Archive for July, 2006

Out of Line

Monday, July 17th, 2006

I have a lot of things to show you today. First, the red socks that I promised after Bonnaroo. Yes, the ones that were completely finished except for the last half inch of toe…until tonight.


That’s right, finished. Now, here is a guilty sock that I started last week…


By the way, did anyone notice the background? Indeed, I did finish snowdrop. When? Uh…on Saturday July 8th. Yes, I am neglectful. Lazy. Lacking in common sense. Here is a sort of close-up.


I still need to clock block it (or maybe I should just flock it, seeing as I can’t type…smock…knock…grok…)

Unrelatedly, the other day Amanda got confused and said “wobble bobble” instead of “wiggle bobble”. I chose to be ridiculously amused, and you may choose to be whatever you like. Really though, it’s not that funny. After all, we were discussing a lousy dog sweater pattern. Hmm…

I should probably continue to show you things now.


Stash documentation is all in a days work.


The colors are not the truest, but the green is for a leafy lace scarf and the violet-indigo-ish is for a shawl that I am designing. (I have also been sketching another shawl that would require an orange-y yellow color, but I have not yet found the right yearn yarn yet.


A close-up. I am sort of on a finishing role at the moment, which is good. However it is also bad, as it is a very specific and limited to certain types of projects type of finishing role. Hmm…I am out of line. Really, really, really. Who *knew* that yarn could present such a problem in our lives?
By the way, Pooh, I looked in the book and did not see a logical explanation for “every other and every fourth row”. However, I am going to tell you to decrease on rows 2, 6, 8, 12, 14, 18, 20, 24, 26, 30, and 32 like you said. If you were to decrease 2, 4, 6, 8, 10… you would end up with a 45 degree angle, and that would make absolutely no sense on a sweater neck. 2, 6, 8, 12… gives you a gentler slope.
With that said, it is time for me to go knit myself to sleep before this next exhausting week. I’ll try for regular posts as time permits…

Why are patterns so badly written?

Saturday, July 15th, 2006

It is the weekend, and I am exhausted. Summer YAG seems to be going well so far, and we have a fabulous group of kids. The downside is the amount of energy that I expend, leaving me ready to crash every night by 10 PM.

That would all be very well if I actually went to bed then…

Today is no different, although I did not have summer YAG. Instead, Flying Sheep (where I work) ended their sale today. Lots of yarn was sold, along with discount gift certificates. (Don’t look at me like that!!)

Unfortunately, being hungry and stupidly tired does not make for good posting. I really need to work out a more reliable posting schedule than I have been keeping, but today is not the day.

I’ll be back tomorrow with knitting pictures and an answer for Pooh on her ridiculous sweater instruction. Honestly, I swear that they do this on purpose.

No, really! I just finished a store sample, a dog sweater, in which nothing made any sense at all. Only after a wasted day of frustration and a glance through a variety of their other patterns did I look more closely at the teeny tiny picture and seen that someone had sewn a giant and hideous tassle over the zipper, therefore preventing me from seeing the part of the sweater that was key to my enlightenment. The best part? I didn’t realize that the sweater even *had* a zipper. Never again.

One of my favorite things

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006

Okay okay!! Look down three entries, at the bottom. *Waits*. Remember? Table? Good.


Grace gave it away in the comments, *sticks out tongue*. A sewing machine!! An ancient treadle sewing machine. =D The first thing Sam the Archaeologist did was pull this out of the closet. The first thing I did was pull out my camera.

My digital camera abilities are mediocre, but here is a closer look:


I think my favorite parts of the sewing machine are the metal plates. One is the tension,


(“Loose”, “Tight”, “Tension”)

and the other is the stitch length control.


Just look at the bobbin (bottom right corner) and the wheel! Someday I promise to work out how to make it so you can click a picture for a larger view.
What amazes me, especially in the tension picture, is the clarity of the figures. I love old sewing machines.
There were a lot of interesting things in the drawers as well, but I’ll just show you my favorite.


