Batt Editing

Although Harry is perfect, the rest of the world generally needs a little tweaking to rival his flawless stature. It's rare that I spin a batt right out of the bag--I usually add or subtract something, especially if I have a specific project in mind.

Harry thought it might be instructional for me to show his faithful readers how I edit a batt. According to him, I don't have any faithful readers, which instigated a shouting match (MORONIC BIPED!  HAIRY MIDGET OCTOPUS!, and so on). While we were hurling epithets at each other, Rambo kindly loaded the text and images into the blog and then proceeded to clean out the vegetable bin because nobody was paying any attention, and the lettuce was going to wilt soon, anyway.

Onwards to batts.
 
Let's take this lovely item from Lampyridae, euphoniously named Sarah Bejeweled. It's an eclectic mixture of  milk, bfl, silk, soy, merino, alpaca, and sari silk. but is very smooth, if a bit mussy. Notice the colors after the greens are kinda folded under...you can't see them in this picture.

If you've ever fooled around with batts, you've probably discovered that most of them are layered, and it's easy to separate the layers by gently pulling them apart. The blue and purple are peeking out on the bottom layer in this image:



Here are two two layers, side by side.

Now to strip the batt into bite-sized pieces. I started on the left, coaxing each color transition into a little swathe.



I took a bit of the next color, pink, into the second strip, and a little more pink in the third one--mixing the colors this way makes for smoother transitions.



Sometimes, when pulling off a strip, the wrong color crawls over....

It's easy to just peel it off and put it back where it belongs.

Here's what the deconstructed batt looks like now.

The next step is to do a little drafting. Although the batt is smooth, it has a fair amount of fibery locks lying on the surface. When you try to spin it them in, the loose bits can fall down or become folded over, creating a snarl. If you're spinning thick yarn, this fluffiness isn't a big problem, but for fine spinning, it's better to try and incorporate the little rogues into the main wad of fiber. And because I will be spinning fairly fine on a supported spindle, I want to loosen up the fiber, as well. Both of these tasks are done simply by gently pulling sections of the strip like this:



And here's the first attenuated strip. Notice there's some white fiber that refused to play nicely with the rest of the strip. I just inserted a few twists to keep it from running away.

Here and there, I found some bits of fiber that didn't belong, as well as a few nepps that would simply make a blob while spinning. I just  picked them off.

And we're almost finished. Notice the adorable cat toy...Laptop couldn't be with us today, due to a prior engagement, but she left a clownfish proxy for Harry's faithful readers to admire.

The transitions looks pretty good, but  the sequence is a bit lacking in blues and purples. Dipping into my batt stash, I found colors that would work, and added a few extra strips.

To  keep everything neat and tidy, I rolled up the strips, one after the other, into a squooshy ball...






And put it into a plastic bag. It's ready to go.

On another note, I report that over the course of the last few months, the occupants of the fleegle household endured three eye operations and two root canals, thus triggering our favorite floating holiday: Celebrate Something Random Day. To commemorate such occasions, we always have a cake, decorated especially for the occasion being celebrated. And so I present to you the Infamous Fleegle Eyeball and Teeth Cake of 2011. It was delicious!



And before you ask, Nancy, it's from the Country Bakery on 75 between Ingles and White County Jail. :)

Rambo--A Fleegle Fractured Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, on a typical summer day, I was peacefully carving a voodoo doll of my former employer out of a radish, when Harry blew in the door, scrabbling across the floor so quickly that he left a small sonic boom in his wake. He informed me, in a terrified sqeak, that we had a visitor, and the visitor, was, well, pretty scary. So scary in fact, that Harry scuttled under the refrigerator without his bagpipes, smoking jacket, or box of Lindt truffles.

I carefully parked the paring knife in the radish's midsection, wandered to the front door, and recoiled in horror. Lounging atop a camo duffel bag was a furry white rabbit wearing killer shades and camo fatigues. Leaning against the duffel was a well-used backpack with a bunch of carrots lashed to the side and K-Bar knife dangling from the webbing pocket.

"Hello, ma'am" said this nightmarish vision.

"Erm, hello." I replied. "Can I, um, help you?"

"Looking for a spider named Harry. About so big." The rabbit held his paws about eight inches apart. "Wears sissy clothes and totes a set of bagpipes. You seen him?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, yes. He's currently under my refrigerator. He lives here when he isn't on a karaoke tour or off on one of his Terrorize the Tourist gigs."

