Christmas has been over and New Year’s is a memory, but I continue to be lazy. I’ve been wanting to show off some of my favorite presents for a while now, but only got around to taking pictures yesterday.
Yes, that’s a garden gnome flying a bomber with a pin up gnome on the side. And yes, there is a story there. Gnome art genius C painted it for me for Christmas. I haven’t hung it up yet, due to a lack of hammer and nails, but it will have a place of honor very soon. Right next to this
You read right. L at work is a fan of Subversive Cross Stitch, and as I introduced her to the above phrase, well… She even used Stacey colors! Aww.
And I gave this as a gift, but I just think it’s cool.
Tibetan singing bowls, one for me and one for C. I got them at one of the little Tibetan stores on Hawthorne. We’ve been meaning to start going to meditation sessions at a dharma center, but haven’t got off our butts to do it yet. I thought they’d be a neat little reminder to get on the cushion, as they say. C and I tried to play them a little on Christmas, but instead of getting a nice ringing sound out of them, we only managed a weird alien humming. In time, I suppose. I haven’t practiced trying to get mine to actually ring in my apartment, Cheech and Chong next door probably wouldn’t like it.
I’ve also been knitting my little fingers to the bone this weekend, and have a couple FO’s to show off, but I’ll wait until I give them to their new owners before I post. I get to play Knit Fairy at work tomorrow, let’s just say.
Instead of a long, drawn out epistle on 2008, I’ll just say that it was full of stunning highs and crushing lows, and I have the distinct feeling that the universe is on my side this time.
It may be the cabin fever induced by the foot of snow that has driven me inside for the past 10 days, or possibly the natural winding down of the year bringing on unwanted self reflection, but I’ve been in a funk lately. Saturday was a pity party, and everyone was invited. My thought process mainly operated along this line: “Stacey is the saddest girl in the world and everyone should feel bad for her. Is everyone feeling bad for her yet? It’s highly recommended that you do. Stacey is considering wearing too much eyeliner and listening to Morrisey so everyone will know she is to be pitied when they see her.” Blern.
As a result, I’ve been breaking out the big guns of happiness and surrounding myself with things that give me a smile, like The Neverending Story and the cast recording of Cabaret. Strange German puppetry and showtunes really are a sure way to cheer me up at any time. I was beginning to meditate before I moved from Las Vegas and wasn’t able to carry on my practice while living at my brothers house, due to the infestation of screaming babies, so now that I have my own wee space, I think I’ll make it a point to set aside some time to think about nothing. Meditating calmed my rampant anxiety at that time, and although I’m not an insomniac like I was in April, I can only see the benefit of clearing my head now. I think a steady cocktail of weird movies, zingy tunes and OM will straighten me right up.
Sharp left turn.
I’m not able to get my little nephews their Christmas presents before Thursday, due to the piles of snow on the roads between Portland and Oregon City, so the little dudes will have to wait for a bit to get their gifts. And we all know that what every little boy wants this year is a gingerbread man ornament. I hope they aren’t damaged by the disappointment.
I improved my earlier design with the same eyes I used on the nesting dolls and the little red cheeks, so I’m much happier with the faces. And the letters represent the name of the little boy each gingerbread man belongs to, L for Lil L and D for Baby D. Wouldn’t want any fist fights over these. Sorry, boys, Auntie Stacey is broke sauce this year.
I whipped up some more nesting dolls, for C’s mom and aunt. They’ve pretty much been surrogate family since I’ve been up here, buying me enormous wooden fork and spoons and food when I moved, along with kidnapping me for major holidays. In my world, that earns you a felt ornament.
Well, it earns you a felt ornament if you live in the Northwest. Anyone residing out of driving distance (which is about a 3 block radius as of now) gets my love. And what did C get? ::tapping fingertips together in a suspicious manner:: You’ll just have to wait.
More snow. More hot chocolate. More hand knit socks and boots. More hat hair. And more gauge problems with new hats.
I seem to have an “every other” success pattern with hats. The last one I made, for my boss, came out beautifully. The one before that is half finished in the scrap yarn and odd ball bin, and will never see the light of day until I decide to frog it and reuse the yarn. The one before that was Le Slouch, which I’ve been wearing all week. Before that, this happened.
