Cruelty thy name is weather…or cruelty
So fall has arrived in Texas and I am woefully unready [unraed for all you OE-ers]. Football season has also hit its full stride, as demonstrated by the hordes in burnt orange (question: has anyone else noticed how obnoxious UT football fans can be? And why does their arogance seem to increase inverse to the number of games won?). Actually now that I am on the subject of football (I promise I will meander back to my original point, so those who hate football may need to just skim for a bit): why are the miami dolphins going to play in london? The giants are not invincible…but the dophins…cannot win…ever…ever… (if the dolphins do win today [and if I weren't so lazy I could check how its going, since the game has started I think] I will eat my shorts or whatever the appropriate action to concede wrongness would be). The whole point, I imagine, of an expo game is to show the fierceness of the competion…nobody likes to watch an underdog get slaughtered. Anyway, that was my rant. Good luck to the dolphins who are doomed; back to texas. Now that winter clothes can be worn, I would love to have a nummy handknit to walk around in. However, as you can see, my progress has stalled at sleave-cuff number one…sigh:
Astute observers may have noticed a problem with the above picture (very astute observers may have noticed multiple problems. Points for enumerating them in your comments). Hint number one: ‘your sweater in progress looks like total crap’ is not one of the answers I am looking for. Hint number two:
Now that I have provided you with a mystery, I must get breakfast.
Reader Participation Moment
Dear loyal devotees (i.e. you silent masses),
I would like less silence and more mass-ness, so I am offering you all a series of opportunities to speak up and join in. For the first installment of the Amuse Me series, I invite you to share your worst crafting disaster. To give a glimpse into what I mean by craft disaster, I have fabricated an example from sheer force of imagination that bears absolutely no relation to how events actually unfolded in anyway.
Fictionalized account of a totally hypothetical disaster:
One day, I [not really 'I' of course as this is a complete tissue of lies] went to the Blanton and saw a piece by a woman who had taken rice paper and twisted it into ropes that she then had knitted into a net-like structure. It was delicate and absolutely captivating. I decided to replicate the basic design, but replace the rice paper with newspaper (as I always have tons lying about the house) and since I am not so into the whole transience-of-life schtick (e.g. cut flowers and I are mortal enemies), I decided to use papier mache to make the structure more durable (I do realize the contradiction of being attracted to delicacy in other people’s work and adverse to it in my own, no real defense for that…). So I took practically an entire pound of floor and dumped it into a bucket with water. I soaked the newspaper (god knows why), which made it break apart in clumps rather than twist. I managed a few half-hearted loops before releasing a primal scream of frustration and chucking everything into the trashcan. Days go by and I began to notice a smell…one that defies description, although rancid malt liquor would be a good runner up. In the haze of my exasperation, I had forgotten to dump out the bucket of flour-goo (those of you who know me well might note the striking similarity to the dreaded bean incident) and had left it sitting in the corner of my kitchen. The goo had risen somehow (I swear I was not so dumb as to have put yeast in…) and gone very, very bad. In shame I moved to Ohio and changed my name to something outlandish [yet another sign of the obvious mendacity of the above story: the real I would never move to Ohio]. So it goes.
If anyone can top that your prize will be a hat and/or scarf (as the muse takes me) knit by yours truly. Obviously if you are a stranger, the pride and glory will have to suffice.
*So as not to discriminate against non-crafters, I will accept any random story (keep it clean folks) as an entry.
Cephalopod-o-mania
A few weeks ago or so, I was perusing my favorite knit blogs when I found a pattern for an adorable sea creature (under normal circumstances these things would terrify me). After dropping some not so subtle hints to my better (crafting) half, I ended up with one of my very own:
[pictured here peeking out from my knitting bag]
Bert (as I have just now named him) and I have become the best of friends, and I am always rescuing him from improbable situations [see sabertooth tiger attack below]; perhaps someday I will write a childrens book about the two of us.
Nowhere to go from there really. Ta-ta for now.
howdy-ho, neighbors.
Well, here goes: I am a compulsive crafter with a love for all things handmade (no matter how misshapen). My favorite yarns are cheap, bright monstrosities. I am committed to the cause of redeeming fun-fur and other fuzzy outcasts, so I tend to wear scarves that cause double takes and raised eyebrows:
Difficult to tell, because of the disposable-camera quality, but that scarf is pink/lime green/fuzzy.
My favorite project ever was an improvised hat that I made one afternoon. It’s basically a thick band of garter stitch folded back over and then a switch to a double strand of another chunky yarn that I increased/decreased to make a scalloped top.
In the future I hope to have digital camera access, but that’s a start anyway… Better yet to come.