“Real Silk Hosiery Mending Kit”

Inside it has this:


“Moisten tab. When sticky, apply both ends run. Can’t harm. Washes out.”

When I read that, my first thought was “what on earth?”

(I thought I had a picture of the inside of the lady mending kit, but I did not. However, the inside of this one is virtually the same. They both include several colors of mending thread, a needle, and those little yellow match-looking things. The only difference is that this one has buttons underneath that piece of cardboard.)

I was stumped by the words, though. “Both ends run.”?? I looked inside the lady mending kit, and everything suddenly became very clear. “Hosiery mending kit”. Those little matchsticks are glue, to keep a run in your stockings from unravelling any further. Brilliant.

In other news, blob tag is amazing. =D As is food…

Short Post

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006

Longer next time, I promise. Hold me to it.

Tuesday in a nutshell:

all around the kitchen

fancy fish tapdance



casting and drama

Copy machines are learning challenged and cannot understand Shakespeare. Hence, they jam and dramatically refuse all attempts of revival.

Target needs to get their lousy construction tape away from the driving areas so people can…get this…leave the lousy parking lot!

Phone calls????? *blinkblink* Two of them! (I had half forgotten that I carry a cell phone. This could be bad.).


Don’t make exceptions for powerful people

*sloshsloshsloshsloshsloshslosh* rainy pants!!

coffee shop girl, we loved to listen to our rock and roll part three

That is all.

Before I forget…

Sunday, July 9th, 2006

I just thought of this!

I never showed you a picture of Undisclosed Project #1!

Right, so way back in May I finished these:

Size 11 socks for a Certain Writer’s birthday. The yarn is Lana Grossa sock yarn. I can’t figure out if there is a better name for it, as the label is written in what I am assuming is Italian (it is made in Italy), but looks like German. Go figure.

Just to put this into a little more perspective…


Picture heavy, dial-ups beware.

Sunday, July 9th, 2006

I am no longer in the happiest place on earth. In fact, I arrived in the Planet Ann Arbor late last night. It’s not that I don’t adore Ann Arbor, it’s just that Grandmoom’s is better than anywhere else.

Speaking of which, I showed you the front view in the last post but not the back. That is the view from the beach, and this…


is the view of behind you from the beach. (The pictures in this entry are smaller because I have a lot of them.) I should have taken some pictures from inside the woods. Our cabin is hiding up there in the trees.

By the way, for Pooh and the others who were part of this conversation:

lurk (lûrk)
intr.v. lurked, lurk·ing, lurks

  1. To lie in wait, as in ambush.
  2. To move furtively; sneak.
  3. To exist unobserved or unsuspected: danger lurking around every bend.
skulk (sklk)
intr.v. skulked, skulk·ing, skulks

  1. To lie in hiding, as out of cowardice or bad conscience; lurk.
  2. To move about stealthily.
  3. To evade work or obligation; shirk.
Definitions taken from, and if you click on the words I have linked them straight to it.
I would like to point out that I was completely correct in my use of the word lurk to say that they were “existing unobserved or unsuspected” behind me. At the same time, skulk links to lurk in terms of its sneakier connotations, so I shall concede that point.
Onward.Something interesting that occured throughout the weekend…gnomes.jpg
One appeared each day until all three were out around the path. And then they moved. Every day, you would find them in different spots.This picture is when they were all gathered on the Reigenstreif porch on the last day. (Mark, don’t try to deny it, it was you. You are fooling exactly no one as of this moment. And don’t try to tell me that they got their on their own, either.) Interesting, aren’t they?

Yesterday morning we got up and drove over to Sam the Archaeologist’s cabin. I took selective pictures that did not include any of the whole cabin, the whole lake, or the whole field. I know, disappointing, but tomorrow you’ll get to see some of the pictures that I *did* take…

Okay, fine, you can see some of the outside pictures. First, the hole tree on the beach.


If you look inside…


You can see right straight through to the other side!!



Pods and flowers.



What I like about the milkweed flowers, is that they start out as pod-like structures, then turn into little five-pointed flowers. Very clever.

