Thought provoking question (well for a knitter, anyway)

When Christine had her blog anniversary contest, she asked commenters to tell her "what your favorite knit has been". I came up with a fast response, so as not to miss the deadline, but that got me to thinking, and I really could answer that in a lot of different ways.

Is my favorite the one that was most enjoyable to work on, because I loved the feel of the yarn running through my fingers, or the rhythm of the motions? Nothing jumps to mind based on this criterion. I'm pretty sure I'm not a "process knitter". Or maybe I just haven't been using the right yarn. I think I could really enjoy the physical sensations of working an ever so basic cardigan in bulky baby alpaca.

Is my favorite the one I made for someone special? In that case, it would have to be the really very plain Jane (or John) socks I made for Mr. S. from cotton/elastic yarn, because I was so happy to find something that he could wear without itching and because he is so darned appreciative of them.


Is my favorite the one that was most satisfying to accomplish, because most challenging? That would have to be one of the lace bits.


Sometimes my favorites are the ones I make up as I go along. Even though the results aren't alway exactly as I had envisioned, this is where I genuinly do enjoy the process, figuring out what is going to come next. I derive a certain pleasure from being surprsed by my knitting. The Electric Kool Aid (dyed) Stocking Cap would fall into this category.

It's really sort of a monster, but boy was it fun to knit.

Mostly I think my favorite knit is the one that is lurking around in the back of my mind, just starting to take shape as an idea.

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Speaking of favorites of a different kind, I'm hugely disappointed that John Edwards has dropped out of the race. I liked Edwards because he was the only one focussing on the growing economic inequality in this country, and insisting that this needs to be addressed in national policy. I never thought he would get the nomination, but I wanted a chance to vote for him. If the primary ballots have space for a write in, I still will.

In Rehearsal

Whitney Houston, eat your heart out.

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It's still winter, dammit. Think I have cabin fever, or something. Does the brain get sluggish with the cold? because I just can't seem to kick into gear on almost anything. I've made myself a "task list", but don't seem to be getting through it with dispatch. I did get the pattern submission into the mail, now it's just the waiting game.

One of my tasks is to start working on some goal planning worksheets. A few women here in town have started a support/accountability group for small business planning. Goal setting has never been one of my strengths in any area of my life, but maybe it's time for that to change.

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Oh wow, late breaking news: Laura and MollyBeez sent me one of these. Amazing how that, well, made my day.

You have no idea how happy that makes me. Same back at both of you!

The instructions say "Give the award to 10 people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel happy about blogland. Let them know by posting a comment on their blog so they can pass it on. Beware you may get the award several times."

This is really hard to limit to ten, there are way more than ten on my favorites list. But here goes, in no particular order and with no unified set of criteria: Knit Think, the KnittingLadies at Interim House, Annie M, magnusmog, Kmkat, Dale-Harriet, Betsy, Rebecca, Elizabeth, Life Starts Now.

What's that about a Badger? (and a short, unrelated review)

Do you mean to tell me that Bucky Badger is not globally recognized? No? Well I can't just plonk in a picture of the striding along UW mascot, because he is most decidedly copyrighted. So here's a link to a page that shows him in all his determined glory. (Who knew there was a wiki just for basketball? Not me, 'til I googled for images.) I'm honestly not much of a sports fan, but I just love the way he juts his lower lip out, throws back his shoulders and clenches his fists. There's a badger that's ready for some action.

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Complete change of topic. For some time now, I've been meaning to mention just how much I like Black Purl Magazine. It's still a fairly modest size, but has a wide, inclusive scope; showcasing needlework, including knitting, with a bent toward ethnic and/or traditional design. The current issue has a very nice roundtable discussion with six knitting designers (some familiar to me, others not) talking about their inspiration, passion and process. It's well worth reading.

Every issue includes several free patterns. Even though I don't crochet, I'm particularly charmed by Paloma Perra's little sheep, especially after reading her description of its part in Mexican New Year's celebrations. She's a frequent contributor, and her textile history lessons always appear to be well researched. The excellent Donna Druchnas has also been a regular (and is one of the designers featured in the round table). Her pattern this month is a little cell phone cozy based on Andean coin purses. It would be a great first project for someone who hasn't done stranded colorwork before. There are also patterns for a simple but lovely triangle lace shawl, and a scarf with Japanese characters for "peace (free from war)" and "peace of mind" worked in intarsia.

Messin' Around With Short Rows

I'm playing around with some short row shaping and color changes.

I like the effect, but what could it possibly be? The yoke of a sweater for Bucky Badger? A skirt for Molly the American Girl doll? The beginnings of an extremely funky hat? But, darn, that's going to be a lot of ends to weave in.

It snowed and it snowed and it snowed

All day yesterday and most of last night.

I shovelled in the afternoon, while Mr. S. was at work. Mr. S shovelled in the evening while I was at work. Then this morning before leaving for work, Mr S and his brother got out the joint snow blower and gave everything another going over.

Sidewalk clear for now, and the sun is shining, and as a farmer friend pointed out "It's good for the land."

In hopes of minimizing the ice dam build up, I hauled out the roof rake.

That's about a 10 foot pole. There is another 4 foot section I could have added on, but at full length it's too heavy and unwieldy for me to handle.So I just scraped up as high as I could reach.

Of course that left me with

Another pile of snow in front of the door. Sigh. I'm tempted to just wait for spring.

"The Yarn Lady Called" and cat talk

One of the things I do at the library is unpack tubs that come bi-weekly from the inter-library loan system, check items in, then call the patrons who requested them. Yesterday morning I phoned one of the regulars, and her daughter answered. Since I could hear E (the patron) in the background, I just asked her to tell her mom that a book had come to the library for her. Now I assumed that I was talking to the older daughter. But a few minutes later, E called back, laughing, to ask if I had just tried to reach her. Turns out it was the younger one, the four year old who had taken the message. She had been a little unclear on the whole concept, but she did tell her mom that "The yarn lady called." I was tickled to death that E figured it out from there.

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Baxter gets most of the press, mostly because he's so darned good looking. But our other, senior, cat is Gato. She's smaller and more angular, and she rarely ever seems to completely relax. Sometimes, having her on your lap feels like sitting next to someone whose elbow is poking into you. If you pet Baxter when he's asleep, he generally just slowly leans into it. If you pet Gato when she's asleep, she jumps and often as not moves away. But she's a valiant little thing.





She was born in an alley in the middle of winter, and rode home on my daughters lap in a paper lunch sack.

While she was still "too young" to be spayed, she escaped and had a wild night. So she was a mother once, and a very good one.

When she was a couple of years old, we were sitting at dinner and heard her crying outside. When we got there, her back legs were limp. She's been hit by a car and dragged herself from the street halfway around the house with a broken pelvis. I thought she might never walk again. Then I thought she would never be able to jump up on a chair again. Then I thought she would never be able to go up a tree again. But she proved me wrong.

At age thirteen she was able to fight off the vet and his assistant when they tried to get blood for her thyroid test. (Bless the good vet, he actually came to the house and gave her a sedative before the next, successful, attempt.)

She knocks things off bed stands at four in the morning, just to wake you up. Her nose runs (copiously) when she purrs. She's chewed through more phone cords than I can count, because she knows that's a sure way to get you to pay attention and feed her or let her out

But in the evenings, when she climbs up on Mr S's lap and finally relaxes and he pets her until her nose runs, she has such a look of bliss on her face that you feel it's a wonder and an honor to see so pure a moment of happiness in this broken down old world. She's a good cat.