Now Norma Knits

Say WHAT?!

So....it was all going swimmingly until....

....I read the ball band.  Gentle hand wash, dry flat in shade.  Do not tumble dry.  (do not dry clean -- that one is not the issue).

Probably not optimum care requirements for a baby garment. 

Crud.  Back to square one.

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Something to put you in a happy place:

Knit Night Cupcakes

(first seen at June's blog)

At Least It Wasn't a Thong

Work is killing me.  Today's assignment was to cover a Very Important Public Meeting.  Very Important.  I am tired.  No, not tired.  I am exhausted.  And the pages are piling up, as are my sore hands, back, neck, head.  I can't keep my head above water, and I had to get up extra-early and drive 70 miles to this job.  I'm not at my best in the mornings under the best of conditions, but especially after two long days of another job that kicked my ass.  I arrived at the job site and was setting up my equipment at the front of the room.  There were probably 50 people there.  A woman (I never did see her face or figure out who it was) came up behind me and whispered, "Your dress (it was really a skirt, but it's an unimportant technicality) is completely unzipped in the back."

I know you're going to ask:  The answer is "white Jockeys." 

Black Arm Bands, Please

We are officially in mourning for the Plain Vanilla. R.I.P., my beloved.

Smell The Roses

Rosa rugosa

On the first day of summer, I picked rose petals and made rose petal jam.

But sadly:

The jam didn't turn out. I don't know what happened. I threw away the first batch, thinking that I had cooked the pectin too long. Then I made another batch, being extremely careful to time the cooking just right, and it still came out the same way -- too thick and very gloppy. Not a nice consistency on the tongue or to spread on toast. It tastes great, but it's not right. It's very cloudy-looking; it's supposed to be deep-colored and jewel-like - light should pass through it. I could swear I followed the same recipe I followed last year, when it turned out perfect, and could swear I did everything the same. I'm so sad. All those precious and rare rose petals wasted.

P.S.  The recipe I used is here. 

Norma's Steakhouse

Poor Claudia. She thought I knew how to cook.

Claudia and I propose this as a new Socks That Rock colorway called:

Norma's Steakhouse (aka BURNT)

More to come later, when I rest up from the fun-filled weekend for which I extend great thanks to my devastatingly handsome, warm host, Igor; his compatriot Kimba; and their people.

Unfortunately, I had camnesia* (a condition marked by forgetting to use one's camera), so those seeking photos will have to go visit the multitude of others in attendance on Sunday.

*thanks to Cate for my most-favorite new term

Stupiditis

I apologize for what you are about to read. I am really in no condition to post this, and it's really a waste of your time. But you clicked in, so I guess I owe you to finish this sentence.

Yes. Work has been a bear. Actually, compared to other work bears, this one has been rather cuddly and nice. No big teeth or claws. No scary growls, really. My witnesses have not been astrophysicists or brain surgeons or hydrogeologists or actuaries. This week it's just been plain-old plain-old regular people talking regular English. This makes my editing, assuming I wrote good steno, which I usually do, almost embarrassingly easy. When I say, "50 pages before bedtime," it sounds like a lot to you, but I'm not typing it, just fixing it up. It's already there in rough draft, and it's not terribly rough, given that I was trained to write real-time for television audiences.  But still. As of now, my neck, shoulders and forearms are about to give in. Pain! Ouch!

And thank goodness I've got back into the yoga, because if not for that, it would be worse pain. Add to all this a couple, three, four more depositions this week, and two hellish drives -- one in driving rain and one in sleet -- and I'm kind of on my way to being t.i.r.e.d.  And my steno machine is overdue for a cleaning, so some keys are sticking, etc., and an extra letter in a keystroke (which I will remind you is not like typing, but more like stroking chords on a piano) makes a whole 'nother word or phrase.  Ugh. At one point in my lonnnnnnnng Monday deposition, the software decided that the questioning lawyer was "THE COURT."  I noticed it after a few minutes and I stopped her, trying to figure out why the frigging software grew horns and decided to do that.  She was a very young associate lawyer, and I said to her, "We don't want to put you on the bench -- just yet."  She got a kick out of that. I explained that having that keep up like that was going to make my editing life HELL, and since they wanted that transcript fast, they'd better let me see if I could fix it. I did eventually. I have no idea what I did, but I clicked and looked at the dictionary, etc., couldn't see any problem, and then it stopped.  WTF?  Frigging software.

And then a brief form came up from wayyyyyyyy the hell back when I worked for BBC Television.  That was over a decade, and two different brands of software ago, and many, many, many changes in my dictionary.  I swear to gawd, I keep telling the software people that this happens and they think I'm retarded. It's like ghosts of brief forms past. This one was "one member, one vote."  Too hilarious, to those of us (all two of us, Yvonne?) who understand the steno and the television and the British politics.

