1. I originally typed Monday rather than Tuesday, in what I realize now can only be a desperate wave of hope that I could put another day in this week.

2. I don’t know if I want that actually, mostly this week is so full and so magnificently planned down to every single moment, that if someone did give me another day out of the blue, I’d probably die from the effort of trying to reorganize.

3. Thank you for your Birthday wishes – and donations. I had a lovely, if quiet day, and knit the whole way through.  It was perfect. So far being 46 is a lot like being 45.

4. I’m almost done the super-secret, delicious design project I’m working on.  I am crazy, stupid in love with it. The super-secret yarn I’m using is spectacular.

5. I have ridden 200km in the last few days.

6.  I am not currently in a speaking relationship with the lower half of my body.

7. I leave for Port Ludlow and the Strung Along retreat on Thursday. My class is ready, and the materials are almost ready (if you don’t count winding a thousand tiny balls, which I don’t, except I should, because it’s a lot of tiny balls. Not really a thousand though, but it feels like it.)

8. My roses came out for my birthday.

9. I wish I had a friend who was so crazy about cleaning fridges that he wanted to come and do mine for free, just to feel fulfilled.  There’s a funny smell in there.

10. What did you do this weekend?

I don’t know if you guys know this about me, but a) today is my 46th birthday. b) I don’t work on my birthday.  This means that today I’ll be knitting with my feet up, and it falls to someone else to write the blog. I’ve asked lots of people to do it.   Ken did it in 2004.  My Mum did it in 2005. My daughters did it in 2006. My sister did it in 2012 – and today Jen’s doing it.  This landed in my inbox this  morning, and I love it, and she’s right. I am difficult.  The funny thing is that the older I get, the more that works for me, and the less I try to change it.  By the way if anyone was considering a Birthday gift? I don’t need anything for myself, but tiny donations add up and change the world, and that would be a nice thing.  I’m looking ahead to smashing my fundraising goal into a million pieces.  

——————

Dear Steph,

Thanks for asking me to write your birthday blog this year.  I know you have high standards and expectations of people and so I am flattered that you asked me to step into your living room and tell my Steph story. I’ve had to think about which approach to take for a few days. There are so many – cloyingly lovey, sickeningly sweet and earnest, or the delicious roast.

We have been friends for a decade which in the grand scheme isn’t so long but in that decade you’ve gotten married, parented three kick ass girls into womanhood (and thus supplying me with a triumvirate of spectacular babysitters), wrote New York Times Bestsellers, learned how to ride a road bike and then rode it for ~6000 km; all the while introducing new perspectives and approaches to the age old act of knitting.  Don’t even get me started on your philanthropy local and abroad.

 Hold on….Marlowe just woke up.  

These are all inspiring accomplishments and indicative of adventures that you have yet to embark upon in this long and short crazy life. No, what I love and deeply value most about you, and I’m not sure I should say this on The Blog but in the interest of living an honest true life I feel I must be real.

I love how difficult you are.

As someone who has been described as “hell bent on finding ANY fight” having a friend with a similar propensity to refuse to lie down in the face of adversity has made life so much less lonely. Someone who when going through an incredible and terrifying life challenge checks in with her instincts hourly and refuses to compromise her moral and ethical position.  

By the way, I will take this opportunity to give you a mild correction to your beautiful post about me; you had every reason to worry and be afraid of the consequences of those decisions; it was a scary time and you were Tremendous.

Maybe it’s a lifetime of learning how to live with your crippling inability to compromise your ethics and budge on your morals but your ability to solve problems that is breathtaking. It is a pleasure to work through a sticky situation with you I come out with a great solution and a broader perspective. The more difficult the problem, the more spectacular the resolution.

As a (caffeinated) riding partner you are charming and hilarious to a fault. You are the only person who, uncaffeinated, has a Jekyll/Hyde syndrome though.

I wouldn`t want to ride 60 through 75 km on a 100 km ride with anyone else (seriously never again without coffee.) I look forward to many more kilometres on the road, hours in raging debate and glasses of wine and coffee with you.

Happy Birthday Old Friend

Jen

Even though I really, really should be knitting, I should also really, really be training (I’m behind) and so a few weeks ago when Jen and I decided how we would celebrate our mutual birthdays (hers today, mine Saturday) we decided that what we would really love was a long ride – punctuated by a lovely lunch.

