I LOVE YOU, DSL.

I know, everyone's getting a little sick of my yammering on about the DSL. Either you already have high-speed internet, and you're over the excitement, or you don't, and you really wish I would stop rubbing it in. Well, I will stop, I promise. I just wanted to let you know that I got it installed without major difficulty and am surfing away.

The downside to the DSL? I spend a little too much time surfing. Before I know it, I've been online for an hour or two, and I haven't posted yet. Hm. And here I thought that the at-home connection would help my blogging.

PROJECTS MARCH ON

The past few days have been pretty productive. The back of the cabled raglan is done. The front of the cabled raglan is ready for cabling. (Put off casting on with the easily breakable yarn? Me? I don't know what you're talking about.) I also started the cabled sleeveless turtleneck, aka Moll.

The bad news for my current projects is the recent warm spell we've been having here in southern Connecticut. 60 degree weather makes me want summer-weight yarn and patterns for kicky little tops. Not good. Could I have a cold snap, please? Just enough to get me through these two sweaters and maybe that Koigu scarf. A couple of weeks. That's really all I need, I swear.

DSL!

Yes, my friends, today is the day that my DSL dream becomes a reality. I have the modem. My friends at the telephone company assure me that my connection has been turned on. I just have to go home, pop in the install cd, and away we go. Posting from home. Oh, yeah. Of course, I do know one person who, in the install process, managed to trash her computer completely, but I trust that this will not happen to me. She is not what I would consider technologically savvy, while I, except for my complete lack of html ability, am sort of okay. Oh, god, Murphy’s Law now demands that my computer explode during installation process. Dang.

While we’re on this techie subject, allow me to tell you my theory about how owning a PDA would completely revolutionize my fiber organization. On second thought, best not. The dear boy is already mocking me mercilessly for this new fascination; I probably should not spread a wider net for ridicule. So let’s talk about other things, like how

I AM STRANGELY FASCINATED BY THE SOUTH.

Yes, I am. I am an Oxford American-reading, Uncle Tupelo-listening dixophile. (Yes, I just made the word “dixophile” up. As in, one who is enamored of all things Dixie. Got a problem?) And I think I have mentioned previously my strange desire to use the term “y’all.” One of my new, brilliant plans for the future involves moving to Austin, Texas and doing something that is not public relations, my current career track. Obviously, the plan still needs to be refined. If anyone out there has some observations or suggestions about Austin or some other fabulous city south of the Mason-Dixon line, I would love to hear them. Be my enabler.

AND FINALLY, THE SUBJECT I HAVE BEEN AVOIDING

Er… knitting. Yes. Well. I did some cabled raglan last night. Really. Just not very much. You see, I ended up almost completely sucked into the Buffy the Vampire Slayer watching. It’s so embarrassing. But, well, Angel was pretending to have turned to evil in order to force Faith to show that she was the evil mayor’s stooge… This isn’t translating all that well, is it? It just sounds bizarre. Well, it is bizarre, but in a sort of good way. Really. Okay, I’ll do more tonight. Right after I set up that DSL…

FORGING AHEAD

I am cabling the raglans! They are looking quite good, though I say it myself, for a first cable endeavor. I hope to have the back done tonight. Sadly, this means I must cast on for the front, and I hate casting on with this yarn, due to it’s tendency to break. Larry very kindly suggested that this was less the fault of my potentially screwy cast on method, and more the fault of the single-ply, loosely spun yarn… but still my heart is filled with dread. Is it okay to start another project just because I fear casting on for this one? No. It isn’t. I know. I will take my courage in hand.

Since nothing else of great import has happened (no one has given birth or set fire to any of my possessions) I think I will have to wind this up now. Can you believe it? A brief entry! Perhaps I am coming down with something…

BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE

What a weekend it was. Babies were born. Friends came to visit. And, on Saturday, the dear boy damn near set the apartment on fire. I know you’re all on the edges of your respective seats by now, so I’ll give you the rundown.

We have a garret apartment in a large, Victorian house. This means that we are tucked right up under the eaves and, towards the edges of the apartment, the ceilings slope down very sharply to meet the walls. To take maximum advantage of the apartment’s space, many of the areas where the slope makes for spaces too low to stand in have been turned into closets. I use one of these, fitted with a clothes bar and a single shelf, for my clothes. I hang work clothes on the bar; I stack folded sweaters on the shelf.

This closet has a bare light bulb installed on one side wall, about two inches above the shelf. Why, I do not know. The closet is not so large, or so deep, or so dark that it really requires a light source. Also, the location of this bulb is awkward, so near the shelf. To keep it clear would sacrifice a lot of storage. So, when moving in, I decided not to use the light, but to stack sweaters over the entire length of the shelf. Tragically, however, I never removed the bulb.

And now, we come to the events of this weekend. A very close friend of the dear boy’s gave birth to her first child on Friday morning. He, being very excited about the whole event, had been spending a great deal of time at the hospital with mother and child. Finally, completely worn out, he stopped by the apartment on Saturday to shower, change, and take a quick nap. For some reason, possibly because he was so tired, he thought that some article of his, I have yet to determine exactly what, was in my closet. So, he turned on the light and looked around. Not finding it, he left to return to the hospital. The light, however, stayed on.

