Annie Knits

Sorry!

Gosh, when I get this busy, I have trouble putting two sentences together!  And it's not exciting-busy, it's stupid busy.  You know, cleaning up, shopping, school and practices, doctor's appointments, a little work -- but not a ton.  Just enough that I'm leaving the house in the morning and not coming home 'til three with the kids, and then I'm too tired.  So, by way of catching up, I'll post some pictures -- oh, about 8 or 9 thousand words worth.  That should do.

Here's what I cooked for Thanksgiving.

And this too.

That's my MIL/head-turkey-carver and corn casserole chef. 

And here the kids (mine and cousins) are toasting the day -- with kiddy wine and root beer in crystal high-ball glasses.  Um.  Right.

We spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday with the kids nursing bad colds -- my kids and the cousins all had the sniffles for Thanksgiving, and all 5 cases apparently bloomed into full-fledged colds by Friday.  Glad they ate at the kids table.  Which, by the way, I offered to do away with this year, as we didn't have the usually crowd of 19 -- only 10.  But my boy nixed the idea, saying a kid's table was a "turdition".  When husband and I snorked at that one, he was mystified.  Snork again.

I have been knitting.  Here is baby sweater finished and ready to ship -- the attached card says:  "I am a hand knit sweater.  I would like to be hand-washed and put flat to dry.  I will keep you very warm while you are little."  I also included a ball-band from the yarn.  This sweater is very soft and very warm... not at all scratchy.  My favorite part?  The kangaroo pouch.

Here is a kid's felted backpack I finished up (started a loooong time ago) and felted to give to a fundraiser at school this weekend.  Really cute.  The pattern is from My Little Companion -- I forget the rest, but just google that and you'll get the lady's website.

It looks ginormous in the picture, but it's not -- like 9" x 12" x 12" tall. 

And I crocheted some copper colored bling onto the NEVERENDING edge of this scarf from Handknit Gifts.  It is actually ginormous... I have to decide if I want to keep it or give away.  When I put it on, it's just huge -- an Elizabethan ruff even, my whole neck and chin go away.  I think putting it on in warm weather didn't do it any favors either though.  On the "keeping it"side is it's color -- the yarn is a discontinued Berroco mohair, and while it reads rust, is actually three colors carded together I guess and spun around a dark core -- lime, bright purple, and cardinal red.  In the sun, it absolutely sings.

Remember the STR Heavyweight fingerless gloves?  Yesterday, I thought "fingerless, schmingerless -- we've got some cold weather coming!"  So, during coffee yesterday morning, the evening news, and Netflixed The DaVinci Code, I finished these.  Ann Budd's pattern.

Look at all the yarn I have left!  Since this is on the way, I cast on for a hat. 

Stay safe all! 

Actual Knitting Content

The Follies baby sweater approaches the finish line.

Ok, well, it's more than half done -- that sleeve is now two rows from casting off, so I have one sleeve to go, the neck, hood and finishing.  If you don't look too closely at the traveling cable, it's in good shape...

I'm not a sweater person much, so this construction is new to me.  Probably you all have seen it before.  See the little hand holes?  You knit up to them, put the sides on holders and knit the center for a few inches.  Then you put the center on a holder, knit one side, cast on for the center, knit the other side and proceed to knit the sides and the liner of the pocket.  Voila.

From the back... So the directions tell me to sew that down and the sweater'll have a cute kangaroo pocket for the little tyke to warm his little hands.  And warm he will... this yarn is toasty.  Perfect for a Windy City baby.  These pictures are a fair representation of the color -- a slate/gray/lavender kind of color.

The irony involved in the name of this yarn and the fits and starts I've had on a sweater for this baby is not lost on me. 

In my Knitting Bag

Eleanor is languishing in the face of deadline knitting.  Ah, me.  And a cute little book I found for Dear Daughter for Christmas (it's like 5 weeks away... Yikes!).  The scarf is in the St. Louis Rams colors for a fundraiser for Daughter's class.  Each 8th grader has to bring in 5 storebought things and 5 handmade things for this Breakfast With Santa they host (school kids can come in and buy gifts for their loved ones for cheap) -- I don't have a problem with the 5 handmade things, but I can think of folks who might... They're all at the craft shows this weekend buying stuff.  I'm stash diving and feeling virtuous.  Hey, I take virtuosity where I can get it.