This, in a nutshell, is why Jen is an awesome friend – and has been for the last ten years.   Jen is, in a completely non-traditional, non-acquiescing way, a yes-man – or a yes-woman, as the case happens to be. You think something might be possible if you try hard? Jen will say yes. You think you could create change if only you could throw some smarts and commitment behind it? Jen says yes. Jen thinks that if you really try… you can do almost anything.* You just have to say yes. You want to combine training and celebrating? Yes.

I’ve got a habit of taking things on in a big way, and I can be a little difficult.  If I decide to take something on, then maybe you better look out. Once I get it in my head that something is doable, or something should be done… once I have it in my teeth?  Usually I make everyone around me crazy with the tenacity for that thing, and not all relationships can stand up to the way that… frankly, I expect a lot from people. This can be my best, and worst trait.

Let me be perfectly clear about this next part.  JEN MAKES ME LOOK LIKE AN AMATEUR. A total rookie in the tenacity department.  You think I have commitment? Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Jen.  You need something done? Call Jen. You need someone to take a stand? Right this way to Jen’s desk.  You need someone to stick with something far, far, far past any reasonable point of hope and still hold a candle out for the possibility that everything will still be okay?  Dudes.  I’ll text you her number.  Jen is just about the most spiritually sturdy person I’ve ever met, and to boot, she’s a really good knitter.

A few years ago, I was struggling with a life problem.  It was big, and it was complicated, and I was not at all sure what the right thing to do was, and although there were many decisions to be made, I found myself incapable of making any of them.  No matter what choice I contemplated, I could see the upside, or the consequences, and I was so worried about making the wrong choice,  I couldn’t make any choice at all.

I was on the phone with Jen, and I was completely paralyzed.  I was Queen of the good ship “what if?” and Jen said something that has changed a very great deal about my life.  She said that I shouldn’t be so worried about making a decision.  She said that I just had to do my best, and then she said this.  “The great thing Steph, about making a choice, is that if it turns out to have been the wrong one, if you blow it completely… you can just make another one. There will be consequences, but you can always change directions once you know more.”

That one sentence changed everything. If I made a wrong choice, by wool, I would just make another one, and her sure sense of faith in my abilities and her certainty that commitment without flexibility was a complete pile of crap made it possible for me to see my way out. I chose, and she was right.  I was smart. It was the right thing to do, and if it had been wrong – I would have fixed it with another decision.  Jen had the whole thing by the neck.

That’s the way it is with her. She’s strong to a fault, she’s a mother we could all aspire to be, she’s strong, funny, and she eats commitments for breakfast, while safeguarding all the relationships that she holds dear.  I wish you could know her, and she’s the most amazing person I could have chosen to do the bike rally with. The day we decided to co-lead a team, and throw the weight of everything we know how to do behind the bike rally was (whether the rally knows it yet or not, since we as masquerading as normal midldle aged women) was a great day, and I still feel that way even though we rode really far today, and we’ve got a really long way to go.

Today is her birthday.  She’s 40, and as someone who’s in a position to know, I can tell you she’s a lot more than she was at 30, which is such a wonderful thing, considering how made of awesome she was back then. I know not many of you actually know her, but if you’ve got a thing for strong women, who are trying to change the world a little bit, she’d love to be closer to her bike rally goal.  (That link takes you there.)

Happy Birthday Jen.  You’re awesome.

(PS. Thanks for somehow making camping on the rally fun.  I swear I won’t take dpn’s on the air mattress this year. Sorry about the way that went down.)

*I feel like in saying that Jen is a yes-woman, that I should also point out that if I’m totally off the mark, she’s one of the only people who can stop me, and isn’t afraid to tell me if I’m crazy, which is sort of a lot.

I’m working on a stealth project.  It’s a secret, at least for a few more weeks, and I’ve committed to a deadline for it, and to put it rather bluntly, I knew it was going to be a bit of a stretch.  Not impossible, but definitely a stretch.  It’s like what I want to get down is on the highest shelf in the kitchen.  I can totally get it down if I want, but not without hauling a stool over so that I can climb on the counter.  (As an aside, if you haven’t ever lived with a person who’s a little on the short side, you wouldn’t believe how much mountaineering they do in the kitchen. To get my roasting pan I have to pull over my step, then a stool, then slide over the coffeemaker so that I can stand on the counter. I have an old and tall house. I feel like getting down the potato ricer I use twice a year is likely going to be the cause of my death.)

