so you've probably noticed the lack of action around here.
it's not that stuff hasn't been happening. it's more on the so-much-stuff-is-happening-that-my-head-will-explode-any-minute-now side.
as you know i recently packed my stuff and moved to vancouver, to work a stupendously unexpected but equally stupendously appreciated job at sweetgeorgia. to the question, "how on earth did that happen?" i can only respond, "i have no idea, but it did, and it's pretty freakin' sweet".
can you spell "dreamjob"? can you spell "the most singularly awesome thing to ever have happened to my poor tormented adversity-ridden soul"?
the smell of wet wool in the morning is intoxicating.
it's been three weeks and only now am i starting to comprehend just how lucky i am. mostly due to the fact that wherever i go in the lower mainland i keep meeting yarn people who, after hearing about my current state of affairs, at first smile politely, and then lunge forward to try to scratch my eyes out. good thing the walking dead has taught me a lot about self-defense.
the downside of all this is, i had to stuff my entire life into two bags and pretty much start afresh. meaning as of right now i have no books or patterns or equipment to take proper photos with, and in the midst of all this excitement i also seem to have run out of witty things to say. i'm knitting more than in a long time, but the results won't make their way here until i get a lot of stuff sorted out. i'm hosting a non-knitting-related travel blog though which you're welcome to follow, if finnish is your bag, baby.
so in the meantime i wish you all a merry christmas or whatever it is that you're celebrating, and thanks for your patience.
oh, and to all of you vancouverites out there, feel free to drop me a line if you want to hang out or something. but just so you know, any envy-induced attacks on my person will be met with a zombie death punch.
December 15, 2012
so you've probably noticed the lack of action around here.
October 22, 2012
October 14, 2012
no, i'm not dead.
first, i've been traveling, as you know. second, i've been recovering from said travels and their aftershocks. have you ever taken a 10-hour flight during which every single waking minute felt like someone was giving your brain a colonoscopy?
other than that, the trip was a success beyond all expression. you see, with all the infernal trouble i've had with my health during the past several years, i wasn't supposed to be able to fly overseas ever again. or anywhere, for that matter. but exactly one year ago certain events caused my life to take a completely different direction from what anyone, including myself, expected. and so, after 2.5 years of pain-induced limbo i forcefully took back my health, went back to work, and earned the money to fly over.
so it wasn't just any random two-week holiday. it was me proving to everyone that i'm in control of my own life again.
which i thoroughly celebrated by meticulously going through every yarn shop in vancouver, victoria and seattle and hoarding so much yarn that i had to get a separate bag to carry half of it as carry-on luggage, and at every single border crossing explain to the disbeliefed officers that all that yarn is really, truly, honestly for my personal use only. i guess their suspicion was valid, considering the final tally came to 34 skeins of yarn and four braids of fiber.
at the time 34 skeins and four braids of fiber seemed perfectly reasonable.
(as a humorous interlude and a testament to the exuberant niceness of the canadian national character, the baby-faced immigration officer at YVR, after seeing the project bag in my hand and thus hearing about my plans to have a very knittingy holiday, had only one question to ask:
"how do you feel about yarn bombing?"
much hilarity ensued.)
sadly, though, looking at the credit card bill back at home forced me to release half of the loot back into the wild. but the ones that got to stay with me are truly something i call "rakkauslanka".
so thank you maiwa supply, three bags full, wool is not enough, urban yarns, sweetgeorgia, beehive, button&needlework, knotty by nature, and last but not least, churchmouse yarns, where they just so happened to have a brooklyn tweed trunk show going on. the urge to stuff as many samples in my bag and run out like the wind was great, but i managed to resist it. scoring an armful of BT loft and two pounds of tea helped.
and a very special thank-you goes to melissa, the mastermind behind miso crafty, who graciously took me in for a full week, and even though i managed to catch a horrible cold on day one and left her house swarmed with used tissues and snot-related bacteria, provided me with the most relaxing time i've ever had in canada as well as the best knitting/gossiping/movie-watching company ever. and being the sneaky little devil she is, she had gotten two skeins of sweet fiber yarn for me, just because i had earlier mentioned in a casual conversation how i'd like to get my hands on some of that. melissa, you rule.
finally, as the ultimate cherry on my proverbial cake, the trip brought up some unexpected but pretty interesting prospects regarding my life, my universe and everything. at the risk of jinxing it i won't say anything before it's 100% confirmed, but if and when it is, it may become necessary to make some woot woot noises again.
