As a newish knitter, I coveted and feared the Addi Turbos. I wanted them to give me superhero knitting speed, but I respected that I might lose too many stitches until I was ready. Whether or not I was ready as a knitter, last night, was my maiden swatch with the Addis. Both my #10 and my #10.5 Denise needles were otherwise engaged, and I could not waste a moment before swatching for Boogie.

I cast on and started knitting with the Addis. B-L-I-S-S...
Turn work.
shusk
shusk

What the...? My Addis were making a strange little noise, and there was the slightest scratchy/scrapy feeling. I continued to the end of the row.
Turn work.
B-L-I-S-S...

Turn again.
Again with the shusk shusk! Outrageous! I have ended up with one of the few QC failures in the Addi Turbo world. What are the odds? Exactly! Which means that this probably blows my chance at New York Lotto or having Ed McMahon stalk my house from a Publisher's Clearing House van. My million-to-one-shot was wasted on a pair of knitting needles.

Day Number Two of the New Job, and I feel bored already. To alleviate this, I am posting from the office, which is helping me feel less bored and very sneaky. Let me assure you that I do like the job, but it is a family business. I am not going to set the world on fire here in Brewster, New York. The irony? I am a slacker by nature, so why bother myself with the impending doom that this job, like every one previous, will not provide me with the challenge and creative outlet that I believe that my soul desires?

When it comes to being bored on the job, the office is a superb venue (compared to retail). Instruments such as the telephone and the computer are your allies in creating the impression of work. No such luck in cosmetics/retail sales. Break out the cleaning supplies and check the testers.

Stroke of Luck
Recently, I was able to find a copy of the hotly desired (by me) Rowan pattern book, It's a Tape Thing.


Joe has pronounced the Rowan books and magazines "knitting porn". Whether this is a result of him finding the dewy models stimulating or of observing me hot with knitting desire as I pour through page after page of gorgeous patterns, I cannot say.

Since a sale is just as stimulating as Rowan patterns, I also purchased Socks Soar on Two Circular Neeles. This is laughable, given that the cuff of my first ever sock is rotting in my project basket. This purchase was either a case of optimism or money burning a hole in my handbag.

Have you ever started a new job on Monday? That is exactly what I did today. Thankfully, I spent a day or two on site prior to leaving my other job, and the place is somewhat low-key. It was an easy first day, and I fell into a project immediately. I think this is a result of the insane amount of temp work that I have done in my life. I am quite accustomed to walking into a strange office and acting as if I have been doing this job in this place for years.

If I spent as much time knitting as I do researching knitting, reading knitting blogs, perusing knitting patterns, looking for sale yarn online, etc., I would be finished with far more than I am. I have completed 3 of 35.5 inches on the waistband of Sage's,

and I am already bored and contemplating a Boogie Vest, which is baffling me. The pattern does not baffle me, but rather it is my desire to knit a vest that baffles me. Typically, I regard the vest with the same disregard as I do the chunky sleeveless turtleneck. I fail to see the point of such a garment. But, for some reason, I am so anxious to try this pattern, and I think it has something to do with the cable needles that my Knitty Cafe Secret Pal sent me earlier this month.

Knitting is the ultimate Gemini endeavor: juggling multiple projects and finishing none.

The other members of my household cannot believe the volume of mail that I receive, nor can they believe my glee. The weekend mail brought me wonderful goodies.

My order from Adiago Teas, courtesy of Fiber ROAKer Lisa arrived. Thank you! I made myself a cup of tea immediately after opening the box. A few MUA swaps arrived, and the buttons I won on eBay came this weekend as well.

Also in the mail, but giving me more grief than glee, was my order of Noro Fuji. The color looked so earthy online, and I had slated this yarn for the Glampyre Mini Sweater. My disappointment is palpable; the colors are far brighter than they appeared online. I cannot imagine this working with anything that currently exists in my wardrobe. This the fifth (out of seven) online yarn buys/wins that has left me cold. Maybe I will work up a swatch with it to see if the color is more acceptable when knitted up.

On a lighter note, I finished the Suss Handbag, and I ordered (more mail!) handles. This project was so quick and easy; I loved working with the Brown Sheep Burlyspun. It was so similar in feel to roving that it started me thinking about spinning. There is a small amount of roving in my stash from hand felting projects, which would be great practice roving. A wheel is definately out of the question, but what about a drop spindle?

Joe and I spent the day together in pastoral bliss.

Weather in the Northeastern United States is so fascinating. It is the first day of Autumn, and this could be one of the ten hottest days of the Summer. It was a glorious day, and while I did not see tractors for sale or turkeys crossing today, I did see a man juggling whilst bicycling along a busy road. No doubt a kook from "the city" who is deceived by the pastoral peacefulness of Crystal Sylvan Lake. This is a major service road, and some bozo (no pun intended) is cycling with the flow of traffic and juggling? Why is premeditated vehicular manslaughter a crime?

