It’s Furious Balancing

If you look closely, you’ll see a woolly bear caterpillar between the pawsitude.

And, just because I haven’t thrown a meme in here in so long, and because I’m sure you’re just dying to know what kind of yarn I am…

What kind of yarn are you?

You are Mohair.You are a warm and fuzzy type who works well with others, doing your share without being too weighty. You can be stubborn and absolutely refuse to change your position once it is set, but that’s okay since you are good at covering up your mistakes. Take this quiz! Quizilla | Join | Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Once again, I cannot get the spacing right on these “copy and paste” meme thingies.

I recall what one of the nuns at St. Tom’s used to say: “You have other gifts.”

Alas, my Knitting Cautionary Tale…

While slogging along on my Tempting Sweater, I discovered that my 60 rows of 2 x 2 ribbing on my Second Sleeve were much shorter than my 60 rows of 2 x 2 ribbing on my First Sleeve. I counted the rows twice, re-counted the stitches, and was puzzled until The Husband pointed out to me that the shorter sleeve was also narrower than the longer sleeve. A puzzlement, until it dawned on me that there was a difference in size between my needles.

Now, this is going to sound like I’m an idiot — or completely blind — but let’s discuss the Nature of the Beast.

The Tempting Sweater is designed so that you knit the body of the sweater (in the round) from the bottom up until you reach the underarm seam (where you join the sleeves to the body). You knit the two sleeves separately and then, in one fell swoop of knitterly genius, attach them to the body and continue knitting the sweater yoke in one continuous piece (with the sleeves now attached) on the large circular needle that you used to knit the body. Basically, you make the three pieces into one big piece.

This requires two sets of double pointed needles, one for each sleeve, since Sleeve One is just sitting there on its double points until you finally get your butt in gear and finish Sleeve Two and attach everything to each other.

<heavy sigh>

The Body was done, and set aside in its 2-gallon Ziploc baggie. The First Sleeve was done and went to keep the Body company in the aforementioned baggie. The Second Sleeve and the First Sleeve did not meet up for comparison purposes until after the Second Sleeve was finished.

So, I wasn’t aware of the difference in gauge until I finished the Second Sleeve, took the First Sleeve out of the aforementioned baggie, and noticed that there was Something Very Wrong Indeed.

I looked at the needles. I took out my Handy Needle Sizing Thing that I inherited from my Grandmother and everything.

The 8-inch Susan Bates size 8 double points are slightly larger than the 8-inch Inox size 8 double points. Seriously. Both packages were clearly labeled as a U.S. size 8, but they were completely different sizes. The Inoxes are closer to a size 7, or a 7.5, but there’s no such thing as a size 7.5, so I digress.

This isn’t the first time this has happened with regard to the Inox needles. I had bought a size 10.5 circular 24″ needle that was, according to my Handy Needle Sizing Thing, really a size 10.

<heavy sigh>

<frog frog frog frog frog>

It’s time to cast on that Damned, Bloody, Blasted Second Sleeve again. I swapped out the double points holding the First Sleeve with the Offending Mis-Sized German Inoxes – now relegated to duty as Mere Stitch Holders. Ha! — and am ready to start anew.

Well, start anew after I finish my morning coffee, that is.

This was a recent entry on icanhascheezburger.com

 

Tomorrow I shall regale you with a Cautionary Tale of Knitting, Gauge, European-Made Coated Needles, and Frogging Nine Inches of a Sweater Sleeve.

Or maybe I’ll crawl under the bedclothes and pretend it was all a bad dream.

I can definitely detect an upswing in my post-equinox mood. Things are, indeed, looking up.

You should be familiar, by now, with my opinion of the months of June, July, and August. Michigan summers are ghastly. Day after day of feeling like a wet, wrung-out gym towel, all the days melting into a shapeless, undifferentiated mass of heat and humidity.

For all of you (misguided) people mourning the passing of summer – bite me. I am moving into a Michigan Autumn. Days of Crisp Purpose and Contrast. Brisk has always been one of my favorite adjectives to describe this time of year. Bracing, blessedly cool days when my brain switches to the “on” position and I finally feel like Doing Things.

Time for visual aids. To me, summer looks like this:

Autumn, on the other hand, looks like this:

I strongly encourage you go go and look at this photographer’s web site. He has some phenomenal photographs of Ann Arbor autumn color. Right now, the leaves are just on the verge of turning. In two or three more weeks, it will be stinkin’ gorgeous around here.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird, I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. — George Eliot

 

It is finished! I wound up using three skeins of the KnitPicks Swish Superwash (color = Fired Brick). After blocking, the scarf was 5 inches wide and 70+ inches long.

I must admit that I am not completely enamored with this yarn. It was easy to work with, and had great stitch definition, but I discovered that it lost its memory when washed. After knitting, it was 4 inches wide and 58 inches long. When blocked, it was 5 inches wide and 70-some inches long, and I didn’t stretch the scarf when I was pinning it. I would hesitate to make anything fitted with this, like a sweater.

