Busy, busy Weasel

Busy, busy Weasel

Oh, yes, I have been a busy one, yes indeed. My mother said back when I was a teenster that once you turn 40, you don't really need to go shopping any more, 'cause most of the stuff you could possibly need you already bought and it's hanging around somewhere in the house. Well, dear readers, the busyness. Oh, boy. I was sitting sulking Friday morning about how I still hadn't had time to figure out Precisely HOW I was going to dye some wondrous yarn for my swap pal, other than sort of thinking I'd make gigunda long hanks and see how that went. Spin-Off arrived! There is an article on how to dye fabulously stripey sock yarn! And she explained at last in words that I could understand what the wrapping board thing is and how she made one and all the ensuing tra la la-ness. And I sat and read and thought, hey. I got me some lumber down in the basement (left behind by the Contractors From Hell, of which we shall not speak here, that being the Way Toward Madness). I got some dowels from when I taught a kids fiber arts workshop and we made knitting needles. I got some tools, and hey, friends, I got skills. Oh, yes I do. Behold!





I used about a million packages of apple koolaid. What is up with the grocery stores not selling the lemon lime kind any more??? I swear, this makes me snap at things with my teeth. Rahr. The lemon lime is soooooo good to dye with. Who cares if it tastes like crap. It all tastes like crap. We want the colors, people, the colors.

Anyway, I am so damn pleased with myself it's ridonkulous.

I do have a teensy bit of knitting progress, too. The pic of the STR came out too crappy even for me to post, so just imaaaaagine (insert fairy music) that you can see a couple more inches on that. Yeah. And the sleeves proceedeth apace on the yarn that is so gorgeously soft and gooshy and it's the (catch in voice) malabrigo. (swoon)(thud)(comes to) Oh, hi again. Here's where we are with that one:



Should've left my foot in the picture for scale. Oh, well. It's around ten inches. The sleeves, you guys, the sleeves. Sheesh.

I'm kinda happy about those sleeves, because I'm designing this on the fly and I know I gotta get to 82 stitches and I just sorta eyeballed and guessed okay, inc every 6th row, and later did the math and durned if that isn't just about bang on. What do you know. I do know what I'm doing, after all.

We have some sadness, too, today. I found out this morning that a childhood friend has been dead for four years. So that sucked. Same nickname as me, married to a guy with the same name as my husband; her parents are doing most of the raising of her two sons now. Shit.

We're all just dandy around here, alive and all. My mom was in the hospital this week for some heart trouble - this is new, not a good thing, and she insists she's okay and will meet us in the Back Bay tomorrow for DD#2's spiffy smart kid award ceremony. She has these moments where she's not quite firing on all cylinders, though, like the time at Easter dinner where she mused that black women have large behinds and she does too so she thinks maybe she's actually black. (pause) This is an Irish lady from Boston. She's about as black as Karl Rove. My uncle actually fell off his chair laughing. So anyhow, she isn't always able to accurately assess things.

We got some damn good stuff, though, all smooshed in between Episodes of Unending Drama.

NEXT WEEKEND! KNIT IN PUBLIC DAY! Nashua, afternoon, see you there, anyone!