This makes me smile.

http://www.funnieststuff.net/viewmovie.php?ad_key=XRDBYYCOYFBG&tracking_id=890371&id=614

So there.

http://www.chaosmatrix.org/library/humor/reject.html

It doesn't get any easier than this...

Help by clicking.

http://www.theliteracysite.com/clickToGive/home.faces

We were all high on polyester fumes...

We all used to walk around looking like this and thought we looked pretty good.

http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com/2007/10/strap-in-shut-up-and-hold-on-were-going.html

There are landfills full of this stuff now, and I’m sure the colors remain just as bright and true.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is my parents’ 60^th wedding anniversary. They were high school sweethearts, became engaged when Dad left for his military service during WWII. While Dad was gone, Mom taught grades 1-8 in a one-room school. When Dad was discharged from the Army Air Corps in 1947, they were married. Dad wore his grandfather’s suit; Mom wore her cousin’s wedding dress. Their flowers were chrysanthemums, as these were the only flowers blooming at the time, and everyone who had flowers in their gardens donated some to make bouquets. There are two existing photos of them on their wedding day. Each shows a blurry black thing next to a blurry white thing.

They spent their wedding night at the Hotel Duluth in Duluth, Minnesota. Mom forgot something in the car and Dad went to get it. Returning, he couldn’t remember what floor their hotel room was on and spent quite some time going from floor to floor trying to find their room. Returning from their honeymoon, they moved in with my Dad’s parents for 1 ½ years, while my Dad and Grandfather built the house in which I grew up.

Through that adventure and many, many more, they have survived and prevailed with a sense of humor. Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

Socks!

There was a bit of sunshine left yesterday when I got home from work, so I went outside to get some sock pictures. These are my first attempts, so I apologize for the quality and staging. I’m sure the camera can do a better job, but at this point, it’s still smarter than I am.
These have been off the needles for awhile, but I haven’t blocked any of them yet.
This is the Leafy Lace pattern from More Sensational Knitted Socks by Charlene Schurch:
The yarn is Sock! by Lisa Souza. The colorway is Printemps.

<<Printemps.JPG>>

This is the Lava Flow sock pattern from Sockbug.
The yarn is Survivor by TVYarns – White Oak Studio on Etsy. Her yarns are also available at Woolgirl.
<<Survivor.JPG>>

This is an original pattern by Middlearthknitter. I signed up for her sock club at her Etsy site.
The yarn is 100% merino and hand dyed by Middlearthknitter. I’m not sure if she has this yarn available or what the colorway is called, but I do think it’s delicious. I am a member of her sock club and this yarn was the first installment. The pattern is also wonderful…a bit of Scottish lace.
<<Middlearth.JPG>>

While I was taking the photos, PermaPuppy was running around in the backyard. During my distraction, she found ????? and rolled in it, so the rest of the afternoon was bath fun.

Struggling

I have been working and working, trying to finish the sleeves for a basketweave sweater that was featured in an Interweave magazine (Holiday 2006?). These sleeves are doing their best to defeat me. I have started and ripped back more times than I want to count. I *thought* I’d finished one and was almost done with the 2^nd this weekend, when I noticed that I’d repeated a pattern row. Then I pulled out the completed sleeve and noticed that I’d repeated a row on that one as well.
I have now made negative progress on both sleeves once again.
I’m going to wear out the yarn before I complete the project.

Go Spider!!

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Just started my virtual walk across America

I’m about 12 miles from Williamsburg, VA.

Winter's coming, but where's my jacket?

The weather is doing its level best here to get us to winter in a hurry. I am a bit unprepared. On Monday, I pulled my winter jacket out of the back of the closet, put it on and the zipper came apart. Last winter, the pocket zippers died, but I could live with that. Now, short of safety pinning my jacket shut, I have no good alternative once the blustery winds blow across the tundra that is the parking lot at work.

Last night POSSLQ and I went on a jacket hunt: REI, Herberger’s, Kohl’s, Gander Mountain. No luck. After that I turned to good old LLBean. After an hour on the phone with a customer service representative (may I just say here that LLBean consistently has the best, nicest customer service reps *ever*), I think I may have found something:

http://www.llbean.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/CategoryDisplay?page=penobscot-parka&categoryId=42366&parentCategory=3625&cat4=6248&storeId=1&catalogId=1&langId=-1&feat=6248-sub2

but, of course, everyone else already ordered one, so it is backordered and won’t be here for 2 weeks.

Everyone needs to think warm weather thoughts until then.

Corruption

Today I deliberately corrupted my sister.

With just these two links, she became immersed in the world of internet yarn porn and she doesn’t even knit.

http://www.oneplanetyarnandfiber.com/Be_Sweet_Magic_Ball_Hot_Sundae_p/bs-magicballhotsundae.htm

http://www.kpixie.com/catalog/index.php?cPath=35_143_225

She had a weak moment and I took advantage of the opportunity.

I completed the corruption with this:

http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/

She will never be the same.

Pet Peeve

Last night, POSSLQ was walking the PermaPuppy before bedtime (in the dark, in the rain). Someone else was also walking a dog, but StrangerDog was not leashed and decided to pick a fight with PermaPuppy, knocking her to the ground, growling, and biting at her neck. StrangerDog’s owner claimed to be *shocked.*

Once the two were separated and StrangerDog was held by the collar, POOSSLQ brought PermaPuppy home, where we discovered that she’d been knocked down into some dog pooh and had a certain odor about her. Into the tub for a bath at 9pm on a Sunday night.

We were not amused.

Red Cross Socks

During WWII, my father traveled by train to a military base in McAllen, Texas. The train passed through St. Louis, Missouri and stopped briefly at Union Station. While waiting, the soldiers received ditty bags from Red Cross volunteers. In the ditty bags, along with personal care items, was a pair of handknit Red Cross socks.

Hundreds, if not thousands of pairs of socks must have been knitted, each pair exactly like the last. I thought of this last night as I was experiencing Second Sock Syndrome, the siren song of other yarns and patterns calling me away from the current handpainted merino.

Many of those knitters are probably no longer living, but if any of them ever read this, I’d like to thank them for continuing to knit in spite of tired hands and boredom. Their work made a farm boy from Minnesota who’d never been more than 100 miles from home feel as though someone cared.

Shibori Shambles

It's probably a good thing I don't have a digital camera right now. No one wants to see what came out of my washing machine last night. I was making a scarf using this pattern and it was time to felt it. It should be noted that I was not using Blue Moon's Kidmo, but a 100% mohair (lost the ball band, so can't tell you who made it).
Into the zipper bag I use for felting, into the machine, and then The Wait.

During the process, the zipper bag came open. When I checked on the progress, the bottom of my washing machine was a heap of wooden beads, rubber bands and green fuzz.

I now have a 20" long, extremely thick and fuzzy bookmark. It has weird little 'tails' all over it where the beads once resided.

Haven't had the heart to see if the washing machine still works.

Not my father's socks.

My father talks about handknit socks with a bit of a wince. Scratchy yarn, lumpy seams, ill-fitting and stretched out, these were socks of necessity. He was a child of the Great Depression and grew up at a time when you used things up, wore them out, and then found a new use for them before they were recycled into something else.
When my father watches me knitting socks today, he fingers the fine handpainted merino I use and shakes his head. These are not my father's socks.