April 14, 2009

Good and Bad

The screw on my wooden swift is cracked.


Absolutely nobody in this house is responsible for that happening, which makes me crazy because it means that at random intervals a complete stranger seamlessly jimmies the lock on our house, breaks in under cover of darkness glides soundlessly through the unlit living room - overlooking the possessions of every other member of the family, until he finds something that belongs to me. Then, he messes with my stuff and gets out again. He is heinous and does not only break my things, but eats food that is clearly known to be a treat for me, drinks all of my favourite juice, spills things and leaves them to congeal in sticky masses. While I was in Port Ludlow this last time, he actually entered the house, went to the fridge and knocked over both a jar of apricot jam and a jar of curry paste, ensuring that both combined and created a slurry of amazing disgustingness that greeted me on my first examination of said appliance. (Actually, the smell tipped me off.) Unfortunately, not only was the family not aware that he had done this, they had not noticed (or smelled - which is hard to believe - but true none the less) that this had occurred until I returned. This time the skulking rat-bastard deliberately sought out one of my most valued tools, and bumped or leaned against the swift knowing full well that this would crack the screw piece. I know this seems unlikely, and that it is more probably the consequence of family life, but as every single member of my family denies any involvement OR even proximity.... it is the only possibility that remains.

Joe went so far as to say that it wasn't even possible that he broke it. That everyone else in the family might have broken it, but he couldn't have. He could not have accidentally bumped it, knocked it, leaned against it... those follies are for other people. He is simply not that sort of person.
Me: "So any person who has entered this house could be responsible for innocently and accidentally breaking the swift... but not you?"
Joe: "That would be an accurate statement".

I would be madder at him, but I think that he is only trying to save his own life with this ludicrous statement, which almost amuses me.

I could fix the swift if I could find the wood glue, which unfortunately was stolen by the intruder who broke the swift in the first place... which makes it not just a cunning plan, but a sadistic one.

I finished two projects and I love both of them.


This is Shawl That Jazz, knit with Twisted in "Puck's Mischief" (Two skeins, with a little left over.)


I made the ruffle a little more ruffled, as well as knitting it longer than the pattern called for. That's a 17 year old girl happily wearing it in public, which means that it must be both chic and look good with jeans.

If a 17 year old girl looks happy wearing something in public it does not bode well for my possession of said object.


I finished the viper socks.


Pattern: Viper Pilots (I love this pattern with an unholy passion and may knit it again directly.) Crash into Ewe: Diamonds at Night.



What a great sock. What great yarn. What a seriously geeky homage to BSG and all that was noble and good about the desire to be a Colonial Viper Pilot.



This yarn is 2% real silver, which I think twinkles on the blue background like stars in the sky. I think this is appropriate for Battlestar Galactica socks. (Naturally.)


Some people (coughTINAcough) think that this yarn is more than a little "disco" and have referred to the demure, elegant and star-like twinkle of the silver in a midnight sky as TINSEL, which it is clearly not. Maybe if those were not vipers that would be TINSEL. Maybe if you had no imagination that would be FLASHY.



I know those are vipers. I have an imagination. I am content. Those are silver stars blinking deep in the cosmos for navigation in the fathomless depth of space. Without the stars there would be no way for anybody in the Colonial fleet to have any idea where they had jumped to when fleeing the Cylons. Seriously. Not TINSEL. It's like some people can't imagine recognize real elegance when they see it.

Posted by Stephanie at April 14, 2009 12:33 PM