Regrets, I've Had a Few

I remember taking this picture. I know why I look so sad. I was trying to get a good shot of KristaBella, my hybridized White Lies Shaped Lace Tee. I'd had it finished for a couple of weeks, but I wasn't happy with it. I didn't like the way the cotton looked on me, I didn't like the length, and I didn't like the sleeves. I knew I wouldn't, even as I was knitting it. I regretted continuing on with the project.

I also regretted dropping out of the gym routine. I'd lost it, just completely lost it after the half-year mark for obvious reasons. It was a tough few months. Even so, I remember thinking, "Maybe I'd like this sweater more if I were ten pounds leaner. I screwed up and made the waist shaping too shallow, but maybe that wouldn't matter if I actually narrowed at the waist. Maybe it'd drape better."

I knew I was going to regret leaving that kitchen. Daisy, Falstaff and The Wolf are doing a fantastic job of keeping it beautiful, but I sure do wish it were still mine. I felt that way as I ran around the tripod to pose for this shot.

So that look you're seeing on my face? That's deep, aching regret.

All of that aside, it didn't come out too badly. It's a pretty, summery sweater. It's a nice fit, and it blocked beautifully. It turns out that this just isn't my style. When I wear it, I don't feel pretty or summery. I feel like a nouveau-bohemian Cal student. Oh, don't even get me started on Cal. Why the hell do they get to call themselves Cal, anyway? There are many universities in California. I went to two of them. Neither of my schools got to call themselves 'Cal'. What the Hell? And don't give me that "they were the first one" crap, either, because I don't give a good goddamn. Cal my ass. I don't particularly like Stanford, either, but I cheer heartily for them during every game they play against Cal. There's no explanation for it, really. I just hate Cal. So this sweater makes me irrationally angry when I wear it. Perhaps I should donate it or swap it away...


Details Section
The details are fuzzy, because it's been a while, and...ah, who the Hell cares?

Pattern
Krista/Bella/Shaped Lace Tee from White Lies Designs.

Yarn and Notions
Cotton yarn from an old White Lies kit. It'd been in my stash for almost three years. I think it might have been Cascade Alpine. I could probably figure out how much I used and figure out how much I have left, but whatever. If you look at Joan's patterns, you'll get accurate yardage requirements.

The kit came with these lovely acrylic leaves for the ties. They're really the only reason I kept going.


Needles
Brittany. I don't remember the exact size. I think it might have been US 8s.

Size
34" or 35", I think. I figured it was cotton and it would stretch, so that's the most logical guess I can make.

Time
Summer 2007.

Modifications
Too many to list. I took the parts of Bella that I liked, combined them with the gauge and sizing of Krista/SLT, and came up with this.

Conclusions
I don't like knitting with cotton. I miss my old kitchen. I hate Cal.


About Lucy

Thanks, everyone, for your sympathy. A.B. and I are alright. We had so many good years with Lucy, and she was so full of joy every single day, that we've been able to move right to reminiscing about her. We're past most of our grief. I believe that grief is often mistaken for regret. "I wish I'd..." "Now I'll never get a chance to..." "If only I'd..." I don't regret one single thing about our time with Lucy. A.B. and I know that we did the best we could for her, we gave her six and a half years that she wouldn't have had if we hadn't swooped in and adopted her, and we loved her unconditionally. It made it easier to make the right choice and say goodbye.

I think it's probably hardest on Buddy. His whole routine is thrown out of whack, and we know how important routine is to Buddy. I think he misses her. We didn't think that'd be a problem. We'd always assumed that he'd prefer to be our only non-human housemate. I don't know why we thought this - he'd always lived with other animals, aside from that first year we had him indoors with us - but we always believed he'd be happy by himself. The past couple of days, however, he's been wandering around downstairs and meowing. Food doesn't calm him down. Sitting him on the sofa and petting him doesn't work for very long. He still runs upstairs and throws himself on the bed next to me, but he doesn't stay there to sleep the way he did as recently as last Friday. Poor little fellow.

Well, don't tell him, but we may have something in the works to cheer him up. More on that later...

La Grenouillère

Mordecai: "What about after? What about after we do it?"

Stranger: "Hmm?"

Mordecai: "What do we do then?"

Stranger: "Well then you live with it."

--High Plains Drifter



Bienvenue vers l'étang de grenouille! That's French for 'welcome to the frog pond', my friends.

Well that wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. It was like ripping off a Bandaid. I did it quickly.

"That reminds me. I still have to buy some of that Tilli Tomas in the 'Ant' colorway," said Daisy.