Three hours later, I returned from some errands to a god awful stench and two deeply disturbed cats. After running around the apartment madly, trying to determine the source of this odor, the cats and I tracked it to the closet, and the bulb. Two thick, wool sweaters had large, light-bulb shaped holes burned completely through them. Very upsetting. Luckily, they were not hand knitted sweaters.

It’s taken me about three days to calm down and four loads of laundry plus several quarts of Febreze to reclaim my wardrobe. I’m starting to see the funny side. No one was hurt, the cats don’t seem to have suffered smoke inhalation, and I’ve removed that bulb.

And the moral of the story is: light bulbs + sweaters + very tired boyfriend = disaster. Please remember that in the future, my friends.

KNITTING PREVAILS

In the midst of all this, I did manage to do a little knitting. I’ve knit about half of the back of cabled raglan. I got another dozen or so pattern repeats done on the Koigu scarf. I swatched for Moll. (Moll shall henceforth to be referred to as “cabled sleeveless turtleneck,” for the sake of those who have difficulty remembering all those Rowan names. Yes, I’m talking about me.) What with the baby arrival and a visit from another friend, there wasn’t as much Buffy the Vampire Slayer as I might have hoped, but it’s on dvd. It’ll keep.

So this evening… Will I forge ahead with the raglan? Or will I forsake it to start the cabled sleeveless turtleneck? (That really is not a catchy name. What to do?) Who can say? This is what makes life as a knitter so darn unpredictable. Try to stay calm, everyone. Take a few cleansing breaths.

Hm. Wrote this on Friday, forgot to post. Now, it's a little Sunday treat. Exciting, no?

STARTING…

Well, my friends, thanks again for the votes. The decision was split right down the middle, 2 to 2. (Okay, that’s not really that many votes. But, hey, for a blog without pictures, we’re not doing so badly here.) As we have a tie, I have decided that the fairest thing to do will be to start both. Heh. Watch how I’m going to justify this now. The Cabled Raglan, until I get to the cabled raglans (from which the sweater derives its name…) is just stockinette. Quick knitting, yes. Exciting, no. Therefore, the raglan will be my watching tv or carrying on a conversation project. Moll, meanwhile, will be my more exciting project, with cables happening here, there and everywhere. Pretty nifty reasoning, no? And how about this: just so little Shriek wouldn’t feel bad for not getting any votes, I decided to knit a swatch for it, too. Yep. I asked for help on choosing one, and instead, I seem to have begun all three. Although, maybe a swatch doesn’t count as starting. That’s what I will tell myself. I feel better already.

I cast on for the raglan last night. I know it has been said before, but Cash Iroha is really nice to knit with. Slides very nicely over the needles, no splitting. Casting on was troublesome, however, since my screwy adaptation of the long tail cast on seems to cause the yarn to lose its twist and break. Any suggestions for improving that? The problem seems to lie in the way I loop the yarn in my left hand.

BLOG NEWS

Exciting though this may not seem, I signed up for DSL yesterday, as well. Why do I mention this? Because getting DSL at home is phase one of my plan to get pictures on the blog. Can you bear it? Coming soon, to this blog, images of such finished projects as Market Squares Tote, Seed Stitch Pullover and Sleeveless Turtleneck!

STRANGE ADDICTIONS

Oh, god, I don’t even want to think about the Google hits that one is going to get me. (Note to self: make headings sound less depraved.) But anyway, I have high hopes for the weekend knitting. Why, you ask? Because I have become completely hooked on watching tv shows on dvd. Not The Sopranos, or Sex in the City, though. No, I am curiously addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I just don’t get it. I have never watched an episode on television. I never really got the hype. People who made sure they were home on “Buffy Night” weirded me out a little bit. But now, on dvd, it is fascinating. I just don’t understand. Maybe it’s just because Spike is so delightfully evil. I don’t know. But, it makes for good knitting time. And so, this weekend, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cabled Raglan and Moll. Should be nice. Have a good one, everybody.

IN WHICH I BROADEN MY HORIZONS

Well, I hate to disappoint, but I did not knit a stitch yesterday. Why, you ask? Because I went to a play. Yes, I try to keep culturally current, to the best of my humble ability, and, towards that end, I have a yearly subscription to a little theater in town that we like to call the Yale Rep. (Now you all know where I live. Let the stalking begin! Just kidding. Now, people are going to do a Google search for “Yale stalking” and come up with me. Shoot.)

