Friday, January 29, 2010
Never Felt This Way Before
Relax, I'm not about to announce that I've fallen madly in love.
Or at least, not with a person. I've recently become enamoured of felting. Behold, my first attempt, in all its glory:
This is the bowl, top view, before several trips through my washing machine.
And here it is from the side.
And again, from the top, after being abused.
And the finished side view.
It's nowhere near perfect, there's still a little stitch definition to be seen, but I'm pretty pleased with it for a first attempt.
The bowl is about 7-1/2" across and 2-1/4" high, made from yarn I bought at the Puyallup fair many moons ago (and which actually made its debut on this blog, but I'm too lazy to go back and find the reference).
I've been doing more than just abusing yarn in the washing machine, though. I'm busy getting ready for Stitches West, to which I am going with my friend Tracy from Crafting for the Peanut Gallery.
I've also been dropping furniture on myself. A big heavy pine futon frame, on top of my bare foot. It was very sexy, and although no bones were broken, there was much creative cursing. Right after the air cleared I, of course, had to create a new colourway to commemorate the bruising. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the yarn implies, but y'all know how I like to exaggerate stuff.
Behold, "Stupid Friggin' Futon Frame", or "SF3":
There are five skeins of this available in my store right now. Unfortunately that's all that's there. I've been skeining like mad all day and should have another update tomorrow, but a certain young lady went out to a birthday party tonight and swiped my camera.
She's home now, but even with the use of my new skein winder (purchased from Crazy Monkey Creations at the Sock Summit last summer), I'm pretty much thrashed for the day.
There are many many stories to tell, and now I'm not as crazy I'll share ... but for now I think I need to grab a beer and a trashy novel, get into a nice hot bath, and not think about yarn or fiber for a few hours.
Maybe while I'm asleep I'll figure out how the hell I missed noticing a Rubbermaid bin with 40 skeins of yarn that I've already dyed in it. It's only been sitting in the living room for, oh, six or seven months now ...
Have a good night, and see you tomorrow. And don't let the futon get you.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
You Know, When I Was Your Age ...
Oh hell, I don't care what happened when I was your age apart from the fact that it involved me walking five miles, barefoot, in the snow. Uphill both ways!
Today it's all about me.
You see, it's my birthday. I'm 48. (And no matter what they say, I don't look a day over 62.)
I don't make New Year's resolutions, as a rule. Oh, I think about them, I start formulating them, but because I have an ego larger than my ass the New Year for me starts today, on my birthday. This is the day I make resolutions. Even if I don't do it on paper, or even say it out loud; it happens.
This year I resolve:
To grab every opportunity that comes my way
To travel, meet the people I love online in real life and to expand my horizons
To take Great Big Bites of life*
To honour my instincts
To accept the fact that I know some stuff and that I can actually teach others (I have a series of dyeing workshops coming up that I was getting a little hinky about)
To call my friends and family more often
To eat bacon as often as is humanly possible
To dance, to sing, and to laugh at every chance
To point out to assholes that they're being assholes and to not tolerate their assholery
To honour my commitments
To shave my fucking legs at least once
To get the tattoo I've been dreaming of for years
To reduce my need for "stuff" and to throw out about half of what I own
To buy pants that fit
To listen to my daughter, because she's freakin' brillant. And to make her get off the phone before 9pm every night
There. That's it.
I think it's time for this whole "life" thing to be fun again. You going to join me on the ride? **
*This is in honour of my best friend who, when he was my age, had already been dead five years.
**you must be this tall to ride
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Mark Vincent Made Me Cry
He made me cry more than once, but the one that really did it is here
I've only watched it 12 times or so. I mourned the loss of Pavarotti, but this lad gives me hope. Even if you don't like opera, go listen and wonder how such a Great Big Voice could come out of an unassuming 15-year-old.
And then come back and tell me there ain't a god. I won't believe you.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
No cute titles, no silly posts here. Just something serious, and quite horrible
I think Stephanie said it well when she said "If you're like me, you're too busy being grateful that you're not a mother in Port au Prince right now."
I had been going to go to Dressew here in Vancouver next week. They have yarn for $1.99 a ball. Regia. The big ones. Big enough for two socks. One freakin' dollar and ninety-nine cents. I figured I'd get ten or so.
I've been stressed; we're moving (not by choice) and we don't know where we're going to live in April. I'm getting ready for Stitches West, and there are a bunch of other things going on (the little black dog of depression has bitten my ass more than once). I figured I should have a treat. They have some fluffy green mohair stuff that my daughter would like for a scarf, too.
But you know what? I may not know where I'll be living in April, but I know where I'm living tonight. And tomorrow. And next week. And I know where my family is living. And that they're living.
I'm blessed. And I don't need any more damned yarn.
I sent my yarn money to Doctors Without Borders (website for Canada here, for USA here and other countries can find their site here) this afternoon. All donations are gratefully received. If you are able to donate, please, when you go to the website and get the drop-down menu, choose "Greatest Need" or "Emergency Relief" as the target for your donation. That way they will be able to apply the funds where they will do the greatest good.
This is a country that is so poor that even before the earthquake they were eating mud. I have no idea how they will survive this.
Perhaps, with our help, they can.
I know money is tight; we've all just come through the holidays, and I'm not trying to guilt anyone into doing anything -- taking care of your own families and making sure they're housed and fed and warm comes first.
But if you can ... please do.
(And if you're a reader of Stephanie's blog and you are able to donate, please let her know so that she can update the Knitters Without Borders donation totals.)
Thank you for reading this, and for caring.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Let Sleeping Blogs Lie
Well it's been over a month, so my blog is officially dead. And yet, I have the urge to write again.
Is there anyone still reading? I'd be surprised at this point.
I survived the holidays -- how about you? I worked a hell of a lot and ate a ... well ... um, not to dis my mother but a really apathetic turkey thing on Giftmas.
We had some of the usual holiday angst (one year she actually started revving it up in like freakin' APRIL, can you believe?)
The conversation this year went like this:
Her: I'm tired. I just can't do Christmas at my house any more (this, after insisting it be at her house)
Me: Well, we could just do it at my house -- why don't we move it down here?
Her: No, I've bought the turkey breast (never mind that my husband and daughter prefer the dark meat -- she'll only cook a turkey breast) and I've cleaned. We'll do it here. You know, R, (downstairs neighbour) only has to cook the turkey, she gets so much help, her children bring the vegetables and potatoes.
Me: Well, I'm working the night before and on Xmoose night too, but Mr. Assmuppet could do the potatoes and we could bring them.
Her: No, no, that's fine, I bought frozen scalloped potatoes from M&M Meats, we all like those, it will be fine. But they don't do frozen carrots any more.
(as an aside, we live in the Pacific Northwest, there is bountiful produce all year long; there is neither reason nor need for frozen carrots, dammit!)
Me: Well, we could bring the vegetables.
Her: No, no, I have them, it's all right.
Anyhow, we went and it was ... bland. And borderline vile (the veggies were either frozen or pre-packaged or something) but we ate like the little troupers that we are, and Her Surreal Highness had fun so that's what counts, right?
My parents gave us a bunch of gift cards for the local store (very nice) and I gave my mother three pairs of earrings I had made and which she seemed to geniunely like. My boyfriend-in-law gave us some good wine and some very very nice glasses, and then I went to work and made double time and a half.
So all was good.
Until my mother said "OK, we'll have Christmas at your house next year, but I'll buy and cook the turkey and bring it".
She will fucking NOT. Next year we'll have food that tastes like food.
So tell me, how were your holidays?