Two Black Sheep

Sweet Disposition

Apparently, our turns on the blog come and go in spurts. Lola was sick . . . I did a fair amount of writing. I am in full quiz-a-polooza season . . . she does the writing. Actually, I've been quite run down and falling asleep on the couch at seven in the evening and not even knitting and that doesn't lead to a lot of fun as far as blogging is concerned. In addition, the girls have been weighing their college choices over the past few weeks, so that has been adding a bit to the restless nights. Happily, that decision has been made.

Betty and Veronica will be headed to Temple University next fall (and by fall, I mean six months from now). Temple was the last school we looked at - without the Flyer, no less - and the first school that accepted them. In the end, it came down to Temple and PSU, but neither girl really wanted to be in State College. Betty has always wanted to live in a big city, and she figures that she may as well see if it is for her when her housing and food are taken care of. So, Thursday night, they decided that they may as well send in the deposit and declare a school. Philly has never been my one of my favorite cities since I find I-76 maddening, but I don't mind taking the train from Lansdale. Any good tips about Philly - eats, treats, yarn - would be greatly appreciated . . . pass them on.

I have one sleeve and the ribbing to go on Betty's sweater. The yarn -  a gorgeous shade of teal in Debbie Bliss's Cashmerino Aran - is as soft as ever, but something is off with this run's ply. There have been random slubs of the microfiber (which hasn't really been so micro). The size is a slight concern since Betty's on the skinny side, but I'm hoping that I will be okay with it when the ribbing is added. After this one, I really need to crank out a sweater that I am making for Veronica but also teaching as a class. For this one, I'm using Mission Falls 1824 Cotton (which matches the purple from my Koolhaas that Vernica "liberated"), and I'm hopeful . . . which is saying something since I am not a fan of cotton yarn. Does that make me a bad knitter? I think not.

Our house is in countdown mode for Watchmen. The Flyer is leaving work early that day, and something tells me that I won't be working late that Friday. I'm about 20 pages into the graphic novel, but I doubt that I'll finish it in time. Something tells me that I'll be cranking out a sweater or two and trying to find the quickest way to the City of Brotherly Love.

Enjoy the weekend! The weather here was beautiful today, which means it won't last. I'm sure it really means, "Time to dust off the shovel for one last time!"
Ava

PS - The song title for this one is from the trailer for (500) Days of Summer, which looks quite promising. Take a look.

Wishful Thinking

Saturday brought the first class of the February Baby Sweater, and I half-heartedly thought about casting on for the adult version. The amount of projects that I have on the needles (note: I lie about what I really have posted in the side-bar) and what I should have on the needles made me pause, and instead, I cast on for the baby version for friends of Lola's who are expecting in May. Actually, I cast on twice: first in Pandora Rose (the chartreuse wasn't playing well with the stitch pattern) and then in a yarn called Fiesta, which I received in a swap. I think it will look lovely on a little girl in mid-October, and I can probably bribe Lola into taking some picture.

I'm trying to be a better teacher with my knitting classes and typed up some notes about the sweater. The problem is since it's an Elizabeth Zimmerman pattern, the notes are longer than the damn pattern. And, for once, I gave out the email address as well as the blog address in the notes if my students had a question over the week. For some reason, I've kept this very separate from knitting classes, but I think that is changing slowly. I mean, there are the names after all. How do you explain to people that you use a pseudonym on a "secret" blog (and really, it's only secret from our family) or that you chose the names you did because you and your sister have soft spots for strippers? Actually, it's getting easier every time it trips off my tongue.

I haven't the foggiest idea what to do with the two cakes of yarn in the photo. The top one is called "October" by Chameleon Colorworks and the bottom is by Cascade Heritage Paints in "Forest". Both could be made into socks, but I would like to find something new to do with the sock yarn. The Cascade could make a lovely pair of gloves or a Baby Surprise Jacket . . . suggestions?

We had parent/teacher conferences at work this week. Parents, teachers don't look forward to conferences any more than you do. We are most likely just as nervous sitting across from you as you are from us. Conferences went pretty well this time around, and during a down moment, one of my team-mates asked if I was looking forward to the girls heading to college in August. This is still very hard for me to talk about, but I told him that I was in a way, but it still petrifies me since so much of my adult life has been defined as being their mom. I don't know how I will handle it when they leave, and that terrifies me. I'm really counting on family and friends to help "manage" the situation. Otherwise, it's just me and Blue Moon.

