What do you find on roofs except for when they're on your back? That's right, shingles. Let me tell you, I like them much better on the roof. Ow, ow, ow. As David Letterman said, "There's nothing good about the BEEP shingles. The BEEP are so BEEP painful, every minute you pray some giant son-of-a-BEEP will shove a red hot poker up your ass." (No, I don't know why the last word didn't beep, too.)
Mine aren't as bad as David's--for one thing, he had his around his eye, which can be very dangerous--but it's bad enough. They're this maddening combination of itching and pain. I can't scratch because it hurts to much to scratch, but I can't just block out the pain because it itches. Letterman didn't mention being about two inches from the loony bin, but I bet he was, 'cuz I know I sure am!
Tomorrow: a return to your regularly scheduled needlework blog, complete with FO!
I'm really stoked about this, as I missed Stephanie when she was in Seattle a couple of months ago. I had been planning on going, but my work schedule was changed at the last minute. I possibly could have begged out of it, but I'm still a newbie there, and how do you explain to your new boss that you can't come in to work because you have to go see a Harlot? (Well, maybe if your boss is a knitter...)
The site doesn't say (yet) what Stephanie will be doing, but she's not the keynote speaker on Saturday, and I'm doubting she's going to teach a class--not that she'd have any trouble filling it if she did.
Oh, and there's also a few other people coming, like Sally Melville, Nancy Bush, Vivian Hoxbro (I have no idea how to make the funky 'o' symbol for her name), Cat Bordhi, yada, yada... No, really, I'm looking forward to seeing many people besides Stephanie, but I've been kicking myself so much for missing her before that I'm wearing out the toes of my shoes, so this is Big News. I haven't picked up bookbookbook2 yet (trying to hold out 'til Christmas), so maybe it's time to re-read bbb1. And see if maybe this time I can restrain from reading half of it out loud to my husband. Yeah, right.
Today I'm wearing my jammie sweater. I got the term from an old co-worker who had what she called her "jammie dress," for those days when she really just didn't want to come to work.
My jammie sweater is just a basic, raglan-sleeved top-down sweater. It's the first time I took a pattern and rewrote it to fit a new gauge, and I was so proud that it turned out.
It's also my first sweater knit from handspun. Not my handspun--I bought it at the fair a few years before I started spinning. It's a lovely grey with just a hint of brown, loose without really being baggy, and very, very comfy.
The amazing thing about this sweater is that it is rarely ever too warm or not warm enough. Wool is very versatile, but this thing is amazing! It's one of the first sweaters I pull out in the fall, and the last I put away in the spring. I wish I knew what kind of wool it is, but the tag didn't specify.
A few years ago, I reconnected with a friend I hadn't seen in a decade. Now, this guy is a major, major computer geek. (And, no, that's not a bad thing in my mind. I married me a computer geek. Geeks make great husbands.)
Despite the fact that we seem to have few interests in common, he's one of those people that I can just talk to, easily. So, one day I started babbling to him about the yarn I'd just bought. It was Jamieson's Shetland Spindrift and a few skeins of Campion for the cover sweater of Alice St*rmore's Tudor Roses. I was telling him I'd had to substitute a darker color for one that didn't exist anymore, that I'd pulled the foreground colors but not liked the green in them and substituted more golden tones, that this was my dream sweater, and ... and ... and ...
And his eyes started to glaze over.
Now, normally, I'm not too perceptive when I'm blathering on about yarn. (Okay, normally I'm not too perceptive when I'm blathering on about anything, but especially not when I'm talking about yarn.) But this time I noticed. I was just working out a way to segue into Macs or hard drives when his gaze cleared and he grinned widely. He'd obviously had a paradigm shift so big I could practically hear the gearshift grind. "You're a knitting geek!"
I blinked at him.
"You geek on knitting the way I geek on computers. You're a knitting geek!"
From that point on, he got it. He completely understood (understands?) my knitting obsession. Maybe we're not so different after all.
This is me last fall, with my dream sweater. Which won my dream ribbon, the Grand Champion, at the Puyallup Fair.
... is not something that anyone who knows me would ever accuse me of having. I am not a patient person. As a kid, I got so worked up waiting for Christmas or my birthday that I would be physically ill on the actual date. So why am I doing so much needlework, when each new project I start will spend my next several birthdays in an unfinished state?
We all hear it, don't we? "Oh, I just don't have the patience to knit (cross-stitch, quilt, spin--take your pick)." "I couldn't do that--I'm not very patient."
My answer is always the same. If the finished project was the point for me, I wouldn't have the patience, either. In fact, my lack of patience has gotten me into a bit of a mess, as I have over sixty active needlework projects, and I can never wait to finish one before starting another. I just want to see what my project will look like, how the yarn or fabric will feel, whether the colors I've chosen will really look good together or not. Does this sound like patience to you?
I don't knit to have the sweater, or the socks, though I certainly do enjoy wearing them once I do manage to finish something. I don't cross-stitch for the pictures, or applique for the quilts. The finished project, whenever I get to it, is just a nice little bonus at the end.
I do my needlework because I enjoy the process. I like choosing the fabrics for a quilt and then challenging myself to make the neatest, straightest stitches I can. I like feeling the yarn run through my fingers, and seeing the shape of a sweater forming under my hands. (And, yes, I like seeing people's faces when they say, "You made this?")
I keep hoping my needlework will teach me patience. But I'm not holding my breath.
Lately, severalpeople I know have been urging others to start blogs. I've frequently thought about having my own blog, but I'm nervous about the commitment it requires. I know that if I find a blog that isn't updated regularly, I lose interest quickly. But, I'm not good at being obligated to do things. Housework? Not my specialty. Making handcrafted gifts? I'm great at picking them out and starting them, but I hate making them.
So, a blog? Dunno if it's a good idea. But, if it gets me writing regularly, and maybe even helps me keep on task with some of my projects, bring it on!
(Oh, and please bear with me as I figure out all the program options...)