•  Carnival 

    Swirls

    The recap: A clone of the Carnival Shawl – couldn't locate the Rowan Classic Holiday #3 book with the pattern so attempted to replicate it from a photo.

    Yarn: Noro Silk Garden Sock Yarn, 4 skeins (had about 30 inches left over) size G crochet hook

    Pattern changes: the original pattern called for 36 (nine columns of four) hexagons, but I needed  44 for a wearable size (eleven columns of four). The knotted fringe was too tangly due to the "sticky" yarn, so I opted for tassels.

    Impressions: A solid colour yarn would have done a better job of showing off the swirls. I do love the Noro Silk Garden Sock Yarn. There were not a lot of typical Noro issues (detritus, disintegration) with the exception of one or two knots per skein.

    Time: Should have taken about 40 hours in total – you get a lot of shawl for your time. The joining of hexagons accounted for eight hours!  In comparison my Charlotte's Webs took 60+ hours.

    Would I do it again? I will as soon as I save enough to buy the yarn of my dreams, cashmere or a blend, perhaps?

  • Let's just call this the Life's a Stitch Equation. Or maybe it's the curse of rating your Ravelry project at 95% finished, Have you noticed the number of projects I have at 95% on Ravelry? Doesn't it seem that they get stuck there for a loooong time?

    So,
    here's my math: Theoretically if I rate a project as 95%  in terms of
    time, I should have 2.5 hours left on a 50 hour project. But noooooo,
    as soon as I rate a project as having 5% left, it ends up growing
    exponentially. In the case of my Carnival shawl, that 5% grew to 26%.
    I'm afraid to do the math on the still being punished Print O'the
    Wave. 

    So what was the hang up? Despite the kind advice of two
    knitting friends, I went ahead with fringing the Carnival. I did the
    knotted fringe shown on the pattern. What a MESS:The Noro Silk Garden sock yarn sticks to itself like Velcro. To tame it I attempted a second row of knots:

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    Attached to hexagons they hung at different angles. Hence (I wanted to say that just like my college math teacher), a bigger mess. The lovely blogless, but Ravelrous Zoe B, helped me untie 225+ knots in order to attempt a do over. We reduced the number of tassels by half and hopefully they won't turn into dreads. I was afraid that the fringeless Carnival would look like a tablecloth. FO photos in my next post.

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    Some knitting goodness, I've recently won two blog contests and the first package arrived this week courtesy of Kristen (Audioknits). What fun I'm going to have with the Trekking handpaint and Sheep Shop Number One in yummy colours. Then there are the foodie goodies. As an east coast girl I've heard of clam fritters and coffee syrup, but the Hot Weiner Sauce mix is new to me. I look forward to it. Thanks, Kristen!

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    So I started crocheting (needle art with the reputation of knitting's poor, but fast, cousin) a Carnival clone, made from Noro Silk Garden Sock yarn. Oh, you're making pot holders, someone said. No, it's a shawl. Next person commented on my coasters. Actually, it's a shawl. Yet another told me his grandma made dishcloths just like that. And one of my ravelry-mates told me that working with one needle just does not compute.

    But I forged on and finished 44 pieces, or "motifs" as they say in the crocheting world, nothing like a little French to class things up. Took some time to develop a layout based on Noro's lovely shading and now comes the tedium. I enjoyed every part of this crochet project, its portability and particularly its speed, each motif taking about forty minutes. But who'd have thought the joining would move at a snail's pace? I'm betting on eight hours of stitching time. No whip stitch for me, I'm doing the crochet version of the mattress stitch, paying particular attention to yarn colour. It's slow, but the result has me hooked. I'm looking for yarn for my second Carnival clone, although I'm not sure any could be more perfect than the Silk Garden sock yarn.

  • I have nothing to complain about, but my poor husband might. I led cheer as he laid tiles. I did get my chance to participate, scrubbing cement and grout for two days, and I have the bruised knees to prove it.