The Flyer leaves for Orlando on Tuesday and will be gone until Sunday. It's his first trip in ages; that will mean no sleep on Tuesday but stretching out the rest of the week across the bed. Since he is flying into Orlando, I can stock up on Lush's Ultra Bland without heading into Manhattan. Call it a Valentine's Day present, baby, and we're even. I'm thinking about getting him this for Valentine's Day - gives him something to look forward to when he gets back.

Enjoy your weekend . . . the weather here is rather sublime and my favorite temperature: mid-50s. The Flyer and I were rather impressed with the icicles from the trumpet vines out front. Clearly, they were taken a week ago as most of the snow has melted, leaving us with the icky gray road salt mixed with mud.

Ava

PS - Lola and I were bit by the "25 Random Things" on Facebook, so I decided to post it tomorrow on the blog for the "100 Things About Us" . . . we're 50 short - give us some time. Drop us an email if you are on Facebook and we'll add you to the friends' list.

Henry Nearly Killed Me (It's a Shame)

Tons of tags on this one, but really it boils down to this: with knitting, I seem to pick projects that are either a) sweaters knit in one piece or b) really, really big rectangles or c) afghans that will never be finished. Look closely at the photos, and you might see why that is.

Take for example the Spirit Sweater. Granted, it's really the February Lady Sweater but I just can't bring myself to call it that . . . probably because I'm no lady. I knit a row and feel exhausted. Over and over again, I remind myself that I am knitting the whole thing at one time (except for those sleeves), but it doesn't do any good. You've got to love EZ and her simplicity but maybe this is why she had the pattern for a baby. Even Liz might have found knitting for a 52 inch chest in the gull lace pattern a bit daunting (probably not, but it gets me through the day). The Big Fat Girl Crush? Long rectangle. Check back with me in a year and we'll see if I've made any progress. It's not a matter of purchasing all that Noro Silk Garden since I have had all the yarn for two years. The afghans? Good lord . . . three and none of them will keep me warm this year unless I pile the pieces strategically around me.

Maybe that's why I like socks . . . they're quicker, more portable, and seem to be a smaller project. In reality, the only thing they have going for them is the portability aspect. Even that will most likely change in the coming months as I teach myself knitting two at a time so that I can teach a class at the shop.

Enter Interweave's Holiday Knits issue. I was looking for something fast like last year's home run Koolhaas. No such luck this time around. Granted, it was replete with gorgeous (and I would have put periods between all the letters but am too lazy) hand knits, but there was nothing that seemed like it would go quickly that truly interested me. The one that piqued my interest was the Frost Flowers Stole (long rectangle? I'm your bitch). I bought the last copy at the knit shop - there were more coming, lest you think I got greedy - specifically for that pattern until the reality of casting on 992 stitches sunk in. Let me repeat that 992 stitches. The next sentence in the directions is: Casting on a large number of stitches can be a challenge (really? Thanks for the heads up IK) so you might want to put stitch markers every 20 stitches and make the tail of the 100s longer. Again, you are so insightful IK editors. I never - NEVER - would have thought to put stitch markers every 20 stitches. Then again, I never will need to since I would be knitting this. If anyone knits this, let me know . . . I would like to tip my hat!

The girls received their SAT results and we were all very thrilled with the results. Now? We wait to see which colleges say, "Come on down" and which ones say, "Thanks." I don't really remember it being this nerve wracking when I was the senior, but it probably was. I have a meeting to attend today about the girls, and I'm dreading it. Suffice it to say, the mama bear in me is coming out and it usually isn't a pretty sight even when I am trying to control the tone of my voice. Veronica says that tone is worse than being yelled at. I'll post about it later.

Have a lovely weekend . . . and stay warm! It's freezing on the East coast and the wool clogs are coming in very handy.

Ava

PS - the Winter Knotions Preview is up . . . some very tempting items in that one, especially the knee socks. See what I mean? Even the socks are getting longer - UGH!

When the Stars Go Blue

Ah . . . Prom Night.  Did you attend your prom? Do you remember your prom night? I went to both of mine and remember them in great detail, right down to our mom cutting away the netting under my skirt at my date strolled across the back lawn in his white tux and aqua cummerbund.

For lack of a word filled post, I leave you only with a few photos of Veronica and her boyfriend, J, on their way to his senior prom. The first photo makes me smile because she looks so damn happy, and I'm not always convinced that she is since she is, after all, a 17-year-old junior. Look back at yourselves at 17. Now you understand why this one is going some place safe next to my heart. There's not even a hint of the controversy surrounding our family and the "wedding." I'm not letting those issues cloud over her evening, not when she looks so joyful. Love you, sweetie . . . but you already know that.

Have fun at the parades and the Memorial Day celebrations and the three-day weekend. I'm finishing up at least one sleeve on Bobo and then a little grading.