As a general rule, I like deadline knitting.  I know a lot of people don’t. To them, knitting on a deadline takes out all the fun.  This totally relaxed, easy-going knitting thing turns into a stinking slag heap of pressure every time you start making rules about how fast it has to go, and they hate it.  Me though? I like knowing how I’m doing.  As long as I set the deadline right and keep it within the realm of the possible, I think having benchmarks and goals keeps me feeling productive, and on track and like a person who gets things done.

I don’t even mind when I get the deadline a little wrong.  It’s okay with me to stretch my skills, to stay up a little late one night or two – I feel like these bursts of concentrated work is good practice for being faster and more efficient – even when I’m not on deadline. It’s when I often learn something, or figure something out. The pressure (a little) is good for me, and makes me more creative and productive. I like a little pressure so much that sometimes I even procrastinate to create that pressure – with occasionally disastrous results if I mis-judge the amount of pressure I need to trigger creativity.

Today I was sitting and swatching, and charting, and figuring out where this pattern is going, and I did the math.  X number of stitches per inch, multiplied by the number of inches I’d like the thing to be when it’s done, and then clicked “=” and just about fell off my chair.  I did the math again.  Same number.  I checked my gauge – double checked my math and then sat there staring at the number.  It was still the same.  Now, I know math is like that – sort of predictable, but that’s never how it’s been for me. I’m not someone who can look at even a simple equation and predict the answer, and my guess on how many stitches this would be was way off. Crazy off.  Crazy like asking a three year old to to your taxes kind of off.

This is going to be a big stretch, and I’m already feeling the burn.  Nothing can go wrong here, or I can’t predict the ending.  Stupid math.

Tonight the sprint starts, but for now, a few presents?  The lovely and generous Aubrey over at Goodies Unlimited has a very, very generous gift.  She’s got FOUR gift certificates for me to give away, and each one is for $50, with her picking up the postage. It’s a wonderful thing.

If you don’t know Goodies Unlimited, you should.  I’ve been a fan for a long time, and her stuff is amazing (our family has an unhealthy addiction to the Stress-Free Green Tea soap and the Everything Balm.)  I know this sounds like an ad, but  there’s no affiliation,  it’s just fabulous stuff made by a really generous lady who always supports the daylights out of this community.  I like her, and I like her stuff, and I hope that Cheryl A, Sandra F, Micaela R and Sharon G enjoy it as much as I do.

Peace out.  I gotta knit.

Whew.  Home and… well, I was going to say I was sorted, but if you could see my house you’d wonder what lunatic said that nine people could unpack in my living room and just walk away.  There’s something about travelling by car, isn’t there? I have all the space in the world, it feels like, after confining myself to one bag for air travel, and what with Squam being as rustic as it is, I spared myself no comfort.  Flashlight? Hell, I’ll bring two, maybe someone else will need one. I brought a little coffeemaker and a hand crank grinder (taking no chances after my recent episode) and candles and real wine glasses and mugs (you never know) and tea and bug spray and an extra blanket and … I put it all in the car.  I didn’t even pack it all – I just heaved it into laundry baskets and took off.  It was great, but on the unpacking side there’s more than a little chaos.  Still, a good time had by all, I think, despite how far behind it’s landed me on all things digital. It’s going to be a day or three before I’m all caught up – in a lot of ways, so today I’m copping out on you a little and doing a super fast Q&A and some Karmic Balancing Gifts.

Skeindalous asks: I love the mitts or mittens or socks at the bottom of the post. Can you tell us more?

Sure can, those are indeed socks, and do be more precise, they’re the Starry, Starry Night socks that I linked too a few entries ago.  I’m in love with them, and like all colourwork they seem to be zooming along.  I’m using Tanis Fiber Arts Blue label in Natural for the light colour, and the blue is Indigodragonfly’s Merino Nylon Sock in “People Are Particularly Stupid Today, I Cannot Speak To Any More Of Them”.  (Long colourway name, but a great line from the Gilmore Girls.)

Katie: I’m on pins and needles to see if you knit the second sock this way or with the colors reversed.