Finally, I saved this for last.


Just look at that tree! It is gorgeous.

Oh, one more thing:


What is in it? Some of you already know. I’ll tell you tomorrow. =D

I can’t wake up.

Tuesday, July 4th, 2006


It is windy out today. It is time, as the last few days have been quite beachy.

Yesterday started out a little cloudy, but we went to Kenny’s Pitchen* for lunch and by the time we got back it was getting hot and sunny.

On the subject of beach days and water, my new favorite in-lake pastime is hole making. This is achieved by standing in one place and just stepping. The sand underneath your feet gets stirred up, and washes away. Hence, you are standing in a hole. Once it starts to get deeper you have to scrape the sand out with your feet.

This is, for some strange and unidentifiable reason, immensely satisfying and hilarious. It makes it possible to be standing in a hole up to your shoulders, then to step out and have the water only reach mid-hip. It is no fun to act your age. =D

I…uh…haven’t gotten that much knitting done in the last few days. I have finished picking up the stitches on the edge of the snowdrop shawl, but I have not started the actual border pattern yet. I also have not worked on Peacock Feathers in *days!* Eek!

Don’t worry, that is all going to change in about three minutes.

Speaking of a completely unrelated subject, there are people cooking all around me and I can’t eat any of it yet. I would like to point out that this is cruel and unusual punishment on a day when I am too cold (admittedly because of my lack of intelligent packing that has left me without a sweatshirt and therefore an actual warm set of clothes) to escape to the beach. With that said I am not actually hungry, but it is the principal of the situation.

Time to *try* to slip into the teeny tiny kitchen and scare up a snack…

*Alright, the truth. It is “Penny’s Kitchen”, but this family has too much fun with spoonerisms and the like. If you want things to make sense, go somewhere else.


Sunday, July 2nd, 2006

I am soooo tired.

By the way, happy yesterday birthday Liz K!! Liz is absolutely my oldest friend that I still know. We met in the front left leg of the elephant during kindergarten, and she is far too wonderful for her own good. She is kind, patient, generous, confident, hilarious, and beautiful. I am going to kick her immune system, though. Really really hard. Liz, stop being sick!! One of the best things about Liz is that she is the kind of friend that you can go months without speaking a single word to (although that should never ever happen) and she is still your best friend in the world when you reconnect. I did not forget to give her a post, but I was so angry yesterday that I just could not do her justice. I love you Liz!!

On the way up yesterday, I stopped in Alanson to calm my nerves. Dutch Oven Bakery and Yarn Shop.


Sock yarn. I have wanted to try this sock yarn for a while. It is on the inexpensive end of the spectrum, with a selection of neutral yet attractive colors. My only complaint…no laceweight.

The only “useful” thing that I have done is this:


The I-cord bind-off of the snowdrop shawl is finished. You can’t see it though, as it is curled over. I just need to add the edging around the non-collar edges, but right now it is time to start a sock on the beach. Well, I did start picking up the stitches along the edge, but I would rather be lazy just now rather than do that in the dark. (Not that the dark has ever stopped me when I am determined to work on something though.) We are having a fire, you see.

I have knit, walked, knit, swam, sat, knit, swam, read, knit, walked, knit, eaten, knit, and slept.

The happiest place on earth.

Listen up.

Saturday, July 1st, 2006

Today I have something serious to talk about.

I shall begin by saying that in general I consider myself to be a very patient person. Some of you may beg to differ, but before you make any remarks you ought to consider the actions that cause me to lose said patience and why.

To continue, today a male member of my family said this to me:

“Clearly you don’t know how to do anything, or you wouldn’t be asking us.”

Let that sink in a minute.

(Disclaimer, and I will follow up on this later on in the entry: He did not mean that to carry as much weight as it did. This is an entry about the statement itself, rather than the person who said it. There is no way in hell* that I am not going to speak my mind on this issue. One more thing–I would say exactly the same things as the points that follow if a female member of my family had been the one to say that.)

I want to say right now, right out in the open, that no matter what the circumstances or how it was meant there is absolutely never any excuse for one person–any person–to say that to another. If I ever hear it from any of you, it will not be tolerated be you eight or eighty.

I have not felt so belittled, so disrespected, so debased, or so angry in a long time. In fact, instead of responding I just stood there in shock that someone would speak to me that way.

Some people, when they are angry, can open their mouths and let forth a delicious string of choice expletives intermixed with a well-formed array of powerful and persuasive arguments, putting the person in question to shame. Others can delicately and profoundly set that person straight, achieving similar results. Eloquence is a true gift of the gods, and one that I unfortunately do not possess a single shred of. Especially in anger.

I have a rather volatile temper, and I did the right thing by just walking away. I also did the right thing five minutes later when I called to tell him that he is never to say that to anyone, *ever*, that he did not even know what I was asking so clearly by his definition *he* was the one who knew nothing, and that I am not his daughter.** There are plenty of other things that I would dearly love to say about it, but quite truthfully I am still too angry to be polite.

This is not a display of intentional sex discrimination, simply an occurrence directed from a middle aged man and to a young woman that should never have taken place. One that carried all the ignorance and insult of the differences of age, gender, understanding, and communication.

I cried in anger today for a long time, and it goes out to everyone who has ever felt what I felt. For all the women (and men) who struggle for the respect they deserve, for all the young people who are treated below their years regardless of intelligence, contribution, circumstance, maturity, and modesty. For all the old people who go back to being treated as children with no regard to their past, their wisdom, or their happiness. Let that list continue as it will.

(I am intentionally going to invert the next sentence.) The position of belief that men and women deserve equal respect and opportunities, that the roles of each are socially constructed and not divinely ordained, and that any discrimination based on sex is unacceptable is the definition of feminism. (There. Got you to read it, didn’t I? I was afraid “feminism” would scare you off.) I can guarantee with an accuracy of about 98% that if you are reading this, you are a feminist. That is something to be proud of. Feminists do not hate men or believe that women are better, they are not lesbians by definition, and they are not all liberals.

Do not be offended by this, but I am confident that were I a man under identical circumstances, that would not have been said to me. As a nineteen-year-old female, it can be almost impossible at times to get people to take you seriously. Even your own family. It has little to do with the people in this case, and everything to do with the way gender is taught to us. (Gender refers to the characteristics attributed to each sex, and it is learnt.)

Finally, a note about respect. This is not the first time I have clashed horns with a man more than twice my age, and it will not be the last. I have trouble taking that sort of shit* from anyone. Please do not tell me that I do not have the right to say any of this *because* I am young.

Respect does not have an age. Respect comes with intelligence, with time, with trust, and with deserving. NOT with age. I respect people who deserve it, who are willing in turn to give me the respect that I deserve, and who are accepting of others.

There are times with everyone when I cannot respect them. Not because I do not respect them overall, but because no one makes the right decision every time. There are times when I do not respect myself.
I speak my mind. Do not make the mistake of worrying about my age when I do so. Agree or disagree, but I have the right to be heard, to be treated as an adult, and to be spared debasing comments.

If your opinion differs from mine and you feel strongy that it must be expressed to me, you may do so respectfully. I absolutely appreciate and understand that everyone is different. This entry is not designed to inspire anger, spite, or anything else in that category of emotion. It is not telling you what to think. More than anything it is a request that people respect each other regardless, which includes acting so that others can respect you. If you can’t be respectful though, you can shove it. If you choose to ignore my little warning I am also not afraid to help you shove it, and what’s more I’ll do so cheerfully.

That is all.

*All swear words lovingly dedicated to the personal enjoyment of Jim Finlayson, wherever he is.

**Do not interfere with other families. It is infuriating. Even if you *are* family. If you want to tell someone what to do you may go find your own kids, although I suggest you just tell yourself what to do as it is much more successful. I would not have taken that from anyone in my nuclear family either, but coming from an uncle who had no business contributing it was ten times worse.