See how there are no socks?  Ah me, again.

This Cherry Tree Hill Potluck Sock and this Kidsilk Haze will become the fingerless mitts in the new IK -- the Rainey Sisters make them look easy... I've promised fingerless mitts or gloves to two of the musicians at church this winter as church isn't what we'd call heated for mid week practice and the pianist and recorder players get cold.  Right now they're using my Silk Garden ones -- which I'd like back.

As far as pattern acquisitions, I couldn't resist this one... it's a felted bag.  Ho hum you say.  But those flaps are interchangeable.  You got it.  And, yeah, I could've done math and figured out one for myself, but I'm ok with giving this gal her due -- she thought of it, mapped it all out, and now I don't have to.  The poppy one is lovely knit up -- I'd probably play around with the colors of the bag a little.  But once I've got the basic pattern, I can see initials on the flap, or ballet shoes, or something knitting, or a skull (if you're into that) or anything charted out there.  Sky's the limit.  It's the Telluride Bag from Kricket Knits and while I thought I was over felting, this one grabbed my attention.

Well, a lovely glass of white wine and that sweater sleeve are calling.  Let's see if those two can play nice, shall we?

Here's What Else Big Dogs Are Really Good For

Sorry about that dangling preposition, but the saying is idiomatic -- correctly stated it would be:  Here is another thing at which big dogs excel.  Ponderous.  And geeky.  Anyway.

Big dogs make great alarm clocks.

Especially when the recalcitrant waker-upper in question has sneaked into our bed after we've gotten up and is very, very comfy and warm and not likely to budge on his own or at my request.

The reason they're such good alarm clocks?  (Aside from the snorking and sniffling and shuffling around that they do?)

Big dogs do not have snooze buttons.

Good Doggy.

Catching Up

Let's see, I gave Bridgett her yarn at coffee yesterday... I've heard from Laurie, Jess, Cecily and Sheila, so I'll send out their packages on Monday...

I've been knitting and getting.  First the knitting.

Here is Baby Surprise.  You'll remember that I've knit it out of Knitpicks Merino Style.  This yarn has great colors, lovely drape, and is super soft.  Definitely a thumbs up... on the yarn.  The sweater?  Not so much.  It's cute, certainly.  But it looked wrong.  First I tried it on Olivia, the baby doll we have at the shop who wears the model sweaters.  Doesn't button.  Which is what I thought was wrong.  The proportions for a newborn are just wrong -- too thin across the middle, too long.  That stripey collar is supposed to be a hood, but I just cast  it off in disgust. 

Anyway, I took it with me to the coffee shop to show the ladies and with a secret intent... there are often coffee drinkers there accompanied by their little ones.  Like one-year-olds.   With the approval of my friends (I didn't want to seem like the creepy lady who likes to try her sweaters on unsuspecting toddlers), I asked a likely looking mom if she would try this sweater on her little guy.  I explained about how it was for my new nephew and how my kids are waaaay too big to be of any help in this regard...  She was fine with it, and you know what?  It fit him just fine... a little long, and I'll have to go out and find those Norwegian hooks, not use the buttons, but otherwise it was perfect on him.  He was a smallish 17month old, so this will be perfect for this new nephew next fall and winter.  Who knew?  The problem?

I thought I was having a Wooly Headed week so I started a new baby sweater (number 4?) with the absolutely lovely, soft Classic Elite Follies yarn Stitchy McYarnpants sent me last week for playing Blogger Bingo!  There are about 700 yards here... a perfect amount for a beautifully cabled baby sweater. 

I swear.  I am an absolute idiot where this sweater for this baby is concerned!  Loony.  But this is lovely too.  And husband likes the hooded version on the top.  Once the pattern was sorted out, I got this far in one evening.

I need more experience with cables... I never like the transition between ribbing and cable.  A few of the more elegantly written patterns do it well -- you know what I mean, when the ribbing magically flows into the beginnings of the cables.  There are increases in the first row here and I'd have done a row plain had I known it would get wonky in the middle on me.  I'll do that on the front.  And a chart would have been so much easier.