September 4, 2012
well, not all exactly. but more on that in just a second.
i am painfully aware how silent this place has been lately. painfully aware, literally. because i just spent the last four weeks in the most agonizing pain god has ever chosen to inflict upon me. as if that murderous c**t hadn't put me through enough already, but i digress.
the short story is i had to have emergency surgery last week, but i'm fine now.
so fine, in fact, that i can go ahead and board that plane to canada, which i bought tickets for 9 months ago but couldn't be sure i could ever even use because of aforementioned health problems, which would've been entirely avoidable but ultimately weren't because every single instance responsible for treating such problems refused to do so until the originally harmless little annoyance had become a brain-wrecking, spine-bursting, motherfucking steam engine of a pain-induced death sentence that punched me off my feet and left me wailing like a banshee skinned alive (my brother will never look at me the same way again). at which point i scored four emergency room visits in six days, as well as so many shots of morphine that my sXe membership card instantly withered away and died.
but like i said, i'm fine now.
so for the next couple of weeks i'll be roaming around the pacific northwest, doing what i do, i.e. mainly hoarding yarn. if you're in the vancouver-victoria-seattle area and feel like hoarding with me, drop me a line.
i'll enable you if you'll enable me.
July 31, 2012
just when we thought summer would skip our grand nordic nation entirely, that she would cruelly ignore our very existence in this odd peninsula--affectionately nicknamed either the armpit or the asshole of northern europe, depending on which warped position you imagine us in--she arrived in a blazing chariot of heat and sunshine.
"go out and get naked," she said, and the entire nation went, "okay."
this is me celebrating summer in the best way i know how, i.e. by posing in a long-sleeved shirt and a chunky woolly hat, looking as soulful and tormented as edgar allan poe, or robert smith, or to a lesser extent, aaron lewis. i can't believe that band still exists.
against every last grain of intuition i had in my body i made the smaller size instead of the slouchy one. usually i'm drawn to anything that's labeled slouchy like gum on shoesoles, but this time something in my brain said no. by the time i reached the point of either continuing on to crown decreases, or knitting the cable chart once more, i just found myself having less and less stitches on the needle. i like to wear my hats pretty far back so somehow i managed to figure out even the shorter model could work.
and this time, completely out of character, i even weaved a lifeline into the stitches of the final row before the decreases, so that if i totally changed my mind i could go back and undo the rows without counting them and getting all messed up on the chart. i have no idea where all this epic far-sightedness comes from right now.
it sits really well too now, and the shelter yarn (in homemad jam, for those interested) was every bit as pleasant to knit with as i expected. although i have to say that both loft and shelter tend to lose some of their perky fluffiness with blocking. or maybe i'm doing it wrong. they get a little droopy. not too droopy, but i could do without some of the droopiness. it doesn't really show in photos though.
what's also not showing in the photos is my mom crying because of my fascistic art direction during this photography session. sorry mom. at least the girl knows what she wants.
and i haven't had a haircut in 13 months. does that show? sheesh. no wonder i'm still single.
July 25, 2012
just so you don't think i'm a ruthless, heartless bitch with no tolerance or compassion for any my fellow men, please know that i've just had four quite relaxing days off work and am now more or less back to my own amiable self. thank you for your patience, and apologies for all the fuck you's.
also, have a look at the following.
he was a gift to my brown-eyed, four-toothed angel of a niece on her first birthday. and probably the most heartwarming, awww-inducing little thing i've ever managed to make. not entirely childproof, but festively plump nonetheless.
and he even has freakin' toes. the wrong amount though, as my dad, ever tactful, was quick to point out.
so happy birthday again, sweetheart. may this anatomically incorrect hippo be your guide through your second year of existence. just try and not eat the eyes, or mom will beat the living crap out of me.
July 20, 2012
forgive me the raunchy title. how it takes me back to year 2001, a year covered in heartbreaking teenager angst and soundtracked by a certain iowan 8-piece with a well-noted affection for such raunchy titles.
but i'm not really a people person. i see that now.
this week, at work, i've witnessed so much astonishingly assholistic behavior from all and every direction that i'm currently on the verge of losing my faith in mankind.
you see, there's a very special symbiotic bond between you and your LYS worker. the store wouldn't exist without you, and satan would use your hands for masturbation without the store. an open and creative dialogue with mutual respect among all parties is encouraged and nursed for the benefit of the individual, the community, and the entire human race.
some people choose to treat this sacred bond with the loving proverbial curb stomp instead.