Anyhoo.  I'm exhausted and can't really think or write any more. A little glimpse into the wild and wacky work world (gee, I wish this was W week in the ABC-Along....) of Me.

I'm still waiting for the Lion Cashmere Blend I ordered so I can finish the red scarf. And someone gave me some red yarn. There's a blog-worthy story behind it, but I'm afraid I've run out of steam for now. Suffice it to say, it's not going well. I am not in love with Lion Brand Suede. The color is wonderful, but man, is that stuff hard to work with. And squeaky. Don't you hate yarn that is squeaky in your fingers?  Ugh. But when the printer is printing the hundreds of pages it's printing these days, and when I'm not editing, I'm soldiering on and making a "My So Called Scarf" with it.  (I have no energy to link it right now) I love the pattern, now that I'm over my Stupiditis about it. That's where I got the title, and there's a story behind that, too. Man, I'm useless. I'm telling you.  Here's a pic of the thing. The "edging" is just my Stupiditis. I decided to keep it as an edging. Design element....yeah, that's it. If the yarn doesn't kill me, it'll make me stronger? Is that what I'm supposed to believe?

P.S.  Why did the menopausal woman cross the road?

To kill the chicken. 

Man, that one just cracked me right up. It's on my "Wild Words from Wild Women" peel-off calendar. (more W's!) I had to share it with you. This is just indicative of my state of mind, no?

Hung Over

*sssshhhhhhhh!* stop slamming the door! uhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhh. My aching head and back and shoulders and arms and wrists.

Yes, I'm hung over. What's it to you? I overindulged this weekend. Overindulged in digging, weeding, planting, eating (a five-course luncheon yesterday! with wine! and crème brûlée! and there was an apple pie and fresh pears in the evening - and yes, for breakfast. What's it to ya?) (p.s. for the Eat Local Challenge folks, every morsel of it local food! Every morsel and every sip, including the wine. I would have gone to this thing even if it weren't, but it was extra-special that it was. It was an annual awards luncheon to honor somebody - or this year a group - who does good things environmentally for Lake Champlain.)

And there was overindulgence in knitting too. Put your hands together, please, for a completed Beth sleeve. What is that I hear? Lukewarm applause? Come on, LOUDER! Wait, STOP. Too loud. *ouch*

Oh, crap. Maybe you know something. Do you know something? Do you want to know something? Fine, if you'll stop yammering about it and close the door Q-U-I-E-T-L-Y when you leave. PLEASE! Be.quiet! Shhhhhhh, I'm HUNG.OVER. REMEMBER?

Look at that picture again. Does that sleeve look a little long to you? No? How 'bout from this angle? Still can't tell anything? How 'bout here?

I hear ya, I hear ya. The photos don't really help much, because there is nothing for perspective. How about this for perspective: Row gauge called for in pattern, 40 rows/10 cm.  Row gauge I got, 37 rows/10 cm. (and for more perspective, I'm a little on the short side)

Oh, wait, that pain in my head? Not from a hangover at all. I forgot. It's probably from the banging of it against the wall that I did last night when I realized that the completed sleeve had just been downgraded to "swatch."

As I see it, I've got a two choices:  Leave it as is and roll up the sleeves, which I seem to do with all my purchased sweaters anyway. Or rip the entire thing out and reknit it, changing the increases and decreases to every 3rd row instead of every 4th. According to my sucky math (but confirmed by my husband who is a little better at math than I am), this will be just about right. I have to let this percolate a bit, but I think we all know the right answer. Because, of course, this will affect the fit of the body as well - not just the sleeves.

This is a little bit ironic, all of it, because when I first posted the photo of the pattern, Lauren asked the question, "The sleeves look a little on the short side -- are you going to keep them that way?" And I explained to her that yes, I favor bracelet-length or 3/4 sleeves, and if they aren't, I always end up pushing or rolling them up at work. And I also said, "The model in that photo is probably very tall, so the sleeves might actually be long for me." Of course I kept on checking the stitch gauge and I was spot on. I figured if the row gauge WAS off, it would be in the other direction, since I'm a relatively tight knitter.

After finishing the sleeve swatch, I did the only thing I seem to be good for. I knit a Dulaan hat. This is truly a "scrap hat."  I picked up some small random left-over balls of Lamb's Pride bulky that various people had donated to me and knitted as far as they would go, changed colors when I ran out, and literally used as much as I could for the pompom on the top. I REALLY ran out of yarn with this one.  It'll fit a 2-4-year-old, I believe. I had originally attached (poorly, I might add) the pompom directly to the hat, but last night after Cassie laughed at it (she didn't really -- well, at least not in a MEAN way...) when she saw a preview photo of it, I detached the pompom and added a little braided cord so it flops around whimsically -- this time it's a purposeful flop and not just, you know, floppy.

The rest of today will be reserved for sulking.