With hat karma firmly in place, I cast on the Star Crossed Slouchy Beret (Ravelry link) on Sunday night, hoping to have another hat to wear this week. The first attempt was far to small. I ripped that out and added a pattern repeat. That was far too big. I went back to the original stitch count and went up a needle size. That seemed to be working, so I kept going. But instead of a cute slouchy beret like all of the hundreds I’d seen and drooled over on Ravelry, I got this.
Notice the lack of slouch and the all encompassing beanie-ness of it. I don’t do beanies. They give me a pinhead. And since I’m not a tiny little wee girl, the pinhead look isn’t a good one for me. I wanted to fling this down in disgust and never look at this yarn again and just get on with other projects…. but it’s cold out there, and I’ve been wearing the same hat all week. I need a new hat. The worst part of all this snow is the fashion problems, at least for me. So I thought long and hard about the temperature outside at 5:30 am. And I thought about the Yarn Harlot’s questions to ponder when you create a bad hat. Is it a tea cozy? Is it a purse? Is it a skein of yarn? I decided I had a skein of yarn on my hands, and started over on another pattern, saying good bye to my dreams of Star Crossed Beret wearing. Star crossed, indeed.
I cast on with the length of the ball of yarn, and knit until I ran out. Then I unraveled the top of the Star Crossed Beret and joined it in. I didn’t feel like unraveling and winding it all into another ball. I have to admit, this method is working out nicely. So now I’m knitting the Cabled Beret (Ravelry link) in Cascade 220 as quickly as I can so I don’t have to go out in the snow again in the same hat. (As a foolhardy act of rebellion against the ugly jeans, I went out today in a dress and tights. I couldn’t feel my toes when I got home.) I’m thinking I’m going to have to block it to get it in the correct shape, which is just odd to me. Who blocks hats? I mean, generally, not if it’s stranded or lace or something. It just seems odd to me.
Hopefully, this will be done by Monday, so something new can give me hat hair at work.
I’ll leave you with a picture of last weekend’s jaunt through the Ladd while it was snowing. Today was much the same, but far less charming.
The cold isn’t going away. I managed two days trudging over ice glazed sidewalks without, I repeat, without, falling on my ass. Beauty. My time is coming, I know.
I have a wardrobe problem (insert tragic fashion sense joke here). I mostly wear skirts and dresses, and with 20 degree temperatures all week…umm, no. I only have two pairs of jeans, one “not great but okay” pair, and one ugly pair I only wear when desperate. I’m desperate. The okay ones have been worn and worn this week, and I can’t drive to Brother’s house this week (ice + inexperience = Stacey dead in a ditch) to do my laundry like I normally do. I had to wear the ugly jeans today, and it looks like I’ll have to again tomorrow. Should I risk frostbite and wear a dress for the sake of fashion? Or continue to wear the ugliest, most uncomfortable, ill fitting jeans known to mankind? They accentuate the belly, for the love! And give me bulgy hips. Take that into consideration before you tell me frostbite horror stories.
I wore Le Slouch again today, all day. I want to get my new hat done tonight so I can get hat hair from a different accessory.
When did I become so concerned with my appearance? This from the girl who wore blue and pink plaid old man golf pants and a Dukes of Hazzard t-shirt in high school. (Loved that shirt and still have those pants.)
I figured out how to use the ancient radiator. Turn the knob until heat comes out.
Another after work outing, this time to Dublin Bay, with my lovely coworkers. I’ve designed mittens for a beloved coworker and needed to pick up the yarn before spring. I got some Dale Bably Ull, the same I used for the Squirrel and Oak mittens, for her mittens, and grabbed some Jamison Double Knitting for the Druid Mittens from this fall’s VK. Those ones are for me. I’m in danger of being mittened out, but I’m on the crest of the wave right now, and those things happen. And how lucky am I to work with people remotely interested in a yarn shopping excursion after work?
I may have been born 30+ years late to be “true” Bob Dylan fan, but I woke up today with “Mr. Tambourine Man” in my head and listened to it innumerable times at work. (I can work with an earbud in one ear with no adverse side effects and the boss doesn’t care.) I’m a late to the party with love for this song, but that’s fine when each time I hear the line “but for the sky there are no fences facing” my heart feels a little lighter than it did the moment before. Also on the Bob-love rotation today, “The Girl from the North Country” off Nashville Skyline. Bob, Johnny Cash and the song for which the phrase “heartbreakingly beautiful” was coined.
Forgive my impertinence, but is it worse to be have no one interested in you (providing one wants someone to be interested) or to have only the socially inept and all around weird interested? I’m thinking the latter, but that’s just me. I don’t want just anyone checking me out, I want someone good. There’s your daily dose of honesty. (And yes, C, I am that disturbed by it.) And I worry over the implications. What does it say about me that I only attract weirdos?
