Here's hoping this one works.

Dear Washable Markers,

Hi. We met at my PIC's house a couple of months ago. I was the one with the polka-dotted baby quilt who kind of didn't want to meet you, and ended up using you to draw the lines on the quilt so I could sew my quilting lines straight. Remember me? Yeah. I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I seemed stand-offish that day. I think I owe you an explanation for my cool exterior.

I'm sure you've met women like me before -- women who've been in relationships with other marking tools and then show up to a new tool with an "attitude" or whatever. Well, it's not you or anything -- I mean, you say right on your package that I can trust you -- it's just that I've had relationships with lots of other marking tools, and they have been challenging. Really, really challenging.

I know some tools get jealous when women talk about their exes, but I think without a frank talk about what went wrong and what went right, we're doomed to failure. So, given that you seem like you care about winning, I'm gonna give you the highlights. I think we might then be able to move ahead with a shared sense of understanding and purpose. Don't you think? I do.

So. OK. This guy:

This guy was really sharp, and I had lots of hope for the relationship because of that. But turns out sharp isn't everything. I tried so hard to make it work with him, but it was just a mess. Literally, a dirty, smudgy mess. He eventually ran out of lead. I ran out of patience. And I moved on. I don't want a mess. So sue me.

These guys:

I was with these guys in the early days. You know the kind: All enthusiastic in the beginning, trotting out all the fun colors, talking about how soft and versatile they are. Yeah. Well. They disappear. They disappear, and then when you go back to them, they make all these promises to stick around again. And guess what? They fucking disappear again. They are the reason Quiltie and I are having trouble to this day. Thanks a lot, Chacopel Fine. Thanks, but no thanks.

And then there was this one:

This one really broke my heart. Hera was her name. Some people I really trust set me up with her and gave her glowing reviews. "She's incredibly tidy -- no mess at all -- and she sticks around," they said. Only problem was, I couldn't see her. We made marks together, and yet, try as I might, it was such a struggle to be at the right angle, in the right light. I would've had to get reading glasses or something to make it work. I suppose I was simply too old for her. Sad, really. She was perfectly lovely, and I know she'll make someone else very, very happy.

So, I'm giving you a try, Washable Markers. I can certainly go without marking tools and free-hand my quilting; I started this latest baby quilt exactly that way, in fact. But I think having a nice, effective marking tool to help guide me through these circles will be a nice thing.

Just don't fuck me over by not washing out.

(If you don't wash out, mister, there will be hell to pay, I assure you.)

(Hell!)

Sincerely,
Dr. B.

Of borders and backings

Quilt top (on over-sized batting) you've seen before.

ME (on the phone with my Partner-In-Crime): I finished the quilt top for that baby quilt.
PIC: That's so exciting!
ME: Now I just have to figure out how to finish the whole thing.
PIC: That is not at all exciting.
ME: I know, right?
PIC: Right.
ME: Oh, shit. I think I have to make borders for it.
PIC: Why?
ME: Otherwise the blocks will just run right into the edge, and it'll look fucked up. And I think you're supposed to do it for stability maybe, too. I don't know.
PIC: What does the pattern say?
ME: There is no pattern, really. I just got the Rail Fence block pattern from this site that has a million quilt block patterns on it.
PIC: Hmm.
ME: And I wasn't really thinking about the borders part.
PIC: I don't know what to tell you.
ME: At first I was thinking I could just do the birthing thing and be done with it, like I did with that last baby quilt.

Finished baby quilt you've never seen before.

PIC: That looked really good. Do that.
ME: That was different, though. That was just two pieces of fabric stuck together, and this is a bunch of pieced blocks. I don't think it'll look right if I just sew the back to it.
PIC: But it would be quicker.
ME: Yes. It would. But--
PIC: You know what I'd do.
ME: Grrrr.

As you might imagine, I tried approximately twenty-nine solutions to this "finishing" dilemma, starting with trying to find the right fabric for the back of the quilt. I bought an orange-colored fabric and immediately hated it (too slippery), ordered an espresso-colored fabric (not slippery, but way too dark for a baby quilt), bought yet another fabric -- flannel this time ("too thin for quilts," said the Internet Genius Pool. Note: While I am very grateful for the IGP, I wish they'd been with me at the store. Woulda been nice, IGP, is all I'm saying).

