Intarsia and the Old Lady

Posted by ann

Today is D#1’s birthday! Her 19th birthday. Since this is my blog and it’s all about me, let’s take a moment and focus on the birthday mother.

I cannot believe this. I am a cliché. The woman who cannot fathom her childrens’ ages and the mathematical implications for her own chronology. How has this happened? She’s nineteen. And I am not. ~sob~

It’s probably a good thing then that I am busy boning (tee-hee! am I ever too old to get a kick out of sexual innuendo?) up on my mad intarsia skillz. In dinosaur years, I am a heartbeat away from grandmahood and will soon be churning out Peter Rabbit nursery sets and the like ….. so with that in mind, I present to you something I call Pug Pillow …..

This is another Christmas gift – one I can show on the blog because the recipient (Mr. Boar) does not read purlingswine. Can you believe it?? If I had to guess, I would say that he would tell you he doesn’t read my site because he gets enough of my lips flapping in his ears in real life. A virtual me would put him over the edge. La? you’re on notice my dearest cheese, I see a logcabin square for the back of this on the knitting horizon.

Once this pillow is complete, I am casting on for one of these. Unlike the lovely Rachel, I will not be using my own handspun but I did pick up some Noro. I cannot wait to get started. Vicki darling, I hear that you have your eye on this too!

pass the salt

Posted by ann

I didn’t intend to take a blogging break, it kind of snuck up on me. I found myself with nothing really to say and that kind of thing can take hold. Although I did notice that not posting everyday got me loads of comments! and I am a comment whore. ;)

You may be surprised to hear that I am doing some Christmas knitting. I don’t usually knit Christmas gifts – as a matter of fact I become hostile at the thought. I can feel my blood pressure rising even as I sit here thinking about it! Before I work myself up into a lather, let’s just say I try to only knit for people who will value all the effort and time that goes into a handknit gift.

So here I am knitting a Christmas present or two and where does that leave the blog? These people also read purlingswine, so I can’t chance it and post pictures. The logcabin square above is going to be the back of a present. The front is an intarsia piece. I really enjoyed knitting both. I used a variety of tweed yarns and am loving the wooly smell. I keep pausing between rows to sniff my knitting. I probably spent more time smelling it than I did actually knitting!

Do you remember when Cara first caught logcabin fever? How she raved about it? I couldn’t understand why she was so enraptured. It seemed like such a humble and simple technique, that it could cause such passion was beyond me. It would be like a great chef raving about celery. It’s celery for christsakes. We had many conversations where she would try to explain to me why she loved it so much. I just did not get it. She said it was like jazz music. I confessed to not really getting jazz either. Kay tried. I remained unmoved. I turned away and worked on my lace projects and tried to ignore the hubbub.

So yesterday I tell her that I spent the weekend working on a logcabin square. And she puts on her I-told-you-so-voice and says, “And?! What did I tell you?!!”

sigh. So now I’m eating celery with my crow.

Posted by ann

how about an ugly picture of a pretty shawl? I thought that hanging it from my television armoire thing would help to show the length and that angling it to be half in the sun half in the shade would add some arty qualities.

I think I should just stick with the knitting and leave the Ansel Adams stuff to you-know-who.

where’s the rest of it?

Posted by ann

Kimono Shawl
Folk Shawls by Cheryl Oberle
yarn: Zephry

I really thought I would have lots more done on this by the time I took this picture. I thought I would awe and amaze you all with my progress. That your jaws would go slack and your mind would boggle. I thought you would then know the true time implications of being at an away horse show for five days.

For knitters, rows are like the rings on a tree – they must certainly indicate endless minutes turning into endless hours.

I never once considered the effects of high humidity on my gauge, not to mention the torrential rain. By the third day, I had given up all hope of knitting.

that was about the time the soft sobbing began.