Knitting On a School Bus

Today I took the U of C bus to work. It takes equally as long to ride as to walk, but I didn't want to get to work all sweaty. And there is a cold chill in the air I didn't feel like dealing with. And I haven't had time to pick up the needles all week so I brought them along.

There was nothing too exciting on the bus. Someone was having a mean bout with their nose. Or maybe they were conducting a flock of geese from the streets of Hyde Park, I don't know. Another poor girl lost her balance and actually landed on me. I hate it when one goes flying all over the bus. It happens to the best of us and there's no telling where you'll land. And another cheeky guy asked some girl what she was doing in our neighborhood in the morning. She had a fully legitimate answer. There was also the student, like totally obsessed, with like the birth control policy in like China.

Finally there was a girl sitting across from me wearing a Canada sweatshirt gaping at me knitting with her mouth hanging open. It could have been many things; she could've been suffering from wrong allergies, she could've been in a sleepwalking trance, she could've been collecting saliva for her biology slides or she could've been mesmerized by someone knitting in public.

Things I Would Rather Do Than Seam the Blocks

Some of which actually occurred.

Make tuna fish.
8 hours worth of video game play. Including multiple slaughters by Xaldin.
Bleach whites.
Wax Bikini.



Wait in line at a store with broken scanners.
Watch weather channel.
Exercise.
Weed through limp lettuce looking for edible leaves.

Knitting on the Freak Bus

Seeing as I am now a Chicago blogger I should probably talk more about Chicago in my posts. Indeed, my scarf and I were out and about last weekend. I ride what the boy calls "the freak bus" (#6). One is rarely disappointed.

Last Saturday I plunked myself down across from a girl and her gay husband who seemed harmless enough. Then she opened her mouth. She was LOUD. And she expelled more words than she inhaled oxygen. I don't know how people do that. "Yip, yip, yip." Her poor companion was politely saying "Uh huh. Yeah," while checking out his hangnails. She was discussing potential romantic targets. Should this woman sound familiar to any young gentleman he must pack his bags and leave town immediately. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I was somewhat relieved when another flock of grad students sat next to me. Their conversation revolved around where the other economists were from, whether they were cool and who liked to party.


Later on, I was waiting at 900 N. Michigan when some tourists got tangled in the potted plants surrounding the seating area. They scared me out of my wits. Apparently the plant path was a "shortcut". Whatever. My knitting grew quite a bit that day and thankfully did not get precipitously tighter. Until the next time I take my knitting about town.

(I do not know who the chicks in the picture are, but they could have easily been the very same misses that got stuck in the decorative foilage. The other pic is of one of my haunts at 900 N. Mich.)

Rededicated Acrylic

On one of those manic nights. . .should one ever start a post like that? After Labor Day weekend I messed up my internal clock and I could NOT get to sleep before midnight. (I'm now back on my 10 p.m. to 8 a.m. sleep cycle.) Anyway, on one of those late nights I realized that my brother was no longer in the cheap yarn category so what was I going to do with his pound of acrylic?

I designed me a scarf. I was thinking Frank Lloyd Wright. No snickering! I wanted symmetric and rectangular. I wanted clean lines as they say on HGTV. I made a chart. No snickering!

The scarf has been most satisfying. The pattern is easy enough for duh knitting, but not boring.

It doesn't look as severe and rectangular as I wanted, but it looks pretty interesting anyway. One day I will make up a real chart just for kicks. (No snickering!) I've never made a chart before. And/or write up the pattern which I've never done before either. There's always a first time for everything.

Clearly any idiot could figure out the pattern just by looking at this hunka acrylic, but I digress.

Stash Organization

I organized my stash this weekend because it's taking up too much space in my closet and I have to switch my clothes for the season. Why did I not switch my clothes until August or something this summer? My problem is that by the time all my stuff gets through the laundry it's time to switch the closet again. Durnit. Or the summer's too short. I'll go with that.

I have 2 bags of stash. I am proud of my conservatism. * However, in my new organization I categorized my stash into cheap and not cheap. The bulging bag of stash is full of cheap yarn. The 1/2 empty hungry bag of stash is for yarn of some quality. I'm cheap. I don't care. I'd rather eat my way through my income than knit my way through it.

So I came to the sad realization that my brother's moved out of the cheap yarn category and into the yarn of quality sphere. (I'm using his cheap yarn (some nice & ratty 100% acrylic) for a new UFO.) This man hasn't given me a bday or Christmas present for 3-4 years. This year, I get beautiful place settings that match my decor. He pulls this gimmick the one time I default on a present for him! Men.

All in all, I'm granting myself permission to get new yarn. YAY! I've got space in the stash bag and a brand new deserving recipient.

* The two bag total was winnowed down by moving stash into UFO bags. LOL. It doesn't count! It's not stash! It's in progress!

Blocks-- 40% Finished

I actually completed a few blocks. However, they don't look like blocks. They look like hacky sacks for Paul Bunyon.

I hate them.