"I'll wait."

The rabbit slid off the duffel and opened a side zipper, extracting a lethal-looking weapon and a cleaning kit. He propped the duffel and backpack against the porch rail, made himself comfortable, and proceeded to meticulously disassemble the weapon.

I retreated to the kitchen, fumbled for the phone, and called Roy.

....beep beep boop beeep beep booop beep...

"Hello?" queried the voice of sanity.

"Sweetheart, there's a Force Recon Rabbit named Rambo sitting on the porch cleaning a gun." (I deduced his name and service from the name tag rakishly embroidered on his flak vest).

Roy has lived with me for a long time, so instead of wasting time questioning my sanity or what I had to drink at lunchtime, he merely asked me what sort of  gun was being handled by those fluffy little paws.

"Just a second." I put down the phone and peeped out the door.

"Excuse me," I said. My husband wants to know what kind of gun you have there." I omitted any reference to fluffy little paws.

"M4A1 Close Quarters Battle Weapon (CQBW) with a Special Operations Peculiar Modification (SOPMOD) M4A1 kit."


I picked up the phone and repeated the gobblydegook of acronyms.


"Cool," said Roy. "I'll pick up some parsley nibbles at the grocery store and be right home."


Roy spent most of the afternoon on the porch sharing beers and swapping war stories with Rambo, while I pleaded with Harry to come out from under the refrigerator. He adamantly refused, even when I lovingly assembled a bowl of freshly picked raspberries topped with his favorite organic whipped cream.


When Roy finally wandered in the door (with carrot crumbles and splotches of gun oil on his t-shirt), he explained how we ended up with a ferocious fluff ball reconnoitering the front door.

Apparently Rambo had hopped all the way from Fort Bragg, where he works as a tracking rabbit for Force Recon. Having taken a few vacation days, he opted to spend part of his leave time hunting down the spider who snitched his custom-designed carrot peeler (scrimshaw shaft, glove-leather holster) after stiffing him for $100 in a poker game last year.

 "Uh oh," I said. What do we do now? Call his commanding officer? Call the police? Hire a hit fox?"

Roy thought about it a minute. "Maybe we can just return the peeler and the money and hope he hops on to his vacation destination." Rambo apparently was on his way to compete in a San Shou kickboxing championship.

I peered around the corner and noticed that, although the equipment was still piled up on the porch, there wasn't a single whisker to be seen anywhere in the vicinity.

"Uh oh again," I said to Roy while walking back into the kitchen. "Where did he go?"

Roy pointed to our meager vegetable garden. "He's out there kicking the tomato plants." Cherry tomatoes were popping down into Rambo's outstretched paws. When he had finished stripping the tomatoes, he picked off the miniature eggplants, pulled up a few radishes, and calmly proceeded to wash his paws and face in the pond. He then hopped back to the porch, picked up his weapon, and began perimeter patrol.

I fell on my knees in front of the refrigerator and explained the situation to Harry.

"Harry, you've got to return his peeler. And his hundred dollars. And maybe throw in a bouquet of squash blossoms or something. He's picking our garden clean! And scaring the turtles in the pond!"

A tiny whimper was heard from the sub-fridge.

In the meantime, our usually placid cat, Laptop, spied Rambo marching over our basil plants, and gave herself a quick lick-and-wash. She sashayed over to the rabbit, introduced herself with a small giggle, and offered to show him around the neighborhood. Then she twitched her whiskers in a deplorable display of flirtation, wrapping her tail around Rambo's rather impressive lats. So much for any help from the feline contingent.

Let's summarize the current situation. Harry's incommunicado. Roy's plinking at the dahlias with the M4A1. Laptop's playing fur games with a military lagomorph.

Taking matters firmly into my own hands. I pulled out Harry's drawer apartment and sifted through the contents. Among a vast assortment of items that I won't bother to recount, I found my engagement ring, a skein of quviuk lace yarn, a set of nude black-widow-spider cocktail sticks, two containers of truffled pate, and finally, underneath a rather impressive collection of Chocolate Frog cards, the carrot peeler and a wrinkled hundred-dollar bill.


I pilfered the latter two items (and my ring and yarn) and exited the back door.

"Excuse me," I said to Rambo. "I, erm, found your missing items and would like to return them to you with our heartfelt apologies. Sometimes Harry gets a bit, frisky, and er, forgets himself."