I almost gave up at this point. Really. Almost.

But I kept at it.

I took lots of deep breaths and tried a different approach. Instead of focusing on the back of the quilt, which I just couldn't figure out, I tried to figure out the borders for the front.

OK. Now, this would be cute! The ruler is really cute for a kid -- kids like numbers, right? -- and the orange of the "64" will bring out the orange in the quilt! Yay!

Oh. Wait. That actually looks like shit.

ME (on the phone again. staring at the quilt): Dude. I cannot figure this out.
PIC: You'll figure it out. And it'll look great.
ME: Why are you mocking me? I am so going to ruin this whole thing.
PIC: You are not. Don't be ridiculous.
ME: You don't know. I could totally ruin all this work.
PIC: Good lord, lady.
ME: Grrrr.

My PIC is right about quite a few things in life. She is very clear that: (1) when stressed out, always consider directing the anger outward not inward ("Why suffer more?"), (2) when feeling twitchy, strongly consider using pharmaceuticals ("Why suffer more?"), and (3) when thinking you're going to ruin something, remember that you're not actually going to ruin anything ("It's crafting.").

I did, eventually, figure it out.

From each of the fabrics, I cut long strips that, when finished, would each be half the width of the strips in the main body of the quilt (finished strip widths were 2" in the blocks and 1" in the border).

And then -- riding the high of what appeared to be a border-making success -- I took that slippery orange fabric that I'd originally hated and birthed that quilt like no quilt had ever been birthed before.

And what do you know? I haven't ruined it yet.

(Please note: I still have to machine-quilt it. Still plenty of time for ruining. Er, I mean, directing my rage outward and taking some tranquilizers.)

Pincushion

You know how when you haven't seen a friend in a long while and lots of things have happened in your life that you want to share, but there are so many things that it's actually kind of paralyzing, so you procrastinate and never make plans with the friend because it's too overwhelming, even though you want to see them and share the stuff real bad?

No?

That's just me?

OK. So be it.

I think my delays in posting are related to how many finished items I'd like to share, and I also want to tell you about my fancy sewing machine. And. And. And. I haven't posted.

So, in the interest of keeping things moving, I'm gonna go with simplicity. (I've gotta start somewhere.)

I made a pincushion.

It's made of small scrapules of fabric.

It has embroidery floss wrapped around it.

It isn't as poofy as the pattern recommended.

I refrained from over-stuffing because, in the photo in the book, it looked like the pincushion was literally bursting at the seams. (My PIC and I couldn't figure out why a photo showing those flaws would make the final draft of a book. But what do we know? Do we have a book out? No. Well then. I should just shut it. ...Do you hear that? It's me. Shutting it.)

Pattern: Kelly's Pincushion. From Last-Minute Patchwork + Quilted Gifts.
Fabrics: Broadcloth-weight fabrics (again, to help minimize the chances of seam-bursting).
Floss: DMC embroidery floss in some crimson color.
Pins: Clover Flower Head Straight Pins.
Sewing machine: Waffle-maker 3000.

I think we've taken a nice first step here, people. I'm optimistic. Creaky and slow-moving, but optimistic.

An apology, an admission, and an invitation

Apology: So sorry it's been so long since my last post!

Admission: I went back into that store. OK. Sure. Yes. I vowed to never set foot in there again, but it seemed foolish to stand on ceremony when my PIC needed some yarn to finish a project, and we were right there! Good news for me -- there were no familiar faces, we were in and out of there in exactly three minutes, and nothing was purchased. Bad news for my PIC -- nothing was purchased. While they didn't have what she needed, I did manage to spy some Manos that I am going to buy elsewhere. Ha HA! See there! Elsewhere! I also saw some little cupcake pincushions that were super cute, but they were not thirty-two dollars cute, and that's what those bitches were selling for. Nope. Thank you kindly, but hell nope.

Invitation: My sidekick and I are going away for the week of Thanksgiving, starting tomorrow. While we're gone, I want you to have things to read (or re-read), and it just so happens that there is one "eavesdropping" post for each day I'm away. Isn't that handy? If it so pleases you, come on back each day for a little trip down memory lane. I've made a little schedule just for you. (Don't let this limit you. Please. Feel free to wander about as well.)

