Was it just me, or were the Academy Awards a complete snooze? Chris Rock, you are an angry black man, and any attempt to control or restrain that results in something far less than comedy. I would like to beg the Academy, bring back Woopie or Billy.
As for you, Chris, stick to railing in angst and rage, thank you.

Previously, I talked about what a snoozer Clapotis was turning out to be. I groused -- in print and in person -- about the tedium of the Increase Section, a simple 12-row repeat done a total of thirteen times. Or so I thought...

Yesterday morning, I nearly broke into a series of jetes as I finished the final repeat of the section. My hands did not turn the page of the pattern quickly enough, because I somehow managed to spy a note about the 107 stitches I was to have at the end of the Increase Section. Without a calculator, I could quickly figure that I had well over that amount.

Immediately, I dismissed Miss Kate's mathematical abilities, until I re-read the pattern. "Repeat rows 1-12 SIX times more". Listen, I know that the SIX was a TWELVE before. How did the pattern change itself? I have 20-20 vision, so a trick of poor or declining eyesight is out of the question. Clearly, it is some evil force meddling with my patterns.

So distraught was I at the eventual ripping back (and unavoidable disaster of horribly tangled yarn) that I abandoned the project to have lunch and food shop with my honey. In addition to the family staples, I bought somemthing for my special diet.

I am in Vest Mode, so this will likely become a re-worked version of the U-neck vest in Winter 2004/2005 Vogue Knitting. I have roughly 200yds less yarn than the pattern requires. Oh what fun I will have sorting out how to make these oranges into orangeade!

Addiction
The ugliness of my caffeine addiction showed itself this morning. I was craving a proper cup of coffee with my goat cheese omelet, but sadly, my Bodum coffee press conked out two days ago.

In spite of two days passing, Broken Bodum still had more than a full cup of two-day old coffee swilling about because I seem to be the only person in the house who regards washing the coffee pot as part of “doing the dishes”. Like a crazed junkie, I poured the (c)old coffee into a mug, popped it into the microwave, and then discovered that there was not a drop of milk in the house! While half-and-half is my preference, I will opt for whole milk in a pinch. I could not stomach the thought of soy milk in my coffee, so I loaded up on the Equal, said a prayer, and took a sip.

It was a shred of decorum that kept me from spraying the table -- Daffy Duck style -- with the horrid sludge scraped from Broken Bodum. Tomorrow's errands will include the purchase of a stove top espresso maker.

Irritation
Speaking of errands, the day was a confusion of dealing with a sick cat and a sick car. I needed to get my car photographed for my new insurance carrier, which required more driving with the squeal of my worn out brake pads growing louder by the minute. Clearly, these brake pads could not wait for service until Monday. So, I spent the afternoon on a Don Quixotesque quest for mechanic who could replace my squealing brake pads -- pronto! Several mechanics suggested that I drop it off the in the morning -- on my way to work -- and I could pick it up by noon.

This suggestion baffled me, given that even the germs need cars for travel up here. Uhm, buddy…Look around. No public transportation. So…if I’m on my way to work -- in the car that I am leaving with you -- how the [BLEEP] do I get to work? A reasonable question, no?

Bliss
Four hours and $461 later, I nestled in for an evening of knitting and chatting at Yarn Central, where I spent far more time chatting and cruising yarn than I did knitting. What a strange sickness this knitting is. Nearly every knitter I know is a fickle, promiscuous tart when it comes to projects and yarn, and I am no exception. Poor Joe has ranked himself below yarn on my list. In some strange way, he might be right about that...

Happy Birthday to you, Dean!

This is my fifth day in a row off from working. I would say "work" if I had a real job, but at the moment, I am floating around the cosmetics department and picking up hours at various counters. This time off has afforded me some wonderful time for seeing friends, spending time with Joe, errands, cooking, and knitting.

In the errands department, I have been food shopping, changing my oil, and getting my car inspected. This was the first time I have taken a car for state inspection, and I did not know what to expect. It turned out to be a slightly longer wait than usual at the oil change/inspection station. I brought Clapotis along for the ride.

I have found a certain rythm with Clapotis, and I have worked through seven of the twelve 12-row repeat in the "increase section". I have been told that the real fun starts in the next section -- the formal name of which is now "the dropping stitches section".

