A little Q&A

I’ve got nothing today (Including a finished shawl, so let’s just gloss right over that.) so I’m going to completely cop out of being brilliant or interesting and pillage yesterdays comments for material.

Trickytricot asks:

You do know that the last 9.5 percent are the longest rows, right?

Whatever happened to the highland triangle?

Tricky my pet, my buddy, my pal…I cannot resist. This reminds me of a dinner party where I deliberately choked myself with a large soft dinner bun so that I couldn’t speak to someone who was explaining that they had to carry a 40lb bag of peatmoss…but it wasn’t that bad, because you know…peatmoss is light. The last 9.5% is the last 9.5% whether the rows are longer or not. It’s not like the last 9.5% is a longer 9.5% because the rows are longer. (Although last night I could have sworn that he was making a solid point. The last 9.5% may not be mathematically longer, but man….it feels that way. )

As for the Highland Triangle, it’s still loved and temporarily on hiatus as I need to finish spinning the yarn for it.


(Pardon my bad pictures today…it’s raining and dark)

I’ve got three of the five colours spun and plied, but the other two are resisting me. (That’s mostly because I’m trying to spin them with only the power of my mind and not actually sitting at the wheel. slow going, that.) Besides….a prettier yarn waggled it’s label at me and I lost focus. (I just noticed in the picture that apparently I wandered off mid-row a couple of weeks ago. That’s disappointing.) Cast your eyes upwards, read the name of the blog. Know that I still deserve the title.

Stephanie asks:

I hate to burst your bubble because I do so love Lotus Blossom (thanks for the tip on that by the way), but I must mention those most time-consuming bobbles. Did you consider them?

No. (This is directly related to there clearly being No Shawl Today.) The bobble-bindoff is clever, lovely and good looking. It is also a sucking void in the time space continuum. I am timing it.

Jodi asks:

What is Screech?

Screech is a coping tool used throughout Newfoundland. Used in moderation this coping technique makes boring people more interesting, provides backbone and strength, eases emotional pain and aids in recovering from trauma.


Used in excess, it does the exact opposite.

Micky asks:

What did you do with the corset?

Here’s how it works around here. I pick up projects willy-nilly with no respect at all for continuity, reader interest or consideration for how they are working out. I dump socks for hats, corsets for shawls and ganseys for…well, it turns out that I dump ganseys for just about any reason that comes by. I drop perfectly good projects that I’m having fun with so that I can torture myself with bobble-bindoffs or sock heels that end up crooked. (I don’t think I told you about that.) Above all, and this is really the guiding principle, I never cloud the issue with facts and logic.

Glirastes asks:

Your newest book “Knitting Rules” has the publication date of March 2006 on their computer. Is that correct?

Yes, although admitting it, no…even just typing that causes the world to swirl around the edges creating a vortex of blackness and horror that threatens to strip me from my sanity. (Not that I wasn’t halfway there from the pressure of all the laundry and the fact that I’ve misplaced my keys again.) While it is true that the latest is going to be out in the spring, I’m convinced that putting it up on Amazon was a ploy by the publisher to make sure that I understand they are serious about me turning it in, since the book currently looks like this….


Note the leftover coffee of hours gone by, the largish glass of screech on the table and the obvious and menacing black cloud of Impending Deadline Doom lurking above it with it’s distracting neon lightning, big teeth and bad breath? The way it lies on the papers with it’s filthy, idea sucking, humourless gaping demon-maw – the barbed self-esteem deathrays it shoots at me, even as I type and comply? See how it follows me through my day with it’s psychic mind-control powers invading my waking moment and every sleeping dream screaming “You’ll never make it…Never…NEVER! Give up now! Change your name! Don’t wear socks! Die-writer-Die!”

No? Er…I don’t see that either. Nothing to see here. Move along.