Friday: None of my beeswax
Saturday: These are the people in my neighborhood
Sunday: How the week went from Whee! to Meh. back to Whee! again
Monday: That eavesdropping from the other night
Tuesday: Overheard at the fancy supermarket
Wednesday: Overheard at Crate and Barrel
Thursday: Our trip to the so-called craft store
Friday: Overheard at lunch today

I will check in from time to time, as I am able. I may also have some kind of haul when I return, if history repeats itself.

Please know that this Thanksgiving, I am truly grateful for each of you.

Peace and love,
Dr. B.

Finished for real

There's a part of the movie Grey Gardens that lives on in our household. It's calling whatever you're wearing "the costume for today". If you haven't seen the movie, it's a documentary, and I recommend it if you're into strange and crazy people from 1975. (There was also a musical of it, I guess?) But more to the point, one of the main characters in the movie gets dressed one morning, and in evaluating its merits, she says:

This is the best thing to wear for today, you understand. Because I don't like women in skirts and the best thing is to wear pantyhose or some pants under a short skirt, I think. Then you have the pants under the skirt and then you can pull the stockings up over the pants underneath the skirt. And you can always take off the skirt and use it as a cape. So I think this is the best costume for today. (quote from imdb)

Not only do I completely agree with Little Edie that you should -- at all times -- be wearing a garment that can at any moment be converted into a cape, I also agree that you should always think carefully about what the best costume for the day might be. It was in this spirit that I blocked the green Chevron Scarf.

Last night, as I was preparing to go out to a nice, casual dinner with my Sidekick, I noticed that my costume was green and brown and missing something. I then noticed my Chevron scarf wadded up on a chair (this seems to be what I do with things I make). When I picked the scarf up to consider wearing it, it folded itself into thirds immediately, revealing itself to be an unwearable flat tube.

I stared at it. I thought about it. Then, knowing the scarf was necessary if I wanted to be wearing the best costume for today, I grabbed a damp towel and my iron, and blocked my scarf.


My PIC, who finished her Chevron Scarf long before I finished mine, warned me that "it's still gonna want to fold into thirds after you iron it, but you can just do it again later." She's right. And I might do it again later, but I can't be sure.

What I do know is this: With even the wrong side looking good,

this scarf was just what I needed for the best costume for last night. (Well, I could've worn a skirt-cape, but I didn't want to make other people at the restaurant feel bad for having inferior costumes. I'm sensitive like that.)

Let's just say it's finished. For OFTI's sake.

What's that? You thought I'd never finish the Chevron Scarf?

Me either, frankly.

But I did! Well, I mostly did.

It just needs to be blocked.

Funny. The moment I started thinking about blocking, the whole thing kinda went dark. Huh.


Pattern: Chevron Scarf from Last Minute Knitted Gifts.

Yarn: Colinette Jitterbug in Velvet Leaf and Castagna - 1 hank of each. I followed my PIC's lead on this one and just stopped once the yarn ran out. No measuring. Just "that looks fine"-ing.

Needles: Addi Turbos (Ha ha, hilarious. Imagine if I hadn't used the "turbos" how long it would've taken me) US size 5.

Modifications: I did not, as the pattern suggested, make it "at the last minute". Unless minutes are now measured in 6-month increments. If so, then I suppose I didn't make any modifications to this pattern, as it took me 6 months to complete this scarf.

Measurements: Without having blocked it and without stretching it at all, this scarf is 35"+35"+7". Why 35 plus 35 plus 7? Because I just measured it using my big quilting grid/mat thingie which only goes up to 35". Imagine my surprise when I added it up and it's just 1/2" short of what the pattern calls for! That half inch will surely appear once I get to blocking. Good one, me!

What do you think the chances are that I'll block it? I'd like to think good. After six months and all this gritching, I'd like to say there's a good chance I'll block this scarf. Although this would suggest otherwise. So it's hard to know, people. Hard to know.

Quiltie is feeling the stress

Diligence might be over-rated.

I hand-quilted two (quite giant) blocks yesterday while watching football on the TV. As a result of my rusty quilting chops, it took me the majority of the day. But! I now only have about nine giant blocks to go, out of 25 total. Not too shabby.

I won't lie. I'm proud. I'm excited. I even threw Quiltie across my bed to see if I still liked him.