Anyway, last night was my show night, so I toddled off to see “The Psychic Life of Savages.” The play takes a rather catty look at the confessional poetry movement of the 1960s and pokes fun at the mental instability of its characters, loosely based on the poets Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, and Ted Hughes. It’s a black comedy, the whole point of which is to find the wry humor in situations which would normally be considered tragic or disturbing. I wish that the people sitting near me had gotten the memo on the black comedy thing; they spent most of the performance shaking their heads and clucking their disapproval at how cavalierly the actors and director were treating such a sad situation. I’m not going to style myself as a theater critic here, but I will say that Sylvia Plath was the only poet to make it out (relatively) unscathed. She was very nearly sainted by the end. The playwright also managed to find the humanity beneath the posturing of the Robert Lowell and Anne Sexton characters, but rode roughshod over Ted Hughes. Obviously not a big Ted Hughes fan. I did enjoy the production, despite the lukewarm reviews I had read beforehand, possibly because I always enjoy perspectives on Sylvia Plath, arguably my alma mater’s most famous alumna.

THE READERS HAVE SPOKEN

Unbelievably. I know I once promised not to whitter on about the comments section, but I am still in awe when people take the time to leave a note in there. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, everyone. And, if you’ve been feeling a little shy, but you are filled with a burning need to weigh in on my next project, get on in and comment, my friends. The polls are always open here at grannysquare.

AND AN OMISSION

How could I have forgotten to mention the new Knitty? I don’t know. It’s hugely exciting, though, people. I must make Sitcom Chic very soon. Do you think I could make it in a wool blend, though? I’m not too into cotton, and my office is actually colder in the summer than the winter, so I need some warm layers. I was wondering about Rowan’s Kid Classic. I also think that I should make the cats some toys. That way, when they play with/sit on my knitted articles, I can tell myself that it is all intentional.

ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

Did you miss me? No? Oh, well, never mind.

In any case, if anyone was checking the little blog, I am sorry for the lack of updates last week. The mother of one of my close friends died early in the week, and I didn’t feel so chatty. Then Mr. Rogers died. I feel as if my childhood is being snatched away from me. Does anyone remember when Prince Tuesday was scampering around the Land of Make Believe with a small, metal funnel, yelling “Super Funnel!”? I loved that when I was little. I didn’t have a funnel, so I had to make do with a little strainer thing, but it was still pretty good. I miss you, Mr. Rogers. Thank you for making even everyday things seem wonderful.

FELTING FOLLY…

Some knitting was still accomplished, though less than usual. My mother and I finished our felted clog endeavor. Felting was highly traumatic, however. Following the instructions on the pattern, we zipped our clogs into pillow cases and started the felting process. One and a half hours later (yes, you read that right) they were still enormous. Patrick Ewing sized. (Maybe I should have sent them to Patrick Ewing as a little fan gift. Hm. Well, I didn’t.) The next evening, after determining that no miraculous, open-air felting had taken place, we threw the clogs back in the washer. This time, we did not put them in pillow cases. This was my highly scientific suggestion; I somehow thought that the agitation would increase and that the clogs would felt up faster. Well, I know not if the lack of pillow cases made a difference, but the felting did occur, after only twenty minutes. The clogs were dry by this past Saturday, and I spent a lot of time scuffing around in them this weekend. Very warm and comfy. Now the dear boy wants a pair. Dang.

…AND TOTAL FAILURE

After the clog completion, I felt the need to start something new. The Koigu scarf is still perking along, but it’s not a great sit down and knit for two hours sort of project. So… I cast on for a hat, using Nanook, a fuzzy novelty yarn from Artfibers. The yarn is nice, soft and furry and synthetic. The colorway I chose is bright blue and mossy green. The hat was a very cute pattern, ribbed at the bottom, then stockinette, then ribbed again at the top to pull the hat in, without closing the top completely. Sort of like a short, fat sleeve, joined into a tube.

Tragically, the yarn was way too soft to actually hold up the ribbed top of the hat. The floppy hat I ended up with made me look like smurf who had just fallen into a vat of blue-green dye. Not so good. Looking back, I should have realized that the hat was flawed earlier. I saw which way the wind was blowing pretty early on, but I kept going anyway. This is my first real knitting failure.

Now, don’t go thinking I lead some sort of charmed life in which my every project looks as if it had been ripped from the pages of Vogue. I have had numerous crochet disasters. I paid my dues. This was the first knitting disaster, though. And, to make it worse, I could not save the yarn. The fuzziness would not unravel at all. I just have to trash it. This is very depressing. Maybe I should stick with Lambs Pride and the fabulous hats of Staceyjoy from now on. Or maybe I will try a London Beanie. Larry’s is very nice. Go check it out. You saw it already? Well, go look again.

SO NOW WHAT?

I think I have nose-dived into some never ending, small project rut. Small projects can be fun and provide instant gratification, but they can also be a bit irritating. Every time I turn around, I have to do some more finishing. Not my favorite. I need to start a project that I can just sit down and work on for a week without being done.

And so now, we’re going to try for a little interactivity. If you’re still reading this long-winded entry (lots of time on your hands, huh?) please take a moment and let me know which of these projects you think I should start. (By the way, try to keep to yourselves the fact that I actually have the yarn for all of these. And more. Shush.) Here they are:

Moll, from the Rowan Cork Collection (middle images on third row of thumbnails)
Shriek, from Rowan No. 32
Cabled Raglan, from Debbie Bliss’ first Noro book (scroll down, it’s after the entrelac throw)

Any thoughts?