These also came in the mail this week (I say that as if they came magically, as a surprise, when in fact I was stalking our poor mail guy for days...).  They are STR Heavyweight in Rocktober, Jinglebell rock, and Chanticleer.  Really, really, really nice yarn.  They are fated to become:
Fingerless (or maybe fingered, I don't know) mits for gifts.  One hank will certainly make two pair.  This one took an hour and a half -- that is what you see took that amount of time.  I've ripped out the top of the hand twice.  First I did 2x2 ribbing.  Too bulky.  Then I did 1x1 ribbing.  Not right either.  Next I'll try garter.  What do you think about a rolled top with a few decreases to tighten it up on the hand?  The basic pattern is from Ann Budd's book of patterns.

So.  Mis-steps and foibles aside -- a respectable week of knitting. 

I'm an idiot.

Your Just Rewards

Here you go... what you've all been waiting for!

Dear Daughter makes sure the names are sufficiently mixed up...

Dear Son takes his responsibilities very seriously....  And the winners are:

Sheila, Laurie, Bridgett, Cecily and Jess!  (I'm pretty sure you weren't the duplicates, but click on your name just to be sure it's you.)  Send me your color/fiber preferences (if you're not a sock person, we can deal, just let me know) and an address.  Use the email link at the top of the blog.  Thanks for voting!

And ... here Lucia.

This dog is my spoiled, rotten baby.  And I love her to death!  And she barks deep and low at various things that go bump in the night.

Walk With Me Wednesday

When I take a walk in our World's Fair Era neighborhood (for those of you not from St. Louis, this refers to the only thing of note apparently ever to happen here -- the 1904 World's Fair), this is what I see:

Here, my dogwood trees are bright reddish orange and my dog is sniffing around our limestone wall and my crabby neighbor is arguing with a passer-by. 

Further down are these brick and limestone beauties.  Inside are ballrooms, split stair cases, stained glass, quarter-sawn oak... you name some trim in the lexicon of turn-of-the-century mansions, one of these babies has it.

Most of the homes are in really good shape, but some are not.  This one's recently had it's side porch come off and get put back on.  The resident is kind of a Boo Radley character.  But I'd love to get inside, the Art Nouveau windows perhaps being an indication of the details in there.

Most of the homes have one of these covered side doors called a porte cochere -- not sure if that's spelled right. 

Many have carriage houses the size of the house I grew up in...This one has two stories and columns.  See it back there?  Sorry I couldn't get closer.  It's often on the house tour if you're ever in town the second weekend in April.

This one has a great porch built over the driveway.  One of my favorites.

Here, doggie is home and ready to go in and get a drink of water.  My house is not one of the older homes, just one with a lovely large yard.  I get to look out onto the older homes, but I don't have to heat one of them.  Nor do I have to clean the intricate woodwork in the staircase and mantelpieces with a toothbrush and Murphy's oil soap each season... ok, each year.  How do I know that little gem of houswifery?  We had a hundred-year-old house for 10 years.  Rehabbed it (mostly).  Sold it.

P.S. -- The random generator's sister and I had too much going on this afternoon for me to list all of you and get him organized for picking out names.  Rest assured we will do it tomorrow.  Watch this space...

Lo and Behold

Yesterday, here in St. Louis, we all experienced a real-life, modern-day miracle.  I bet you did too.

There was no star shining in the sky overhead, no apparition of any kind, no burning bush -- well not in capital letters anyway.  It was foretold, of course, and it came to pass.

We voted.  In record numbers for a mid-term election.

The miracle is that we, as a country, didn't convulse into a paroxysm of violence.  There were no car-bombs (at least not any related to the election) in front of polling stations.  There were no suicide bombers blowing up themselves along with innocent others under the Arch over Stem Cell research.  No McCaskill supporters shooting up the Talent strongholds.  The 37 judges that I had to vote yes or no for (who are they and why didn't I know?) are all alive and well this morning as far as I know.

America is the miracle.  All of the yucky phone calls and attack ads and orgiastic media commentary notwithstanding, we are miraculous.  We line up peacefully and we vote.  We touch the screens or we bubble in the optical scan ballots or we punch the punch cards... and we vote.  I heard of one bit of craziness -- a guy in Louisville refused to vote for the above mentioned judges 'cause he didn't know anything about them, so an election judge choked him and threw him out of the polling place ... but hey, the judge was choking the guy to get him to vote -- part of the miracle!