And I do.

So that's good.

What's not good?

This:

See the little frayed fabric there on the left? Quiltie's coming apart at a seam. Yeah. Sad.

We've had such a rocky road, Quiltie and I, and he is prone to lashing out. But this? Really? I've been so careful with him (except for the neglect part). Coming apart at a seam. Grr.

Anyone have any ideas for a fix? Should I stick some fray check on it and make some real tiny stitches by hand to sew it back together? That's kinda all I can think of to do.

My PIC said I should just look the other way. "It never happened," she said.

My PIC is kind of a genius sometimes.

Hmm.


Hey, everybody! Great news! Quiltie's going great!!

(See what I did there? Oh, I'm good.)

Of course they did.

Photo from The Purl Bee site.

This color wheel quilt is one of the many things I've been staring at real hard in the new patchwork book. I have mixed feelings about it, and they are best expressed by the following two statements:

Ashley (and I'm paraphrasing): I want that quilt, but I don't want to have to make it.

My PIC: I also want that quilt, and I want to be able to say I made it, but there's no way in hell I'm making it.

OK. Well. I can't imagine making it either, but those enablers over at Purl are messing with my mind, man!

Look at what they've done.

They've put together bundles (or "bundules" if you'd rather) of the fabrics you'd need to make this accursed quilt, and you can just buy the whole damn thing just like that.

This photo is also from The Purl Bee site, and if you click on it, you can go straight to the page where you order them. Yes, yes. You're welcome.

You might think I'm getting kickbacks from Purl, what with my unrelenting look at this Purl thing and look at that Purl item, everybody! Nope. No kickbacks. I just do it out of love. Heartbreaking, wallet-squeezing, this-is-gonna-be-the-death-of-me love.

Starting in Japanese

Upon hearing that my PIC and I were planning to spend our Crafting Day sewing some little girl clothes from a Japanese pattern book, my PIC's sister had this to say to us:

"I'm sure you'll do a really good job, and that you won't even be able to tell you resorted to using staples and glue."

Believe me, if she hadn't been the one who brought us all that yarn from Argentina, my earrings and high-heels would've come off so fast, and it would've been on. How dare she imply we don't know what we're doing! Oh, I woulda fought her if it weren't for that yarn. (Please note: Dr. B. does not fight. Even in the face of a crafting affront. It has been said that Dr. B. keeps it classy, and classy it shall be kept. Oh. And, my PIC and I kinda don't know what we're doing.)

All that said, you can imagine how good it felt at the end of our Crafting Day to bask in the glory of our team effort: this staple-free, glue-absent toddler dress.



Holy shit, right? There's elastic in there and everything!

For a couple of sewing hacks like my PIC and me, our items were quite the spectacular achievement!

We also made pants!


There are some flaws that I am concealing here because I care for my PIC a great deal, and she would not be pleased if I aired her dirty, dirty sewing errors for all to see. You should just know there's some stuff in there that a weaker team would've stapled and/or glued.

In this process, we learned some things. We broke some things. We used some things we'd never used before. Mostly we realized we really should learn to sew. Because if we knew how to sew, the fact that the patterns were entirely in Japanese surely would not have been so painfully mind-bending.

You gotta give it to us, though. We will throw twelve obstacles in our own way and then gloat when we overcome them. Oh, we've got that bit down.

It takes two to make a thing go right

Oh, Quiltie.
Neglected for so long. Desperately needing to be re-basted and re-marked so that hand-quilting could continue.

So, so sad. Tragic, really.

Well, it was Quiltie's lucky day yesterday. It was Craft Day with my PIC!

Teamwork.

Determination.


And encouragement were the key ingredients.

My PIC and were able to do so many things yesterday that we each had been dreading.

She needed to put a new back on a quilt-in-progress. In the short term, very depressing. It meant she had to pull out hours and hours of hand-quilting; do mind-bending math; iron, measure, and cut fabric; and re-baste all the parts of the quilt sandwich together. She also had to thread the sewing machine. You can see how doing this together was superior to doing it alone. Alone? DE-moralizing. Together? Kinda fun!

