You say you want a revolution
well, you know...
...we all want to change the world
Sponsor my private revolution:
What am I selling on Ebay today?
Let the Revolution begin...
*You can be any age to join the knitting revolution. It's not just grannies any more.
*To join, just grab the nearest pointy things, and tie them to the nearest string-like substance. Wave them enthusiastically in the air, yelling passionate cries such as "och aye the noo!"
*The revolution requires that you supply your own weapons. Er, needles. *Knitting can be sexy. Sure, it can. Go to knitty and be inspired!
*Knit in public, and if anyone looks at you funny, you've always got a sharp metal thing handy with which to poke their soft bits.
*Get all knitting-zen on people. Then when you really let your hair down, you can get away with it, because you're "that nice person, who knits". *insert evil laugh here*
*Oh, yeah, almost forgot. The revolution will not be televised. Or... something like that.
I moved to Canberra last November, and am now involved in the best Canberra knitting group! ... so any locals or visitors interested, go on over to Canberra Stich N Bitch yahoo group and join us in our dark endeavours! I mean, creative meeting of minds... er, yeah. Something like that. We meet at Starbucks in Civic on the first Thursday evening of every month, and the third Sunday of the month at 2pm. Come along! If you feel shy, feel free to post online first, or email someone to ask a few questions. :):):) If you want, use the contact button and I'll give you my details so we can get in touch. Always happy to get the interesting people of Canberra out of the woodwork... I know you're there, ya just hard to find sometimes *chuckle*
Sydney Knitting Adventures continue at "my" previous knitting group in Newtown: Meet up for coffee, cake, and knitting adventures galore at Barmuda Cafe, Australia Street Newtown. It's opposite the police station, and across the intersection from Newtown Train Station.
See the SSK Website for details :D
You, and this many other people with a cramp in their forefinger:
Interesting in knitting, and what other knitters are doing? Or are you just bored, or farting off at work while the boss ain't watching? Well then, I have just the thing to keep you busy for hours on end... go exploring the wonderful world of knitting blogs. Can you believe there's so many of us?
I have my favourite blog-days, and these are some of them:
A hairy tale
God on the brain
Blogging from behind a mask
Creativity and productivity
I am SUCH a nerd
Deliver me from Swedish furniture
Modern beauty is a myth
Instant karmaís gonna getcha
Harris the Well Clad Fish
The love is in the food
Embarrassment, Humiliation and Joy
The birth of a grammar avenger
Traffic Lights, part 1
Spawn of Satan
Traffic Lights, part 2
A long time ago, in a knitting bag far, far away...
And my other blog, complete with a few little patterns: http://miscsqueak.blogdrive.com
Thai Red Bull
My friend Matt, who is a huge sugar fiend, gave me a very special gift at pub on Wednesday night. This is Thai Red Bull. (Not to be confused with Thai red curry, which I believe I may have for dinner tonight. Mmmm, yum)
I know that everyone says small things amuse small minds. Luckily for me, I've had brain reduction surgery (otherwise known as recent exams) and I just laughed my head off at this cute little bottle. It smells like cough syrup. It tastes like kiddies' cough syrup. He tells me it's illegal in Australia because it's crammed full of so many caffeine-related stimulants that they couldn't even fit bubbles in. I just thought it was funny, this teensy little innocuous looking bottle with all this nifty-weird Thai writing all over it.
Actually, the funny thing is probably more to do with Matt than the drink. Besides the fact that he will sit and eat sugar for the fun of it, and consumes more coke and guarana drinks than anyone I know, he's amazingly calm and low-key. Maybe he's narcoleptic and would just fall asleep if he didn't drink all of this stuff. I wonder where he gets it from. *shrugs* I drank it at work yesterday. I felt like my too-heavy insides were trying to crawl out of my skin. Maybe it was just cough syrup and he'd gotten me all excited over nothing. Hehehe...
So, to make my itchy pancreas feel better, I went on a walk. A long walk, all the way from Bondi Beach to Bronte Beach, along the coastal walk and back again. Yum. Talk about a delish way to let off steam. I ran into a couple of friends drinking beer at the top of the beach at the old RSL there, and went in for one too. (Isn't life all about balance? Healthy walk plus alcohol = balance. Yeah. That's my story and I'm sticking to it).