Now that this is done, I can move back to my Tempting sweater in the fuchsia Malabrigo. I cast on the second sleeve during my lunch break on Friday, and I’m about 10 rows into the 60 needed before I join all the pieces together. I’m still up in the air as to whether or not I will put the Dorky Bow on it. I did go ahead and buy some 7/8-inch white organdy ribbon, but the bow part of it looks… dorky. Yes, four years at a private, liberal arts college majoring in English Lit and dorky is the only adjective that springs to mind.

The other current project on the needles is a pair of mittens made with the KnitPicks Panache yarn. Lest you think that I’m a nutter for using KnitPicks after my disappointment in the Swish Superwash, I must say that this yarn is completely different. It’s utterly luscious — 40% baby alpaca, 20% cashmere, 20% silk, and 20% extrafine merino. I want to roll around nekkid in this stuff. Seriously. I’m thinking on doing a sweater with it at some undetermined point in the future.

But that’s a ways away. I’ve got too many other ideas for things to knit this fall/winter, and I’m going to finish what’s on the needles now before I start anything else, dammit.

I’m told this builds character.

I have determined that it is, indeed, possible to get a hangover from overindulging in books.

The Husband and I came home from our Saturday shopping to find an amazon.com box on our doorstep with Books Six and Seven of the Harry Potter series, and I vanished for the rest of the weekend, finishing Book Seven around 12:30 a.m. on Sunday night. I’m estimating 1,500 pages in less than two days.

I think I hurt myself.

I’m in the process of re-reading Book Five at the moment, and I will then go through Books Six and Seven again. Since I flew through them at the speed of sound, I’m certain I missed many details. Plot, for instance.

A few (spoiler-free) observations:

• The Harry Potter fans — the ones I know both on the Internet and in Real Life — have been fabulous. Several people commented how they wished they could be reading the books again for the first time since they remembered how exciting it all was. They never talked about spoilers, and if they were posting online, they gave ample warning they were about to do so, like STOP READING NOW. Part of their fun in sharing the story with me was watching as the plot revealed itself and I put the pieces together or speculated on the fates of certain characters. I know I amused one of my co-workers no end with my hypotheses on Dumbledore and Snape.
  
• My favorite Hogwart’s student was Neville Longbottom. Even though I hate to say this (because it’s such a trite expression), he definitely “grew” the most during the course of the seven books. In terms of my least favorite, I would have to say Pansy Parkinson in Slytherin House, mainly because she seemed more like a cardboard cutout than a real character to me. I mean, we were offered little glimpses of the personality or family life of other minor characters (Lee Jordan, Seamus, Dean), but we only saw Pansy laughing maliciously at other students.
  
• I haven’t quite figured out Snape yet. I knew by Book Four that there was more to him than meets the eye, and I was surprised by the revelations in Book Seven about him as a young boy, but there are still missing pieces. I’m sure those missing pieces are all in the text; that’s just what happens when I read so quickly. I’m thinking he would qualify as my favorite Hogwart’s professor. McGonagall and Hagrid were cool in their own way, but Snape had a certain je ne sais qua.
  

• Ravenclaw needed a better representative than Luna Lovegood. It’s not that Luna was a bad example; I just don’t recall seeing a Ravenclaw student that exemplified their House’s emphasis on intellect. I was always sorted into Ravenclaw in the umpteen online quizes/memes I took.

The sorting hat says that I belong in Ravenclaw!



Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose intelligence is surest.”

Ravenclaw students tend to be clever, witty, intelligent, and knowledgeable.
Notable residents include Cho Chang and Padma Patil (objects of Harry and Ron’s affections), and Luna Lovegood (daughter of The Quibbler magazine’s editor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

 

Hogwarts Sorting Hat: Based on Myers-Briggs Personality Typing

 

You are a RAVENCLAW!As a Ravenclaw and as an NTP, you are intellectual, independent, and value excellence in yourself and in those around you. You have a strong sense of curiosity, and in general can see many aspects of a single issue or debate. You have a strong drive to acquire knowledge and set very high standards for yourself and those around you. You enjoy being challenged, and can accept constructive criticism without taking it personally. You are probably at least somewhat unconventional, and will not usually follow authority for its own sake; instead, you will consider the issue at hand and make a decision for yourself.
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

In any event, it’s almost Caturday here, so that means you lucky folks get a Friday LOLCat. I’ve had this one for quite a while, but never had a reason to post it. It’s one of my all-time favorites.

Have a splendiferous Friday, cats and kittens.

I have so many LOLcats saved on my hard drive, it’s time to start sharing them on a regular basis. Most of them are from “I Can Has Cheezburger,” like this one:

Happy Furday, cats and kittens. Enjoy your weekend. I hope to have some knitting news and pictures up here soon.