please note that while there is a certain responsibility on my part to be the smart one; to not get dragged into childish feuds and unending he-said-she-said bullshit; to be polite and show respect even to the douchiest, most outrageously inappropriate people--which thankfully sometimes pays off--there's a limit to anyone's endurance, including mine.
i am not your BFF, or your therapist, or your general piñata-style punching bag.
and if you're having problems which i, at that particular moment, for whatever reason, cannot help you solve, then go home and cry in the dark like everyone else, YOU MISERABLE ASSHOLE.
that felt good.
and thankfully each day, after another day's worth of trying to cope with all the shit described above, i get to come home to this.
all sarcasm and ironic moustaches aside, for real, seriously, i truly honestly shit you not--
--this is the most enjoyable knit i've ever had on my hands.
it's a BT lace wrap with three simultaneous charts and 40+ row repeats, but i don't ever want it to end. normally i'd rather go all gaear grimsrud on myself than volunteer for lace. especially during times of great emotional discomfort.
here, there's a sense of pure zen-like relaxation when i'm creating these stitches. a perfect pairing of the exact right texture of the yarn and smooth wooden surface of the needles. the meditative repetitiveness of the garter stitch. the sense of achievement after a completed chart. just one more row, i keep telling myself, and lose myself in the silky grey haze.
forget all about the stress-induced zombie nightmares. the panic attacks. the lunchbreaks spent crying in the kitchen.
that there, my friends, is what knitting is all about, and what will keep me going through anything.
July 12, 2012
you may recall that i have an awesome brother.
now it turns out i have another awesome brother.
(i also have a sister, who admittedly has an awesome washing machine as well as some fairly awesome food at my disposal, but until she offers me some kind of a knitting-related near-life experience as described below, or saves me from the depths of a mental institution, or something, for now she herself will remain slightly less than awesome.)
this brother flew out to the great new york city recently and, in between doing all sorts of manly man stuff, dutily made his way down to broome street, where at number 459 there lies a soft humble haven, a holy destination for knittery pilgrims everywhere, called purl soho.
obviously not the crafty type himself, he had generously agreed to act as a surrogate buyer for certain yarns that are scarcely available elsewhere. i didn't even have to bribe him, or make him feel guilty, or beat him up with a traditional finnish musical instrument, as i vividly recall doing back in the early '90s.
all a testament to his awesomeness.
and so, with my meticulously crafted shopping list in hand he stepped into a world completely unknown to him, and summoning up an admirable amount of pioneer spirit proceeded to complete the list down to every last detail.
a cardigan's worth of brooklyn tweed loft in almanac, a perfect deep blue with perfect little specs of turquoise. and with delightfully imperfect little flecks of plant matter wedged between the plies, which some may find crude and offensive, but which i just find adorable. snooky-ookums. poodgy woo.
another two skeins of loft in woodsmoke and old world, already on their way to become a bayard hat. not the most creative choice of colors, but then again, i never claimed to be creative in the first place.
two skeins of BT shelter in homemade jam. i'm planning on a rosebud, but reserve the right to change my mind. gorgeous heathered color nonetheless.
and to top everything off, a skein of spud & chloë fine, a sinfully luxurious blend of merino and silk, in an aptly named colorway of burnt orange called orangutan.
"really fuckin' expensive," brother awesome commented on the total sum when i later went to collect my hairy babies from him, pointing out in a loving, brotherly manner that, after all, it's just yarn. to this i was unable to respond, because i had my face buried in the lofty loftness of the seven loft skeins, fighting down tears of overwhelming emotional movement.
|how anyone would consider this expensive is beyond me|
the only thing that irks me now, the thing that is driving me absolutely berserk, is that he's now been there and i haven't.
MY BEANSTALK ENGINEER OF A BROTHER HAS BEEN TO PURL SOHO AND I HAVEN'T.
he's awesome, but still. @!#$%.
June 30, 2012
i've recently joined a club.
a very exclusive club.
one that grants me access to heavenly joys of unfathomable proportions. and a $70 bill, but let's put that aside for a minute.
these are my brand new 2.5mm, 8" signature dpn's, which i lovingly allowed myself (read: my visa) to purchase. because i totally deserve all the crazy-ass hi-fi knittingy gadgets out there.
because i just do.
you may well ask, "what the hell is all this brouhaha about signatures? they're just needles, for pete's sake."
in short, they're long and pointy. and sharp. so sharp, in fact, that they'd gone straight through the fancy little pouch they came in. i thought my suzanne ebonies were sharp, but these babies are so much sharper. they tore my left index finger right open when i first swatched with them, that's how sharp we're talking about.