Ava

PS - Which version of the title song is your favorite? The one that The Corrs did featuring Bono . . . the Flyer likes that one. How about Tim McGraw's fine version? It's the Other Sister's favorite. Maybe Blake Lewis last season on AI (it wasn't bad, people). My money is on Ryan Adams - you can't go wrong with the original.

G-Thing

Ah, the letter G . . . what's a girl to do? Green, go green, Grover, my last name - all pale in comparison to the Girls. Now, with a lower case "g" you could safely assume that I might be talking about how challenging it is to knit sweaters for myself that don't make me look like I am a) in a mumu or b) a pornstar, but with the supreme capital "G" I am talking about my Girls: Betty and Veronica. You see, they pretty much are the reason for the season since their birthday is a mere two days away and I have yet to file my taxes much less start them. When your children's birthday is on Tax Day, you tend to put it off in favor of presents and cake and, for the past two years anyway, the school musical and prom dress shopping. In addition, if you put off said taxes, you are prone to minor mental breaks now and then trying to figure out a stupid computer program that is supposed to ease your suffering.

Betty, Veronica, and the Flyer - December 1992

It's no secret in our family that the girls were totally unplanned - what unmarried 20-year-olds plan to have two children in their junior/senior years? Certainly not these two! But fate kind of has a way of stepping in and kicking you in the ass now and then. And so it was, on Tax Day 1991 that our lovelies decided enough with the cramped quarters and began to assert their independence. Personally, I was just happy to be off the Breathine; little did I know that I wouldn't get a moments rest for the next year or so. I credit so much of that first year to my husband and my family. My in-laws let us live with them in the summer so we could all stay together. My mom would willingly take the girls every six weeks or so once I started back to Miami in the fall so I could get caught up. The Flyer took a shitty job so that we wouldn't have to worry about day care. And Lola? Well, she was a freshman in high school, so I'm sure that she was the head baby wrangler when the girls were in Springfield.

I don't think there was ever a time in their lives that we referred to them as the twins. It seemed so odd to do so; even hearing others call them that would send a shiver down my spine. Better babies could not be asked for. Honestly - they slept through the night early on, nursed like champs until the day they turned a year, took awesome naps, and played well with each other from the get go. Okay, maybe that last one is a stretch since Veronica liked to use Betty as a bouncy table. Even as toddlers they were awesome and easy. Still napped, still slept, and no issues eating . . . except Veronica who liked to tell me my food didn't taste good even when she didn't eat a bite.

Betty and Veronica - September 1995

When they left for kindergarten, I was more a wreck then they were. Their poor teacher had to console me, but something tells me that I wasn't her first parent to react that way. I'd never been apart from them for more than a few days and then it was with relatives . . . this every day thing with total strangers was something new. They adapted to my screwy third shift work schedule, taking a long nap after their lunch and then letting me sleep on the couch while they quietly played or watched Bill Nye, The Science Guy on PBS. They even adapted to the Flyer's job that put him on the road three weeks out of every month, even if it meant sleeping with his photo so they could remember what color eyes he had.

The first part of their teenage years were relatively stress-free. The occasional blow-up not withstanding, nothing major got in our way. I finished my certification and got a job teaching kids close to their age just as they were finishing junior high. And then, they turned 16. I forgot that my mom said she couldn't be paid enough to revisit the years between my 16th and 18th birthdays. "During that two-year period, I wanted to kill you or slap the shit out of you," she said about ten years ago, most likely after "two" glasses of wine. Oh, sure, I thought . . . I'll never be like that.

Betty and Veronica - April 2007 2008 (thanks, sweetie)

Suffice it to say that they will turn 17 in two days and I'm looking at it as the half-way mark. It's rough being a mom no matter what age your kids are, but this past year has been challenging. There have been boyfriends and break-ups and driving and independent thought and college talk and arguments and fights and nose-piercings and prom dresses and whatever else you can think of. And you know what? We've come through it fairly well. Occasionally I'll get the "Wow, this is what Mom must feel like when Lola and I are talking" vibe after I've said something that is completely innocent and they snicker a bit, but I just knit a bit more intently. My name has morphed over the years from Mama to Mommy to Mom to Ma to Madre to Momma, but we're pretty much right where we were 17 years ago: happy kids with happy parents. Happy birthday, Girls! Your madre (that's the one I liked the best) loves you very, very much . . . even when she is uttering, "I just want you to be aware" whilst sitting in the passenger seat.

Ava

PS - Happy birthday to JoannaKitten, another Tax Day baby!