In the end it's my fault for knitting willy-nilly and not minding the 3 1/4 size each square was supposed to measure. Measurements are such a buzzkill.

I guess I'll have to wrap them extra pretty. Maybe the flaws can be hidden with enough tissue paper and ribbon. In the meantime I'll be devising distractions so the blocks cannot be examined in my presence. "Hey look! The baby is solving quadratic equations!" That sounds like a good distraction.

Passe Knitting

I opened my winter coat closet (Yes, it's that time.) and make a horrifying realization. Some of my knitting has gone out of style! YES! It's true!

Here I was all smug and giggly about hege's vintage knitting photos. All the while I harbored my own offensive piece of knitting fashion in my winter coat closet.

The culprit was the funfur skinny scarf! (Peaceful music stops abruptly as needle scratches across record.)

I only revived the needles in the summer of '05 and already here I am making a fashion faux pas. There's still plenty of time to recover. I'll probably stuff this scarf in the give-away bag or in some deep dark corner of storage lest I be tempted to wear it.

I guess I'll issue the warning here. If you're still knitting skinny scarves, that was soooo two years ago. And if they're funfur skinny scarves, I can't confidently say that they ever had a place in civilized fashion.

Post Immortal

I came across a genius post yesterday. Please enjoy! Thanks to hege for letting me link to it.

http://pineconelodge.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-i-did-on-my-vacation.html

Pic 1
We look fruity, just like the centerpiece.

Pic 2
Man in yellow says, "My cocktail matches my sweater".

Pic 3
Wig? Or another pineapple.

Pic 4
Elementary my dear Watson.

Pic 5
There's nothing like sunbathing in a wool sweater.

Pic 6
Lady says, "Excuse me, I just wanted to admire your cable".

Pic 7
I'm sorry, but that camera is way phallic.

Pic 8
"Come on, you can tell me. Is that fair isle or mosiac?"

Pic 9
"You can felt my poncho anytime, baby."

Pic 10
Man in rose sweater strikes a pose as the others admire his pole.

OK, I don't know who staged these photos, but they are so suggestive!

Federal Law Prohibits Blocks Completion

Not really.

My grand scheming intended that I complete the baby blocks I’ve been pretending to work on this summer over my vacay. This could’ve easily occurred if not for my scissors paranoia. Before the trip I downloaded the list of acceptable travel items.

http://www.tsa.gov/travelers/airtravel/prohibited/permitted-prohibited-items.shtm

My scissors should’ve made it. According to federal documentation scissors with blades less than four inches are OK. My beloved scissors have blades of maybe an inch. I was ready to go and conquer the blocks. Then my mom and travel companion saw my scissors. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THOSE!” Yes I can. She freaked. Running into her objections just made me more determined to bring my scissors. I’ll just leave them if they give me trouble, I thought.

Then I really thought. My beloved scissors. My perfect snipping partners. Whatever would I do without you? I don’t even know how to get a new pair. Dejectedly I gave up. While my scissors were legal, nobody believes the law in the airport line. I could not risk scissors seizure.

Since then, I’ve learned my lesson and bought a thread snippy contraption. I’m ready now! While this thingy is probably worth more than my scissors, at least it’s easily replaceable. Now I just need another vacation.

Meanwhile my travel pack of Mary Kay face vitamins, a liquid/gel/lotion, that I didn’t even know I had made it through security and multiple borders.

Mini Blanket Follies

I was searching for souvenirs from my glorious vacay when I stumbled upon miniature basket weaving. I love miniatures although not a full fledged member of the miniature community as Vanessa describes. I picked out a mini basket and a mini cradle for the boy's grandma. I think she'll like these gifts. I'm not so sure that she'll actually be able to see the gifts. I hope so.

The cradle was so super cute. If only I could find a mini baby I thought. It's funny how countries are different in so many ways. Instead of looking at me like I was crazy my traveling companion and mom gave me a look for not believing in the availability of mini babies.

We went to a craft store where I contemplated day-glo lace weight. I was not creative enough to conjure a project in need of fluorescent lace weight so I left it. Besides I had fresh lace weight trauma (the knot, the actual process). Wincing, I asked for mini babies. "Next door," came the prompt reply with no corresponding funny look. I mean, wouldn't I get raised eyebrows asking for teeny babies at Michael's? Then I'd be ushered to the porcelain doll heads after multiple staff conferences on craft babies.

Obviously the baby needed a blanket. Thus I encountered the shame. How many times does one need to cast on for a 1.5 by 1.5 inch blanket? The correct answer is 1. My result was 4.

I wanted a tiny basketweave blanket. So I cast on 12 and said K2 P2 for a row and then I said P2 K2 for a row. Oops. That's not basketweave. What is that? So then I cast on 16 to try K4 P4, but that proved the mother of all mini blankets. I went back to K2 P2 and decided I didn't like it. So I began anew and said K2 P2, but repeated the weave for 3 rows instead of two. Phew. I hope the grandma likes (and can see) the gift.