So today... I'm gonna slob about home and knit like there's no tomorrow! I'm going to start knitting the pacific northwest scarf after I wind up the skein into a ball. (I love you, my wool-winder! What would I do without you?)
Actually, thereís not likely to be another tomorrow like today for a while. One whole day of pure, unadulterated selfishness. My beautiful Bald Man is working until 1am tomorrow morning (poor habibi, I think Iíll offer him a chauffer ride home if Iím still awake then) and so Iíve got the whole day to myself. So. Iím running about the house in an old green skirt which is disintegrating around the hem, and having fresh-made juice (apple and carrot, oh god, sheís a health nut as well as a nerd!) and just gonna slob and play and knit all day. I might go have a great fat bubble bath and read until I wrinkle up beyond recognition. Oh yeah. Thereís something really special about lounging about in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and a book, knowing that most of the poor bastards in the country are at work. Laziness is much more fun when you put it into perspective like that. Mmm mmm. If I could work out how to net-surf while in the tub without electrocuting myself and killing my computer, I think Iíd just be delirious with joy. You could just about get a Nobel prize for coming up with an invention like that.
So. The green shirt, she is finito!
Ye gods. I've written the blab from hell. This girl can talk!!! Why can't I make this many words when an essay's due? *grin* Adios amigos! Card was Knight of Wands today. I'm gonna go get enthusiastic and verbose somewhere other than on the blog.
Embarrassment, humiliation, and joy (in that order, too!)
Embarrassment and Humiliation. I just love it. I thrive on it. There must be a streak of the masochist in me. (Ooh! See The Secretary).
I sent my resume off to several temping agencies yesterday. There was a nice polite letter with my resume attached, photo and all. Off they go through cyberspace, and I print a final one to fax to someone who hasnít heard of email yet (scary, I know). I notice that there is a monumentally idiotic error in it. Iíd left part of the example template which I had taken straight from Word and overtyped, except I hadnít overtyped this bit, and so where I explain what I did as a receptionist several years ago, I claim that I "Developed an Excellence in Training Course".
So I have three options. First option, I can pretend itís not there, and hope they donít see it, which Iím positive they will, and look like a complete IDIOT.
Second option, I can just email them another copy of my resume, changed to reflect ordinary receptionist skills rather than some crappy bullshit, and look like a complete IDIOT.
Third option, I can send them all another email, and simply tell them that Iím a complete IDIOT.
I went for option three.
I emailed Ďem all, telling them that Iíd missed taking out that bit of the template, and that Iíve never developed any sort of course in my life. "Iím hoping", I said in my email, "that this will be viewed as evidence of my superior (if slightly belated) proof-reading skills" and pretty much took the piss out of myself. Hey, ya gotta laugh.
Out of the four, I didnít hear back from two. One guy wrote back to me, laughingly saying that he wouldnít put me in the proof reading role he had available for me after all (ha, yeah good one mate, now offer me a job, all right?). And one woman rang me back within about twenty minutes and offered me an interview. Whoo hoo!
I finished my green shirt. Double whoo hoo! (That'll be the joy bit). I attached the second sleeve during the last hour of choir rehearsal last night. Sigh! I love finishing things. Mind you, with the gauge the way it was, it should have been finished months ago, but I just keep getting startitis. Iíll get someone to take a pic. For some reason, the timed pics on my camera suck, but it looks okay when someone else takes it.
I really like the way the collar turned out (which you can see in yesterday's entry anyway), sort of assymetrical and modern. I wonít lie; that was an accident. Which just goes to show that accidents, like getting lost and making silly mistakes, are completely under-rated.
cheering myself up
I'm cheering myself up. I feel crap crap crap. So. What cheers up a sad squeak when she's feeling like crap?
- old corny musicals. I have Seven Brides for Seven Brothers playing in the next room. It's hideously sexist and ridiculously unrealistic, but it's irresistably cheerful. You can't help yourself, even if I'm laughing at them, these old movies make me smile.
- looking at the ocean. Peter Carey, in Oscar and Lucinda, says that it smells of death. Somehow this only makes it a more calming experience for me.
- putting a bit of makeup on... trust me! It really does make ya feel better. Boys, get yourself a good makeup remover before you try this one, hehe
- spinning. Rhythm and grace, baby... something that doesn't happen to me very often! Just ask the poor bugger sitting next to me at choir rehearsals.