Fabric FYI aside: If you're in the market for a nice solid brown (gross!) cotton, Robert Kaufman's new color Chocolate is the best brown we've found. (I tried to link to it at Purl, but looks like it's sold out; and at RK's site, the little square is so not the color.) Trust me. It's a good brown.

We did her whole thing together, then did my whole thing. She cheered me on as I re-measured and re-marked. Her "You're almost there!" and "Just one more!" really made the difference.

The Sweet, Salty, and Nutty Trek Mix didn't hurt either.

Still stumped

Crafting Day tomorrow with my PIC should help, but I gotta tell you, this creative paralysis steeeeenks. What gives?

Someday I shall tell you of my experience seeing the Yarn Harlot. Some other day I will gush about super cool people on the internet. And, I can only hold out hope that another day -- one day soon, maybe even tomorrow -- I will regale you with tales of crafting debacles.

For now, I hope it's ok that all I've got for you is a manicure I keep jacking up. I just paid perfectly good money to have someone paint my nails, apparently for the sole purpose of helping me find every sharp edge and fuzzy fuzzball that exists in my world. Yeah. Money well-spent. I know. I know.

Sewing tips from Dr. B. and my PIC

I'm walking to get a haircut, and I call my partner-in-(crafting) crime on my cell phone. She kicks off the conversation with a serious...

PIC: Guess what I'm doing.
Me: Cleaning out your closet.
PIC: Nope.
Me: Sweeping up dog hair.
PIC: Nope.
Me: Picking up poop.
PIC: These are all things I do quite a bit. But they are not what I am doing right now. Right now, I am about to cut out a pattern!

My PIC and I have decided we are going to sew baby dresses out of the Japanese book I gave her for her birthday. As you know, My PIC and I decide we are going to do lots of things, regardless of whether or not we're qualified to do them. We are generally successful using the winning combination of tips that I sort of remember from somewhere and the "let's just do it" that she tends to live by.

PIC: How should I decide what size to make? Should I just make the middle one?
Me: I would go pull out a little dress that is about the size you want, and lay it on the options, and see which one's closest.
PIC: Hm. That's smart.
Me: And then trace that size onto the dressmaker's paper so you don't cut up the original pattern.
PIC: Right.

Blah, blah, blah. We move on to a conversation about haircuts. But then I remember!

Me: Oh! You should trace the size you want on the original pattern with a Sharpie so you can see it better through the paper.
PIC: Yeah. I'm not gonna do that.
Me: But it might get confusing as you're going--
PIC: Well, yes. It might.
Me: You're already tracing, aren't you?
PIC: Yes.
Me: So it's too late to suggest taping everything down so it won't move?
PIC: Too late!

We talk a bit more about other random things.

PIC: Tracing a straight line is hard. I wish I could use a ruler.
Me: That's probably where that tape coulda helped you.
PIC: Shut it.

I arrive at the haircutting place and have to hang up, but when I call my PIC later, she has great news.

PIC: I have traced three patterns!
Me: That's awesome!
PIC: And I have some tips.
Me: Really?
PIC: Yes, I do. They don't tell you in the instructions that it's pretty much impossible to trace a straight line if you've just had a cup of coffee.
Me: Right.
PIC: It is truly impossible. Your hand shakes too much. But I discovered that if you have a glass of wine, that solves the problem immediately!
Me: Those are very good tips!
PIC: Yes. They will be the cornerstone of the book I write about sewing.
Me: That's gonna be a really good book.
PIC: Yeah. I know.

Since my PIC still has to read the instructions every time she threads her sewing machine, I have a feeling her book on sewing isn't going to be available any time soon. That being said, I'm happy to share the gems we come up with as we go. You know. For those of you who prefer your tips on the obvious side.

An Embarrassment of Riches: The Parade

Do people still go to parades? There are some that are always immensely popular (your Rose Bowls, your Gay Prides, your Weiner Dogs), but as a popular form of entertainment, I think the parade has pretty much been replaced by other (dare I say) more entertaining things.

That being said, a virtual Parade of Items has potential, I think. For starters, you are probably more comfortable right now than you would be if you were outdoors sitting on bleachers. Also? Maybe your choice of snacks is a little more varied than a pile of spun sugar, ice with syrup on it, or a snout tube on a stick. (Unless those are delicious to you, in which case I hope you have them handy.) Finally, if you're lucky, right now you aren't smushed up against a bunch of sweaty dudes, their kids, and... well, sweaty dudes. (Again, unless that's what you're into. And if that's the case, again, I hope you're knee-deep in them.)