When the random number generator gets home from school, I'll reward 5 of you for your miraculous behavior -- so you have until then to leave a comment telling me that you voted.

Miracle of miracles, it is a bright, sunny, autumn day here and my phone is not ringing.  And much is right with the world.  Whatever isn't ... well, we can vote on that later.

What Are You Doing Here?

You should be voting!  Oh.  You did?  Really? 

Leave a comment telling me that you voted and the Random Number Generator will choose a few lucky voters to rescue some sock yarn from my stash.  No kidding.  Really. 

On your honor -- did you vote? 

What are you waiting for?!

This and That

You guys are so lovely and supportive.  I've blogged about our dog before here and here so you can see her.  I do have to tell you a secret.  Stories like the one I told the other day are city dweller fodder. Live in an urban area for any length of time and you too will have a store of these urban nuisance stories, scary (many of them) and not so scary (some really funny).  We wear these stories like badges of honor and experience and trot them out for eachother as kind of an inside joke... Now, when something truly horrible happens, like Bridgett's story of earlier this summer, we don't talk about it much... but those stories are really few and far between.  Really.  So this one goes down in the annals of "Are you kidding?!"  The woman (still not sure about that particular detail) was certainly without legs.  It was certainly 3:30 a.m.  She certainly wanted me to open the door.  She certainly did not want to talk to police officers.  Other than that, it's mostly conjecture.  I am sure of this bit of conjecture though, she was mentally off -- whether due to drugs or alcohol or mental illness or some combination of these things.  Remember folks, you never open the door to strangers, be it 3:30 a.m. or p.m.  Never. 

And another thing -- I'm so glad that none of you told me to move.  'Cause I won't.  I love my neighborhood.  It's where my friends are and my church is and my hang-outs are.  We have a pretty good school for the kids and good friends for them.  We have a lovely home and yard.  My husband can walk to work downtown if he feels like it -- takes him awhile, but during Mardi Gras it's worth it -- and he can certainly drive to and from work in minutes.  We're a hop and a skip from the Theatre district, the Zoo, the Science Center, the Arch, the Farmer's Market, ... you name it.  Yeah, my county friends (that's what we call the suburbs here in St. Louis) don't have crack heads knocking on their doors in the middle of the night, but there is crime everywhere.  We choose the city.  We try to spend most of our money here.  We see it as recycling on a grand scale.  And we're annoyingly holier than thou about it.  *grin*

Knitting?  Yep.

Hopefully later today, this will turn into this:

Just about done with the baby surprise jacket from Elizabeth Zimmermann -- I know Ruth told me about another version but I can't remember what it was...  And the astute among you will realize that this is not an intarsia baby sweater either.  Hmm.  Somebody give this "itis" a name... I couldn't, for the life of me, find a project that I loved for this baby!  I started the following and abandoned them:  a log cabin blanket out of Knitpicks Palette; a Dale of Norway sweater; the intarsia sweater.  Sheesh.

This I love.  And it's the yarn.  Which I have to tell you is Merino Style from Knitpicks again.  I ordered a few each of several of the colors for mittens this winter.  And let me tell you!  This stuff is soft and lovely knit on 6s.  Oh my.  The hand of the fabric is sumptuous.  It's making this simple sweater just sing.  It'll get turquoise or green buttons and a hood.  So.  Gosh.  Maybe I'll actually finish this one...SEEING AS HOW THE BABY IS ALREADY BORN!

Yep, new nephew on Thursday.  Mom, Dad/bro, and baby are fine.  The name's still a little in flux but it'll shake itself out.

Yarn acquisition?  Yep.

I ordered from the Yarn Co-op again.  I know, I know.  I shoulda dumped them after the embezzling debacle this summer, but I didn't.  Then we had the opportunity to order sock yarn dyed to specification for like 8 or 9 dollars a skein.  So I bit.  I've been wanting to do kneesocks.  I ordered this one dyed with light and dark green, rose, and taupe.  Really like the colors, and the pooling will sort itself out when I increase for the calf and decrease for the ankle.  Really do not like the yarn, which is touted as 100% merino, but knits up on ones and twos like string.  No merino sproing.  I know, looks ok in the picture, but trust me.  It's not ok.  So.  It was an experiment gone wrong.  The yarn?  Socks that Fit is the outfit.  Whatever.  The problem is that I'm not in only for a dime... I'm in for a dollar:

Or so. Anyway, before I throw in the towel, I'm gonna cast off that little tube, wash it and see if it fluffs.  Then we'll see.

