So I knit this little dear over the weekend for a friend/co-worker’s little girl Zoe.

Purple is her absolute favorite color (she fights daily to wear her favorite purple pants…), and she loves her own cats so very much (in the traditional toddler way, sometimes a little too much), so I knew it would go over well. She apparently totally gets it that hat=kitty, which makes me so happy. Toddlers are great people.

It is the Official Kittyville Hat by Kitty Schmidt, sized down from an adult size. I used the remainder of the Malabrigo from the previous hat.

One of my very best friends, M, is coming to visit this weekend from Philly. It’s perfect timing. I’m feeling a bit freaked out this week. I know she will be exactly what I need to feel like myself again. (Isn’t that an odd phrase “I’m not feeling like myself”?)

Tonight I had to say goodbye to an ex-boyfriend who will be moving to New York on Friday morning to study painting. We called off our 2-year relationship right before Thanksgiving on better terms that I thought were ever possible. It was mutual decision based on thoughtful consideration (vs. being caused by some traumatic event.) While we’ve hung out randomly since then, we’ve spent less and less time together as the weeks and months have passed. This was exactly the plan. I barely ever see him at all now, usually just by chance. But now he is leaving for The City. The place that has drawn so many others before. The place where Things happen.

But I am not the best with change. Yes, this is something I am so very happy to have happen for him – after all, he has wanted to move to New York since before we met. It just was never the right time. Then, within a couple weeks after our break-up all the pieces fell into place: 1) the property where he was living was suddenly going to be sold and he would have to move out; 2) his truck was finally reaching the point of breaking down, which is significant since it has been in the process of dying since I’ve known him; 3) he was suddenly forced to work with a new company that had an abundance of projects requiring lots of overtime, giving him an unexpected jolt in savings.

I managed to get out of Octane tonight without a tear, but on the ride home the finality of it all hit me. I know there’s not a reason in the world for this change not to happen, and I would be so sad for him if he never made it up there. But even if I agree wholeheartedly, it is difficult to face a definite end to a stage in my life that was filled with such nice memories. It is hard to move on sometimes, even if it is right & necessary & earnestly desired. My mother always reminds me that I never wanted to leave preschool either.

Who am I going to call now to fix a broken coffee table if drop, say, a mattress or a 1982 television on it?

Last night was Jessica’s birthday. Everyone was supposed to meet at 7:30 for dinner, and this was me at 6:50 at a Starbucks…

Needless to say I was a few minutes late. Oh, the knitting frenzy. But I REALLY wanted to give it to her on her birthday. It is the Le Slouch, a pattern available from Wendy Bernard on her Knit and Tonic blog. Unfortunately there are not actually any photos of the finished hat. Let’s just say I was sewing in the ends at stoplights on the way there….

The yarn used was Malabrigo in the Purple Magic colorway. Jessica mentioned that she’d like a slouchy purple hat of the eggplant persuasion (vs. a more pinky purple), and I’m happy with the ever-so-slightly variegated tones. Just the joy of touching Malabrigo [the softest yarn in the ever-loving world] made every second of this project a pleasure. And I LOVE LOVE LOVE knitting presents. I think about the person I am knitting something for the entire time I’m working on it, so by the time I’m ready to give the knitted item to them I’m just overflowing with appreciation for them. Jessica is certainly no exception – she’s as sweet and giving as they come.

After eating we went over to FunTime Bowl. It’s impossible to have a bad time while wearing these:

Just try. And yes, the glowing laces on my right shoe were, in fact, lucky. Lori’s accuracy shot up after she began the ritual of touching my laces before each turn. Per their website’s claim, the evening was an “exciting high-energy bowling adventure that hits you with full-force action,” and the evening did include “Black Lights, Awesome Music, Glow Lanes, Dancing Lights, and Non-stop fun.” Please note the carpet.

On the way home I saw the following (lifesize) display in front of a house on Briarcliff:

My initial impression while driving by was that this was just too creepy to not stop and take it all in.

Upon further consideration, however, I’ve come to the disturbing realization that it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to construct something like this in my yard one day. I can see myself older, probably in possession of a few knitted gardens, visiting the concrete market to pick up a new addition every month or so. Note to self: must fight urge to end up a weird old lady.

Yesterday Robyn & I made a trip to the yarn store. How I escaped without purchasing this book is beyond my comprehension…

Everything was incredibly intricate. I have no idea what I would DO with a knitted garden if I DID happen to make one. Does it even matter?

There is even a monastery garden complete with monks. Note one has a bird on his arm.

Of COURSE they keep beehives. Of COURSE.

Are you seeing this?

I also found this book online:

I find the existence of these things incredibly necessary. I’ve been a bit fixated over the last day, frankly.

So it’s been a Belle & Sebastian morning. If you’ve never had one of those before, you should. They have put out hours & hours of recordings just for these times. Particularly appropriate for baking scones.

I’ve posted a scanned image of the recipe I use here since it’s no longer available on the America’s Test Kitchen website without a subscription. These have never disappointed – maybe it’s the 10 tablespoons of butter? The page also includes a bonus recipe for Banana Nut Bread, which is equally life-changing.

I’ve finished the Mrs. Darcy Cardigan. It still needs blocking, so hopefully it will keep the same general size & shape after the yarn hits water.

The bottom edge isn’t rolling anymore after my hard-fought battle with the crochet hook. I’m pleased with it mostly but am really worried about what’s going on around the…. um… well the edges of the front panels are tending to roll in (constantly). I have no idea if there’s anything I can do to fix this problem. Will blocking help this at all? I really just don’t want to even find out. See below…

(I was lecturing my boy cat on why it is wasteful for him to continually be pulling my clean towels onto the bathroom floor.)