"Thank you, ma'am. I do appreciate your honorable behavior. Rambo gave me a breezy salute by folding over one ear and smartly tapping his forehead.

"If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to camp in your garden this evening. Laptop said she would provide some vegetarian MREs and entertainment. I'll make sure the yard is safe from meercats tonight." He chambered a round and sighted in on the last remaining cherry tomato.

"Right. Good, Hate it when those meercats attack." I mumbled as I cautiously backed away, a bit horrified at the sight of our last cherry tomato splattering over an annoyed-looking petunia plant.

The next morning, Rambo, along with his camouflage equipment, was gone.
......


Harry crept out from under the refrigerator. Roy pouted. Laptop received suggestive postcards from in-country locations.  I returned to my voodoo doll carving. A year passed.

.........
  Another typical summer's day. The doorbell rang. I stuck a final pin into my He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-in-This Blog-for-Fear-of-Lawsuits durian-fruit voodoo carving and answered the door. There stood Rambo, resplendent in freshly pressed BDUs, bearing a frothy bouquet of catnip.

"Hello, Ma'am," said Rambo politely. "Laptop around?"

A furry mass shot between my legs and, in a totally unseemly manner, leapt into Rambo's waiting arms. The two of them overbalanced, rolled down the front path in a breathtaking display of revolving whiskers and fur, coming to rest in a patch of outraged day lilies. We didn't see either of them again for several hours.

When the two of them finally emerged from their flowery bower, they carefully groomed each other before wandering into the kitchen, paw in paw. Over a platter of carrot canapes, Rambo related a series of fur-raising escapades from the previous year and then announced that he would be teaching a Wilderness Survival course and Escape and Evasion at the Ranger camp in the next town.

"I must be getting soft," Rambo said bashfully. "I'd sure like a place to stay off-base. Those army-issue burrows are cramped and noisy. And the lettuce/timothy hay MREs leave a lot to be desired."

Laptop gave us her patented Irresistible Pleading Cat Expression That Causes Instant Human Capitulation.


We struck a deal. In exchange for joining the fleegle team here in Georgia, he'll get fresh lettuce, wireless internet, and a custom-built hutch. In return, Rambo has agreed to provide us with companionship, a comprehensive perimeter patrol schedule and, of course, his gorgeous angora fur.


Bet you were wondering if I would ever tie this story into fiber arts, right?

And so we all lived happily ever after, except for Harry, who spends a lot of time under the fridge playing mournful tunes on his bagpipes.

 

The End

By Popular Request (Sunglasses AND Hazmat Suit Required!)

Blog readers can sometimes be a bit, um, perverse. Here I went and posted my latest FO--Roy's Formal Socks--a work that reflects my impeccable taste and fashion sense, and all anyone wanted to see was the tuxedo that completes the outfit.

Note the unremarkable bow tie and studs. We just haven't found the perfect set to complement the jacket. Harry, of course, has a similar outfit, but I am afraid I melted all my camera lenses taking this picture, so you will have to use your imagination: Just think of a gigantic spider in psychedelic formal attire whizzing around on his purple iPod/skateboard.

Sorry about the headache.

I understand Knitty and Color is getting a bit tired of carding Jelly Bean batts. Apparently, Roy isn't the only one who owns tasteful tuxedos. Someone even commissioned me to spin six of these batts for her very own sets of formal foot covers.

I have been busily knitting away on the Queen Susan, but frankly, working on this shawl is akin to scrubbing Boston Common with a toothbrush. And it currently looks like a hairnet for 700-pound pumpkin. Nothing much to show yet. Check back in, say, six months.

Next week, I am off to the Maryland Sheep and Wool show. Several people have expressed interest in meeting me, so I made myself a t-shirt sporting my avatar on both the front and back. If you see a short lady wearing a rainbowed octopus, it's probably me. Stop and say hello!

Warning! Sunglasses Alert!

DANGER! Do not proceed to read this post without an infallible pair of polarized sunglasses firmly placed on your nose.You have been warned!!

Several weeks ago, Roy announced that his only pair of formal socks had become listless and wan from years of washing. Please, could I create a fresh pair of socks that would exactly match his tuxedo?