- cooking. Don't have much in the house though, and grocery shopping just shits me. So that one cancels itself out today.
- hiring a DVD for myself. That is, husband-free choice. No smash-em bash-em. I got "The Secretary" out a couple of days ago. Whew! *fans self* ... that one cheers me up just thinking about it. James Spader *drool* ... and laugh! I adore black comedy.
- finishing a project (knitted, calligraphied, whatever), or starting a new something. After this, I'm finally getting the green shirt done. This is me, with the very cool brand new buttons sewn on, only the 2nd sleeve to be attached now.
- and finally, blogging! Whee! I've taken a pic of my freshly made-up face, and stuck it on the side for a profile pic, and yes, that is a mirror-reversed clock behind me. I can read it easier than regular clocks these days.
No dearies, I'm not talking about backsides.
Well, actually, come to think of it,that's a lie. I do have a booty story as in backsides. I saw this tv show the other night (staring blankly at the screen, spinning wheel lifeless in front of me, too spaced to turn it off and go to bed) about this girl who wanted a nice big round booty "just like J-Lo's". Can I tell you how excited I was when I found out that big butts were back in fashion? Ah! The joy!!! Suddenly I stopped bewailing the fact that I was born into a time when being a stick insect shape was sexy. Why, why, I wailed, was I not born in the time of the Renaissance? Chicks there had cellulite, fat bellies, massive butts and thighs, and were considered the paragons of beauty.
Anyway, my new-found joy at possessing a nice big butt was just trampled all over by this heartless television wench, who stated that big wasn't good enough, oh no, you gotta have round, perky and balanced as well. "It's not enough", she confided in an authoritative tone which brooked no argument "to just have a big white butt. It's got to be just right".
Well, the shock was just enormous. My butt isn't cool after all! I turned in my seat and attempted to glare at the offending big white butt, but as usual it was hiding. Ah well, back to the telly screen, where Miss Big Gorgeous Butt-in-Waiting was having things drawn all over her by her plastic surgeon, including her boyfriend's name on "his spot". Riiiight. So. No implants for this sophisticated lady, oh no. What this surgeon did was liquefy all of her unwanted fat (back, upper tummy etc) and put it into 250 syringes (that is NOT a typo) and proceeded (none too gently I might add) to spend the next couple of hours injecting all her liquefied fat into her butt. Thank god I wasn't eating dinner in front of the tv.
Anyway. Enough disgusting diversions.
BACK TO THE REAL BOOTY STORY!
See what I got in the mail? Whoo hoo!
Sarah of Yarn Dreams sent them to me. What a legend! Actually, the agreement was that she'd send me some shrinky dinks. What I actually got was way cooler, as those little beady thangs are stitch markers, which I am assuming the wonderfully creative Sarah has actually made herself. Unreal. You sling 'em on your needles to remind yourself of your spot. Sort of like bookmarks for knitting. So. After completely bamboozling you with a ridiculous story about liquefied booties, this is actually the "real thing".
Ooh! Another diversion... Went and saw a play called The Real Thing last night. Who was sitting opposite me with a gaggle of lovely friends, but Mary-Helen and Sandra! I had to hop up and down, hang my tongue out and nearly decapitate the man next to me to get their attention, and when I finally did I think they nearly ran away in embarrassment. Hehe. Anyway, the play itself was all right, and the acting (especially Hugo Weaving) was great, once I got over the fact that I was totally aggravated by the put-on accents. Ergh. Hugo Weaving had the most amazingly expressive face, wonderful to watch.
Anyway, since I obviously have the concentration of a ferret on red cordial today, another booty photo, this time something that I've bought myself. Got a massive flyer to ply my bulky handspun on for $30 at Virginia Farm. Yay! I totally embarrassed myself by pointing out that there was something wrong with it, but it actually turned out to be a very clever part of the design. Doh! But I bought it anyway. I put it next to a regular sized flyer so you can see the difference between it and the new fat one.
So how about that. Bigger apparently is better. So there. I'm off to hit the temping agencies today and see if I can rustle up some money for HECS next year. Oh joy! I'm employed again! *dashes off in a cloud of sarcasm*
Nifty green woolly stuff
First of all, take one luscious skein of Italian merino, 2 ply. Envision your gorgeous future shawl. Ooh yeah. Letís do it.
