version. Ricky Gervais is pitch perfectly horrible and pathetic. I love him utterly. Ron Carrel’s boss is more hateable (is that a word?). I love Tim and Pam from the US show, but I have to choose Gareth over Dwight as the weird side-kick. I’ll be buying the DVD, and am eager to catch season two. Not sure I want to spend $35 on iTunes for the season (like I did for Law & Order:SVU).

Other office news. 10 years ago today Gock began his career at the Big Blue (no, the other one–Blue Cross). Happy happy. Go health care.


May 26, 2006

As one obsessed with patterns, this poem has never been far from my mind:


I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.

And the splashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden-paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
And the sliding of the water
Seems the stroking of a dear
Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.

I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes.
I would choose
To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths,
A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover.
Till he caught me in the shade,
And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
Aching, melting, unafraid.
With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops,
And the plopping of the waterdrops,
All about us in the open afternoon–
I am very like to swoon
With the weight of this brocade,
For the sun sifts through the shade.

Underneath the fallen blossom
In my bosom,
Is a letter I have hid.
It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke.
“Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell
Died in action Thursday se’nnight.”
As I read it in the white, morning sunlight,
The letters squirmed like snakes.
“Any answer, Madam,” said my footman.
“No,” I told him.
“See that the messenger takes some refreshment.
No, no answer.”
And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
Each one.
I stood upright too,
Held rigid to the pattern
By the stiffness of my gown.
Up and down I walked,
Up and down.

In a month he would have been my husband.
In a month, here, underneath this lime,
We would have broke the pattern;
He for me, and I for him,
He as Colonel, I as Lady,
On this shady seat.
He had a whim
That sunlight carried blessing.
And I answered, “It shall be as you have said.”
Now he is dead.

In Summer and in Winter I shall walk
Up and down
The patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
The squills and daffodils
Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow.
I shall go
Up and down
In my gown.
Gorgeously arrayed,
Boned and stayed.
And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace
By each button, hook, and lace.
For the man who should loose me is dead,
Fighting with the Duke in Flanders,
In a pattern called a war.
Christ! What are patterns for?

— Amy Lowell