I ordered a set of merino batts from Knitty and Color that precisely matched Roy's extensive written requirements. When the batts arrived, they immediately melted the 99-cent sunglasses I had foolishly donned as eye protection.

 I raced out to an optician and purchased the darkest pair of shades that the guy had in stock. Then I stripped the batts lengthwise to produce a continuous succession of  color, and ramped up my Hansen e-spinner.

The resultant yarn is equally eye-searing.

 As I was cajoling the camera lens to stay open while I took some photos, Cheeto scuttled into the room, whimpering "Mama!!!."

The reunion was tender, until I pointed out that, while the skein did seem to match his coloration, the texture was way off. Cheeto ignored me and demanded another touching family reunion photo.

For those interested in the technicalities, this stuff was spun using a squinting long draw and Navajo-plied in the dark. Heh. Just kidding.

Obtaining a smooth, lofty finished product is easy if you undertwist the singles and overtwist  the final yarn. If you overtwist both the singles and the final spin, you will end up with a tightly twisted yarn that lacks both smoothness and elasticity.

When I presented the ball of yarn to my collection of knitting needles, the entire pack rolled away screaming about union rules, toxic yarn, and my appalling lack of consideration. Cheeto valiantly snared a pair hiding under Harry, and we achieved cast-on shortly thereafter.

I haven't decided if these need bobbles. I will keep you posted.

Rana Pilosus

January 7, 2010
Dateline Kyzyl-Oi, Kyrgyzstan

Scientists today announced the discovery of the fabled Rana Pilosus, the Hairy Frog of knitterly legend! Hitherto mentioned only in passing on a multitude of knitting blogs ( as in "The yarn looked like frog hair, so I ran away screaming."), this endearing amphibian is no longer a myth, but a reality. In fact, Rana Pilosus cultivation turns out to be a major economic industry in a remote area of Kyrgyzstan.

Dr. Elmer Vrkyng and his graduate student, Bob "Hoppy" Hopper, semi-distinguished amphibian zoologists at the University of Uch-Korgon, made their tremendous discovery while floundering around in marshland north of town. Dr. Vrkyng explained that they had overindulged in fermented mare's milk (not much to do in Uch-Korgon besides drink and flounder) and decided to take a walk and clear their heads. Unfortunately, they wandered into the infamous Gryznyk Swamp and got, um, bogged down.

"Bob fell flat on his face, causing a torrential tidal wave that floomed all over my clean shirt. When the water, mud, and algae subsided, I felt a tickling sensation on my forehead. I reached up and discovered a webbed foot caught in my pith helmet. I tugged frantically on the squishy offending limb and was suddenly face-to-face with a genuine Rana Pilosus! His other leg was curled around my earlobe! I immediately whipped out my camera and took a picture of this monumental discovery."

Dr. Vrkynk and Mr. Hopper subsequently interviewed the nearby townspeople, most of whom were  oddly dressed in layers of delicate knitwear. Apparently, the surrounding area, being mostly swamp, was not conducive to raising sheep, yak, or vorpal bunnies. However, the town was overrun with furry frogs, especially during the Annual Festival of Flies, an occasion marked by fly-calling, fly-swatting competitions, fly markets, and highly decorated swatter sales.

Over the millenia, frog herding became the town's major source of income. The only other business in Kyzyl-Oi is a vowel importer, and apparently the import tax on A's and E's is so outrageous that the company only accepts a few shipments of I's and O's every year and thus doesn't offer much hope of employment. Mr. Krygzy, who owns the company, says Vrknuk's Vowels has spent a ton of grybzyfs in search of a new vowel, but have not had much luck so far.

In light of the poor job market, frog herding has become the sustaining business. According to Madame Grizkyrg, who owns the largest frog spread in the area, the Rana Pilosus is an economical crop, as the frogs take good care of their families, are excellent padkeepers, and require only an occasional rinse with conditioning shampoo to keep snarls and split ends under control. And, she adds, the frog industry is unquestionably Green!

Madame Grizkyrg explains. "Our frogs are free-range, happily playing cards and engaging in frog-wrestling tournaments by day, and indulging in karacroake at night. In June, the frog shearers armed with tiny scissors, lure the frogs (with homemade fly snacks) onto supersized pads, where they are carefully shorn of their pelts." She went on to say that the hair is then washed, sorted, and spun by the locals to produce extremely fine yarn, which is then knitted into garments during the severe winter months. As you can see from the picture, a shorn frog is a happy frog!

