Heh. Best Eurovision ever; the cheesy Finnish metalheads won, warming the cockles of my camp-loving little heart. Day of Rockening! The Arockalypse! Monsters! Giant boots! What's not to love? I especially loved the part where Terry Wogan had a bit of a meltdown when, during the point count, the queeny Dutch guy was flirting clumsily with the presenter. Jeez, Terry, what's the problem? Is the Eurovision Song Contest just a little too gay for you this year?
The problem, of course, was that in order to get to the cheesy Finnish metalheads, we had to, you know, watch Eurovision. And, as Phil so neatly put it, "Every year, I sit down thinking I'll be in for a night of ironic, sneering pleasure, and about two songs in it is just so excruciatingly bad I eventually have to flee the room."
But hey, I had a bottle of cheap plonk, so it helped take away the pain of the non-Lordi acts. Phil ran out before the whole tacky shebang started to get beer, and asked if I wanted anything. I told him to just grab me a bottle of wine, he asked what kind, and, knowing how limited the selection in our local offies is, I just told him, "Oh, something like Chardonnay. A basic white. Whatever's in the chiller cabinet." He came back with a bottle of, I shit you not, Bulgarian Chardonnay.
Ana: "Bulgarian Chardonnay?"
Phil: "They had much nicer-looking stuff, but that was the only chilled Chardonnay."
Ana: "Well, I didn't mean it that literally. I'm not even that nuts about most Chardonnays. They're kind of like the wine equivalent of Diet Coke. I just said 'Chardonnay," because I figured you'd recognise it." (He is not a wine-drinker.)
Phil: "Oh. Well I didn't know that."
Ana: "No problem. It's just Chardonnay. I wasn't expecting anything wonderful. Please tell me this cost at least two quid."
Phil: "If that."
I can report that Bulgarian Chardonnay isn't as awful as it might sound. It's a perfectly drinkable cheap white, and if it's not sending me into transports of oenophile bliss, it's getting me pleasantly buzzed. For all I know, Bulgaria may produce some truly excellent wines, and in fact, probably does. I just wouldn't expect to find one at our local Co-Op for mere pennies. And we didn't, but like I said: pleasant buzz.
More knitting has happened, but no more progress on the Hateful Cardigan of Hate. I broke down and told mom last week that it wasn't going to be done in time for her birthday, and it won't, but I will keep plugging away at it, as frequently as I can bear. I'm doing some fairly small-gauge knitting in Baby Cashmerino at the moment, and I'm surprised at how much I like it. I normally am very dubious about going much lower than 4.5 mm needles, but this is knit up mostly on 3 and 3.25 mm needles, and I am really liking it. Progress is way faster than I would've expected, and I think that's probably due to how light the needles are. I usually like hardwoods the best, but damn, bamboo is light and easy on the wrists.
As my sickness deepens, I am strongly contemplating getting into spinning. Soon, Phil is going to ask me what I want for my birthday, and I fear "a spinning wheel," is going to be my answer. Unless it's a swift and ball-winder. I probably shouldn't ask for a wheel until I've tried a drop spindle first, but oh my god, I want one. And a couple of alpacas to go with it, too. Maybe some sheep and angora bunnies. A llama. I like to think big.
Saturday 20 May 2006
Friday 19 May 2006
Baby boom
Bootees! God, bootees are adorable, and a lot of fun to knit.
No, I am not pregnant, but it seems like most of my friends are.
In my desperation to knit anything but that endless goodamn cardigan, I have been working on a series of small, fun projects that I can do very quickly, just to get that finished object buzz. These are my first bootees, and oh my god, they are so very adorable. And so very soft, being made from cashmerino superchunky. Which is also machine-washable, something I gather is kind of important when you are talking about tiny little babies who can spit up and/or excrete three times their own body weight, or so it seems to me, based on my not-very-extensive baby-sitting experience.
This may be my favourite part of having a lot of pregnant friends. I get to knit stuff and it's all very, very small, meaning, of course, I am seldom more than a day or two away from completion of most baby-related projects. There's an almost immediate payoff in knitterly satisfaction. Unlike, of course, THAT GODDAMN CARDIGAN.
Also, I get to buy small quantities of really soft, high-quality yarns, which is the cost-effective way of getting my luxury fibre jollies, not to mention being able to use up those odds and sods of fancy yarn left over from my big projects.
The big problem, though, is that those bootees are so goddamn sweet and darling that it's all I can do not to EAT them. Yum.
No, I am not pregnant, but it seems like most of my friends are.
In my desperation to knit anything but that endless goodamn cardigan, I have been working on a series of small, fun projects that I can do very quickly, just to get that finished object buzz. These are my first bootees, and oh my god, they are so very adorable. And so very soft, being made from cashmerino superchunky. Which is also machine-washable, something I gather is kind of important when you are talking about tiny little babies who can spit up and/or excrete three times their own body weight, or so it seems to me, based on my not-very-extensive baby-sitting experience.