|dear ebony--consider yourself usurped|
but sharp is good, and pain is better. blood and blisters are a small price to pay for catching stitches more perfectly than jesus himself ever could, and i bet jesus was a really awesome knitter. of course eventually i'll develop a calice the size of texas on said finger, which not only makes knitting even more pleasurable, but also attracts guys like a freakin' cock magnet.
what's possibly even more important is that they have the perfect grip. and i do mean perfect. if you've ever knit with them ponies or pretty much any metal needle (except kollage squares, who's my five-headed lesbian mistress) you're familiar with the distinct 'cling' sound you get when the needles slip off from the stitches, and also the 'fucking fucking fuck' sound which inevitably follows.
signatures are textured ever so slightly at the shaft, rendering all such traumatic experiences null and void. no more clings and fucks, just an adorable, cheerful wooshing sound as you gently move the stitches towards the tip. "ribbed for her pleasure", as knittersreview affectionately wrote--which not only provides the singularly most awesomest selling point for knitting needles anywhere, ever, but also proves once and for all that i'm not the only one with a warped mental connection between knitting and sex. fancy a threesome, clara?
|you can't see it but it's there--also applies to my lady bits|
they're also pretty. very, very pretty.
add to that all sorts of hi-tech industrial newspeak, a lifetime warranty and an awe-inspiring balance between weight and material, and an apparent care for the environment too-- i don't know how exactly, but they use words like 'brite dip', 'anodizer' and 'EU directive RoHS', which simply must mean they're saving our fragile little planet one fossil-fueled machine-carved needle at a time--and i'm completely sold.
so in total, signatures are the perfect combination of snooty exclusiveness, outrageous pricing and humbling precision that inevitably, irresistibly makes me want to throw my money at them like it was burning a searing hole in my butt pocket. bob's scolded me on such behavior before, but i don't care. even the fact that you have to pay an extra $10 to get the fifth dpn (which by any other standards would qualify for the biggest douche of the universe award) somehow seems totally reasonable when you're convinced you're on the brink of the greatest discovery ever recorded on the history of mankind.
of course, you're not. they're just needles, for pete's sake.
but they're pretty fuckin' cool nonetheless. and fuckin' cool is plenty.
June 26, 2012
what a ridiculously perfect pairing, this hitchhiker fellow and me. he's fast enough to keep me interested, simple enough to make me feel special by comparison, and pretty enough to maintain perpetual heat in my nether regions.
i suppose he thinks highly of me too. assuming that an inanimate object cares. i like to think they do, because it gives me a sense of self-appreciation and worth. i'm queen fluffalot, remember?
with my royal guardian ponies and goats.
i love being me.
June 23, 2012
for some people midsummer means absolutely nothing.
for some other people it means going out, getting drunk, and drowning in shallow water.
for me it means getting a free day off, eating pie, and making button bracelets with my favorite imaginary friend.
best day ever.
June 13, 2012
thank god my left middle finger's into bondage. otherwise this picture might seem odd.
|john wayne is politely averting his eyes...what a p***y|
to those of you not familiar with the joys of handjobs (the giggle-inducing literal translation to käsityöt, meaning crafts in finnish), that's my puny hand after 3 days of spindle spinning and andean plying. turning that hot mess into 2-ply yarn was another 3 hours.
i can't believe i've actually grown fond of doing this. it's slow and it's unpredictable, and it causes so much physical pain that i'm pretty sure it does count as S&M. what you're seeing here is no more than 40 grams worth of twisted arms and cramped butt muscles and 80s metallica (hairdo's and all). and it's only 1/4 of the lorna's laces BFL top i got back in november. and once all finished it still won't amount to a whole lot in terms of yardage.
but somehow there's a poetic element of concentration and achievement there, meditation even. turning a raw material into something i can use. being more than just one part of the shearing-dyeing-spinning-knitting chain. mastering a skill that's not inherently programmed into the brain of every tom, dick & harry out there.
just wait for the finished yarn. it's gonna be epic.