I have a wee amount of Christmas knitting to do and I’m stalling on it, just as I’m stalling on sewing up the last of my felt ornaments. Is anything else expected?
The storm of the century came and went and Saturday was spent in my surprisingly cozy apartment watch fluffy white flakes swirl by. Of course it was all cute and Courier and Ives then, when I didn’t have anywhere to go and walked to New Season’s by choice. Crunchy snow and little kids playing, swathed in woolen accessories and no deadline to be anywhere made an enjoyable walk through the Ladd. I wanted to take a few pictures, but my camera died after two.
Getting to work this morning, as Portland enjoys shutting down when it snows, not so much fun. Late buses and half-heartedly salted sidewalks made for an interesting commute.
Uneducated and unsolicited opinion alert: What gives Caroline Kennedy the nards to think she can be a senator? Late time I checked, she wasn’t even head of the PTA, much less a government official. Presenting awards at galas really doesn’t prepare anyone for a Senate seat. And I don’t care who her daddy was. My father is a carpenter, doesn’t mean I can build a house. And I especially enjoy that she didn’t run in the election that concluded way back six weeks ago, but wants to be appointed without a popular vote. This whole business of appointing senator without an election just chafes.
How much fun is the shoe throwing incident video? LMAO
I think Cheech and Chong next door are smoking to stay warm. Turn on the heat, yo. And do a drug I can’t smell, thanks.
Tromped through the ice after work to have a few pints at one of the two dive bars in the Pearl with my lovely coworkers to have a fine time talking shit and comb over the finer points of the holiday party, most of which I don’t remember (teehee).
Have decided that the rule of only wearing one handknit item at a time only applies when the temperature is above 20 degrees. Today I wore Le Slouch, the Noro Striped scarf, Jitterbug Socks and Squirrel and Oak Mittens. It was a good day to be a knitter. I seriously pitied others on the bus wearing acrylic or machine made accessories.
I’m on the third try of a new hat, which I thought I could get done tonight while watching Sense and Sensibility. Stop that laughing!
I am desperately in love with Colonel Brandon. Take me away!
I had a good long conversation with R in San Diego, a fantastic friend and second mom. She’s one of the most intuitive people I know, and completely reassured me that even though my life is full of smelly curtains, cheap beer and bus schedules, the time I’m spending now is important. I guess I’ve been bogged down a bit lately, thinking that what I have to say or what’s going on with me isn’t worthwhile or important to anyone, including me. Since I fall firmly in the “just working/ hanging out” category and not the “career/ marriage/ babies” side of life, and most of my friends from college are the latter, it’s not uncommon for me to feel down on myself for not going on the same path, at least not now. Talking to R made me take a second and tell myself yet again that I’m not living someone else’s life, I’m living my own life and this is what’s best for me. Hugs and smooches to R! Love you!
The Christmas crafting continues and I have made a true mess out of my wee apartment. Felt scraps, ribbon, rickrack, embroidery floss, yarn and manila folders are piled everywhere. It’s a bit astounding to see all of the material and mess that go into a tiny little felt ornament. I’ve been tweaking my patterns just a bit, and I’ll show the finished product before I give them away. There isn’t much that’s more boring than knitting in progress, but I think felt ornaments in progress are a strong contender.
I’m preparing for a “cozy” weekend inside, since Portland is preparing for the storm of the century ahem, a little snow. I’m fairly confident that my power is going to go out in this ancient building, since last weekend my microwave blew a fuse in the kitchen. All I wanted was a baked potato! So I have a good feeling I’ll be hunched over some scented candles in the dark, trying to read or knit while wrapped in wool and blankets. (Did you realize how impossible it is to find plain storm candles? Plain scentless storm candles? I had to buy some smelly frou frou things because I could not find a single plain candle in all of Fred Meyer. WTF? I’m past the point of everything I buy needing to have a scent, as I am not 16 anymore, and I can’t be the only person who just wants a freaking plain white SCENTLESS candle in case the power in your “full of vintage charm” apartment goes out. Rant ended.) It is a little amusing how freaked out everyone I’ve talked to is about a little snow, but the truth is it doesn’t snow in Portland all that much. I remember having snow days in elementary school, but they were few and uneventful.