Did you get lots of soft things to protect your precious bones from breaking when you see the awesomeness?

Ok, then. Cue the trombones, the clackety-clacking drums, and the flag wavers! Here comes your Parade of Items from My Birthday Shopping Spree!

First up... pandas.

You'll see here that the Pandas come in two colors -- delicious pink and fantastic yellow. Nice one, pandas.

Here come the sheep!

Those sheep are always a favorite with the knitters. These are on an especially hefty fabric. Who knows what this fabric could become?

Get a load of these guys.

Bears. What's the matter, fellas? Why so stunned? Out in the woods and don't know what to do? Come on. I'm sure you can think of something.

(As I side note, I hadn't really realized how many animal fabrics I'd grabbed in my frenzy. Plenty, apparently.)

Next up, a few representatives from Echino, the teeth-smashingly good line from Japanese designer Etsuko Furuya.

Stripes, dots, and more stripes.


Now, prepare yourselves to behold the Frenzy Maker. The big finish to the parade!

The fabric you are about to see is the last yard that Superbuzzy had of this colorway of this fabric. Getting it before someone else did was the reason I was so reckless with my purchasing.

When I tell you I squealed out loud when I saw it online, and then again in person when it arrived, I'm not lying.

Here it is.


It. Is. So. Beautiful... to meeeeee. (that's the high one at the end)

Hooray!! That's the parade, folks!

There are many other fabrics that were purchased that didn't get their floats together in time. But I'm sure they'll make some special appearances in the future. Keep a lookout.

We'd like to thank my PIC for her generous contribution to the madness, and we hope you found today's parade enjoyable. Drive safely!

(See? Another upside to the virtual parade. You may already be where you were headed! But, drive safely anyway. It's good for everyone.)

Why do you hate cute things so much?

All I'm saying is Superbuzzy is having a sale. There are honest-to-goodness discounts on many items.

Between my PIC's generous birthday gift certificate and my own willingness to spend money, I just ordered a boatload of fabric. And the boat I'm referencing? Large. It's a large boat.

I could've been more measured and smart about my purchases, but I got all caught up in the frenzy. It was a little like this experience, only without the updates part.

See, what happens is, when you're looking at a particular fabric on Superbuzzy, you can see how much of it is left in stock. When I saw that there was only 1 yard left of a super-great fabric, I felt like I needed to race through my order to be sure to get it before someone else did. The only problem was that the fabrics are in alphabetical order, and the one-yarder started with "E". There were 705 fabrics, and I was only at about 180 at the time. (I would've linked to the fabric I'm talking about just now, but it's gone now. Because I bought the last yard!)

So, I may have been reckless. I may have just thrown things into my cart with arms a-flailing. There were things I'm sure I missed and things I grabbed without enough thought.

But, it's my birthday tomorrow, and I figure a little fabric-and-notions shopping spree isn't the worst thing in the world. (Even if the size of the spree was Large Boat.)

Huzzah!

The tallest yarn

News flash: I'm no artist.

As you'll recall, here's the drawing I did -- from memory -- of the giant haul of yarn that my PIC's sister brought back from Argentina.


We all agree that, while this is a stunning image in many, many ways, I shouldn't quit my day job to become an illustrator just yet.

What I might want to do, though, is turn my ability to predict the future into cash money.

Remember as I was leaving, I posted that I was gonna take photos of the yarn? I didn't tell my PIC this. She had no idea I was going to ask her to pose for such a ridiculous thing. However, when I showed up to her house, she was wearing the outfit I had drawn her in (except for the shoes. As I said, she'd never wear grey shoes.)! Check it out in this backlit photo!

I'm also psychic enough to know that many of you hate that picture because you can't see the yarn.

So here. Let's step out onto the patio.


Ta DAH!



Dudes! Check it out! Everything is all smushed down, so it's not seeming as tall as it really is. But, I am here to tell you, it's the height of a six year-old. And it is such. Good. Yarn.

Also? I came through on this intention to take and post these photos. Let's make sure we don't forget that. I'm probably gonna need to cash that in at some point. Since I do have the power to see the future, I can tell you with quite a bit of certainty that I will surely blow it in the follow-through department. You'll remember this then, won't you?