Sadly, the only finished knitting I have to show is:

Knitting Queen's Rowan Big Wool One-Ball Mittens
less than 1 ball of Big Wool in  015, Pip
# 11 US needles

The mittens are not perfect, however, they were my first experience with the Magic Loop, and I prefer this method of knitting in the round to DPNs. Happily, the mittens are warm, and they match a Rowan hat I have knit (from Magazine 35) -- in Kid Classic (827, Juicy) and Kidsilk Haze (596, Marmalade) stranded together -- provided I ever finish seaming the damned thing. At the very least, these mittens will see me through the next round of Wintery Weather.

The remainder of the day will be devoted to figuring out where/how to get new brake pads, as well as sorting out a mountain of recipe clippings, printouts, and books. This is part of the streamlining mode. Out with the recipies that I have never (and will never) tried. I read somewhere that it is best to have a small repetoire of dishes that you prepare well and with ease, rather than a stack of untested recipies that require major shopping and exertion. Also, few cookbooks make room for more yarn and/or knitting books. Right?

Perhaps it was Sunday's viewing of Gosford Park that got me all twisted up, but honestly, I have not been pleased by anything this past week. Nothing has escaped my acid wit, and I certainly would not spare the NYC Art World or the Luxury Hotel circuit in this state.


I am inclined to agree with a few other bloggers. Meh. It is amazing to see Central Park so vibrant in the middle of the stark winter. I will be Dutchess-county bound before the snow coats the park, but I am able to imagine the contrast -- after all, I have seen hunters in the snow. Something about The Gates reminds me of all of the Target ad campaigns in Manhattan. The reality can not live up to the media frenzy.

Speaking of living it up, a friend is in NYC for business, and I have been affording myself the luxury of her luxury hotels. What I have discovered is this: the high price tag does not: reduce the noise of the streets, include internet access, guarantee a hot bath or a wam room. Honestly, is it too much to ask for a luxury hotel to have proper insulation on their windows? I should not need to wear a hat and scarf in the room.

I took Deb on a small yarn tour that included Seaport Yarn, KnitNY, and Purl Soho. I was remarkablely restained, but Deb did a small amount of economic stimulation in all three stores. I will return the favor to her local economy when I make my next visit to Atlanta, GA. Given the impending weather in NY, I wish I had a morning flight.

Clapotis plods along. This project is a let-down. I lusted after this pattern for months. I scoured the earth for a the proper yarn for months. And now? Well, it is a bit like finally landing that date with the hot guy who turns out to be a big, humourless dud. Not that Kate's pattern is a boring dud. It is a spectacular pattern. I get the sense -- from reading other blogs about Clapotis -- the the starting and finishing of Clapotis are where the true joy lives. It is the process of knitting Clapotis that is a bit...well...a bit boring. Can I just get on to wearing it?

Joe and I had a plan yesterday. I was to pick him up at work and we would have our Valentine's Day dinner. It was lightly sleeting Monday night, and I was more in the mood for safety than a romantic dinner.

Heading south on Interstate 9, I realized too late that the right lane was a right-turn only lane. 'No problem!', I thought. 'I'll pull into the gas station and fill the tank.' So distracted was I by the price of gas falling below $2.00 (to $1.98) that I lost my head and locked my keys in the car.

For over one hour, I waited patiently for the Dutchess County Police to save me. Maybe it was the oil fumes, or maybe it was the jolt from the bottled Frapuccino, but I suddenly remembered, I have AAA.

Of course, I could have tolerated the wait had I the foresight to not lock my knitting in the car with the keys. Which is why those Rowan Big Wool Mittens are still not finished.

The most annoying part of all? In the year that I have owned my car, I have had to call AAA for a lockout at four times. At least I am learning to shut off the engine first... I never thought I would say this, but I really miss the NYC MTA.

There must be, because I finished the February-inappropriate ChicKami (ChicKnits).


with Honeymoon Cami detailing (Knitty.com) at the cast on edge.


I used 4 (5?) balls of Bertagna Filati Summer Tweed that I bought on sale months ago. The yarn was originally intended for Knitty's Cozy, but the yarn was so inflexible, that a lacey pattern would have reduced me to a drooling idiot. As for the ChicKami, it "marinated" in the i-cord strap stage for so long that the needle size is forgotten. I did get the pattern guage.