This may be my favourite part of having a lot of pregnant friends. I get to knit stuff and it's all very, very small, meaning, of course, I am seldom more than a day or two away from completion of most baby-related projects. There's an almost immediate payoff in knitterly satisfaction. Unlike, of course, THAT GODDAMN CARDIGAN.
Also, I get to buy small quantities of really soft, high-quality yarns, which is the cost-effective way of getting my luxury fibre jollies, not to mention being able to use up those odds and sods of fancy yarn left over from my big projects.
The big problem, though, is that those bootees are so goddamn sweet and darling that it's all I can do not to EAT them. Yum.
Wednesday 10 May 2006
wooly madness
OK. OK. I HAVE A PROBLEM, ALL RIGHT?
But do you seriously know how hard it is to find Noro around here?
But do you seriously know how hard it is to find Noro around here?
Tuesday 2 May 2006
I have hit a new low
Stockpiling. I have started stockpiling yarn. And what's more, I stockpiled it in a fit of irrational, possibly hormone-fueled rage, because some total do-gooding bitch revealed my secret source of extraordinarily cheap and incredibly DISCONTINUED Rowanspun. On probably the biggest knitting discussion board on these here internets. So I had to buy enough for at least one more of Phil's beloved Rowanspun Chunky sweaters, before it all disappeared FOREVER. Nevermind that I currently have at least one more sweater's worth of said yarn sitting, entombed in cellophane wrapping, right here in my study. It's discontinued, which means eventually it will all be GONE, and oh my God, then what? All Rowanspun Chunky is rightfully mine, or rather Phil's, because do you know how hard it is to make a sweater he loves as much as he loves that one? And it was my very first sweater, and it fits him just perfectly and he loves it to death, and I felt like a fucking genius when he put it on and there was not a goddamned thing wrong with it, so I am all emotionally attached to it. (God, I wish my period would just start already.) Mine. The Rowanspun Chunky is MINE, and I would appreciate it if y'all would just stay away from it. I would totally be willing to consider staying away from your favourite discontinued yarn if you would leave mine alone. Maybe. I am not a very nice person when it comes to yarn, unlike that person who, being kind and thoughtful and entirely better than me, chose to rat me out, with nothing but good intentions and knitterly camaraderie.
Ah well, at least, as mentioned, the yarn was cheap, and since I was there anyway, some Jaeger Luxury Tweed going for the ridiculous price of £1.25 a ball fell into my shopping cart, because, well, do I really need to explain why I bought enough yarn to make a whole sweater for the low, low price of £12.50? I had to buy it. 65% merino lambswool and 35% alpaca. I am physically incapable of resisting a fibre combination like that for, I repeat, £1.25 per ball.
As it turns out, I am pretty good at resisting the fibre combination in my mother's cardigan. I did really well, until Saturday night, when I just couldn't stand it anymore, and decided to use up the couple of skeins of black Cashmerino Superchunky I had leftover after making Phil's most recent sweater. I made a silly hat with earflaps, pointed kitty-style 'ears' at the top, and a really quite nifty stitch pattern that is mostly lost in the stygian black yarn, but hey, I know it's there. And it made Phil laugh and laugh when he saw me wearing it, but in that nice way he laughs when he thinks I am being adorable, and that makes me feel very loved. And in spite of my reckless refusal to knit a swatch, it came out only very slightly too big, but I don't care, because sometimes, you just have to knit a goofy hat that makes you feel good.
Ah well, at least, as mentioned, the yarn was cheap, and since I was there anyway, some Jaeger Luxury Tweed going for the ridiculous price of £1.25 a ball fell into my shopping cart, because, well, do I really need to explain why I bought enough yarn to make a whole sweater for the low, low price of £12.50? I had to buy it. 65% merino lambswool and 35% alpaca. I am physically incapable of resisting a fibre combination like that for, I repeat, £1.25 per ball.
As it turns out, I am pretty good at resisting the fibre combination in my mother's cardigan. I did really well, until Saturday night, when I just couldn't stand it anymore, and decided to use up the couple of skeins of black Cashmerino Superchunky I had leftover after making Phil's most recent sweater. I made a silly hat with earflaps, pointed kitty-style 'ears' at the top, and a really quite nifty stitch pattern that is mostly lost in the stygian black yarn, but hey, I know it's there. And it made Phil laugh and laugh when he saw me wearing it, but in that nice way he laughs when he thinks I am being adorable, and that makes me feel very loved. And in spite of my reckless refusal to knit a swatch, it came out only very slightly too big, but I don't care, because sometimes, you just have to knit a goofy hat that makes you feel good.
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