Have you met me? They’ll be the same.  I just don’t have the nature for mismatched socks. (As an interesting aside, I would be willing to bet a not inconsiderable amount of yarn that not one of my daughters has worn matching socks in at least a year. I gave them all socks at Easter and they all immediately traded one of each pair. I think they do it to make me crazy. It works.)

Kate: Can I say these pictures look fantastic? Taken with the new camera?

Yup.  I think I’m getting the hang. This past weekend taught me that I don’t really understand how metering works on this camera yet, so I’ll go back to school on that this week.  I’m still not taking the pictures I’d like to be taking, at least not reliably, but I feel like it’s coming. There’s some seriously, catastrophically bad pictures I’m not showing you though.

Carol: I’m waiting to hear about the annual swim tradition. It’s been a slow and late spring, and I bet the water is colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra.

Yeah. I’d say that’s about accurate.  I swam three times this year, and I wasn’t the only one. I actually don’t even think I was first, considering the screams, expletives and general shrieks that accompanied the splashes coming from the cabin the Ravelry crew inhabited.  It was such a pleasure to swim.  The air was warm and the sun glorious, and while the water was most definitely cold, it wasn’t quite the heartstopping, shattering cold of last year.  When I got out my lips weren’t blue and I had full control of all my fingers.  Good swimming, by Ontario lake standards.

Nobody: Hey, I heard that you finally finished that Adrianna thing.  That true?

YES, by wool, it is true.  Finished and worn, although she needs an official photoshoot, rather than this quick pick snapped by Nancy Bush as we walked through the woods on our way back to class.  (I thought the “no bikes” sign was ironic.  Maybe you have to be me too really laugh.) I got several compliments, and I think I love it.  (Also, you may note my “squam hair” in that picture.  It’s what you get if you manage to convince yourself that swimming is pretty much the same as showering and shampooing.)

Karmic Balancing gifts? You bet.  Today’s gifts (and there will be tomorrows gifts too, so you can look forward to that) are all from one person.  The very generous Teddy is passing on some beautiful things out of her stash in the fond hopes of earning enough Karma for the sun to shine on her daughter’s wedding day.  I can’t believe this wouldn’t be enough.

First of all, Tree D will be enjoying 5 skeins Serious Color hand dyed 50% kid mohair 50% wool, 50 gm/120 yards.

2 skeins lovely Jamieson 100% soft Shetland wool, grown and spun in the Shetland Isles. 2 ounces per skein for Kelli R.

2 skeins Cascade Heritage sock yarn 75% merino superwash/25% nylon. 100 gm/437 yards, will be winging their way to Heather S.

Next up? I hope that Pat P. knows a sweet little one, because this cotton chenille sweater kit is going to her house.

It’s sock yarn galore for Karen K! If she’s not a sock knitter, I bet this convinces her.

Shazam! Four balls of Jojoland Melody, and now they belong to Beth C.

1 skein Zitron Trekking hand art sock yarn, and Northeast Fiber Arts kettle dyed – both for Ellen R.

Three balls of Galway (that’s enough for something rather good) for Mikia B.

A kit to make not one, not two, but THREE pairs of felted slippers for Jessie H.

Baby hat and legwarmers (with super sweet handmade buttons) for Chris G!

2 skeins KnitPicks hand painted fingering, 50% merino 25%alpaca 25% nylon, and 1 skein Silver Creek 100% superfine merino, 3.5 oz/306 yards for Margaret W. (Is it just me, or is it starting to look like Teddy has really great instincts for what to put together?)

Finally, and last is certainly not least – two, count ’em, two skiens of Opal sock yarn for Kathy H.

That’s it – if you can call twelve great presents “it” without it sounding less fabulous than it really, really is. Thanks so much Teddy, and to everyone who’s donated.  Once again, in case you missed the details, to be included in these draws (and they’ll go all the way to the rally) all you have to do is to donate to someone on our little family team –

Me

Jen

Ken

Amanda

Samantha

Pato

and then send along an email to me at stephanie@yarnharlot.ca, with “enter me” in the subject line – and your name and address in the body.  You don’t have to tell me how much you gave, or provide proof.  I know you’re a good person and you wouldn’t lie. (Also, if you’ve found another $5 lying around and would like to give again, don’t forget to send another entry.  It counts.)