Visiting The Haul

I'm running out the door to go visit my PIC and The Argentinian Haul.

I'll take my camera this time, and maybe - just maybe - I'll be able to capture the magnitude of what I've been talking about here.

Knowing me, though, I'll come back with a bunch of hemming and/or hawing about how this picture doesn't really do it justice, or how I couldn't really get any good pictures because we found ourselves buried under all the yarn, or how I totally forgot to take pictures because we were swept away into a time warp.

The point is this: I have very good intentions (which you know I have in general). Those intentions are currently set to "make sure to take good pictures of all the yarn" and "post those good pictures on the blog". My intentions are pure.

Here's what you can do for me: Keep on breathing. Please don't suspend said breathing while waiting for photos. I care about you too much to see you lose precious oxygen to the brain.

Super cute wall decals

You know I generally prefer the handmade gift over the store-bought gift. On principle, I think doing a make, and then giving the make away are key to everything.

However.

Every now and again, I've gotta give props where props are due. And these Blik wall decals are so prop-worthy, it's not even funny.

My PIC and I saw some of these in person in Vancouver recently and just couldn't bring ourselves to buy them. Even though they are re-positionable, removable, and downright adorable, we couldn't justify the purchase.

But, let me tell you, they are not making it easy to resist. Go over there and see what I mean.

P.S. Don't miss the Rainbow Poops.

(I also highly recommend saying that P.S. as often as possible. It might just be the very thing your life has been missing. No? Just me? Ok, then. Just me. Well, me and probably my wasband.)

(via not martha)

I completely forgot I had that.

My PIC has always been amazed by my ability to forget I have things. These "things" can be anything, from food to yarn to fabric. You name it, I've likely forgotten I have it.

PIC (looking in my cupboard): Oh my God. You have a whole chocolate bar in here?
ME: Oh. Yeah. I completely forgot I had that.
PIC: What are you talking about?

She and I used to work together, and she would often come into my office and ask if I had any food.

ME: Let me look.

I'd pull out a box where I kept snacks.

ME: Oh.
PIC (dumbfounded): You completely forgot you had that huge bag of Cheetos? How is that possible?!
ME: Hmm. Right. You want some?

This whole thing is generally fine by me. I don't concern myself with it. When it comes to my things, if it's out of sight, it is very likely -- as they say -- out of mind. Then, when I see it again, it's kinda like Christmas. Only paid for already.

But every now and again I amaze myself. Really and truly. I will come across something that is so far out of my awareness that seeing it is like a walk down memory lane. Only with no real nostalgia. More like with some "what the...?" and some "oh, good lord, you're kidding."

This scarf - abandoned after a few strands of fringe - was at the bottom of a pile of yarn that I just went through last week.

As I stared at this scarf, the whole thing came back to me: the lady at the yarn store who convinced me that a metallic yarn would look "so rock 'n' roll" with the tweedy red yarn I'd selected; the 50% off sale and its judgement-impairing properties; the lady telling me to cut the fringe before I started knitting so I wouldn't run out of yarn; my knitting the scarf and having no idea why I was knitting it or who it would be for; my running out of yarn because I hadn't listened to the lady about cutting the fringe first. (Sure. I listened long enough to buy metallic yarn, but not long enough to get the actual good advice she was offering.)

So here I sat, years later, staring at this almost-finished-and-so-very-useless scarf. I stared. I thought. And then I did what I usually do in these situations: I put it back where I found it.

I figure the next time I stumble across it, perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised and only moderately disgusted that I made it. And it will be just like Christmas.

New category needed

Hey there, everyone! I'm back. And I have so many things to report.

We'll start with the trend that seems to be emerging, and I'm not quite sure what to call it. "Interesting people"? "Random people"? "People who are all up in my bizness despite my minding my own"? After this story, you'll see what I mean.

So, my posse and I were up in Vancouver for a conference (as I mentioned). The weather was spectacular - clear, cool, downright magnificent. In part because of the weather, and in part because we like to eat delicious things, the lot of us decided to take a stroll one afternoon in pursuit of gelato. (Gelato really has nothing to do with this story. I just wanted to mention it because it was very delicious.)