I will admit, despite my earlier reservations and protestations to the contrary, that I am enjoying the Harry Potter series. “Enjoying” may be too tepid of an adjective here. Since I began the first book a few weeks ago, I will confess to:

• Pre-ordering the collectors’ edition complete boxed set of hardcovers from amazon.com (for delivery in October).
• Borrowing Book Two since I couldn’t wait until October to continue reading the series.
• Ordering copies of Books Three and Four since I couldn’t wait until October to continue reading the series.
• Re-reading Books One and Two since I flew through them on my first pass.
• After finishing Book 3, realizing that I did not, in fact, have Book Four in my possession (but that I did have Book 5, oddly enough), and then ordering Book Four for overnight delivery to my office since I couldn’t wait until October to continue reading the series.
• Staying up to all hours of the morning to finish reading the books I did have in my possession. I think I was up until 2:30 a.m. reading Book 3, and on a School Night, too! I was only up until 1:00 a.m. last night polishing off Book 5. There was no way on God’s Green Earth that I was going to go to sleep without reading the denouement after the wizard battle between Dumbledore and You-Know-Who. Nope. Nosirree.
• Cancelling the order from amazon.com for the complete set since I figured out I would have copies of all the books (and a duplicate or two) long before the set was shipped to me, then ordering copies of books Two, Six, and Seven, and no, I don’t want the shipment delayed by Super Saver Shipping, thankyouverymuch.

Needless to say, I think I’ve blown my book budget for August and September.

One of my co-workers, somewhere near the start of all this, asked me when it was that I knew I had changed my mind about reading Harry Potter. It was right around this passage, from the first book, somewhere around page 22:

Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned….

Harry knew that he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws and Tufty again.

I think it was then that I noticed and began to appreciate the wry sense of humor in these books.

Despite my bachelor’s degree in English, I find it difficult to describe why it is that I prefer some writers, and why it is that I dismiss some books and laud others. It all comes down to how well I am drawn into the story. If a book makes it possible for me to sit on my living room couch, with cat and fleece throw and bottle of soda water, and read for hours without noticing the world around me, then I consider it a good book. Similarly, if I can go to a movie and forget I’m at the movie theater (and that the popcorn is too salty and that I need to pee and why oh why did I order a large frozen Coke when I knew I was going to sitting for two hours…), then I consider it a good movie. Wholly subjective, to be sure, but I’m sticking with it.

 

[Gentle Reader -- I have the looming and ominous sensation that this is going to be a long, discursive blog post. It will be "under construction" for a while. When this notice no longer appears here, that's when I have deemed it "finished."]

I tend to filter reality with a bit more negativity than others. I hear news stories or learn about events, and my first, immediate reactions often have black borders to them. Case in point: I read on yahoo! about the mother of a missing girl formally being named as a suspect in the high-profile case in Portugal; the little girl has been missing for four months.

The press are calling it a “shocking twist.”

The first thing that went through my mind was “Well…. Duh!“

That’s the essence of it anyway. I know you’ve come to expect such erudite verbiage from me.

When I hear about crimes against children, my first thought is to look to the parents — Is there some sort of weird Munchausen’s Syndrome by Proxy (“MSbP”) Thing going on? Not the by-the-book, standard definition of MSbP (i.e., induced illness in the victim), but the vague sensation that the mother /parent has done something to the child in order to have the focus put on themselves, however indirectly. That was my opinion in the Jon Benet-Ramsey case as well, and that had all that Overlaid Weirdness with the child beauty pageants, u.s.w. I certainly can’t claim that the mother in this case is guilty or innocent. I haven’t been following it closely enough to form an opinion. I’m just a tad stunned that what I consider obvious (i.e., look to the parents) is regarded as a “shocking twist.”

Anyway, the purpose of this preamble is to show that I look at things with a darker view than others. My other illustrative example was my reaction to the rookie pitcher who threw a no-hitter in his second major league appearance. I heard that on the morning news and my first thought was “Dude, you do know it’s all downhill from now on, don’t you?”

These thoughts somehow lead to Roddy McDowall prancing around in my head singing “The Seven Deadly Virtues.”

Now, that’s not as much a reach as it sounds. If you go and look at the lyrics, you’ll see that it offers the Cynic’s View of Human Nature. Courage, Purity, Humility, Honesty, Diligence, Charity and Fidelity all get skewered.

Those lyrics lead to me waxing philosophic on the concept of Courage.

I am proud to be a cynic, and I heartedly disagree with that misquoted Oscar Wilde definition of a cynic as “a person who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.” Au contraire. A cynic does now the value of many things, and the amazing lack of those things in Real Life is perhaps what makes her cynical.

[NOTE - More to follow. I need to take a break from the machine. Stay tuned for an updated post.]

Nothing of any great moment has been going on with me. That, when combined with end-of-summer ennui, has led to the dearth of blog posts.

Not that I’m complaining. I enjoy a drama-free life; it just doesn’t generate much writing material.

I should be honest. It’s not “end-of-summer ennui.” It’s My-God-When-Will-This-End-Can-I-Come-Out-of-My-Cave-Now depression. I’m slogging through the last 100 yards of a mile-long race. Assuming I’m addressing a “normal” person — by which I mean “average” — it’s akin to how you feel in February. Spring is coming. Hope is around the corner. It’s almost, almost, almost here. Just Not Yet. Oh, and here’s another 12 inches of snow. Enjoy.

I’ll dig out from under soon, don’t fret. I have to write about knitting. I have to write about Harry Potter. Just right at this moment I need My Cave and a carton of Butterfinger ice cream.

Oh, and yarn.