    Have you ever gone to major expense just to hate something for years? We still maintain a US address in the form of an apartment in Washington state. 17 years ago it needed updating on a shoestring and we covered the floor with a pinkish/grayish industrial carpet found on clearance. Made from recycled plastic bottles it was so sturdy that you supposedly could use bleach to clean it. So practical, we thought, since we'd be using it as a vacation rental mortgage helper.

    That carpet was a disaster from day one. How to describe the feeling on your bare feet? Dirty, sticky like velcro, and soapy come to mind. Anything, including water, and we have plenty of that being tracked in from our Pac NW cloud cover, left a dark grey stain. How short pile carpet could mat to such an extent is beyond me.

    After visiting one of those four million dollars parade of homes houses in Florida, I had a scathingly brilliant idea (always loved that term from the Parent Trap). A quest was born to find indestructible Italian porcelain tiles for the kitchen and hallways, that looked like hardwood, at an affordable price. Sacrificing ideal colour for price we found them on sale for $1.97 a square ft at Seattle's Tiles for Less. Although we're experienced tile setters, we didn't figure into the cost, a full week of 12 hour days of sweat equity in 90 degree weather, all due to a crumbling sub-floor. Once again, thank goodness for the support of good friends.

    This is getting to be the kind of woe is me long story that I'm not fond of. Here are some before and after shots, baseboard moulding still to come:

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    And here are the project mascots, banished to the outside. Blogless Marsha's Riley the Airedale and our Gracee:

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    I've lifted the idea from Karen and have loved reading other's versions of the spousal interview. So here he is, being questioned last night while cooking dinner:

    Me: What is your favorite thing about my knitting?

    C: That it makes you happy.

    Me: What is your least favorite thing about my knitting?

    C:  The line “I just need to finish
    one more row.”

    Me: What is something I have knitted, that you recall as good?

    C: Most all of it.

    Me: Do you think knitters have an expensive hobby?

    C: Tools are cheap, yarn is expensive.

    Me: Do you have any hobbies?

    C: Wood turning

    Me: Do you have a stash of any kind?

    C: Yes, but it is generally low in cost.

    Me: Have I ever embarrassed you, knitting in public?

    C: Why should knitting make any difference? LOL

    Me: Do you know my favorite kind of yarn?

    C:  I’d recognize them if I heard
    them- hmmmm- Koigu and those hand painted big skeins – Fleece Artist.

    Me: Can you name another knitting blog?

    C: Missouri Star (Dorothy, you came in ahead of the Harlot) and the Yarn Harlot

    Me: Do you mind my wanting to stop at knit shops wherever we go?

     C: Not usually

    Me: Do you understand the importance of a swatch?

    C: To get your gauge.

    Me: Do you read Life’s a Stitch?

    C: Rarely, on occasion

    Me: Have you ever left a comment?

    C: Not online

    Me: Do you think the house would be cleaner if I didn't knit?

    C: Yup

    Me: Anything you'd like to add?

    C: Nope


     

  • IMG_2855
    This is Print O'the Wave. I'm not sure who is punishing whom, but it is has been exiled to partial smothering in a zip lock bag on a closet shelf until it can behave better. You see, I've knit those last eight rows over so many times that I had to walk away. Eight rows of 20 stitches. For heaven's sake, give me a break.

    On the topic of projects, here's what I decided upon for my Carnival shawl. Remember my dilemma – self striping  or solid colour to emphasize the spirals? I elected to go with Noro Silk Garden sock yarn, in cream and beige – the interest of the self striping with the subtlety of a solid:

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  • Not the Debbie kind, you knitters, but the extreme happiness variety, a spiritual joy maybe. I gave my niece and her new husband a wedding card, one I picked up on the run, with the improbable message: Love, bliss, forever. Being the practical godmother to this child, I wrote on the inside “Probably not bliss, but love forever.” Here’s the happy couple:

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    This sentiment provided good fuel to the discussion fire at several vacation social events this past week. What’s your bliss was the opening question.Of course we had to set some ground rules as it became evident that many were drug and sex induced blissful experiences. So, no chemical or sexual pleasure allowed, what was your experience of bliss, your magical moment?