We'd finished our gelato and were walking along, the six of us, minding our own business, when we were approached by a man wearing a long trench coat and carrying a few full grocery bags. His tone was very casual, but he did end up standing closer to us than we are generally used to.

DUDE: I'm very hungry.
US: We're so sorry.
DUDE: Can you give me some money? I'm hungry.
US: Sorry. We don't have any extra.
DUDE: Look at me. I'm homeless!
US: Oh.
DUDE: I smell like shit and everything!

We were all caught off guard by his deconstructive analysis of the situation, but we responded with our usual, genuine kindness.

US: Wow. That really sucks.

I couldn't help but notice that he did not smell like shit. While I was noticing this, he was pausing for a moment to consider his next move.

DUDE: How about a cigarette?

At this point he moved in very close to my face.

ME: Mm, sorry. We don't smoke.
DUDE: You don't.

He took a moment to consider this, and I think decided he needed to kick it up a notch. He said this next part really slowly and deliberately, like maybe he was on his way to a tirade. And he was still quite close to my face.

DUDE: You know what you are? You are fucking--
ME: The worst.

He was caught off guard for a second. He hadn't anticipated my honesty about who were were in this situation, but he liked it. I swear I saw a twinkle in his eye. He was still mostly not pleased, but at least he had some good material.

DUDE: The worst. The fucking worst. You are the worst of the worst!
ME: Yeah, we'd have to agree.

We somehow then parted ways, and the group of us tried to make sense of what had happened exactly. We were all pretty surprised about how calm yet in our space he was. My PIC said that it might have helped his cause "if he'd hidden that six-pack of beer." But more than anything, we were all quite taken with the idea that we'd just been called "the worst of the worst" by a man who seconds before had said he smelled like shit.

Vancouver!

A tale of tall yarn. Poorly illustrated.

My PIC called me one night with a very serious question.

PIC: What kind of yarn do you think you'd want?
ME: What?
PIC: My sister is in Argentina, and she said she found a yarn district! Like three full city blocks, just of yarn, and all of it is about one or two dollars a ball. But she has no idea what to get. What should we get?

My PIC's sister is not a knitter, but she knows how much her sister loves the yarn. Sweet, right?

So together my PIC and I strategized about how to explain to a non-knitter how much yarn is required to make a particular item. We were not very good at this. At all. Particularly because the measurements that were needed were in grams, and we don't know a damn thing about grams. We're lame. We also can barely do this ourselves when we're looking at the yarn in the yarn store. Really.

So we did the best we could to explain chunky vs. worsted weight and grams vs. yards in an e-mail to my PIC's sister, and we sucked at it. Hard. But we thought it was really kind, and figured we'd get a few balls of yarn for cheap, and that would be awesome.

Meanwhile, my PIC's sister did what any (crazy) person would do in this situation, you know - a situation where the information is kind of vague but the heart is in the right place: She bought a metric f*ckton of yarn.

I was made aware of this a few nights later via a dark, blurry photo sent to my phone. It was of my PIC lying on a bed that appeared to be covered in what looked to be yarn. My PIC told me it was a lot of yarn. I thought that was very generous of her sister, and I sent my warm thanks.

But you know what? The warmth of my thanks was not commensurate with the amount of yarn we are talking about here.

When I went over to my PIC's to see the yarn, I didn't take my camera. I didn't think it was necessary. Error.

My PIC's sister had managed to cram two tall -- I mean tall -- and full -- so, so full -- bags of yarn into her already stuffed luggage. How she did this, I'll never know.

Because I could not wait any longer to show you just how much yarn we're dealing with here, I created this super-ridiculous drawing for you. These bags really are up to our waists. And they are full of yarn. Hanks and hanks and hanks of beautiful yarn!

(Note: The person in this drawing has no head and grey shoes to keep my PIC's identity private. While she does have a head, she would never wear grey shoes. Also, if I'd drawn her head, it would've looked just like her - because I am that good - and we can't be having that.)

Once Joann's ships our ball winder and swift -- very necessary in this situation-- I cannot vouch for our productivity in the rest of our lives. It's gonna be all ball winding all the time. Our houses will be overflowing with yarn cakes. And then you'll see. You will all see.

Hilarity will surely ensue.

Argentina!