At work I got this text from H: “I’m so against the auto bail out it isn’t even funny”, while I was listening to this song:
After a drunken Saturday, a hung over Sunday, an errand filled Monday and a long day at work today, you can find me with my knitting, some mac and cheese and fake apple cider. And maybe a little Proust later on. And maybe a little more mac and cheese for good measure.
December has hit and as much of the crafting community has realized, Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Winter Solstice/ Kwanzaa/ Festivus is breathing down our necks, and it’s time to get busy. Along with the joys of having my own living space comes the adventure of being soundly broke for the month, and instead of rooting around on Etsy or heading down to the yarn store to cast on a little something for dearly loved ones, I turned to my felt stash. Long time readers (hi, H!) will recall the felt madness of last winter and I have stacks of felt and embroidery floss stocked away for such an emergency as a retro (read: Depression era) Christmas.
I sketched out this gingerbread dude for my little nephews. They liked the gingerbread man song and dance number from the “Muppet Show” video my sister in law showed them, and my brother thought it was them most bizarre skit he had ever seen. I thought it would be a good thing to remind Brother of that. This is just a mock up and I want to tweak a few things for the final ornaments, because 4 year olds and toddlers are tough customers when it comes to Christmas ornaments, as we all know. I’m not happy with the eyes, and not certain yet what I want to do about them. I’d like them to not be so very beady, but I don’t want to cut them from felt, either. Or maybe it’s fine.
This little one is just for me. He’s a rather generic owl, but I sketched out the pattern myself, so I’ll call him an original. I named him Dan Dreiberg, after the Nite Owl in Watchmen, and took the color scheme from Dan’s snow suit in the final chapters. I think I may take him to work to hang out with me and the girls and make me smile.
Another mock up of an ornament. I need to tweak the embroidery and trim the edges of the felt a bit, but you get the general idea. I’ll be making these in different color shemes for the VIP’s on my guest list. Everyone else gets my love this year.
And I couldn’t forget myself in all this, so I whipped up one in Stacey colors. She stays with me. : )
BTW: The smelly curtains dried and the toxic stench seemed to disappear, so I’m calling it “wet dog” phenomena. Unless I lose my mind and decide to douse my curtains with water, I should be fine and odor-free. Now I just have to track down an iron and a sewing machine to hem them up and I should be able to get them hung shortly.
It’s my favorite kind of Sunday. Cloudy but not rainy, cool but not cold. It would be a perfect day for exploring my new neighborhood or finding a park to sit and knit in, but I haven’t been feeling well lately, and walking around is really the last thing I want to do. Instead, I’m catching up on a few projects for the Crack Den Palace, namely curtains.
The Palace only has blinds, which it’s the best decor, unless you’re going for the “Institutional Chic” look. I am not. I found some fantastic orange curtains at an estate sale over the summer, but they reek. I mean, these things have the smell of the 60’s on them: cigarette smoke and moth balls. I spent the morning washing the putrid rags in my bath tub three times, and I’m still not certain the stench has left them. I’m afraid I’ve grown used to it and they still smell like smoke and death. Maybe I could buy stock in Febreze? Or give them another round in ye olde wash tub? Or just shrug off a loss of a dollar and buy some new, non-gag inducing curtains? But look at the pretty color! So orange! So happy! So foul smelling!
While waiting for the curtains to dry (and hopefully air out) I hemmed up a linen curtain I got from Target earlier this year and used in my bedroom back in Vegas and started embroidering the bottom edge. This one is for my closet entry way, which boasts a stunning lack of door. The closet in my apartment is classified as “walk in”, as in you “walk in” to the closet to get to the bathroom. Nice, huh? Me being a modest girl, I’m not too thrilled with the prospect of every guest/ repairman/ persons in the building across from me being able to see my wardrobe and toiletries when entering/ looking through the window of my apartment. So the linen curtain, plus spring rod that I still have to buy, will make a nice shield for modesty’s sake.
I got out my embroidery stitch book and perle cotton and have so far come up with the very exciting stem and fern stitches, but I have visions of red roses and pink tulips over the green ferns. We’ll see how long progress on this one lasts, since it’s the bottom of a standard sized curtain I’m stitching across the bottom. Not for the faint of heart. Or sane,
And I’ll leave you, this wonderfully drech day, with the true star of my apartment. The buzzer.
No, it doesn’t really work like a telephone anymore. But if someone pushes the button beside the front door at midnight, a loud electronic buzzing sound will errupt from it until I lift the lever.