Happily, it is much lighter to wear than it is to hold. I am often amazed by the weight of hand knits. A weight which translates into a rather unpleasant wearing experience, particularly if it is a summer garment.

The fact that the resulting fabric is so lovely in feel and drape is astounding, as I found the BF Summer Tweed to be a splitty, inflexible yarn. Something else that floors me...how a not-so-delightful knitting experience can yield a delightful product. I think this is what I like best about knitting -- how the process and the product are often seemingly disparate experiences.

One thumb left to go on the Rowan Big Wool Mittens. If it seems a bit late in the game for mittens, hold your tongues. It is only February, and any Northeasterner can tell stories of slogging through a foot of unexpected snow in their Easter pastels.

That was a bit of a joke I shared with a thespian buddy at university. For three years after I graduated, we would track each other down on Valentine's Day and utter those words -- sans standard cordial phone greeting -- with deep pathos.

It did not matter if one (or both) of us were in a happy relationship. The statement had grown beyond its original context. So, wherever you are, Billy Mulvey (Google was no help)...

In spite of the fact that I am in a healthy and happy relationship, and in spite of my cynical belief that Valentine's Day is a vast conspiracy of a certain multi-national Missouri-based greeting card company and floral distributors to make both young and old feel worthless if they are not someone's valentine, I still fall prey to the old insecurities.

When I was school aged, I was fearful that I would receive not a flower from one of my classmates. As in life there were the haves -- with armfuls of white (friendship), pink (I like you), and red (I love you) carnations -- and the have-nots. It seems like such a small thing, but this flower exchange in schools is a metaphor for life. Often we are branded as "loveable" or "unloveable" based on some random and arbitrary idea. Valentine's Day, like so many holidays, is focused on couples, which makes the singles feel so very excluded. Lonely Hearts Club. If you are dining and laughing with friends, are you lonely? Why is a mate the key to social success? Should we not be measured by the friends that we have -- and the diversity of those friends? Should we not be measured by our kindnesses -- where the greatest of which are often the smallest deeds?

My close friends will be delighted by these quiz results:

You are 58% Bitch
You are abrasive, some people really hate you, but there may be a group of other tight knit assholes and bitches that you hang out with and get you. Everybody else? Fuck ‘em.

So, to my enduring group of friends, thank you for your love and friendship. It means the world to me. Love, Gina

Would you look at this?


This is one of two wonderful packages I discovered this weekend. In a small of organizing frezy, I ordered the Smart Spin Storage System several weeks ago, and it arrived with my February Flower Exchange goodies.

Lisa's flowers are just fantastic. She even felted a small bag for me. I am a sucker for bath products, so I am delighted that Lisa included soap and lip balm from her company, White Lake Soap. Since the honey soap I received from my Knitty Cafe Secret Pal 3 is a mere nub, Lisa's soap will be put to use immediately.

I will be interested to see this post "live". I am posting via Photobucket, rather than Blogger.
 

(note: I had to do some editing on the Blogger site to the line breaks, etc. Otherwise, the posting from Photobucket worked.)

Sometimes, it is nice to learn a lesson through the trials and experiences of others.When it comes to learning a new skill, I am generally one who learns by doing. I like a bit of explanation, a bit of guidance, and your distant presence should I have a question.

In the case of learning from a mistake, I am quite comfortable with a passive role. Someone else can make the mistake and report back to me. Amy shared her story with us so that we might learn from her error.

Did I listen? No. I have cleaned and cleared such that my latest copy of Vogue Knitting has disappeared. I cannot imagine that it was tossed into the trash. Other than Joe, no one else in the house has the manual dexerity or the mind power to gather strewn items and tidy or trash them. My entire life depends on knowing the yarn requirements for the adorable Aurora Melange/Aurora 8 vest. This is serious business.

The world of retail is a strange one. Some people come and go before you can even cram their name into your skull. Some people go and come back. Some people come, stay, leave, and then return periodically. That has been my approach in the months since I offically left my position at the cosmetics counter.

There is a phrase in retail, "As cosmetics goes, so goes the store". Basically, if cosmetics sales are up, the rest of the store trends up. I am not sure how this works, as it seems far more interesting to be in shoes or handbags during a One Day Sale, End of Season Clearance Sale, After Inventory Sale, or The Biggest Sale of the Season. Cosmetics is the area where coupons, discounts, and the like are never given/taken. Yes, there is the gift with purchase ruse, but other than that? Pffffft.