I want to thank you all a very great deal for making this possible.  Fundraising is down this year, not just for our family, but for the Rally in general.  Unfortunately, the operating costs for PWA remain the same and I’m so grateful that you’ve chosen to support this fine cause.  I can always count on the knitters, and by the way, don’t forget to spread the word.  Yarn presents until the Rally! Tell a friend! Yarn party at Stephie’s house!

So little time, but so much to show you.  Postcards from Squam.

Here I sit, drinking my coffee and getting my day together, and I have a little story to tell you.  I don’t know if it showed on the blog or not, but last week was not really a winner for me. My get up and go, to say the least, had gotten up and gone. I struggled to have productive days, I was so tired I could barely see straight, and I had several absolutely skull crushing headaches, which is nothing at all like me.  I wondered if I was coming down with something, but I didn’t.   The mornings that I went out at 5:30am to ride with Jen were torture. I hated her (even though she is very nice) and hated my life choices, and I would be all done in by noon.  None of my knitting worked – everything was stupid and I struggled to find shreds of optimism in every day.

I mentioned it to Joe, and he suggested all reasonable things.  Going to bed early, resting.. and I tried to do those things, but I still didn’t feel right. One afternoon I even took a nap.  (I hate naps.) I also – without really doing it on purpose, upped the caffeine intake.  Usually I have 3-4 cups of coffee over the morning, and then reel it in for the afternoon. When I was a younger woman I could drink coffee all day, but I find that if I don’t keep it to the mornings, I don’t sleep as well. Last week I was draining a pot over the course of the morning, and sometimes making it again around noon. I even tried to figure out how to take my good friend Mr. Coffee on bike rides, since the 5:30am thing was killing me.  Still – despite this huge coffee scene going down, I couldn’t perk up, and even more weird, I was still sleeping really well at night. I felt a little guilty about drinking as much coffee as I was (and I don’t know why, since there’s no evidence it’s bad for you, and I do really love it) and I felt even guiltier about the nap. I was drinking so much coffee that I should have been answering the phone on the first ring and feeling my own hair grow. Still, I was tired, and my head hurt, and I was… well.  Let’s not beat around the bush. I was essentially crabby and angry for most of the week.  (It is a testament to my commitment to being a nice, non-violent person who is as kind as possible on purpose, that I didn’t ram a stranger with my bike.  It occurred to me more than once.) I swallowed my cranky feelings, I took something for the headache, and I started taking vitamins.  I still felt lousy.

Friday I really pulled it together.  It was Amanda’s birthday, and I organized and cooked a family dinner and everyone came over, and I hoped I didn’t give them all whatever bug I’d gotten.  After supper, everybody helped bring the dishes into the kitchen from the back garden, and we all ended up in the kitchen, washing, talking, laughing… and Pato, leaning against the counter, reached over past the coffee grinder (full of beans) and flipped over the bag of beans there to see what brand we were using.  (We’re a coffee loving family. It varies.)

“Wow.” he said.  “Who drinks decaf?”

The whole family stopped.  It was like we were in a movie and someone stopped time.  Nobody moved, nobody took a breath – everyone froze in place and slowly turned to look at me. The odds that I would have taken up decaf are about the same that I would take all the yarn in the house and set fire to it in the street. There, in Pato’s hand was truly, really, a nearly empty bag of decaf coffee beans.

I turned to look at Joe. It is worth mentioning at this point, that while I do most of the cooking, Joe does most of the grocery shopping.  It is also worth mentioning, that Joe makes the coffee.  He usually drinks very little at home, but sets the coffeemaker at night so that it’s ready when I get up in the morning.  Other than drinking the stuff, I don’t have much to do with it.  Joe knows this.  I know this. The whole family knows this, and as the wave of realization swept over us, the whole family slowly shifted their gaze from me to him, and the look of horror on his face was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

“Oh my God” he said. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you ^&*()^ing (*&^$#%^ing me?” I said, and that was when the whole world made sense.  I had been drinking freaking decaf for a week.  My husband had put me on a cold turkey caffeine withdrawal program, and it was all coming together.  The headaches, the napping, the agony of 5:30am. The whole family dissolved into hysterical laughter, while I said things like “I TOOK A NAP” and “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH OF THAT I HAVE BEEN DRINKING”  and “DO YOU KNOW I RODE MY BIKE WITHOUT COFFEE” and “WE ARE GETTING A DIVORCE.”