"One gram of frog hair, spun in our little factory, will produce over 5000 meters of yarn. And the frogs come in a wide range of colors and patterns, including polka dot and herringbone, so we don't have to worry about dyeing it," says Madame Grizkyrg.

  
She went on to say that the frogs make excellent pets, as they are clean and very intelligent. There are two frog trainers in town who coach the ambhibians in Kyrgyz, the native language, as well as instruct them in the rules of  Frog Paddy Bingo, a subject that will not be further discussed in this article. A new niche business has recently emerged, thanks a sizable grant from the TSA.  Azrygyr is one of several being trained as drug- and explosive-sniffing frogs.

The TSA will soon be deploying these little guys in both the personal security and baggage-screening areas. Being small, they can easily hop around inside carry-on and checked baggage. When contraband is detected, their hair stands straight up and vibrates silently, quietly alerting the agents. The frogs' foot-long tongues have been genetically modified to carry an electrical current and, on command from the TSA Frog Handlers, will zap offenders, who are then dropped through a trap door directly into a paddy wagon.

Dr. Vrkyng and Mr. Hopper will be staying in the town for three months studying this new genus before publishing their findings in Nature. After they have completed their research, they intend to start an eco-friendly frog-hair yarn exporting business. "Our enterprise should bring a business boom to Kyzyl-Oi," says Dr. Vrkyng.

All of us lace knitters look forward to seeing the product! Right? Don't we?

An FTC/Litigation/Copyright-Safe Book Review

A few posts back, I mentioned a test-knit that I was doing for a designer. I fearlessly quote my own blog post below, as I wrote it and gave myself written permission to quote it elsewhere under the Fair Use provision of copyright law. The excerpt is fewer than 50 words, so I should be doubly safe from self-litigation.

... a test knit so hideous that Laptop scuttles out of the room (hissing) whenever I remove the thing from its lightproof bag. To add insult to injury, the supplied yarn's texture rivals that of steel wool, but is not quite as soft.

Having placated the copyright cops, I state here, for the comfort of the FTC, that both the pattern and the yarn were given to me. However, neither were gifts, as I must return both the knitted object and the remaining yarn to the designer, for which I will be paid a pittance. I did, however, receive a free copy of the pattern, and this I shall gleefully burn. Aside from the appearance of the thing, which Harry and I agree is the single ugliest knitted work in the history of textiles, the pattern contains several errors. The designer did not respond to my queries, so I assume that the errors are now written in stone printer's ink.

It turns out that the pattern is from a book the designer has written, as I discovered on Saturday. I picked up a book at SAFF, and was smacked in the eye by The Ugly Object as I riffled through the pages. It occurred to me that I ought to do a book review, since I have an intimate acquaintance with at least one of the patterns contained therein.

I am not, however, going to mention either the book title or the author, lest I be sued for libel. Similarly, I will not be showing you any photographs or quoting content, for fear of breaking copyright law. I am safe from the FTC as well, because I neither bought, nor received the book as a gift, so do not now, nor have I ever, had it in my possession.

So, I present to you an FTC/Litigation/Copyright-Safe Book Review. Please feel free to reuse the words here for your own book review. As you will see, my coverage will work for just about any knitting book you dislike, while keeping you out of the courts and the prison system! Furthermore, I give everyone blanket permission to blatantly copy everything written below in perpetuity.

Fleegle's Hard-Hitting Review of                                                                  , by                                           , available from                                             , 2009.

The title of this book is very descriptive of the contents, but the designer's taste leaves something to be desired. I've never seen anything quite like these finished objects, which are actually not intrinsically ugly. However, the designer's choices of yarn and color transformed the plebeian patterns into a chaotic visual jumble.

The body text font is a very thin, condensed typeface, making it difficult to read and even more difficult to follow the directions. The color plates, paper, and binding are very attractive. Nice job, printers!

The book has a table of contents, an index, and a bunch of designs in between. I won't tell you how many there are, because you might figure out which book I am talking about and notify the designer. In turn, the designer would contact a lawyer and I would be sued for libel. Let's just say that there are more than five and fewer than 100.