And if the turnover in retail is high, it is highest in cosmetics. The pressure to create an atmosphere of "we're here to make you youthful and pretty" whilst withering under the heat of "your numbers suck" is not easy to balance.

So, why then, I am so bloody tempted to return to this world? For starters, I am officially unemployed, so the thought of a steady income makes me giddy. Mostly, my former manager is not making it easy for me to think clearly and say no. She knows that I am a cosmetics junkie, and she knows how to get me.

I have to remind myself that the pressure, the hours, the weekends -- none of that fits within my life goals. Certainly, surrounding myself with material goods -- on sale and subject to a further employee discount -- is not fitting with my plan for a simple life.

After five hours in the store, I was already lingering in the sale racks on return trips from the ladies room. I even flirted with a purchase. A terracotta shirt with side ruching. $13.99 for Michael Kors? It's my color! Nevermind that $3.99 for any shirt with side ruching is too expensive. That ruching would add at least 10 pounds to my belly, whilst cutting across the wide expanse of my hips. Put the ruched Michael Kors back, count to ten, and chant more with less...more with less...

It is official. I hate everything that I am currently knitting. I hate all of the yarn I own, including the Silk Garden I purchased this weekend and am turning into my long-lusted after Clapotis.

I think a new lipstick would really perk me up...

Today was my day for errands. And for a lunch at the Indian Buffet.

Whilst retreiving my unsold items from a consignment shop, I spotted the most lovely camel colored wool coat. This coat was precisely what I had spent months scouring various departments stores for. The fact that I found this coat in a consignment shop is delightful. I spent only a little money ($25), put some money in the original owner's pocket, supported an independent shop, and "recycled" clothing.

The afternoon was devoted to a further purge of my drawers and closets, which is just astounding. Where does it all come from? I managed to gather two large shopping bags of clothing, shoes, and various accessories for donation.

I think my clothing is mating. It is the only explanation.

After a full day of helping others select yarn, I decided it was my turn. I headed over to Yarn Central for a piece of the fiber pie. I think I did quite well for myself.

The two balls of GGH Goa are going to be mixed with additional Goa -- and an undetermined yarn -- to create a swanky little summer tee for myself. It's going to be my foray into meshing a few patterns that I like into one pattern that is perfect.

Since I am fixated with the Magic Loop and the prospect of working socks on two circulars, the Cascade Fixation is for a pair of Broadripple Socks. Also for me.

Although this runs the risk of admitting that I am a truly selfish knitter, the Noro Silk Garden is also for me. Originally, I toyed with the U-shaped vest (Winter 2004/2005 Vogue Knitting), but I had a change of heart. What else? Clapotis (Did I even need to give the link?).

And what of the Big Wool Mittens? In spite of the mental note I made at the start of the project to shift the pattern to produce one mitten for each hand, I produced two mittens for my right hand. Given the weight of the yarn and the simplicity of the pattern, it is not a catastrophe on the grand scale of Yarn Harlot's Latvian Mittens, but it is irksome nonetheless. At least I noticed it before starting the actual thumb work. That is something, right?

We Have a Pulse

Indeed, there is life in LumayLand! There is a pulse, and I feel it in every inch of my body.

Those of you who have worked retail and/or tradeshows, you know well what I mean. Those comfortable shoes are not so cushiony and blissful after eight hours on your feet. By Day Three, even changing into ugly, worn out sneakers at the end of the day offers no relief. You feel it, and you cannot believe it. Your feet have a pulse. By Thursday, after five straight days in the most torturous pair of shoes I own (Naturlizers, no less!), I came to a new understanding of Throbbing Gristle. (As an aside, this is precisely the sort of music that -- while I like it -- allows me to believe that I could be an indie rock star.)

Friday was spent with my darling Joe, and I finished Knitting Queen Mitten #1.

Well, yes...nearly finished. I decided to work up both mittens and then work the thumbs last.

Today, I worked the first day of a week-long sale at Yarn Central. As for the fate of my feet? I am not sure how to feel about the fact that my $18 Payless flats were 100 times more comfortable than my $50+ Naturalizers. It really makes a case for more (comfort) with less (money).