"Buy mine."

"You don't want it?"

"No, it's pissing me off to look at it. Take it away."

I still have a couple of things on needles shoved into the stash bin, but I couldn't get to them tonight because Accountant Boy was sleeping. Expeditions into the Yarn Cave are noisy. I'm going in there tomorrow to finish the job. It's exciting, this all-out frog fest. I'm happy thinking about everything I could knit, without the mental clutter of all of the things I've started to knit and then set aside.

That leaves two things on needles that aren't getting destroyed. I'm still trying to save Starsky, and I started a new cardigan using double-stranded Manos on US17 needles. It should take about three days to complete. I've knit three inches of the left front in only 15 minutes.

Run to the Hills

Pictures later. Other content later. Comments on comments later. I promise you, all three of you, my faithful readers. Especially you, Batty, because you rock. I just have to get this out.

I've been having a time of it, as they say. Irritable and finally falling under the wave of seasonal depression I'd been surfing, I walked over to the fridge to grab a Coke. There's a terribly convoluted story about my desire to simply drink a can of Coke this week, and the conspiracy, possibly global or at least federal, to keep me from doing so. I can't go into it now, in case they're listening. You know. Them.

I thought at least I'd be safe at home. I changed out of my work clothes and shuffled downstairs. "Curious," I thought. "Why are there frozen cans of soda on the counter?" The drink fridge started taking its job a wee bit too seriously, and it froze everything. You know what happens to bottles of Pellegrino when they get too cold? They explode into beautiful, organic sculptures of ice and emerald green glass. At least Accountant Boy got to it and adjusted the temperature setting before anything sticky blew up.

I sat down with a slushy Coke and my knitting. You know how I thought Bella was a tad too small? It's more than a tad too small. I'm going to have to take it all apart, even the sleeve. It has to become something else, because I'm not going to have enough yarn to make the larger size with it. I've been working on it since January 5th, and I'm not saying all of that effort was wasted because I learned a few things about the pattern that I can apply when I reknit it in another yarn, but it still stings.

"It's not that bad, and you're going to the gym, right? Maybe it'll fit in a couple of months."

"Only if I get three inches shorter and my ribcage shrinks. You know, if the actual size of my skeleton gets smaller." I tugged on it for a few moments more. "You really think it's not too far off the right size?"

"What's it supposed to look like?"

"Here's the picture."

"It's supposed to look like THAT??? Yeah, it's too small. I'm sorry, honey."

"Now I'm not going to have my new sweater to wear to the yarn expo!"

"What about your green sweater? That's my favorite thing that you've knit. Why can't you wear that?"

And it seemed silly to say, "Because there will be three dozen women roaming the market floor in the Simple Knitted Bodice, and I'll feel like a lemming!" So I just sighed and didn't say anything.

And THEN I did something really stupid. I picked up the Starsky I'd been knitting, and I couldn't quite figure out which row I was on because it had been a few months, and I couldn't tell that I'd chosen incorrectly until four rows later, and it's a pattern where both the right and wrong sides have front- and back-cross cables, making it very difficult to tink, and I've screwed it up but good, I tell you.

I realized that I either don't like or have screwed up everything I have on needles, and I'm thinking I should frog everything and start fresh as soon as I get home. Drastic? Maybe. Or maybe it will be liberating, a hearty press of the big reset button. I'll let you know.

Now and Next

Now:

I kept thinking there were more of them, so I went through and rounded up all of the WIPs. What do you know? There are really only five things on or almost on the needles. We've got Bella, the start of the Portland Pullover, the back of Starsky, Sahara Knitted Something, and a silk project to be named later (SPtbNL).

Bella's going well. The back's done, and I'm seven inches into the front. Sahara Knitted Something stalled because I did the waist shaping a little too soon and I don't feel like ripping it back right now. Portland Pullover is waiting for me to go downtown and buy a 12" US11 circular. I forgot all about Starsky for months, and now I wish I had it done. It looks black in the picture, but it's actually a beautiful brown, like the inside of a bordeaux candy. Now that I've shoved it back in the hatbox, I'll probably forget it for another seven months. SPtbNL should turn into something within a week. It's got places to go, people to meet.

Next:

You know that wedding I mentioned in my first resolution post? This is the dress I want to wear. I'm going to have a couple of tiers taken off of the bottom, because I'm not as tall as the usual Betsey Johnson shopper. I have friends, twin sisters, who are the perfect Betsey size 6. They're 5'9", and they each weigh less than 130 pounds. