Wednesday, November 30, 2005


Baby, It's Cold Outside

It's cold here. We had snow today, which is a Very Big Deal for us here in the Pacific Northwest this early in the season. I don't recall having snow this early in the last 20 years. Although I base this on my own faulty (and drunken) recollections, and not on any sort of factual information, I'm pretty sure this is quite unusual.

As I sit here in my warm home, with my unfortunately-precocious kittens who will need to go to the vet very very soon before Tracy "lays some kittens" (Eleanor apparently thinks it's sort of like what chickens do) I can't help but think of the people who are not indoors. The people who are not only possibly-pregnant-by-their-own-damned-siblings-who-should-know-better-than-to-be-dancing-the-hokey-pokey-in-the-laundry-pile-in-the-hall kittenless, but who are homeless and without warmth.

The Kindergarten class went on a walk today to the local RCMP detachment. I, as is my luck, had signed up to accompany them on this, the Day of Snow. Quite frankly, it was hellish. Walking fourteen blocks each way with sixteen small bundled-up whiningpersons (actually I think most of the whining was mine) was no day in the park. But you know, when we got to the station it was warm and dry (and interesting) and when we got back to the school, Eleanor and I came home, changed into dry clothes (having been thoroughly moistened by 32 small boots that couldn't resist kicking up the slush and soaking everyone in sight) and then drove in our warm van up to the warm home of a friend and had a warm and nutritious lunch. Indoors.

A lot of people not only don't have dry clothes into which to change, if they had such clothes they would have nowhere in which to change into them.

We have quite a few homeless shelters here, as we have a huge housing crisis. The same is true of any major population centre in North America. The shelters are often overflowing, and have to turn people away. To sleep outside. In the cold and rain and snow. Based on my experience today of walking twenty-eight blocks (in sturdy, warm and dry boots), during the daylight, I can tell you for sure that I would give almost anything to not have to spend the night outdoors tonight. Fortunately, I don't have to. And, if you're reading this, chances are that you don't have to, either.

But there are people, our neighbours, out there right now. In the snow. No matter how they got into this situation, be it through poverty, addiction, illiteracy, mental illness, poor choices, the new "make more jobs" plan of the gummint that introduced the $6CDN starting wage, or just the fickle fuckery of fate, they are still our neighbours. And still human beings. Who are cold.

I know that everyone is broke, saving their money in anticipation of Christmas, and has little time, having been sucked in by Stephanie's promises that they could knit for everyone on their list in time for The Big Day (there is no shame in this, I almost fell for it, myself however rethought things once I sobered up), but you can still help.

In Canada there is a program called Blankets for Canada, about which I have written before. There is a similar program in the US called Warm Up America, which was started by the Craft Council of America.

Money is always welcome, of course, as it is in any charitable organization, however if you have a couple of hours of free time, you could knit a square. One square (in acrylic, please, for ease of care). In Canada we ask for 9" squares and in the US they ask for 8". (I guess it's something to do with the metrics, and all.) You don't have to knit a whole blanket, just one square, and then drop it off at your local Michael's store. They collect for us all across North America and there should be either a drop-off box in the store or you can give it to the Events Coordinator. (They are required to do this by their head office, so they shouldn't be standing there looking startled when you show up with it.) If you're in Vancouver's Lower Mainland, these squares have a 90% chance of ending up in my home. I spend a lot of time driving around collecting them, and I have an army of little old ladies (some of whom are in their 20s) who will piece them together into blankets. See? Minimal pain and you can feel all warm and fuzzy inside afterwards. (If everyone in the Lower Mainland did one square a year, this chapter would get enough for over 52,000 blankets per year. Currently we get somewhere between 100-150 blankets a year. We could use a couple more.)

The shelters also need washcloths, particularly in shelters where there are women. The shelter managers have told me that the ladies ask for washcloths but they have none. When faced with the option of spending their meagre budgets on food or on cloths, well, I think we all know the choice they have to make. After next week's craft sale, I'm going to take the leftover washcloths to the shelter up here.

Anyhow, I don't want to make this into a 90,000 word plea (oops, too late!) or appeal to your better natures, but if at some point over the next year (or month) or so you could knit a cloth or a square, I know for sure they'd find a good home.

I'm going to go wash some blankets now. I'm heading down to one of the shelters tomorrow afternoon on the way to work, and it would seem some morally-bankrupt kittens have been sleeping in the blanket storage area (aka the top bunk of my daughter's bed). Even the homeless have allergies.

And don't want blankets that smell of kitten ass.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


And Now I'm a Star. Autographs $2.

Me: Where's your guitar?
Him: I was just discussing that with Eleanor. It's in the closet.
Me: I want to play it. I guess I'll have to tune it first.
Him: Do you know what to tune it to?
Me: Sure. The middle C on the untuned piano.
Him: All six strings?
Me: Yes. I'm playing country.

It sort of all went downhill from there.

Guess I'll shut up and go back to spinning until he tunes it for me. Bastage.

chunkystuff i spun last night, pictured after plying. i am in lurve

Monday, November 28, 2005


Touched by His Noodly Appendage

I am touched.

(People have thought this about me for years.)

The asswidgets upstairs are gone for the rest of the week. The washing machine is MINE. I can finish washing the rest of the fleece and hopefully not too much will be lost to mold.


Note for Franklin: the difference between an assbeagle and an asswidget is that you can be fond of an assbeagle. An asswidget is just a tool. You're welcome.


Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

I try not to speak French, as it upsets Tigger. I was actually singing in French one day ("Gens du Pays", if anyone's interested) and he started howling. Not sure if it was my accent or the song itself, but I've tried to avoid doing so ever since. I certainly wouldn't be singing a Piaf song (dudes, you've heard me, gimme a break!).

Anyhow, I have no regrets whatsoever about having gone in the craft fair. There's another one in a couple of weeks and one of the women I split the table with has bought a table for that show, so my little box of stuff will be trotted over there also. Maybe I'll sell another cat toy. It was an interesting experience and I really didn't expect to make a fortune and we certainly know never to go in that fair again. I'll try the church sales next year.

It was a good excuse to get a lot of stuff done (and a girl can never have too many washcloths). I refused to drop my prices; there were crazy grannies there selling dishcloths 3 for $1.00 and entire afghans in merino for $35. WTF? I have no interest in selling my products for less than the cost of the materials.

Clearly they drink a bit.

Thank you for all of your kind comments. (And Libby, FSM is the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I'm a follower.)

Now that the hysteria of trying to get ready for the sale is over, and the hysteria of cleaning my house is as over as it's going to be for a while, I think I'm actually going to have some time to do what ~I~ want. The first project will be to block (and maybe fringe) and mail off the pink shawl I made, and then on to the spinnage. Spinning, spinning, day and night.

Expect pictures, if I can stop spinning and chortling long enough to take any.

Sunday, November 27, 2005


Well. That Was Profitable.

Or not.

My friend sold three hats and a scarf. I sold a cat toy. Total income for two days for two talented artisans? $43.00.

I do believe I'm going to have some splaining to do to my landlord. We do, however, have sufficient dishcloths for quite some time to come.

(No, I'm not in danger of eviction, I'm just going to have to dance a little).

Let's try this again next year, shall we?

Saturday, November 26, 2005


Adventures in Creative Traffic Management

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Apparently they get going around and around in circles. It's surprising they don't end up with their noses stuck up their own butts.

On Friday I had the honour of meeting The Fidgety One at The Expensive Swedish Particleboard Furniture Store.

I have been meaning to go there for a year. I am missing one bolt from the leg of my dining room table and haven't been able to set it up since last Christmas. It's making the cat cry. And yet, when faced with the glory of Herself, all dressed in her beautiful Rogue sweater, well ... let's just say I forgot to buy the bolt. (I think I was more startled by the fact that I was only ten minutes late, and also by the fact that I found her taking her clothes off in the lineup to get her furniture. I had to assure her that in Canada it was sufficient to merely pay for your purchases and then quietly leave the establishment with them.)

After getting all of her stuff into her van (I note here that I managed to avoid doing any actual physical labour by the simple ruse of letting my child leave her coat in my van and having to hastily bundle her back into the vehicle before she froze to the parking lot) we headed out to eat and then fondle yarn. After a little of the driving in circles action interrupted only by a very bitchy conversation with the employee of the yarn store, we managed to find ourselves in the only Greek restaurant in North America run by vampires. (I can think of no other reason for the complete lack of garlic in any of the dishes. It is worth noting here that vampires are also averse to any form of flavour in their food, although they seem to have no compunction about overcharging for it.)

I am much hotter than I appear in this photograph

Despite the complete lack of culinary inspiration, we managed to have quite a hoot, such hooting enabled by the Naked Death-Head Barbie and the Vole Vomit Green Dishcloth.

Much, much hotter. Although Gaile looks pretty cute and the Barbie is accurate. And naked.

My daughter, the photographer for both of these shots, was on her best behaviour, although wisely refused to eat any of the flavourless food.

After filling ourselves with starch and liquid, we headed off to the yarn store.

It sucked. I won't name it, to avoid possible claims of libel, but there's only one yarn store in Steveston. You may Google for it, should you wish.

To start with, the yarns in this small and dingy establishment were arranged by colour. This is, IMNSHO, inefficient and stupid (not that I have a stance on this issue or anything) and makes it difficult to find anything. The yarn was all mashed into those little build-it-yourself wire cubicles and arranged in such a manner that if you removed one ball for closer observation, at least four others tumbled out after it.

I hate to think of how much time most of the yarn in that place has spent on the floor.

There were a lot of lovely yarns, however many of them were discontinued and still offered at full (very full) price, despite there being only a ball or two of them left.

I had never met Manos in person before. Should there have been sufficient privacy, I would have committed some sort of outrage upon it. It's utterly delicious.

I had also never met Colinette in person before. The outrage I was compelled to commit was of an entirely different nature. (I mean, people PAY for that? For the love of FSM, WHY?).

I was very tempted to buy a couple of skeins of something slinky by Berroco (Berocco? That place.) but keeping the telephonic bitchiness of the representative of the establishment firmly in mind, returned it promptly to its original resting place and contented myself with fondling many (unpriced) balls of yarn and making fun of two or three of the most vile sweaters I've seen in a long time. There were several that were gorgeous, however the two or three monstrosities are all that stand out in my mind lo, this day and a half later. Y'all have to be careful about presentation. Word to the wise.

All in all we had a fantastic time and we're going to do this again as soon as possible. Turns out that my buddy is just as evil as I am -- who'd a thunk? Just as soon as we can kick Ben to the curb we're getting hitched, seeing I seem to have proposed somehow over lunch. Oh well, these things happen (although usually only after a bottle of house red).

Turns out she's also as directionally-challenged as I am. If you take a peek at her blog you'll see that it took her an hour to get to us, and three or so to get back home. Startlingly enough, even though I've lived in this area oh, 22 years or so, the 30 km trip there turned into a 100 km trip home.

Clearly we're made for each other. You'll all be invited to the blessed event. Send salad spinners.

And maps.

Friday, November 25, 2005


If At First You Don't Succeed

Ply, ply again.

So I plied the singles back on themselves. It's thick, it's thin, it's chunky and funky:

There's about seventeen yards of something that I don't know if it's even very good. I mean, it's not even, it's clearly "art" yarn (we are avoiding the term "novelty" as it gives us hives).

I think it's pretty (the colour is fairly accurate). Heck, I'd buy it but then again I'm the one who made it so I may be a little prejudiced in its favour, si?

I'm going to see if I can spin enough to at least get a couple hundred yards, so it's worth someone's time and effort. If nobody buys it this weekend, well, the homeless need scarves. And I'm in urgent need of a hat.

Win/win, don'cha think?



Found, one pair of beautiful old hand carders. See?

Obviously old, obviously much-used. Clearly, much loved. They fit my hand perfectly; the curve is very comfortable. I think I prefer them to new, mass-produced ones, although I shall be getting another pair at some point, with deeper teeth (tines? pointy bits).

good dog, can you GET much whiter than I am?

aah! i'm biting your spinning wheel!

Tomorrow promises much merriment, as the Princess and I are off to meet she of the Barbie Death Head out in Richmond for lunch. We're going to go to the store that sells expensive Swedish particleboard furniture (yes, my house is half-full of their stuff. Doesn't mean I can't be mean about them) and then go eat something nasty and fondle yarn.

Hopefully at some point tomorrow I will also spin 10 lbs of wool, ply it, stick on labels, label everything else I've made, photograph it and blog about it in an annoying, whiny manner and get it to my friend who is manning (personing?) the table this weekend.

Oh yes, and I want to get my hair cut.

I'll report back. Unless I, like, die and stuff.

Thursday, November 24, 2005



So this is what I've spun so far. There will be maybe two or three skeins, not much.

But I'm sort of proud of it. I'd knit with it. I'd buy it.

I just hope someone else shows up to the sale drunk.

It's all I have to offer.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005


Not Quite Ready

You've heard the term "can't tell his ass from his elbow", yes?

Well, it would seem that I have an even greater level of confusion. Tonight I informed a coworker that one of our callers was having trouble speaking, and I believed it was because he had had an episiotomy.

After she recovered from her hysterics, she informed me that she thought that the term I was looking for was perhaps "tracheotomy".

I believe I'm not quite ready for the medical terminology test yet.

I also do not seem to be quite ready for the spinning. Got home, oiled up the wheel, got the wool all piled beside me and then started looking for my hand carders.

Apparently I am not intended to have hand carders. Although these are not the borrowed ones, which I returned after searching frantically for them for months, but are in fact my beautiful new (old) ones, they are nowhere to be found.

I know it seems foolish to use hand carders when I have that lovely big drum carder, however my reasons for this choice are many. I get home from work at 11 pm. I live in Canada. It is winter. The hand carders may be used indoors. The drum carder has to be set up on the table outside the front door. The heat, the tv (and the three DVDs with many episodes of Six Feet Under) and the beer are inside the house.

And it is winter. In Canada.

Anyhow, I do not have two months to search for the hand carders, as the craft show that will allegedly be teeming with knitters, all in a frenzy for my handspun, happens in three days. Two and a half now. Whatever. Soon.

It is midnight. I am heading out onto the tundra with a pile of kermit-green wool and the drum carder. If I never come back, you can have my stuff.

But not, of course, the drum carder, as I will be frozen to it out in the front yard.


Everybody Conga!

I'm up to my ears in green wool and curious cats:

See Tigger? Isn't he helpful?

But seeing there are a couple of people sitting on the edge of their chairs, I thought I would interrupt today's hysteria to let you know that I got the job I wanted.

Time to dance.

I'm off to work -- more later.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


How Do I Dry Thee?

Let me count the ways:

There is the "hanging in a vegetable steamer, suspended by an unbent paper clip from the bathroom heat register" method. A method which made my husband tell me that the green wool had built a spaceship and was escaping:

There is the "hanging out in a stainless steel bowl in a very dirty stove that that rabbit should be embarrassed to have photographed and then oh my god put on the internest!" method:

And then there is the "put the wool in a lingerie bag and dry on air fluff for a couple of hours" method:

I have quite a bit of (quite) green wool that has to be dry in time to be spun for Saturday, so I've been experimenting. Can you tell?

One of the ladies I'm splitting the table with at the craft fair (there will be three of us) mentioned in casual conversation on Sunday night that there were a number of knitters who were coming to the craft fair specifically to see and perhaps to purchase some handspun wool. This set me in a bit of a panic, as although I had sort of hoped to get a couple of skeins spun up, right about now my entire inventory consists of half a bobbon of clownbarf, and I'm keeping that for myself.

I tossed a big pot of hot water, vinegar, soap and Dorset fleece onto the stove while I took the kid to the babysitter on Sunday night, and then when I came back I poured in different blotches and splats of green and yellow and blue, let it get very very hot and sit there while I slept a couple of hours. I then turned the heat off while I went to work and let it sit there until after I got up the next day. I'm fairly pleased with the colour, however wool takes quite a lot of time to dry. It also takes quite a lot of time to spin, and if I have any hope of having anything to sell this weekend, it has to get dry, and fast.

All three methods seem to work fairly well. I'm favouring the "hanging from the heat vent" method at the moment, as the air dry takes hours and I have to keep putting the dryer back on, and with the stove you've got to make sure you don't cook it to death. The hanging from the heat vent method requires considerably less effort.

Yes, I'm lazy.

Stay tuned for some kermit-green spinning, hopefully tomorrow.

Monday, November 21, 2005


Ass Masters of the Frozen North

I have long considered the Canadian Film Industry to be horribly underrated. All three of our films (The Tale of Augusta Gloop, Who Wouldn't Eat Her Soup -- the well-known cautionary tale adapted for screen -- cast, directed, filmed and edited by me in 1971; Sphagnum Moss: The Creeping (But Very Absorbent) Enemy, circa 1963; and of course Ass Masters of the Frozen North, 1976) have seldom received the attention they deserve in the international forum.

(Note: Should you be involved in the Canadian Film Industry, please do not write to me to point out the many other exciting productions filmed in this country. They are all allegedly set in San Francisco. That makes them Non-Canadian. Go away.)

Having not had a major Canadian Film produced since 1976, I believe it is time to rectify this situation. I therefore propose a remake of Ass Masters, seeing it is the only title that we have ever been able to come up with that has any sort of marketable properties.

I have managed to raise a budget of seventeen dollars and believe that we are well-prepared to rise to the task.

Therefore, I am sending out a request for abstracts of this proposed work. Please send them to me via email by midnight, Friday.

I look forward to your submissions.

Sunday, November 20, 2005



Today is the brother's first knitting lesson and I hope he went. I'm looking forward to being able to share my obsession in person with someone I see on a regular basis.

My mother loves knitting but it's not quite the same. She makes little sweaters for my daughter (and then BASTES them together because she hates finishing work! gah!). Her knitting is lovely and even, her neckbands sucketh mightily and her buttonholes are hit and miss. She has no interest in sitting for an afternoon discussing the merits of different casting-on techniques, and she has little interest in any fibre beyond acrylic or cotton (she makes dishcloths too; surprise surprise! Mine are better *g*) I don't think she even takes her knitting with her to many places where she could knit!

Anyhow, this is not to diss the devoted knittage of endless cardigans that my daughter declines to wear (there are neither flowers nor butterflies on them). Little warm cardigans that may well find their way to the Dulaan Project have their place, and she can at least do an armhole -- a feat which has so far defeated me.

This is to weep and wail about the first knitting class of the brother. Y'all saw the starter-stash. You know what lovely stuff he has. You know, even better than does he, the feel of some of those lovely balls of wool, si?

So, he sends me the specs for the class so that I can help him get it together.

Um. They want cotton. Either Peaches 'n' Cream or Bernat Handicrafter. Feh. I left two balls of cream Bernat on his desk last night.

Y'all just know I was tempted to give him the last ball of the green Peaches, don't you?


Friday, November 18, 2005


Me? Oh Just Fine, Thank You

My life? Not so much.

Working extra shifts (yay for the cash!) knitting like a loon (yay for the cash!) having babysitting woes (yay for saving the cash because I can't get anyone to watch her when I need it!) and um, still sick (yay for the phlegm!).

OK, not so yay for the phlegm. Or for the cat who seems to have some sort of severe gastrointestinal issues. Not sick ... just ... farty.

do i look like the sort of cat who would put up with being called 'farty'? i think not. the big hairless cat with the opposable thumbs dies in her sleep tonight.

Regular bloggage will resume on Monday (when I should also know if I have my new job or not). In the meantime, go out and corrupt a non-knitter, just for me, mmkay?

Wednesday, November 16, 2005


Joke of the Day

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Prospective employer.

Prospective employer who?

Prospective employer of the woman who you fired as a babysitter for complete and utter irresponsibility. (edit: this originally said "responsibility". That'll teach me to post when exhausted)


Heh. I said to my husband when I fired her, I wonder if she'll be stupid enough to still use me as a reference. I was joking, because nobody's that stupid, right?



I'll call them back tomorrow.


And Verily The Stash of the First-Born Daughter

Shall be visited upon the house of the first-born son, in generous overkill.

Upper right we have one ball of Dynasty ACKrylic. It's not nice but it's just fine for a first project. Next to it we have four skeins of baby alpaca silk which is very nice but perhaps too fine for a first project, although He Who Shall Soon Lust for All Things Fibre is fearless. Moving left from that we have two balls of Paton's Decor, which is 75% ackrylic and 25% wool. I'm thinking this is the most appropriate place to start, however being appropriate is highly overrated.

Below that we have one ball of orange Bernat So Soft or something like that. It's ACK but I like knitting with it. It's got more life to it than the Dynasy (which has clearly never been alive at all). In the lower right corner we have three balls of Rowan Cork. I couldn't part with the Magpie (mostly because I couldn't find it) but this is a beautiful yarn.

In the middle of all of it we have five sets of needles ranging from some 3mms in bamboo to some 5.5mms in vintage green plastic. The other three sets are aluminum.

I think that'll be enough to keep him going for a week or so, no?

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


I'll Get You, My Pretty

And your little dog, too!


My brother has just asked to borrow some knitting needles and has also asked for yarn.

I'm pretty sure he won't be joining me in making kitty samosas this year, but next year, I expect dishcloths for Christmas! (crap, I think I just gave away what you're getting this year, hon. sorry! at least they won't be green.)

My daughter has informed me that she's getting me "another spinning wheel, a niddy noddy and 'the best wool in the world'" for Christmas. She also wants a spinning wheel of her own.

My husband still wants a drop spindle.

I'm pretty much finished corrupting my family. Lock up your families; I'm coming to your house next.

(And while you're busy locking all of the doors and windows, tell me what the hell I should give my brother for yarn! Answer fast, I'm taking it to him tomorrow. We have: a) ACKrylic, so that there is no remorse when it is frogged 800 times and then thrown out; b) light pink or apple green baby alpaca/silk but it's sort of light weight for a first project and it's not a colour that would look good on him; c) some Top of the Lamb in black but I think it's sportweight, again sort of light for a first project; d) Paton's Decor in dark sage, 25% wool, 75% ack; e) I could spin some Romney I've dyed and have sitting in the storeroom or f) I could hunt for that grey Magpie that I didn't list on eBay yet. I'm leaning towards the Paton's because it's easiest but the Romney also appeals if I can find three hours tonight ... and of course the Magpie would impress all of the other kids ...)

Monday, November 14, 2005


Samosas from Hell

Well, they're orange, I suppose they could arguably be from Hades, no?

To answer Rachel H's question, a kitty samosa is a square of knitted fabric, folded into a triangle and stuffed with fiberfill and catnip and often including a bell. Cats love them, people who have to buy gifts for cats love them. People who live with the cats and have to hear "jingle jingle jingle" at 3am? Not so much.

I'm working again tonight on the graveyard shift. Think I'll make another half-dozen or so in an obnoxious contrasting (clashing?) colour.

Real blogging again when I return from the dead.

Sunday, November 13, 2005


What is this Sleep that you speak of?

I spent the day knitting kitty samosas (samosas for cats, not stuffed with cats) in between work-related hysteria and work-related work and such.

Late in the afternoon I got a call ...

I shall be spending the night at a different hospital knitting kitty samosas (again for, not with). There will be pretty much no work-related hysteria on this shift and definitely no work-related work, but at least I have miles of orange yarn and the internest to keep me company.

This craft fair may be fun after all!

(Tomorrow will not be, but at least I don't have littlegirls all day so I'll survive.)

Saturday, November 12, 2005


Quiz Whore, Yet Again

Hrm. Thought I was nicer than this, although I must say I like her dress. And dragon. Maybe it's the lack of sleep.

The Evil Princess

You are drawn to the sinister side of life and
gravitate towards darker things. You are quite
proud of your dark side and often flaunt it.
Your sinister nature and your willingness to be
cutthroat often result in you playing the

Role Model: Snow White's Stepmother

You are most likely to: Team up with an evil dragon
to spread terror across the countryside.

What Kind of Princess are You? - Beautiful Artwork (Original Music is BACK!!!)
brought to you by Quizilla



Well, after about three or four hours of fitful sleep, my body decided I should be wide awake, oh, 5-ish. This is all fine and dandy for people like Ann, who get UP at sparrowfart most days, however for for those of us who don't actually go to bed before Mickey's big hand and Mickey's little hand are both on the 12 (and often long after), this was unwelcome.

A combination of stress, illness (I still can't shake the last of this cold), loud purring cats, flailing child and pain in my hand made it impossible to go back to sleep. Finally just after six I gave up the ghost and staggered out of bed to make coffee.

"Fine," I thought, semi-brightly, "I'll just do a few more rounds on that hat and see if I can't get it finished up before bedtime."

I realized that despite years of practice, I don't function quite as well as I used to on less than four hours of sleep, when I found myself earnestly explaining to Tigger that he couldn't get on my knee, because I was on a decrease row and had to count my stitches.

I'm pretty sure he didn't care.

He's on my knee.

Friday, November 11, 2005


Things I Learned Today

A Dorset fleece is softer than a Cheviot fleece. It does, however, hold just as much poo.

The total amount of fleece that I can get washed in one day while herding a small child (and cats) is one bathtub-full. This is about one-third of the amount that I needed to get washed, and I'm not pleased with how clean I got it, but sometimes you just have to make do. It'll be washed twice more during the dyeing process anyhow.

I do not like the Circle Craft fair very much.

I do, however, think that the folks over at Skinny Goat Woodworks are very cool, so all in all I'm glad that I went.

I need to knit faster, as the craft sale is two weeks tomorrow and I have almost nothing ready.

I'd say that's enough for any rabbit to learn in one day, wouldn't you?

Thursday, November 10, 2005


Thou Shalt Not Kill

Unless the asswidgets who own the place in which you live arrange to have the front of the house power washed, without warning, without consultation, without notice, and without consideration of the huge burlap sack of fleece you have sitting out front of the house.

If, when you leave your house, still sick, to go to work, you spy this:

outside your front door; then, verily, shalt thou kill. It's actually required.

This is the huge sack my friend Bill gave to me when I told him that I could take "a little" more fleece "later on". I think there are three Dorsets and at least two Cheviots in there.

I guess I'll spend part of tomorrow finding out the difference between a Dorset and a Cheviot fleece. And maybe most of tomorrow and the weekend finding out how much fleece I can wash before I start barfing.

Someone hand me my pointy sticks. I have some stabbery to commit.



Your Birthdate: January 21

You're a restless rebel with an unpredictable nature.
Bright but unbridled, you tend to seek out wild experiences over new ideas.
People are frustrated by your great potential, but you love your unconventional life.
You're a heartbreaker. People get attached to you, and then you're gone.

Your strength: Your thirst for adventure

Your weakness: Not taking time for slow pleasures

Your power color: Hot pink

Your power symbol: Figure eight

Your power month: March
What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


If This Is Wednesday ...

... well then, it's probably the middle of the week.

Could I get any lamer? You bet I could -- just stay tuned. (I've learned that the secret to blogging is to have no shame whatsoever. At least that's what's working for me. No, I won't tell you how many visitors a day I get here. Shut up.)

We had no littlegirls to watch this morning and Missy Moo had a bit of a fever, so I kept her home from school and managed to get quite a lot of sleep today. Hauled my tired carcass into work tonight to discover that a job that I really really really want is going to be posted tomorrow, and that I'm likely going to be the most senior qualified candidate. This is, of course, because the job pretty much blows goats (all graveyard shifts) and nobody but me (and possibly Rachael actually LIKES staying up all night for work.

Yes, there are possible pitfalls but the BIG plus is that it would add more than 50% more per month to my salary. Not often you can get that without having to strap on knee-pads, hmm?

Um, not that I'd know.

Anyhow, if everyone would kindly keep all of their fingers, toes -- and anything else that seems appropriate -- crossed, I would greatly appreciate it. I'll know within two weeks.

Now? I'm going to go and clean the litterbox in celebration.

Don't you just wish you were me?

Tuesday, November 08, 2005


Well Paint me Purple ...

... and call me Barney. Or something. I was trying to come up with some homespun expression of surprise but I think the brain is still mired in the 3 lbs of concrete mooshing around in my sinuses.

I sure hope nobody's going out to eat right after this post. If so, I'm sorry. At least I'm cheaper than Jenny Craig!

Anyhow, I'm surprised for two reasons, the first being that I'm always saying I'll do something "later" and never getting to it (such as the promised photo of my drunken night out with hubby) and here it is later and I'm blogging again as promised. The second is that there is a possibility that the earflap hat I'm making may actually be a hat, not a brassiere. It may even be child-sized.

Yes, I do always look this hot when coming off a four-day phlegmfest. Or when I've spent the night in a dumpster. That, too.

And for those who are still harbouring deep-seated resentment about the undelivered drunken night photos (completely unrelated to sausage-based resentment), the following will ably demonstrate why these were never posted.

This is the escalator coming up from the skytrain. It is one of the last few identifiable images from that night.

here is beer

here is Ben with beer. I'm drinking hefeweisen, hence the lemon. I'm not a complete loser.

*insert much merriment and drinkage of beer here*

The gently-weaving couple wends their somewhat-indirect way home:

oh look, honey, it's Howe Street! that sign is so funny! I must photograph it for my blog!

wait! dude, I just gotta get a photo of this! the kids back home won't believe this one!

bwaaahaaahaaa! a watch! oh ... oh fuck ... i can hardly ... a watch! hold still dude, lemme get a shot of that

this is the bathroom at the doughnut store. it wasn't very clean.

That, thankfully, was the last photo of the night.

Remember, kids, friends don't let friends photograph drunk. I hope you learned a lesson from this.


Circle Craft

Real bloggage later, involving many exciting things such as earflap-brassieres and knittens, however as I am overrun by urchins at the moment, this is just a quick note to Marie, whose email address I don't have.

I have two tickets to Circle Craft. You said you'd like to go, so if you haven't purchased a ticket yet, let's make plans to go together -- you'd be welcome to one of my tickets. Please drop me a line either way at

Monday, November 07, 2005


Send in the Clowns

Ad bake sure dey all hab bride red dozes just lige bide, k?

Actually it's not all that bad. I'm feeling considerably better (no longer fearing that I might not die) and I have found a number of reasons to actively attempt to continue living. The first being this email that I found in my inbox earlier this evening:



Hello Again, Moral, Upstanding Music FAns.

sometimes we do things that go against the tempermental conceptualization of good judgement. sometimes we use mic's and amplifiers to transmit this lack of judgement at a higher volume than one would normally recieve it. sometimes we play country music....


live at The Cottage Bistro
4468 Main St. and 29th
Tuesday, Nov 8
by dontation

The Family Stump is:

Jeff Younger - Pa Stump - gtr/vocals
Meredith Bates - Kitty Stump - fiddle
Mary Kastle - Daisey Stump-Butt - keys/vocals
Aaron Joyce - Dusty Stump - steel gtr/dobro/vocals
Russell Sholberg - Rusty Stump - dbl bass
Benji Bohannon - Enos-Willy Stump - drums

world premiers of compositional and social irresponsibility, including Keep
It In the Family, Daddy's Got Himself a Big One, Have You Seen My Taint?,
and You Done Broke My Heart. In the fine tradition of Frank Zappa and The
Oakridge Boys, come on out and hope nobody from the office sees you there.

Music starts at 8:45 with a solo set by Aaron Joyce. The Family Stump will
defile the stage shortly thereafter.

DIgg (a hole)


This is a very talented (albeit criminally insane) group of people and Jeff is pretty damned hot (as is his girlfriend, alas). If you're anywhere in the neighbourhood I would heartily recommend joining them for an evening of utterly tacky culture (oxen and morons equally welcome).

There's a PTA meeting (or what the fuck do they call them now PACs? I think so) at my daughter's school tomorrow night. Which event do you bet I'll be attending if I can find childcare?

Yeah, I thought so.

The second reason to maintain my feeble grasp on this mortal coil may be seen below:

This looks like some pretty serious acceptance

This too, despite the fact that 13 minutes after this shot was taken, Sasha killed and ate Diamond.
No, not really.
What sort of freak do you think I am??

One of the (few) joys of being on one's deathbed is that when one picks up the pointy sticks and looks determinedly at the wool, very few are brave enough to try to take those pointy sticks away and make one cook dinner. I have, therefore, managed to get a goodly portion of this hat finished. As is my wont, I neither swatched nor measured with the result being that there's something terribly wrong either with the gauge or with my ability to project the size of a finished garment. At this point in time it's looking pretty much like although I chose to make the smallest (child's) size of this hat, there's a fairly good chance that I will be able to tie the earflaps under my breasts.

If this is so, I shall try to sell it as a new look. Hell, with some of the stuff Knitty gets away with, I have half a chance.

Tune in for hat/foundation garment updates as they become available.

Sunday, November 06, 2005


There's Got To Be a Morning After

I spent the night trying to stay warm. Although sweating profusely (and I just know you all want me now) I couldn't stop shivering. Flannel sheepjammies (for the person who asked the other day, my mother bought them at Zeller's) two quilts, a small warm child (she insisted on sleeping with me to take care of me, and she's been sick for over a week with a "lighter" version of this particular doom anyhow, so we let her), several knittens and a hot water bottle were unequal to the task. Ben brought me a cup of tea and some Neo Citran and I finally managed to drift off. I believe it was the Neo Citran that did it, although a generous dose of G.K. Chesterton may also have contributed.

Unfortunately this morning found me even sicker than yesterday and I had to jam out on work again tonight. I haven't taken a sick day in the six months I've held a permanent position there (and I think I've cancelled one or maybe two shifts due to illness in the three years I worked there as a casual) so I've got a pretty good track record, but man, I hate doing that! I have a shitpile of work I want to do and had both of the nights pretty much planned out. Oh well, the best laid mice, and all that ...

MarQ1 made kindly enquiries as to who was going to write my obit and I wrote asking if he would like to take on the task, however this evening finds me greatly improved and I believe we shall have no need of his skill at this point in time.

Those of you who were coveting my stash may stop plotting. I think I'll live to knit another day.

Signs of improvement: I just ate my first real meal since Thursday. Signs of continued illness: I'm about to cast on an ACKrylic hat, and am looking forward to making it.

Saturday, November 05, 2005


Remember, Remember, the 5th of November ...

... gunpowder, treason and snot.

Or something like that.

This is the first time I've been sick since I left my Evil Employer and I must say that I'm not enjoying it much.

TMI Alert! Danger Will Robinson!

Been coughing so hard I barfed. Every time I cough it feels like someone's either stabbing me or kicking me, and we won't talk about what that does to those whose stomachs are really not working like they should. Let's just say that I don't like being too far from the bathroom.

All I've managed to eat today is cough syrup, Imodium, Advil Cold and Sinus and a cup of tea. I think I'm going to follow that with a nice big mug of Neo Citran (this is five hours after the previous self-medication, don't panic) and crawl into bed with a hot water bottle and several warm knittens.

Work just isn't happening tonight, although I anticipate that I'll be back in tomorrow.

I did go out to the Artisans' Sale in Langley, seeing I really didn't think I could cancel last minute, but I had to leave before the end of my shift. I really shouldn't have driven that far when feeling this vile, but I didn't kill anyone, so all is good.

There was TONS of utterly amazing work and fibre to die for. I was actually happy that I didn't have any money, because if I had been flush (oh, I don't want to hear that word again) I would have had to throw out all of my dishes so I could stock the kitchen cupboards with llama and alpaca and merino silk and oh god everything.

Fortunately the Dreaded Lurgy that is trying to kill me at the moment has not yet robbed me of my sense of smell. The minute I walked into the hall I could smell the wool, and knew that I was among my people. (Man, I like that phrase).

The guild members were gracious and welcoming and the crowd was fun also. I got to see some lovely spinning and ogled some expert weaving as well.

As soon as I can stand upright for more than ten minutes at a time, I'm going to get this damned table set up and get my loom out.

For after all, what girl doesn't have time for just one more obsession?

Watch this space for updates or my obituary tomorrow.

Friday, November 04, 2005


Victory is Mine!

Yay! It's only taken me ten weeks to get Sasha the Cat to do exactly what she was planning on doing all along. To wit, she has finally deigned to come indoors.

All knittens have been washed, thoroughly. A couple may have been swatted. My knee has been recovered as her favourite perch.

She weighs something like 15, 16 lbs. Lots, anyhow. I have had nothing but tiny knittens on me for the last ten weeks and I don't know what the hell to do with this much cat.

There's certainly not going to be a whole lot of knittage happening until she's made up for lost kittylovin'.

Fear me.

(Oh yes, and tomorrow and Sunday is the Artisans' Sale run by my weaving and spinning guild. If anyone is anywhere near the Fort Langley Town Hall in between the hours of 10am and 4pm, hop in and visit! I'll be there on Saturday from 2 to 4pm. I am sick and feeling utterly miserable, but I wouldn't miss it for the world.

I'll be easy enough to find -- I'm the one who sounds like Barry White.)

Thursday, November 03, 2005


Get Thee Behind Me, Evil Enabler!


Ann, although being one of my dearest friends (we figured out the other day that we had "known" each other at least 8 or 9 years, although we have never even spoken on the phone!), is also an evil, conniving bitch.

Who else would show a yarnslut this, during the very month that said wooltrollop is selling off her own stash to pay for her husband's fees from last term so that he can take a course in January and maybe one day finish his degree?

A bitch, that's who.


I think I shall pout now. And figure out how I can wangle enough out of the budget to buy oh, like 20 balls of each colo(u)r.

Like I said ...


Ann, honey, you're getting something pinque in the mail very very soon. Perhaps made out of pinque funfur.

You're welcome.

In answer to recent questions:

Kathy, I like my chocolate drizzled on someone's nice warm belly, however if that's not convenient (like at work and stuff) I like dark chocolate. Plain or fruit centres. I'm pretty easy to please.

Jove: Hubby cleaned the kitchen tonight. Without being asked. And it was a disaster area. That has certainly improved my mood, as has not going *crunch*crunch* across the carpet!

Patti: I think I won some sort of "Most Likely to Cuss Like a Sailor" award on JenLa's blog last year, but thank you!

Rachel: Asselope? Who knows? These strokes of genius (or idiocy) take me by surprise from time to time. I was tired of "assbeagle".

Jill: I like my liquor pretty much how I like my chocolate, but usually settle for beer. Very cold. Out of the can. (I have lots of class, it's just all third.)

Marie: The horror was not being connected to all of my invisible friends. I mean, what if someone had, like, KNIT something???

and last but not least, Lee Ann: No, I did not spill a glass of wine on my laptop but mostly because I don't have a laptop. I do, however, know where one can buy a keyboard very, very cheaply. Also where one can buy one at close to midnight. (And also where the two spares are in my husband's bedroom). *g*

Wednesday, November 02, 2005



Well, I had a post written about how I had a rough night at work and hadn't done anything fibrely at all. Even got to use the word "asselope" about one of my COWorkers who needs to be fired (out of a cannon) very very quickly and messily.

And then my internest got broken and I had to be offline for FIVE HOURS and actually spend time with my HUSBAND (and watched a really good documentary on disease in sub-Saharan Africa) and well it was all just too horrifying.

I'm going to go clean house now, and then spin (around and around in my chair until I puke).

Send help.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


eBay Frenzy

In response to the person who asked what I was selling (was that you, Mickey?) I managed to bring myself to part with four skeins of Rowan Magpie. It sold in a couple of hours.

Hard to do, but I have people to feed.

I have another four, two each of different shades of grey, and those will go up tonight. If anyone's interested, drop me a line, otherwise they'll be up online in about six hours.

I don't know what else is going to be listed. A whole lot of comics (nothing exciting), some fuschia cotton yarn and some other stuff. Depends on what I find while going through these boxes.

The small witch is up at the 'rents for an hour and I actually have time to eat her Hallowee'en candy -- *koff* -- I mean clean the bathroom. Yes, that's it. Bathroom cleaning indeedie.

I'll start posting stuff when the sugar hits *g*

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