Leave the Bourbon on the Shelf

By 11:30 yesterday morning, I had devoured the following: three waffles, two cups of coffee, and one beer. You see, yesterday was my final Fair Isle class, the one in which I "gamely" picked up a pair of safety scissors and cut Beaner's sweater. The beauty of having a knit shop in the same set of stores as a bar is that you can easily get a beer to calm your nerves (and get change back from a single if you get a small Yuengling). Ironically, I had the beer after I cut the damn sweater, but it was more to balance out the coffee and take the edge off what I had just done.

Officially a cardigan - what I wanted

All in all, once you take the first leap of faith, steeking wasn't that bad. Don't get me wrong - I'm not on a pro-steeking, all steeking bandwagon, but when it comes up again (which it will since Betty has been eyeing the Mirepoix Bodice) I won' balk so hard at it. Part of the ease was having an awesome teacher - thank you, Linda! - who more than talked me through the process, even going so far as to bring in her own sewing machine  to use on the final day AND taking pictures (with my old faulty point-and-shoot . . . that's why there aren't any photos of the steeking - damn camera). As an added bonus, Linda didn't mind my language during our time together - that's always nice. Tricia was teaching a Weekend Getaway Satchel class at the same time and did more than she'll ever know to calm me down as well. "When you really think about it, your stitches aren't going any place since that's not how knit stitches run," she said calmly. And you know, I never really thought about it like that before.

Now that the sweater is truly a cardigan, I'm in the process of picking up stitches on the second placket and from there, it's only a matter of stitching down the hem and the plackets and then sending it to Mom to install the zipper. We're not going to ruin this by having me put in the zipper. That would be unforgivable and truly turn it into a great big pile of shit, which is how I was referring to it on Tuesday night. Steeking was something that utterly and completely mystified me for the longest time. I mean, honestly, why would you knit all that only to cut it? It's counterintuitive at best. For about the first two years of my serious knitting, I shied away from anything that seemed challenging. Now? I'll think about it for a long while, but eventually I'll give in and at least try it out.

A pile of shit - what I thought I would get

After this weekend, I'm not sure which is more nerve-wracking for me: steeking or driving with the girls. I don't know how others have gotten through it, but I'm not a good person to sit shotgun while the driver is one who once resided inside me. I phantom break, I hit the dashboard, and I don't sound genuine with my praise. Sorry, girls, but I hate driving with everyone. They each drove a bit today, and I was much better in the passenger seat than in the rear seat like I was last night. That should never happen again - EVER. The Flyer is in Phoenix this week and was kind enough to take my car to the airport so that our lovely ladies could practice on his as it soon will, most likely, be theirs. I'll get better - I promise - just bear with me.

So, it's back to picking up those stitches because I really want to knit something for moi. This is the most monogamous I've been to one knit project in a long time. My poor trellis and leaf shawl is in desperate need of two borders and some blocking. I'd like to finish that before June so I can say it took less than a year. Fingers crossed for some quality knitting time real soon.

Ava

PS - Tricia, the only song title I could find with "pile of shit" in it was "A Fucking Big Pile of Shit" and I thought that was pushing the bounds a bit too much. This song is a nice little ditty by The Killers.

Stuttering

Yesterday marked a big day for me as a mom - the girls went through security at Newark by themselves and flew without any accompaniment. Doesn't sound like a big deal, correct? Well, that is where you would be wrong. They are two years too old to have a flight attendant check in on them or to have their dad or me walk with them to the gate, and - despite what Continental's website says - we couldn't request a gate agent walk them to the correct gate (we tried and the "polite" rep at the check-in said no). So, off they went, calling us as they made it to the gate, got on the plane, landed in Orlando, and when their grandparents met them in the terminal. Pretty easy-peasy save for a mother who is slightly paranoid about their safety. Can't wait for the first day of college! I'm wondering if it is too early to lay the ground work for a six-week supply of Paxil.

After they were safely at gate C123, the Flyer and I made a quick trip into New York. I am still amazed at what one overhears on the train ("Do you like banana pudding?" Interesting, but really - banana pudding? "Why do you think you could be in a room with eight naked women and be okay?" Is this my stop? Fuck) Lola thought we were nuts to take off for the city on Black Friday, but it was far from crowded. Sure, some places were a mad house - a mad house, I tell you - but it didn't feel any worse than any other time I have been in there. The only things we must learn are that items on a map appear much further away than anticipated and the numbers in addresses have no direct correlation to blocks. After the Flyer wondered aloud if I was up for walking four more blocks from School Products to Forbidden Planet ("Honey, we're at 1201 Broadway and we need to walk to 840 . . . it's not that far"), I called Mom and asked her for explicit directions to Purl. Considering it was only a mile to Sullivan Street, and nearly a half-mile back to the last Subway that I saw, we hoofed it. I don't think that I adequately prepared him for the itsy-bitsiness of either of the Purls. He sat on a bench outside of Purl, taking in all the confused looks of people passing by. Lola called after my purchase in Purl (the exquisite Manos Silk Blend below for which I lovingly blame Margaux) and asked if she would fit inside. Truthfully, you would sweetie, but it wouldn't be fun and you might be the one making the heroin cracks . . . not me.