June 9, 2012
well the crochet thing is off. having trudged through 400 meters of yarn in one sitting (with this lovely shawl in mind) i somehow just went "meh" and moved on. the construction and shape didn't feel right. or maybe the butch trucker lesbian side of me's just not ready for pink lace. how sweet is the taste of giving up.
but i do have something to show you instead. throughout the spring i've made lots of stuff which i haven't had the time to present here, due to an unexpected and outrageous lack of spare time. being currently sick with flu offers a welcome break to do some blogging as well as the inevitable jurassic park marathon.
and so, a terribly long and incoherent cavalcade of finished knits follows.
i got the brooklyn tweed seasons kit as soon as they went on sale back in march or something. i just had to get my hands on that loft yarn. (it's totally hot, by the way.) my colorwork is rather, um, amateurish, but the colors themselves are heathered enough to cover up a lot of my inability to comprehend the concept of "color domination".
the hat was a little snug when finished, so i wanted to block it to a nice generous slouchy look. a delightful little encounter ensued at a local department store, where i just happened to walk past the flower section with some completely unrelated business in mind, and saw a white flower pot that, when turned upside down, just caught my eye as the most perfect hat blocking device ever. so i took it to the counter and asked the girl what the circumference was.
"the diameter's 19 centimeters," she said. "no no, i need to know the circumference," i replied and made her look at me like she couldn't understand the words i was vomiting out. i was then forced to explain how this particular pot seemed the perfect size to aid me in wet-stretching a knitted garment which i couldn't pin down and flat-dry because i didn't want the side creases and how the pot needed to be between 60 and 65 centimeters because my head is 58 and i liked my hats a little loose, and i just needed to be sure about the pot size before i bought it.
she was probably lost at "wet-stretching".
but in eerie silence she took out a measuring tape anyway and announced that the circumference is 62 centimeters, to which i responded with some joyous hand-clapping, to which she in turn responded with a look as if i was actually intending to use the pot in some completely different affair, possibly relating to eating babies and/or having sex with leather-clad muppets.
|just imagine what a girl can do with a pot like this|
but i took it home anyway and blocked the hat, and it's perfect. never mind the fact that i'm probably on some stockmann persona non grata list now.
|"i never should've fallen for that muppet"|
speaking of hats, back when it was -25C outside i made me a wurm to keep my precious, precious ears warm with its double-layered edge. the size was perfect at first, but after blocking and in use the yarn got all droopy to the point where it's almost too slouchy. so next time i'll be making a smaller size.
then i made two of these ruffle necklaces, one for me and one for a friend for her birthday. i had to adjust the pattern a little because following the chart i couldn't get the edges symmetric.
mine totally look better than the originals, by the way.
then there's a couple of socks i made as presents for some nice people who are working hard to relieve me of my family curse of hideously crooked teeth. yes, i should've gotten them fixed back in the 90s. yes, i'm a 27-year-old with braces. no, i'm not very smart. but just a couple more months and i'll be stunning. yeah. take that.
a girl at work, a.k.a. miss R, a.k.a. my partner in crime in all yarn-related mischief (no it's not an oxymoron) taught me broomstick lace because, as it turns out, i'm not inherently the ultimate master of all knittingy and crochety bits. so with this newly-acquired skill i made some bracelets. they make me look all pretty. and cool.
the yarn's schachenmayr catania in various colors and there's 10 repeats in each. one bracelet took maybe 5 grams.
and finally i made another shallows, this time with some egyptian cotton and one less chart repeat so it sits a little snugger. also i took a crappy photo of it with a warped perspective, distorted colors and dismal white balance. it's all part of the process.
there. i'm all puffed out now. i shall be dreaming about jeff goldblum tonight.
May 23, 2012
May 19, 2012
continuing where i left off last time, i've been in a terribly, terribly good mood lately.
(i'm also aware that my updates have become increasingly infrequent. in my defense i can only say that it seems i've actually gone out and got myself a life. good news for my social life, bad news for writing pseudo-witty rants in the dark. also, my camera is a complete shitsack, which prevents me from snapping the artistically pleasing photos that form the foundation for this fine blog.)
i've been waking up to an odd feeling, one that makes me think things are somehow gonna be fine. that i have the potential to overcome anything life and bob decide to throw at me. that despite whatever may or may not happen, i'll eventually emerge as someone who's not entirely broken down in body and spirit.
fuck the illness. fuck work. fuck the financial crisis. fuck them all right in the ear. seems like nothing can penetrate this armour of maniacal contentment that's somehow hovering around me right now.
of course this could all be just a symptom of some deadly brain tumor ticked off by the MRI i had last week. MRI number 8, to be exact, in 34 months, also to be exact. what a profoundly useful way of spending both time and money. probably some kind of a world record, especially with the zero findings there's been so far. i'm probably infertile now too, because of all the radiation. oh well. at least i'm not claustrophobic. au contraire, i'm flaky enough to actually enjoy being there. what a strange person.
of course it could just be the spring. watching fresh green leaves pop out. feeling the gravel in my terminally worn-out summer shoes (which i refuse to retire because i got them in canada). wearing t-shirts outside, for god's sake. hope smells a lot like rain and earthworms.
but of course i know it all comes down to being at the right place at the right time, seeing and hearing the right things, being completely and overwhelmingly encompassed with something you can't explain but what makes you swoon and pant and giggle like a little girl anyway. or someone with a fatal aneurysm.
either way, i'm happy enough. anyone planning on raining on my parade right now.. well, i'd just like to see you fucking try.