They laughed and laughed, and Joe kept on laughing, he burst out spontaneously in spasms of it for the rest of the evening, and even that night when we were in bed, he was still thinking of it and getting all seized up with how funny it was.  “Honey” he said, gasping for breath between the giggles, “in all the years we have been together, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever done to you.”

“Don’t touch me.” I said.

* I am not really getting a divorce, but I thought about it until I got a real cup of the stuff in the morning.

Progress thing the first: I have finished five more holes. I think the secret is to not try and do all the holes at once.  You have to make one, then wander off, do something else and then come back later when you’ve forgotten the holes are annoying. If I do too many at once, then it takes longer to forget.

Progress thing the second: Joe and I had a date night last night, and went out to celebrate an album he just finished producing, The Motherland. (It’s The Bidiniband, and “All Hail Canada” is a favourite around here – though it’s not what you think. If you click on that link you can listen.)

We were out for a long time, and in the dark and I was ever so glad to have my boring sock with me so that I could appall hipsters with my dorkiness at the Dakota. I got a big chunk done.

Progress thing the third: I jumped on my bike this morning and went down to Arton Bead.  No time like the present, right? I’d been putting it off because, frankly, I thought it was going to be a ginormous pain in the arse.  Arton Bead is huge.

That’s a picture of on teeny tiny corner, and there are still millions of beads, and I imagined myself going in there with my wee bit of beads and trying to match them and it taking so long that I had to pack a snack.  Instead I was there about two minutes.  I walked in, someone asked if they could help me, I said yes, and showed them my little bag of beads.  “Right” the girl said, and she walked down one of the aisles with a hundred million beads in it, put her hand out, plucked the exact right ones out of the bin and asked me how many I wanted.  My mouth hung open.  I have no idea how she could possibly keep track of all those beads – it was like telling someone standing in a field that you needed a piece of grass that was exactly 4mm wide and 7cm tall and watching them say “ah yes. I just saw one like that” while they reached down to the ground and passed it to you.  It was miraculous. It took longer to pay.

Progress the fourth: Well. There’s not progress on Adrianna, but I did decide I would knit on it all weekend (except for the holes) and see what happened.  Thinking about knitting it surely counts for something. Right?

Unrelated: It is Amanda’s birthday today.  She’s 25, and the last time those numbers were in her age she was 2.5 and she looked like this.

We like to start ’em on bikes young around here, and look how it’s ended up. My sweet girl is a quarter century old, and using the one week of vacation she has this summer to ride her bike to Montreal to help make the world a better place. (Again. She’s amazing.)  If you were so inclined to send her a birthday gift, she’d love a few dollars towards making it to her goal. You can pledge her here. Don’t forget to send your name in for Karmic Balancing if you do- and remember, if you donate twice, send your name in twice. It’s double Karma!

Happy Birthday Amanda!

(PS. I may or may not have stopped at a yarn store or two to get the yarn I needed for those Starry socks. Whatever.)

I have four projects on the go right now and to be completely honest, I’m not feeling any of them. (Also, when I say four, I mean four that I’m interested in even admitting to. There’s a few more, but they’ve begun to fall deep into the stash, down, down into the layers from which projects do not return.)  There’s a problem with each and every one of these projects, and they’re tiny little problems that I could set my mind to overcoming if only I were a stronger person, but together they add up into a great big steaming pile of ennui.  A knitting rut. Let me show you.

1. I’m knitting another pair of socks. Of course.  They’re just another plain vanilla pair, although the yarn’s pretty fun.

It’s Fortissima Colori, Socka Color (The classic colourway so beautifully named 9072.)These possess, as all self patterning socks do – a certain charm, and it is a lot of fun to explain to all of the non-knitters who see it that they yarn does this all by itself, but I think I made a mistake when I chose another plain pair of socks.  I can tell, because pulling them out of my bag instantly makes me want to scream.

Why I should finish? Because it’s just a pair of socks, and I have a pair to churn out every 27 days, and if I toss these aside and start something fabulous then I won’t have time.

What’s stopping me? See aforementioned bit about the screaming. I don’t know how much longer I can keep that noise in my head.