Edited to add:  Beth from Socks that Fit was gracious enough to leave a comment to my snarkish post.  Thanks Beth.  And I'm washing the sample I've knit.  Did I say I loved the colorwork?  Yep.  And the lesson?  If you're gonna snark, the snark recipient might be the first person to read your post, so you better be ready to ... well ... be gracious about it.       

Happy Monday -- see you with a finished baby surprise hoodie later today.  Or bust!

We Take a Break From the Scheduled Content of this Knitblog to Bring You The Following ...

Little urban story, concurrent with the bogus study released last week about St. Louis being the most dangerous city in the U.S.  'Cause we're not... these guys didn't even get the current population numbers right.  And they skewed statistics in a really irresponsible way having to do with city boundaries and whatever else... But I digress.

So, as I've said before, we live in what you might call the urban core of St. Louis.  If we had to, we could easily walk downtown.  We've lived in this house for 6 years and we lived about 2 blocks south of here for 10 years before that.  The first house was on a busy corner and across the street from crack heads.  After we'd had kids for awhile, we decided we'd have to give up that beautiful old house for a less active neighborhood and we moved onto the quiet, tree-lined street where we live now.  And even though our house is just a hundred yards or so from a main thoroughfare, two blocks made all the difference.  No more convenience store on the corner, in fact only homes on the whole street, so if someone doesn't belong, it's quickly evident. 

Anyway, let's just say it's been awhile since I've been awakened in the middle of the night by rowdy behavior or the noisy commission of a felony. 

Last night though, at about 3:20 a.m., our dog Sophie gave a low, warning growl.  I heard her through the fog of sleep and rolled over... probably a possum or a raccoon or a cat crossing the yard -- I don't know how those things wake her up, but they do.  Then, however, she gave one low, loud, warning bark.  I still didn't rouse myself... we live on a quiet street, you know.  Then all H - E - double hockey sticks broke loose  - Rowfrowrowrowrowrowf! Rowf! Rowfrowrowrworowf!  Scrabbling toenails on the kitchen floor, more barking, and the noise that made me get out of bed:  the wind chimes I hang off of my mailbox all jangled together like they'd been hit.  I sneaked through the house (hubby was still asleep) and as I got toward the back, between the dog's barks, I could hear someone bellowing.  I looked through the chest-high window toward my back door and couldn't see anything, but the dog sure could.  And I could make out the bellowing now:  "Is anybody in there?!  Is anybody home?!"

What?  I peeked out the door and there was a woman (or maybe a womanish man, I don't know) in a wheelchair.  She saw me and hoisted herself high in the chair for me to see that she obviously had no legs.  Then she called out something about all the houses around here having too many steps and this was the only door she could get to and did I have a dollar and ten cents so she could catch the bus.

"You have got to be kidding me," I called back, through the door.  "It is 3:30 in the morning!"

"Listen," she tells me, rolling into the flood light's circle at the door so I can see that she does indeed have a kind of wound across the bridge of her nose.  "They jumped me and I need a dollar ten to get on the bus.  Just open the door."

Wow.  Wrong on so many levels.  And now I was awake.  "I'll call the police and they can help you," I offered. 

Off she wheeled, down the driveway and, before I could get to the front window to see which direction she turned, out of sight.  No kidding, just evaporated. 

So, I did indeed call the police.  They thought she must have been trying to scam me... Um, gee Officer, ya think?!  No, the two young guys were lovely and walked around the entire house looking for the accomplice we were all sure was there with her at some point.  To no avail.  "You sure she didn't get up and run off or get into a car," one policeman asked.  I really am positive that this person had no legs, scam or no scam.  There was only vertical to her, no horizontal. 

And, of course, it took me until 15 minutes before I had to be up this morning to get back to sleep.  I'm really out of practice with this urban nuisance stuff.

The title of this piece should be "Why I love my dog", shouldn't it?  'Cause I'm pretty sure that all that gave this woman pause was my hundred pounds of black and white crazy-barking mutt.  Who, by the way, has had 7 treats today and eggs and cheese for dinner.  Good doggy.