I noted that most of the patterns could be found for free on Ravelry, and would most definitely benefit from your own personal and tasteful choice of color and yarn. I am not going to tell you what kinds of patterns we are talking about, because again, you might guess the book and I would be sued. The patterns are definitely all knitted, most with worsted weight yarn. Some patterns were knitted with other yarns, but I am not going to furnish any more details, except to say that you will need some knitting needles to complete them. A few stitch markers would be a good idea, too.

So, to conclude, unless you are a fan of visual hysteria, I discourage you from purchasing this book.

And with that, I leave you until next time, when I shall present photographs of an actual finished lacy sweater, knitted and photographed by me, and completed this very day.

Mind Boggler of the Day

I rarely comment on news items, but these two blips are beyond ludicrous. The PRS is the British equivalent of the RIAA, who, we assume, will surely adopt these Draconian regulations in an effort to squeeze the last penny out of anyone dumb enough to hum in public.

PRS Threatens Woman For Playing Radio To Her Horses Without Paying A Licensing Fee

PRS's Latest Trick: Demanding Money From Shop Assistant Who Was Singing At Work

Terrible Tuesday

It has not been the best of days. The early morning hours were spent writing begging, whining eloquent, pursuasive letters to an assortment of accounting departments that owe me back pay.

Having completed this distasteful task, I moved on to the Project of the Day, namely a test knit so hideous that Laptop scuttles out of the room (hissing) whenever I remove the thing from its lightproof bag. To add insult to injury, the supplied yarn's texture rivals that of steel wool, but is not quite as soft.

I unpacked the magenta, yellow, orange, turquoise, and black yarns, donned my sunglasses and Kevlar gloves, and knit two rows (actually I knit one row and purled one row) of the convoluted, confusing directions painstakingly deciphered from the blurry scan of tightly packed, faint type.

Whoops. I am instructed to attach C, then knit some rows with D and F. Except why did I attach C? Removes sunglasses and gloves, emails the designer. Replaces project into lightproof bag and stuffs into closet.

Moving on to the Alternate Project of the Day, I unpacked the printer I was asked to review for a World Famous Techie Magazine. Too bad paper and ink cartridges were not supplied. Poked at the buttons for a few minutes and discovered that the printer has the unfortunate feature of Speech. Does anyone want a talking printer? After listening for a few minutes (Hi! My name is Phil and I'll be your printer today!), I resisted the urge to shoot the little elecronic creep in the USB port and began the Alternate Alternate Project of the Day.

Fortunately, this project actually went quite smoothly after the initial cast-ons, which featured long tails that were too short. I see from the pattern that I need 200 yards of yarn. I have 198 yards. What are the odds of having enough yarn for the last row?

Find out next time, because I am afraid to fire up the camera. It can talk to the printer.

Pearly Whites

The weather is lovely here in Costa Rica, but apparently, it's a bit nippy back in the US and other Northern climes. So, despite the fact that we are prancing around in shorts, many of you may appreciate seeing (and knitting) a Really Warm Hat.







The pattern is Susan Pandorf's Gotham hat, which I modified because I used heavier yarn than the original. I happened to have some Yubina Chunky cashmere and a bit of Richmore Count 10 mohair, so I worked them together to make a fluffy, warm little head cover. I omitted the final repeat and altered the stitch count to make the hat fit my head (a practical concept I try to use often).

I wanted to decorate the hat with some beady stuff, but I didn't want pounds of pearls on my head, so I bought some cheap plastic pearls from Michaels and sewed them on afterward. The holes in the pearls were too small to thread on the yarn during construction.

In Other News...

We originally came down to Costa Rica for a bit of medical work and a lot of sightseeing, but our trip didn't work out exactly as planned (as usual). Instead of frolicking in the rain forests and ogling indigenous animal life, I spent most of it in a San Jose hospital.

I can tell you that, while the hospital was fabulous (and accepts Blue Cross/Blue Shield), I was unable to knit, thanks to the plentiful IVs that adorned both arms. In fact, even though I couldn't do anything with knitting needles (Enough already with the needles!), I did sort of resemble of skein of yarn. The knitless weeks turned out to be a good thing, because I was down to a single skein of sock yarn. And folks, there is not a single yarn store in the entire country.

Several lovely people offered to send me yarn--thank you all for your generosity!

We are returning home Wednesday where I shall bury my face in my stash for a few hours and pick up my needles (knitting, not IV) once more. I do have something exquisitely lovely to show you next time, so please come back and enjoy.