2. I’m working on a shawl.

The pattern is fun (it’s a heavily modified version of Sweet Dreams) and it’s actually fabulous yarn that’s a thrill to use (Buffalo Wool Co.’s Sexy, almost impossible not to love) but the problem is that I’m an idiot, twice over.   Once, for not realizing that if you upsize a beaded shawl you’re going to need more beads, and once for not realizing that this is extra true if you spill the beads and some go down a heating vent.  I’m not out of beads yet, but I have to trot downtown and try to get some more, and there’s no point in going forward at all until I know if I can go all the way – you know what I mean?

Why I should finish? Two reasons.  One, deadline. Two, I’m not sure if my modifications are going to work, and I need to finish in enough time that I can have a do-over, if it turns out that my idea was as crazy as giving a toddler a drill and unlimited access to my fleshy parts.

What’s stopping me? The hours it will take to go downtown and scour a bead store for these beads and get back home again.  Technically I’ve already tried once, but it turns out that Arton Bead is closed on Sundays.  Who knew? (Kindly refrain from pointing out that the website I linked to just there clearly indicates the hours of operation. Thank you.)

3. This stinking Adrianna.

Holy crap, am I tired of knitting this.  If there was one thing in this house that I could enslave a troupe of elves to finish, it would be that. It’s what happens if you re-knit a thing, the fortitude it takes the second time through is superhuman.

Why I should finish? I really, really love the finished product here, and desperately want to wear it this summer, and now it’s summer, and I don’t want to be that person who finally wraps this up just in time for the snow to fly.  Considering the length of the Canadian summer? Really. I should be knitting it now.  I kinda thought I would wear it at Squam. That’s next week.

What’s stopping me? I hate it’s filthy little linen guts.

4. The Emperor’s New Scarf.

Why should I finish? Because I love it, and it’s almost done, and I love it.

What’s stopping me? Nothing. Just that I want a knitting project, and from here to the end this is more of a sewing/crochet project and it’s hard for me to do the same thing over and over, and there’s a lot of holes and that’s all that’s left now is the holes. Holes. Holes. Holes. All the time with the holes. The. Holes.

That’s the roundup. Four projects. Four problems, four clear solutions, and yet… From here, I don’t know what to do next.  Maybe I’ll just sit here while it all stares at me. Maybe I’ll put on some serious pants and pick one and power through? Maybe I’ll trash it all. Maybe…

Maybe I’ll knit these?

(PS. Yes. These projects are scattered all over my house on four different surfaces. Yes. This makes the house look untidy. This is no big deal because the house IS untidy, and the knitting is the least of it. I’m a knitter, not a housekeeper.)

The barrage of bounced messages has slowed to a trickle, much to my relief.  It turns out that when the guy said it would be three days, he didn’t mean that it would be 256 emails per minute for three days (do the math on that nightmare, why don’t ya) and I’ve managed to delete most of the onslaught.  Today though, I discovered a new problem.  Apparently if your email is hacked in the dead of night, and sends out a gagillion spam emails, and even if you discover that and put a stop to it before you’re even through your first damn cup of coffee when you wake up, it doesn’t stop  just about every spam blocking service in the freaking universe from deciding that your IP address is made of evil, and blocking you.   Yup. I’m a bad guy. Blacklisted.  Just about everything I send bounces right back.  After I write this I’m going to get back on the phone for the 14th time and try to sort it out.  My rage is pretty incandescent at this point, so let’s look at yarn.

While I was waiting for my computer to surface from the deluge, I finished spinning singles and plied  the gorgeous Inglenook Fibers batt.  It’s one of those great “kitchen sink” type batts – with a little bit of everything in it.

This one has BFL, Merino, bamboo, starbright, silk noil, silk, Tencel, Angelina, Firestar and the mysteriously named “Faux Cashmere” which I’m pretty sure is nylon – though it’s super soft nylon.

The colourway is “Tardis” and on the long, long list of things I love about how this skein ended up is the way that the blues look like the night sky (or the colour of the Tardis, I guess) and the little bits of silk and sparkle end up reminding me of stars.  It’s very appropriately named – although I couldn’t stop humming “Starry, starry night” to myself while I spun. (Sorry. That’s probably going to be an earworm.)

It’s perfect.  I’m going to give it away as a karmic balancing gift – but it will have to wait until I have a better grip on email.  Wouldn’t it be terrible if I chose you, and couldn’t tell you about it? Back to the stashbox for the next fibre, and back to this:

Yup.  Holes.