May 6, 2012
it's the time of year again when men put on their bow ties and shiny leather shoes and gather up to poke their polished balls into some deep velvety holes, bending over backwards to get the position just right, crafting every thrust with precision only attainable through years of practice. for characters like "the rocket" and "the captain" failing or running out of steam is not an option. they will pound through 35 rounds of sheer sweaty excitement to see who's boss and who's.. well, the bitch.
i'm just gonna end this retarded analogy now.
turns out watching snooker and knitting makes even the douchiest life infinitely more tolerable. that and getting some global-ass support from people who are under no obligation to even care. so i thank you all in the most non-clever and non-sarcastic way i know how.
and now back to some actual knitting.
i don't have much to say about this cowl though, except that it's utterly, utterly sweet and awesome. it drapes exactly as i wanted and i dare say the color suits me, sir. i wouldn't have said that a year ago, but as it happens i've recently matured and can now wear whatever the hell i want.
and spring's here too, that belated bastard. i've always figured you can't really truly appreciate spring unless you've clawed your way through seven months of winter first. the first day you go out and the wind doesn't slaughter you like some cosmic chainsaw, when it actually caresses you instead of withering away your last remaining breath of hope, that's when you feel alive again.
and you skip along, humming as you go, squinting at the piercing rays of light and greeting every bird and bug and blob of color like you've just got out from the cave from the descent, and happily ignore the fact that approximately four months later some creepy bearded woodsman will yank you right back down again and throw you at the mercy of the drooling albino monsters your fellow men have become because of their chronic deprivation of sunlight, human compassion and dental hygiene.
|pictured: me. yesterday morning.|
but until then you're sort of, kind of, fine. and baby, it feels good.
April 26, 2012
in the midst of all the horrors that ensue from such wretched circumstances as a) staying alive and maintaining some level of sanity during a crippling nerve illness, b) working despite said illness in conditions that bear zero resemblance to the oohs and aahs state of the initial OMG THEY HIRED ME honeymooning period, and c) ducking from gigantic murderous german-speaking birds, i have completely neglected this blog.
my child, my blood, my intellectual excrement.
i left her on her own, writhing helplessly without any loving nourishment, and ignored her existence while pursuing a selfish, opiate-laden path of my own called "it's me first or the bunny gets it" (also known as the "next fucker to irk me dies" path).
what a wonderful mother i would make.
|i now realize the bird was merely trying to castrate me|
but that's the thing with constant, unchanging pain. it's hard to concentrate on anything else when it's always there. it won't make you prettier. it won't make you a better person. and it certainly won't go away if you just think positive. no. all it does is turn you into a saggy bitter old maid with a slightly unfocused gaze and a medical bill the size of manitoba.
of course, once you reach that point, that's the moment you go out and buy as much yarn as you and the postman can collectively carry. in all colors, in all qualities, from all continents and price ranges. because that's what makes you (and by you i mean me) happy, and maintaining that level of happy is rather crucial here these days.
|my precious precious happy|
but after thoroughly sniffing the hanks, petting the hanks and daydreaming about the hanks, i slap myself (with the hanks) and figure things probably could be worse. i'm sure things can always be worse. and everyone has their own private hell. it's just that some people face suffering with a sort of defeated, stoic, graceful halo that inspires others to appreciate what they still have.
me, i'm more of the kind to kick, scream and throw steaming turds at any and all instances whom i at the given time deem responsible for my current misery.
which is hardly inspiring at all.
anyway. somewhere in the midst of all this i made a pair of socks. they're pretty, and sparkly, and they made me and my feet happy.
incidentally, they're the first textured pair of socks i made with the toe-up 2-at-a-time method. i figured this twinkling beauty of a yarn deserves something more than just plain stockinette. and they fit like a dream too. perfect size, perfect shape.
now if only they'd deliver my damn wollmeises already.