I tried to keep the fabric purchases to a minimum since I still don't know what I am doing with all of it, but pink and black were the colors of the day. Next week, I'll try to scan the fabric that I have and get started putting them on Flickr. Our school has Secret Santa coming up and I pulled one of our awesome school nurses; she creates some of the most stunning quilts so I picked up a bundle of fat quarters at Purl Patchwork for her. In addition, I bought some camel at School Products with the intention of making a scarf using the flame stitch pattern from one of the Walker books. Needless to say, I will get started on that once the Trellis and Leaf Shawl is done (it's terribly boring to photograph - sorry). I am down to six repeats and then the border . . . maybe I'll start it after the repeats are done.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and if you have Monday off like I do (benefits of living in a region that still "treasures" the first day of deer season . . . I just "treasure" the day off), get some knitting done. It's crunch time for the holiday season after all.

Ava

PS - Girls, if you are reading, miss you muchly!

Touch of My Hand

I'll plan a proper post on Betty's quilt once I can photograph it in the correct light, but I couldn't resist a little peek.  I finished the binding on Friday, & it has gotten plenty of use since that final stitch.  I really couldn't be happier with my first rush into hand-binding.  Actually, it was the less work than the quilting, and very enjoyable in the end.  There was something calming about each little tug on the thread.  This thing HAD to be tossed in the wash.  I've been piecing it since I finished our home's Amy Butler quilt.  Betty's quilt has been dragged through our basement and up the dog-hair covered stairs a number of times.  When I crumbled it up & started the water, I said a little prayer to the Quilt Gods, "Please let the binding stay on. Please let the binding stay on."  When she emerged, every yard was properly stuck to the rest of the quilt.  And the invisible stitching on the binding, disappeared even more. Like I said, once the sun breaks, I'll post some pictures. 

As for now, I'm curled up in the guest room with Honeybee & some Zucchini Chocolate Chip (pdf.)  cookies eagerly awaiting Ms. Spears performance.  Can it happen?  Will it happen?  I'll be watching.

-Lola

Intergalactic

All week, I've been surrounded by pre-teens and teens: my cheerleading squad. I don't know these girls yet (save three from last year), and I don't have a good handle on them after four days. However, I do know that they can jump. Their jumps are so pretty that it is hard not to break into a smile at the sight of near perfect toe touches. Then they start to cheer and it all goes pear shaped. Imagine an octopus out of water and you get the picture. How have I kept my sanity? Why River Rapids, of course.

Monday morning I cast on for the second one, and I merrily knit all the way through their learning process. Every once and a while, I looked up and walked the lines. Sure, the high V's aren't always straight, but last year, I probably wouldn't have gotten my high V's right either. Today, the girls actually saw a sock that looked like, well, a sock. "Hey, you really are knitting a sock," said one of the girls, to which I neatly replied, "Well, duh!" Luckily she is one of the hold-overs from last year so she is used to me and my knitting. Too bad it is so stinking hot out today or these lovelies would get a work out. The ladies at Blue Moon outdid themselves with Silkie; the feeling of this yarn is lovelier than words and it has a sheen which isn't too showy and doesn't look pushy, either.

Veronica agreed to a photo-op of her hat. I think she did a fine job considering she didn't have a pattern. It's nice watching her knit and working out her own problems. With this pattern, she realized a bit too late that the ribbing on the band didn't match up to the pattern she established so you see the purl bumps at points where the transition is made between ribbing and pattern. Will she make this same mistake again? Maybe, but most likely she will think about it before she knits and write a pattern taking that into account.

My class is tomorrow night so any "real" knitting will have to wait. I want to get some more done on the melon shawl before school starts again, but I really need to concentrate on one thing right now: Grace. Grace, the bane of my knitsistance, must go away. Let's face it, Beaner isn't getting any smaller (she's three, by the way), and the weather in her galaxy (that would be Nebraska) should be cooler sometime in the not so distant future. So, Lola, while you fret about with Superman, Bats, and the Flash, Grace will be my arch-nemesis. Who will win in this epic battle of yarn versus the Bomb Queen? Place your bets now, my pretties . . . all bets are off after this weekend.