And no, before you ask, Harry was totally useless. He picked up a karaoke gig in a local bar, where his Japanese renditions of popular favorites were greeted with wild enthusiasm. He did visit the hospital several times, only to be chased around by nurses wielding tightly wrapped tortillas. He also took my lonely skein of sock yarn with him on his last visit, noting that I couldn't knit, so why waste it? Little heartless creep.

Adding Insult to Injury

The Original Stash Configuration:




The injury:



The insult:



The response:


Have a wonderful New Year, everyone!

Ninjin: The Killer Rabbit

Fleegle is out sick again this week--felled by a nasty broccoli bronchial infection. Fortunately for my faithful readers, I don't have any broccoli bronchi, so I offered to fill in. I am so thoughtful, considerate, brave, trustworthy, loyal, friendly courteous, helpful, friendly, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent!

I've been resting on my laurels since my last fantastic creation (Lavori #5, page 14)... well, actually, I've been resting on my waterbed...but you get the idea that I am resting.

Anyway, since fleegle is currently incapable of decided which part of a dpn is the working end, I thought I would introduce you to the newest member of the household:


As you can see, Ninjin (carrots, in Japanese) is fairly fearsome. The other day I pointed him at a fruit fly in the kitchen and the next thing you know, he cuddled the buzzy little irritant to death. Ninjin will be on his way to Japan soon, where he will become the Chief Enforcer in Tonya-san's household.

Bon Voyage, Ninjin!*

And folks, keep those cards and letters coming!

*This pattern can be found on page 8 of Ondori Organic Cotton Knitting, ISBN 978-4-277-17190-8. I think it's out of print, because I can't find it anywhere. The yarn used was Classic Elite Yarns Premiere, one skein of lavender with bits of purple and orange for the eyes, nose, and tail.

A Small Pause...

Hello, my faithful fans! This post is being plinked on the keyboard by Harry, your incredibly talented knitter, karaoke virtuoso, and ever humble Giant Spider.

I am sorry to announce that fleegle is not feeling very well. I even returned her Holz & Stein ebony needles and lowered the volume on my karaoke machine, but even those magnificent sacrifices didn't perk her up.

She assures me that she will resume her mildly entertaining blog posts within a few weeks. It was a bit difficult to get precise information from the doctors, because they all ran screaming out of the examining room when I hopped onto the desk to ask a few questions. Bunch of twits, if you ask me.

In the meantime, she said to tell you to all to keep posting eye candy for her enjoyment.

An eight-legged salute to you all!

--Harry

Idle Hands...

...can make silly pets!


Join the fun! Download the free pattern here.

All That Ends Well...

Thursday. Two rows of Hyrna Herborgar left to finish.

4:45 am: Fix cup of coffee and sit down at kitchen table. Sip coffee. Sigh with utter contentment. Pick up Hyrna and knit two stitches.

4:46 am: Hear frantic squeaking and thumping in the dining room.

4:47 am: Separate cat from adorable little bunny rabbit. Bunny hops frantically around the living room caroming off windows, furniture, and fragile pottery. Cat hops frantically in my arms.

4:48 am: Yell for spouse, who tears down stairs in the altogether. Cat and I watch spouse chase bunny around the house with a colander and cookie sheet. (Note to self: Next time, grab camera instead of cat).

5:02 am: Spouse flops colander on top of bunny, slides cookie sheet underneath bunny, and removes squeaking animal from house.

5:04: am: Release cat, bandage arm, wipe bloodstains off cat, replace shredded nightgown. Remove bunny fur from furniture and spouse. Sweep up shattered pottery.

5:30 am: Resume position at kitchen table. Pick up Hyrna. Knit three stitches.

5:32 am: Oven timer beeps. And beeps. And beeps. Oven panel flashes an F1 error code.

5:40 am: Flip off oven circuit breaker and leave message on repairman's answering machine.

5:45 am: Resume position at kitchen table. Make fresh cup of coffee. Pick up Hyrna.

6:15 am: Finish row. Turn knitting. Knit 1 stitch.

6:16 am: Aliens land in back yard.

7:00 am: Finish printing out MapQuest directions to White House and give to aliens.

7:01 am: Pick up empty bottles of Romulan Ale tossed into the pachysandra by aliens.

7:30 am: Resume position at kitchen table. Check in on Ravelry.