March 21, 2012
time to play god again and reveal the new owner of my birthday giveaway prize. to all of you gasping in horror how i can let go of such a beauty, i say, well... i'm guess i'm just cool like that. you might wanna start making friends with me right about now.
according to an all-knowing, all-singing and all-dancing random number generator, the lucky winner is...
papayamaya, with her comment number 6!
congrats sister! i've sent you a message with more info.
thanks to everyone for the good wishes. here's to another year of obsessive hoarding, failed (and occasionally successful) knitting projects and, most important of all, reporting about said activities in the form of long, incohesive, psychotic rants! chi-ching!
speaking of psychotic rants... i'm currently stuck in some kind of a knitting limbo. it's something that inevitably happens whenever i fail to program my knittings into a smooth schedule that glides effortlessly from one project to the next. such overlapping range of simultaneous knits is vital for my well-being because it ensures i always have something to do. if i get bored with one thing, i'll toss it aside and knit something else for a while. and when that one thing gets finished, there's another thing already waiting in line.
but such an ingenious plan is statistically doomed to fail every once in a while.
first i made cutesy. as soon as that was done i moved on to gyllis. at the same time i was making both bedford and twenty-ten. once gyllis was done i made wurm and two ruffle necklaces, and then went back to finish bedford. while bedford was blocking i picked up twenty-ten and got that done in a couple of days (photos to come at some point). but after that...
there was no semi-finished project waiting, because, being a crazy person and thus unhealthily obsessed with my (supposedly) messy raglan increases, i had frogged my otherwise well-off still light a little earlier. so there was nothing to glide effortlessly to. i had no idea what to do with myself, so in terror i picked up a skein of heritage silk and began frantically knitting a sock, fully realizing it would be a mere comfort project until i managed to find a proper one, but not realizing what a mo**erf***ing pain in the poohole that yarn is. (feel free to disagree, but i'm never, ever, EVER making socks with that yarn again. slippery son of a bitch.) so the skein flew out the window and my fragile sanity went even fragilerer.
and now i can't seem to knit anything, because the knitting part of my brain is in complete lockdown state to keep all further unpleasantries away.
so i'm watching hour after hour of air crash investigation instead. normally i would knit something at the same time, which sort of softens down the horror, but now i just stare blankly at the broken-off tail fins, flaming fuselages and weeping mothers, whose kids weren't even supposed to be on that flight.
bob, please come back.
March 16, 2012
greetings from planet barf. the stinky place between bed and bathroom where strange stuff just keeps coming up. hence no knitting here lately. remember to wash your hands, people.
now that the gross part is done.
this blog was rather immaculately conceived exactly one year ago. a lot of completely irrelevant and boring stuff has been said. stuff that only vaguely relates to knitting. and stuff that does relate to knitting but in a fashion that i hardly imagined would interest anyone. but apparently i have some surprisingly magnetic tractor beam-like qualities which forces some of you oddballs to keep coming back. for which i both apologize and skip around triumphantly.
so to celebrate your loyalty and persistence as well as my own, i'm throwing a sequel to my christmas giveaway!
the grand prize is...
this once-in-a-lifetime baby from the finnish fibre artist ilu, who dyes her unique colorways in tiny batches at her studio in pukkila. they're virtually impossible to get both outside finland and in, as the batches usually sell out before you even realize the shop's been updated. you may begin gasping in awe now.
the yarn is a fingering weight 100% merino, running a full 400 meters per 100 gram hank, in a gorgeous shade called "matkustaa" that mixes lovely fresh mints and greens with subtle greys. a perfect reminder that spring is coming - and perfect for any one-skein project you might have.
do i even need to remind you that you probably won't find this yarn, in this colorway, anywhere, ever?
all you have to do is leave a comment, preferably one that makes some sense, by 11am (CET) tuesday, march 20. the winner will be randomly selected and notified the next day. that's it!
good luck and may indeed the luckiest bastard win!
oh, and check out the new brooklyn tweed collection. i already got me the winter seasons kit. because i need to finally fondle the loft yarn in person. despite the $13 shipping charge. jared and his f***ing flagship stores.
March 4, 2012
March 3, 2012
jesus. it's been two weeks already?
i'm alive and working and abiding by the holiest of guidelines when it comes to parlance, which roughly goes that if one doesn't have anything remotely interesting to say one should save everyone the trouble and shut the fuck up (and stop referring to oneself as 'one'). in effect...i'm a dude...who abides.
so here's me not stooping down to pointless smokescreen jabber and empty sentences of the fancy long-winding sort, which some other asshole out there might well do just to fool you into thinking that some extremely relevant and immensely wise content is, in fact, being said, when all the while it is clear for anyone to see it's all a lazy attempt to hide the subject's inherent lack of substance as well as any kind of respect towards the intelligence of his/her readers and therefore, vicariously, the entire human race.
that's just not me.
instead, i'm presenting you with some distressing evidence of my recent hoarding.
i'm gonna go grow an ironic moustache now or something.