This was when I was attempting to take photos of the wonderful shell-inlaid wood buttons I found at Gail K’s Fabrics. (The boy cat also likes to gnaw buttons. He generally likes to be destructive.)

By the way, the original pattern is available here for free, though be forewarned that there are some errors that haven’t been corrected. I recommend looking into a knitalong for others’ comments, though you can generally figure out when something is amiss. I’m so glad she wrote it up though, since it’s very Anthropologie-ish. That store makes me weak in the knees.

My brother and I once tried to think of what would make me the creepiest aunt possible for my future nieces and nephews to have to visit. With the cat lady part just assumed (as I am already that person), we decided the worst possible thing for the children to have to endure would be if had I somehow lost my hand in an (of course horrendous) accident and had it replaced with a hook hand. I would use my hook hand to wave to the children as they drove up. I would bake them all kinds of treats using the the hook hand. They would sneak into my bedroom at night to stare at my hook hand resting on my bedside table.

I’ve been working on the final touches of my Mrs. Darcy Cardigan. So after finishing all the seams and then sewing in all the ends… there was one nagging factor, one very minor and ultimately insignificant detail, which I have kept pushed in the back of my mind, relegated to that area of my brain that assumes that somehow, someway, things will work themselves out.

In the finishing instructions there is a statement to “work one row of single crochet around bottom hem and then one row of crab stitch,” used to prevent the bottom edge from rolling (which mine is having a grand time doing).

No joke.

The only issue here is that I have no idea how to crochet. Not the foggiest. I figured I would learn on this project. Of course! What could be simpler? One small hook instead of two needles, no big deal.

But the crochet hook and I are in that awkward beginning stage right now. You know, like those first moments when you’ve just met someone and you’re trying to keep up the conversation but you just get these random urges to throw them across the room?

It feels like learning to write again. It is s-l-o-w going. I’ve been working on this dumb edge for an hour and have thus far finished one complete row of (hopefully) single crochet and approximately six inches of (accursed) crab stitch. So maybe I did get up in the middle to make some tea as a stress relief measure.

I frankly have no idea if this is correct. Does it look like right to you? This is where more of the hoping comes in.

Till we meet again blasted hook….

I’ve been sick the last few days and have not been in any condition to leave the house, so between long stretches of sleep I’ve been freed up to make noteable progress on my most recent project, the Mrs. Darcy Cardigan (yes, the designer DID name it as a reference to Pride & Prejudice – what’s it to you?)

I will (hopefully) be a sweater soon:

Only half of one sleeve to go and then, well, miles and miles of seeming, along with some very sincere prayers that the sizing will turn out as planned. I’ve never made anything that was not try-on-able through the process, so this is a new (nerve-wrecking) adventure.

I’m using the Cascade Yarns Pastaza, which is a soft blend of 50% Llama and 50% Wool. The color is called Birch Heather, and it is a dark mustard yellow that’s just lovely. Here’s a stock photo:

I really could eat this yarn. Looks like I’ll only be using 6 skeins of the stuff – what do to with #7 when I’m done (assuming I don’t eat it.)

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Thought I would also mention that I’ve been wanting to see this production of the Anne Frank story at the Center for Puppetry Arts. It is called “Anne Frank: Within & Without,” and it’s a returning show from last year. It runs through February 17th if anyone wants to go (fair warning: the cheapest tickets are $20 each).

Is is creepy as hell that I want to see that? I’m so fixated on the Holocaust. I continually find it unbelievable that this kind of thing was happening in such a modern society. It was in Germany for pete’s sake. Both sets of my grandparents met and married during that era. So much of my continued interest has to do with a course I took in college, “Religious Dimensions of the Holocaust.” It was stressed over and over again how important it is within Judaism that these stories be heard. For every account I’ve read, every survivor I’ve met, it has just reinforced this urgency to bear witness and pass down the individual experiences of both the survivors and the victims. The hearing is so important. When you are listening it feels important.

Last year I went to see Holocaust survivor Helga Weissova-Hoskova speak. She was twelve when she passed through the Terezin Concentration Camp – this camp is situated on a direct route to Auschwitz. Of the 15,000 children who passed through Terezin during the Holocaust, only 100 survived. In her suitcase she brought a watercolor set, paper, crayons, and pencils, which she used to record the things she saw. At one point they were able to smuggle about 100 pieces of artwork to an uncle for safekeeping, and these still survive today. You can watch a video of a lecture she gave here. (Not exactly the best footage, and she is from Prague, so it can be a little difficult to understand at times.) I can only hope to be half as positive and delightful as she is at 77.

Alright, to make up for the preceeding depressing topic, I will post a picture of a pony tail.

Yesterday was my long-anticipated visit to my good friend Robyn’s mother’s house to visit her miniature horse foals, which she happens to keep in her backyard.

For those I have not briefed on the subject (I can’t imagine there are many), miniature horses are smaller than just regular old boring ponies. They measure no higher than three feet at the withers (which is the highest point on a horse’s back), and generally not ride-able because they are too cute and tiny.

The youngest (tiniest) one is Scout. I wanted to put him in my car and take him home with me.

They also have Scout’s older sister, Lily. He loves Lily. I can’t blame him – she’s a cute, stocky thing with Tina Turner hair that’s out of control.

When Scout gets tired he just crashes and doesn’t mind being a lap pony.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

I wonder if the cats would mind a new addition to the apartment?

I will only be posting about critical topics, such as the following:

Wow, I can’t even tell you how entertaining I found that. It really doesn’t take much.