Follow the instructions for the dye and cook it in your microwave. Steamy hot wool smells really odd. The Bald Man came home one day after Iíd been cooking handspun merino, and nearly died when he walked in the the door and took his first breath. Imagine the smell of dog. Now imagine the smell of sheep. Okay, try thinking about the smell of wet dog. Wet sheep really ainít that different. And hot, wet sheepÖ well letís say only the Kiwis are getting excited over that one, but the Bald Man on the other hand was singularly unimpressed. HeheheÖ
After youíve cooked it, and itís cooled down, baptise it. Thoroughly. I name theeÖ black wool? Huh? Believe me, your slight surprise at black wool when I was aiming for green, is nothing compared to the rising panic I was feeling. Noooo! How will I survive??? Wah! Oh, hang on a minute, itís going to be a lot darker when wet. Oh yeah, thatís right. Just like hair. (remembers hair-dying experiences from younger days with fondnessÖ and thanks the gods it was always someone elseís head. Mwahahaha!)
Then, get the skein in between two towels and stomp on it. This is my self-designed agitation-free, felting-risk-free spin dry cycle. Cute Italian boots and swishy skirt optional. Sings *la cucera-CHA! La cucera-CHA! LALALALALALAÖ* and clatters imaginary spanish clickety things whose proper name escapes meÖ
Finally, shake it a bit to separate all the wet strands, hold at arms length and proudly photograph. Whee! Actually, it's not quite as dark as the photo makes it out to be, it's a nice deep bottle green which should be a bit paler when dry. Yuuuuum.
Inner Monologue Transcript, as I stand admiring my handiwork:
So. Next time Iím sitting there with a slight frown on my face, working on deepening my a-la-Alan Rickman forehead crease, staring off into space and completely ignoring any conversation I may have previously been quite actively involved in, you know Iím just smacking the negative bitch down and will be with you very shortly.
Now, Iím off to dinner with Eva and her gorgeous family to gobble a deliciously fattening Portugese feast. Right after I do about a weekís worth of dishes here at home. Yeeah. Housework is so a priority in my heart. A low priority, that is.
Idiotic joke of the day, thanks to Triple J: Where do paw-paws come from? Dog-dog trees.
Todayís card was King of Cups. Like anyone who isn't into tarot gives a flying fart. Heh.
*ah!* the first year is over.
That's right. I am now officially 25% finished my degree. And I'm bloody well EXHAUSTED. I'd love to say how much my heart really goes out to all you poor bastards who are still sitting exams or (poor Godboy) writing essays. Except that I'm just too frickin' tired to get that charitable so I'll just settle for "thank all the gods it's over" and wish y'all luck.
So, despite the fact that the Nietzsche essay was due on Monday and my psych exam was Tuesday (yesterday) I still went to the Allandale Jazz Day (go the shameless plug! Do I get a brownie point Jude, huh, huh???) on Sunday and had an amazing time. Ah! There are a pile of photos of us on the day, but I've just picked my favourite one of me and the Bald Man and left it at that. Any mates who want to have a squiz at 'em, they're on a private group, e me.
And then, for those of you who, like myself, will coo and make ridiculous and embarrassing noises at anything small and furry, this is my mum's new cat, "Blue", who we met just before the jazz lunch.
Ready? 1, 2, 3, AWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Finally, in the exciting world of bizarre knitting, a rat jumper. I'm considering making one to put on Blue's christmas present. Heh. I've been assured by quite a few of my fellow knitters that this is bad taste, vile, and all the rest, but I must say I adore rats as pets, and I think that this cute lil rat in its cute lil jumper is absolutely gorgeous.
Yeah, that'll be about it for now. A good card for new beginnings, now that the semester's over. Yay!
Ooer yummy. I wanna make some of these...
Have a look at these lacy handknitted vintage stockings. Well, go on! Cleeeek eeeet!!!
Just imagine them in black silk. Oh yeah. Make 'em just a little longer and bring on the garter belt, baby. The pattern, by the way, is here.
And look what I got in the mail! *poing poing* Yaaay! Wahooo! Wheeee!!! Uh... yeah. I mean, sure it's only 6 months late (gotta love cheapy sea-snail mail from America). But hey, it's the Summer 2003 edition, so I get it in our summer. Ain't that lookin' on the bright side.