Upon reflection, I strike my opening sentence because no weather could be more interesting than that of Seattle, Washington. Living in living in Northern England and the Pacific Northwest have given me the moxie to resist carrying an umbrella unless the forecast involves tropical storm fallout. While I am willing to state that
Seattle weather gets a somewhat unjustified bad rap (The state of Pennsylvania gets far more rainfall than the state of Washington), I will also share the fact that I celebrated my 30th birthday (June 21) at the Seattle Fringe Fest. In the rain. In a scarf and a leather jacket. In weather hovering in the low 50s. Welcome to the Summer Solstice! Bring your mittens. And anything you might want to juggle.

It is all over. My life as a cosmetics hawker is finished. I severed the relationship, so I am not losing sleep or tears over this. Actually, it is probably for the best, as I recently realized just how fine Chanel cosmetics are, and that is a luxury I cannot fool myself into believing I can afford -- even with a discount.

The saddest part of this is that I will have to make a special trip to photograph the two tractors for sale on Route 55. I need to supply my friends with visual proof that I am a country bumpkin. My new drving route does take me past a family of turkeys, which is further proof of how "in the sticks" I am. I wish the NYDOT would post a Turkey Crossing sign to alert drivers to reduce their speed in the high turkey traffic area. I have never stolen a public sign or a street sign, but Turkey Crossing might prompt me to do so.

I finished the Cinema scarf, and I have decided to leave the boo-boo intact. I managed to reverse my knitting at some point (sometimes working on circulars instead of straights is hampering), and I ended up with a angle in the scarf that was not meant to be. The LYS proprietess suggested I keep it and announce it as an intentional design. Class was far more chatting than knitting for me, but I started a bit of a Kokopelli scarf.

Glampyre's Mini Sweater has been haunting me for quite some time, and further inspired by Gidget, I ordered some Noro Fuji for my own Holder of the Boobs.

It is not like me to have nothing to say, but that is the only reason I can give for my silence this week. I am walking around in a fog, and consequently very little is being finished in the way of projects. There's a hat (for Christmas) on the needles, as well as the very start of a sock for me. Additionally, I cast on for a surprise for a friend, but I rediscovered that I hate mohair. Actually, I do not hate mohair as a finsihed product, rather, I hate knitting with it. To ease the pain of the mohair, I decided to whip up a quick little scarf for myself.

Foolishly, I selected Artful Yarns' Cinema. Prior to Cinema, I had not experienced the joy of knitting with open ribbon such as this, and I hope never to feel such joy again. Prophetic, that I unknowingly selected the colorway "Nurse Rachet", no? Thankfully, I did not select "Forest Gump", although I am slightly miffed that I did not realize that "Mrs. Robinson" was an option. How perfect an accessory for my leopard-print slip.

See you over the nest!

It was a fabulous day for me. Not only is my fourth day off, the U.S. Postal Service paid me a handsome visit. Three boxes of goodies came my way. Two were swaps, and the third was a RAOK from the wonderful Cheryl. Cheryl sent me four balls of Rowan Linen Drape and a pattern for a placement. Originally, had planned this as a good practice project for finer gauged yarn, however, there is no chance in Hades that I am going to waste this lovely fiber on a placemat. I live with three males; they will not appreciate it anyway. Much better if I give the Linen Drape the love it deserves and turn into something that I can wear.

Speaking of the boys in my house, there is nothing more terrifying to me than the sound of the afternoon bus. Perhaps if it were just the boys returning, and not a gaggle of teenaged testosterone, I would not be so rankled. What happened to doing your homework after school? What happened to going to your own home?

Even on the rare occasion that they arrive home without a small gang, I am still tortured. It is only a matter of minutes before I am serenaded by the doorbell and the telephone. Joe is not vexed by any of this as I am, however, Joe is seldom home in the immediate post-school hours as I am.

In spite of an unhealthy addiction to electronics, none of their friends are capable of phoning one time, leaving a message, and patiently awaiting a return call. This is the part where my compassion for and empathy with the witch in Hansel & Gretel is stoked. I often rely on the answering machine to relieve me of arduous task of answering the telephone, but none of the children will play along. They phone repeatedly, within a matter of minutes, and hang up when the machine (not a human) picks up. Frankly, I do not understand why children cannot be tried as adults.

The weekend was a blur of little events and good food. I bought a few books at the Enrico Fermi Library to keep my mind and tongue sharp with Italian. On the train back to Dutchess County, I cast on for my first sock. I tried this before, but I lacked the patience and dexterity required to whip dental floss into socks with toothpicks. This round, I opted for a more hardy yarn and the needles to work it.

Just outside of Croton-Harmon, I felt that I was getting a good rhythm going and that I could actually do this. At Peekskill, I realized that even if I could do this, I would have to do it a second time to product a mate. I stuffed the sock into my bag and pulled out the book Volevo i pantaloni.

Must run...it is the phone.

Crochet.

You heard it, baby. Tonight, I learned to crochet. I certainly could have learned and practiced the basic stitches with some scrap yarn, but I wanted to make something. Now that I understand some of the basic stitches, I am going to make a simple washcloth.


