Here’s how bad it is: I ran into a civilian reader of the blog, somebody who is a) a male and b) does not knit. (No, I don’t know what’s bringing him here except maybe he’s a Jack White fan? Loves felted containers? Looking to meet women?)
Before “Hello” or “My, you’re looking even more like Julia Roberts than usual today,” he says, “So. Are you just not writing the blog anymore?”
Ach, such a backlog of bloggery! So sorry! Maybe it was because during the Thanksgiving holiday, we had this one scooting around the floor with one leg under her, one leg doing the business:
She looked like the world’s most adorable hermit crab. When we raced, she totally kicked my butt.
Maybe it was because my father left his new karaoke machine at our house. [Let’s pause to consider how a 75-year-old man has a new karaoke machine in his life.] Leaving a karaoke machine around the house results in things like:
Grandmother singing “New York, New York” just loud enough, but not loud enough to wake up our newest fambly member.
A three-year-old’s rendition of “Happy Birthday” that included all ten of the verse repeats included on the karaoke disk.
Hubbo and Ann singing “Golden Ring.”
Both George Jones and (omg I just killed George Jones–sorreeee!) Tammy Wynette raised from the dead to yank the power cord from the wall, disrupt the Davidson County power grid, anything to stop this desecration. My chief problem, other than singing in general, was finding myself drifting off into the harmony backup vocal. Hubbo kept waving frantically at me, mouthing “Melody! Sing the MELODY!”
Speaking of Lazarus
You may or may not recall the Print o’ the Wave shawl I was working on back in October. (To be honest, I can’t always recall what you’re working on except that it generally includes a dozen or two of whatever it is. How do you achieve such QUANTITY? What is your evil secret?) Anyway, when we last visited this project, this is where things stood. About 80 yards shy of a shawl. I was so disgusted that I left the thing in the exact same place for four weeks. Couldn’t even touch it. It literally gathered dust.
My efforts at locating a new guinea-pig-sized skein of Blue Heron Mercerized Cotton were limping at best. I like to think I can track down any skein of yarn, in any dye lot, at any time. I pride myself on this–it’s like scavenger hunting, or a road rally, or knowing how to find good shoes at T.J. Maxx. There’s a lot of yarn in the world; a woman ought to know where to find the yarn she needs.
I did the obvious thing, which was to call the shop where I got the yarn. No luck. At that point I figured, hell, this is such an obscure yarn that if Seaport Yarn doesn’t have it, it simply doesn’t exist.
As week 5 of my shawl boycott approached, I decided that this stale old shawl wasn’t going to finish itself, and I’d already sunk a fair portion of my life into it, and I would actually like to wear the thing at some point. So I did the thing that I never do, which was to call the yarn maker directly and throw myself on their mercy. In yarn scavenging, this is considered downright cheating–anybody can call the yarn company and drive them crazy asking for Lot 104 of Shade 38 you know the tealy one with the golden highlights? Yarn makers have retail outlets just to avoid this sort of unpleasant phone call.
But get this: I called up Blue Heron Yarns, which from what I understand is a pretty intimate little operation, said, “Hi. Do you have a skein of Bluegrass Mercerized Cotton?” and the nice woman on the line said “Yes, we have one skein left” and I said “Great!” and zipzap we did a deal.
Raised from the dead, Eunny’s shawl is back on track.
The second skein of Mercerized Cotton does not match the first. Not all that close. But at least now this thing will HAVE a border.
I have a newfound excitement about blocking this thing. I’m on pins and needles. I can’t wait. When’s the last time I’ve had a full-out lace blocking? It’s like CHRISTMAS or something.
Or maybe I should abandon this thing altogether. Look at that Ozlike message right there in the middle of this picture. YIKES!