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Wild (Cat) Kingdom

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Dear Ann, I love this #helpfulknittingcats thing that you and your fellow cat fanciers have started. You know what I love about cats? They’re so diverse. There are fluffy cats. There are not-so-fluffy cats, with ears like tulips. There is the Lord of the Fluffy Cats, Loki. (Scroll down. You can’t miss him.) There are discriminating cats in formal attire. I certainly enjoy sharing knitting time with my own cat. Gosh, I’m a...

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You’re Invited: A Walk in the Park

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Dear all intrepid knitters, Suppose you find yourself at a large knitting convention in New York City on the weekend of January 15-17, and you’re wondering what to do with yourself at 7:30 am on a Sunday morning with a pile of handknits on and no place to go. WE HAVE A SOLUTION FOR YOU. Come join us for a walk in the park! The greatest of parks! Central Park! This unprecedented ramble will feature a) fresh air that will range from brisk...

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Knitting Aphorisms Revisited

Dear Ann, Last night was a dark night of the knitting soul. As I was doing the final (500+-stitch) rounds of Quadrature, I had to consult the pattern again to read the bit about some increases required only in the final rows of the B cables. (The B cables are the ones on the sides; the A cables are the ones on the corners. They are the same. OR SO I THOUGHT.) This was when I discovered, with a kind of handheld-camera, horror-flick terror, that I...

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Vivi’s Sweater

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Dear Ann, This is Vivi. Vivi is a Papillon puppy belonging to Gail, whom I met on Twitter.  (I was trying to complete my set of all possible spellings of the name Gail.) The red sweater belongs to Vivi’s elderly sister Mitzi. Mitzi’s  sweater is 15 years old. Gail wanted it copied for Vivi. I wanted to copy it for my own purposes, so I took it on.  As you do. How hard could it be? With some help from Belinda of True Brit Knits,...

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Tails of the City

Dear Ann, Some days, I am especially grateful that we have a blog. What do people without blogs do, when something weird and kind of cool happens to them? I guess they have to take their chances with the Metropolitan Diary at the New York Times. Here goes. Scene: Central Park, 8-ish a.m. Dramatis personae/canae: Me/my Olive, my pal Lisa/her Artie Walking along the path to the Dog-Friendly Caffeine Stop, I spy a collar on the ground and pick...

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