    The concept was defined. Perhaps bliss could be felt in the experience of great relief or joy, second chances when none were expected. Some blissful feelings were calm, spiritual or profoundly grounding. Many were related to nature and travel – long afternoons, letting down on a tropical beach drinking red wine accompanied with a chocolate baguette.  Some were childhood experiences – running so fast in new shoes, so special the wearer felt he was the fastest person on earth. Nobody could ever beat him.

    Have you come up with something? The one moment you wanted to go on forever? Or are you thinking what were these nutcakes drinking?

  • You know the saying, often attributed to Shakespeare, but really the creation of William Congreve. The origin is not important, but in Harmony Minnesota there is an excellent illustration of a woman scorned resulting in a fury of purple paint.

    Last fall I wrote about Austin’s Mohair farm with the proliferation of purple items. Adirondack chairs, fencing and signage. Was is my imagination or was there more since my visit in 2006?

    Here’s the story: The woman of the farm was so inspired by that poem about being old and wearing red hats and purple pants, that she painted the farm’s front fence purple. At the end of the day, her husband came in from the fields, and gave her a hard time about the fence’s new color. The woman was incensed by his criticism and vowed to buy a gallon of purple paint each year and little by little. Wonder what he thought when he saw the antique tractor:

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    You know what a marriage counsellor would say about this? It’s not about the paint. Whatever it is, the place is fun. Better hide that truck:

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  • If Print O’the Wave could earn points, it would have a free flight by now. This trip I promise not to pull it out of the knitting
    bag sans needles at the airport. Maybe my next post will have an FO.

    It’s off the Minnesota for a family wedding. We’ve already hit the Yarn Garage. This picture only represents about 5% of the inventory, which went floor to ceiling. It nearly brought on a yarny nervous breakdown, so overwhelmed was I by the massive selection. After two hours of indecision all I wanted was a Diet Coke and a nap. You can see though, that SIL Ellen and I were no worse for the wear:

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    We were disappointed to have missed the famous Steven, AKA the Glitter Knitter.  I’m on a mission to find yarn for this. That’s the crocheted version. Here is the knitted one. I can’t decide to go with the multi colours or the solid, where the swirls look swirlier, an optical illusion. Opinions?

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    What is it about the magic of music that can transport you back in time and plop you right down into vivid scenes of your past (I needed a back in time photo for this post – that’s my high school). When I hear Hitch’n a Ride I’m laughing hysterically in the back seat of a ’71 Chevy Impala stuffed with five other 15-year-olds and Mr. Polilli, the driver’s ed instructor, whizzing past trees in time to the music.

    This weekend we saw James Taylor, backwards time transport in full force. You’ve Got a Friend, the theme song that felt especially good when things were going well with your adolescent guy and gal pals.  Up On the Roof, my teenage coping song, comfort while living in a house packed with both terminal and mental illness.

    His “Band od Legends” was aptly named, talent and age-wise. In about 9th grade, in 1903 as JT joked about himself, my friends and I used to do renditions of the Supremes and Aretha. Imagine that? Us white girls (OK, I’m half Puerto Rican, but I don’t think that counts as we are the blue eyed variety, but we do have good rhythm), one of us belting out Respect and the rest performing back up and calling ourselves the “Just a Little Bit” girls. We also did a mean Janis Joplin. This relates to the concert, really it does. James Taylor’s Just a Little Bit girls, included two guys, the scruffy grey bearded pot bellied one just cracked me up.

    Jame Taylor, now 60, performed the hottest, stickiest steamiest rendition of Steamroller ever, inflating the crowd to bursting and leaving us breathless and flattened. What a range he showed, as he gently rock a byed Sweet Baby James, the song he wrote in honour of his nephew’s birth. His love for his Vancouver fans openly expressed, even pulling his”Band of Legends” back after the encore to do just one more – “How Sweet it is to be Loved by You.” I might have been fooled, maybe he says that to all his crowds, but it seemed oh so right at the time.

    This year I’ve seen Eric Clapton, Judy Collins and James Taylor. All fantastic concerts, but truthfully, JT was the only one, where you could close your eyes, and not be able to detect any difference in his performance as compared to 40 years past. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to go back in time. What’s on the sound track of your life?