February 17, 2012
bob: get a hold of yourself, woman.
liisa: whatever do you mean?
bob: i know it's friday and all, but sheesh.
liisa: i haven't done anything.
bob: haven't done anything?
bob: so what you're saying is you didn't set the alarm for the 9am wollmeise update, race through the stock list like a rabid dog and get three 100% superwash colorways, only one of which being a colorway you ever intended on purchasing in the first place, and none of which you actually need or have any plans for?
bob: and i suppose you didn't stalk the 4pm handu update either, right?
bob: you do realize i can see everything? and by that i mean i know you're lying?
liisa: umm... uh..
bob: what a sad, lonely, obsessive little person you are.
liisa: well look here now--
bob: just because it's friday and the supply is there doesn't mean you need to go out and buy everything you can get hold of.
liisa: but i really really want to.
bob: well sure, because you're such a hysteric hoarder. and easily fooled by group mentality. but it's not like the world's gonna run out of yarn, you know.
liisa: i'm terribly afraid it does.
bob: look. you know anything about marketing tactics? stuff that's elusive, seemingly unique and in limited quantity creates hype around itself that makes it seem way past its original value. it first creates artificial needs by making exclusiveness a virtue and a point of social reference, and then forces people to grab whatever they can for whatever the price before it sells out. so in effect morons like you make hasty decisions based on false needs and still somehow come out thinking they've made a really good deal. i'm not saying that wollmeise shit ain't pretty goddamn awesome, but don't go foaming in the mouth at every update unless there's something there you really like. by all means buy it if it genuinely makes you happy. but keep in mind that buying stuff just because you can is stupid. and the colorways, they're all more or less repeatable. they're not forever lost once the update's through. it's all in your head. you don't need to buy that 21€ skein just because it's there.
liisa: but i like getting expensive yarn online because when it arrives i get to make myself pretty for the postman and then i can arrange the skeins in perfect little piles and sing to them and pet them and rub myself against them and then we can all have a little tea party where i'm queen fluffalot and the skeins are my royal court. and the postman's the chambermaid.
bob: you serious?
liisa: uh.. the thing is.. i, uh.. yeah.
bob: well i've seen all kinds of shit in my time, but goddamn.
liisa: i know i need to change but i'm not sure i want to.
bob: suit yourself, then, as a lazy tailor would say. i'm done watching this horseplay of yours. bob out.
liisa: don't leave me, bob.
bob: you've made your choice.
liisa: you can't do this to me.
bob: i already did. get over it.
liisa: well fuck you too, bob!
bob: ..what did you say?
liisa: oh god. no. wait. wait--
February 16, 2012
meet bedford. my sweet, fluffy, cozy, comfy, drapey loving substitute of a human relationship that has restored my faith in life and yarn.
he's like a great big cup of perfect black tea in the morning. a warm and all-encompassing hug in the form of hairy gray wool.
something that makes me want to just sit here with my feet up on the radiator and stare outside and let none of that mundane, earthly, wisecracking sillyness penetrate my calm and relaxed self.
how completely out of character.
February 14, 2012
i used to love you.
the way you looked, the way you felt.
i used to come up and softly pet you, caress your every curl, worship every fibre of your being. you completed me in ways i had never thought possible.
i could see a future with you. i could see myself growing old with you. wrapped inside your loving arms until the day i died. together, forever.
but then... something happened.
i began to hesitate. a dark voice inside my head said you weren't right for me. i had spent all my time with you, for weeks, for months, and suddenly all i could see in you were your flaws. you irritated me with everything you were and aspired to be. in a short time you had grown into someone i couldn't bring myself to love anymore.
whenever i saw you i could only think how much better off i would be with someone else, and how you deserved someone better than me.
for weeks i tried to push these thoughts down. i wished with all my might that things were different, that there was some way to go back and fix them. but it felt cruel to keep going when clearly we weren't going anywhere.
so, in a moment of teary-eyed, unfathomable sadness and endless mercy, i ripped you apart, drowned you and hung your lifeless body up to dry.
"i'm sorry", i whispered. "you just weren't right for me."
February 8, 2012
it seemed like such a good idea. photographing the latest FO outside. after all, it was only -26C. surely a finn, accustomed from birth to living in the dark and wrestling polar bears while dousing herself with whale blubber, is perfectly capable of enduring such temperatures. surely?
|not pictured: please god let me die|