Today's card: Queen of Pentacles. Don't ask me what that means, I'm just waaay to tired to think about anything much at the moment. Me and Nietzsche had a fairly serious chat today, and I now only have about 300 - 500 words to go on my essay, though I think I'm going to finish it in the morning.
Ow, my head hurts...
I am gettting soooo old. One late night with not a glass of alcohol in sight (well maybe one) and I feel like my head's going to drop off. Blech.
Me and Baldy went to see Matrix Revolutions last night. Well, this morning. Oh, yeah. Talk about a good satisfying story with lots to think about. Yaaaay. Go see it, chillen, go see it. The Bald Man commented on how absolutely gorgeous Monica Belushi was looking in it. I wasn't sure if he meant her face or her... other bits. Sheesh. Even I had trouble focussing on anything else while that was on the screen *shakes head*
Anyway. Didn't come online to talk about Monica's incredible assets, the funny thing is I knew we were going to have to wait a while in the queue to get in so I took in my needles and a ball of sockyarn, and when the movie finally started, I just kept going.
super-observant woman who was sitting just near us, about 1/2 hour before the movie started... to Luke: "oh! You're reading" *laughs nervously* (personally I know that reading for pleasure is becoming less and less common, but from the look on her face you would have thought he was sharpening a big knife while staring fixedly at her jugular. Duh)... then, immediately after this scintillating comment, to me: "oh! and you're knitting!" *laughs again, this time with a slightly hysterical tinge*
My response? Well, since I wasn't at the end of a row and all four needles were in use, I didn't stab her. Besides, the attendant was roaming about the place just itching to evict trouble-making knitters and photo-takers. So I just smiled sweetly at her, rolled my eyes, and hoped she'd go away. I'm not very vocal around 1am.
So. The movie started, and I knitted this:
I superimposed it on top of the bunyip jumper stripes to show how niftily (though not necessarily exactly) these two items go together.
Meanwhile, I have a date with Nietzsche. Miserable, mad, arrogant bastard that he was. Interesting, though...
Da Bunyip Lives!
The rather gorgeous and soft yarn that this jumper is made from is called "Bunyip", and besides being ridiculously expensive, it's amazingly soft. Feels sort of like brand new polar fleece before you wash it the first time and it goes all festy, but maybe a bit lighter rather than the dense feel of polar fleece.
Nyeh, just look at the picture of it then...
Yeah, I'm pulling a weird face. Whatever.
I've shortened the cuffs and just done them straight cut-off rather than shaped, and taken about 5cm from each side seam, making it a much more flattering (not to mention accurate) fit. Voila! I sewed off the side seams, and to finish it completely I'll just oversew the side seams so they don't come undone. The cuffs, rather than picking up the stitches, since bunyip is so fluffy and hides a multitude of crap stitches, I just double-crocheted (that's single crochet for all you Americanos) around the edge of the cuff after I cut it off where it needed to be. This bit may need a piece or two of strategically placed sewing to fill the gaps as well. *shrug* I'm happy with that.
The colours look oddly muted in this pic (I think I had the forced flash on when I didn't need it. Ah well.) ...but the colour scheme's a dead ringer for Regia Ringel colour "ringel clown" (5048), which I've inserted at the bottom right hand corner of the pic. Maybe I'll have to sneak in a pair of socks for myself while no-one's looking. Yuuuuummmy.
Me and the gorgeous Bald Man are off to see Matrix Revolutions tonight (well Thursday morning anyway) at 1am. Whahoo! Meanwhile, it's books books and more books for me again today. Counting down the sleeps until Tuesday when I get my life back...
Oooh, she's just on FIRE!
here's the rug, it's finished. Not much work in sewing it up and putting the crochet border on it, and now I only have about 20g of black plastic left in the stash. Yay! I would have preferred the squares plain black, but I couldn't be arsed making another two squares to replace the coloured ones. So now when I'm a cold little granny in the car I can chuck this over myself and voila. Instant witcheroo.
So, since Lily had her headless day, I decided to play the same game...
This is the bunyip jumper I made a year ago, with built in gloves. *boom boom!* Oh, she's on fire today... *rolls eyes at self* So, since the sleeves are waaaay too long, I'm unpicking them at the cuffs and re-doing those bits. Just in time for summer. I may get brave and get out the scissors and the sewing needle and give it some body shaping, too, since the drape around the waist is just odd.
Wha.... ergh. I've got to go make some coffee...