9:00 am: Finish replying to numerous hysterical and/or angry postings about several tempests in a molehill. Or mountains in a teapot. Either mixed metaphor is an excellent description.

9:01 am: Pick up Hyrna and knit two stitches. Spouse wanders into kitchen and makes noise. Drop stitches.

10:00 am: Pick up stitches, perform successful stitch count, and knit three stitches.

10:01 am: House cleaner arrives and flips on the Vacuum Cleaner of Doom.

10:02 am: Pack up Hyrna and do actual, for-pay work.

2:35 pm: Spouse takes cat to vet for annual shots, House cleaner gives one final vrooom and exits.

2:36 pm: Resume position at kitchen table and pick up Hyrna. Finish row.

3:30 pm: Pick up crochet hook and begin binding off.

3:45 pm: Spouse returns with highly annoyed cat. Drop stitches.

4:00 pm: Fix dropped stitches. Delete hate mail from Ravelry mailbox.

4:20 pm: Flock of frolicking dragons land in front yard, torching hydrangeas.

4:22 pm: Chase dragons out of yard with fire extinguisher.

5:02 pm: Clean up dragon rubble. Replace smoke-damaged t-shirt. Notice alien ship teetering precariously in prize Japanese maple.

5:35 pm: Finish printing out directions to Kremlin because White House refused aliens entry (more than 3 ounces of shampoo in gift box). Give aliens several plastic trash bags and instructions for use.

6:45 pm: Finish Hyrna and pin out.

7:30 pm: Sit down to write blog post.

7:31 pm: Harry turns on karaoke machine and begins a horrific rendition of "I Like The Nightlife" (Alicia Bridges).

7:32 pm: Rip karaoke machine plug out of wall. Chase annoying spider with can of Raid. Spider tweaks pins out of Hyrna and tosses said pins into waterbed.

7:34 pm: Carefully tweeze pins out of waterbed. Patch holes.

9:00 pm. Re-pin Hyrna.

10:10 pm: Take photos.











Pattern: Hyrna Herborgar

by Sigridur Halldorsdottir from Thrihyrnur og langsjol / Three-cornered and long shawls

Needles: Size #4
Yarn: Hamanaka Parfait (55% mohair, 45% silk), 1 ball each white, black, light gray, dark gray

Frog, Froggier, Froggiest

The past week brought a new low in my knitting adventures. I cast on a variety of designs, frogged them, cast on a few more experiments, and frogged those as well. Finally, I cast down my knitting needles and went off in search of Something Different.

As you will see, Something Different turned out to be crochet. Many years ago, my mother gave me intensive instruction. However, my crochet exercises revolved around floofy stuff like doilies, pillowcase edgings, and a few mohair shawls that were foisted onto elderly friends who were always complaining of the cold.

While I was going through my piles of lace that were ultimately donated to the Lacis Museum, I ran across a ruffled doily (shudder) that I made when I was about 12 years old. I sneaked it into the donation pile and shipped it off to San Francisco (ha, ha Mary Francis! You're stuck with it now!).

I hadn't touched a crochet hook, other than to bind off a knitted edging, until this week.


This adorable pattern was perfect for a refresher--each one took about an hour to make. You can find the superb, detailed instructions here, should you decide to follow in my tottering footsteps.

The green yarn is Noro something-or-other, and the rest of the frog was made with pink and white Cascade 220. I have to say that three minutes into working with Noro, my hands started to itch with a ferocity usually reserved for a terminal case of poison ivy. I also wasn't thrilled with the knots that appeared every 10 yards. Yes. No kidding. No wonder the yarn was relegated to the Whatsis Bin.

As I brushed away the weird vegetable matter that continually shed from the yarn, I was reminded of a little episode that took place a few years ago in Yuzawaya (a Japanese craft store). I was poking at a small pile of Noro and I heard a voice behind me whisper "tatami," followed by a spate of giggles. After a few minutes, I deduced that the saleslady was trying to tell me that the yarn was made from old carpet remnants and discarded tatami mats!*

I admit that the colors are so lovely that they almost make up for the texture, which is why I have three skeins of the stuff in the Whatsis bin.

While I was indulging myself in utter silliness, Harry was beavering away on his Bling shawl. He flipped me the bird a picture of his progress as he pranced off to his hip-hop dance class. Much as I hate to say it, the border is coming along nicely.



*Tatami mats are a type of Japanese floor covering made from tightly woven rice straw.