There seems to be a strange sibling rivalry and snobbery between knitters and crocheters, and I do not fully understand this. I am of the mindset that knowing more crafts, etc. is a bonus. More options. Less chance of boredom. What I do find interesting is that knitting patterns often require the use of crochet to finish an edge. Does the reverse happen in crochet? I am guessing not.

Whilst at the crochet class, I made the mistake of allowing my eyes to wander.

So, after I pawed and petted the various colorways, I spotted the pattern support.

I must have this pattern collection.

I know. I hear you. Summer is almost over, but the patterns are beyond wondeful; the sort that I admire greatly. I find them tp be purposeful and wearable, whereas many yarns and pattern designs are too out there. To me, the work of Kaffee Fassett and Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton are like full-body tattoos. I admire the color and the artistry, but I would not want to wear it. Too overpowering.

Like Paris Hilton, I like the Simple Life.

Here it is. The end of the long holiday weekend. The end of summer. The end of tax-free week in New York. As far as all of the killer sales I was supposed to enjoy this weekend, there were...none. We managed to meet last year's sales, but I wanted to beat them.

As my days in retail wind to an end (I gave my notice), I would like to conduct a mini-educational forum.

Those store coupons are a hoax. Yesterday that item was on the 75% off rack. Today, it is 33% off, plus the 15% coupon. You do the math.

"Doorbuster sales" are crap. The merchandise is the dregs that the store is too lazy to return to the vendor. Or is it that the merchandise is so crappy that the vendor is no longer willing to accept a RTV?

Do not complain to the bored cosmetics gal that the lines for buying clothing are too long -- just imagine if that were a bread line, jerko.

Ladies of a certain age (mine), just because you have a pierced navel and a "slammin' bod", you are not entitled to shop in the Junior's Department.

Mothers, please teach your children to use a mirror. Just because Brittany wears it does not mean that your daughter should. I have seen so much teenaged butt crack and pubes that I can scout for Hustler's Barely Legal.

Long Live Labor!

There is a myth in retail that Labor Day Weekend is a huge shopping weekend. It is the end of summer, the start of school, and in New York State, it is typical a reprieve from the heavy taxes (8.25%-8.65%) we generally pay on clothing and shoes. How any of this has a bearing on cosmetics, I do not know. What I do know is that I stood around chit-chatting with my fellow beauty specialists for the better part of seven hours and thirty minutes. I took two charge payments, and I repeated the store hours for today and tomorrow (8:00am-10:00pm) at least sixty times. What fulfillment and pleasure my work brings!

Speaking of pleasure, here is a better glimpse of the lovely stitch markers and tin sent by my Knitty Board Secret Pal.

Catch your breath.

I have not been productive at all in terms of knitting, felting, or beading. I did poke around my local yarn store and the local A.C. Moore for some stash ideas, but time and money were slim, so I had to get pleasure from touching and smelling the yarn. I am sure that the manager of A.C. Moore, who remembers me from my interview for the Yarn Merchandiser position, must be thankful that I did not make my way into the passel of kooks that are currently employed there. One more he did not need.

Extra Virgin

I am not a big fan of the typical breakfast fare, unless I am gulping it down sometime after 4:00am, in a New York City diner, and only as a chaser to a fair amount of drink. A review of the contents of our refrigerator offered either string beans and fish (which will be my lunch) or pasta. Since I live with three men who dislike tomato sauce (I will give you a minute...), I have to find some other topping optin for my noodles.

The most obvious answer is to top it off with olive oil, salt, pepper, and grated cheese. Several months ago, I won the battle. Kraft Grated Cheese is no bought or consumed in this household. Back to the olive oil. I discover Wesson. No. A brand of olive oil that is suspicious close to my surname, but it is Extra Light Olive Oil. Sesame oil, etc. Where is the Extra Virgin Olive Oil. I am thankful that Joe wasn't home to witness my madness.

I will not say that my olive oil snobbery is a result of my Italian heritage. But I will say that my mother (of Polish descent) kept at least three varieties of olive oil in her larder (I love that word). Everyone knows that Extra Virgin is the oil for salads and pasta. Extra Light? Well, that is cooking oil. I could not explain this to Joe rationally, after all, he is a man who breaks his pasta in half before dropping it in water that has not yet reached the roiling boil stage. I would watch, fighting the waves of sickness, as his kids then used a knife and fork to cut up the mushy spaghetti! Like Kraft Grated Cheese, broken pasta, tepid water, and cut pasta have died in this household.

In celebration of my Knitty Board Secret Pal Booty, I decided that my next knitting project must include cabling. Because work is looming, I do not have the needed time to peruse my small pattern collection, Knitty, MagKnits, or any of the countless websites and blogs that offer patterns. I did find this in Rowan Calmer.


Lovely, but... But. A knitted, cabled tube top? Maybe I am in the minority on this one, but I typically prefer to cover my neck and shoulders when there is a chill in the air. I will just assume that my boobs are already covered, literally, by my bra and shirt. This falls under the same category as the chunky, sleeveless turtleneck. Very pretty, but not very practical.

Maybe that is exactly why Soul should be my next project. My life cold use a touch of whimsy and impracticality at this time. I'm gonna knit me a boob tube!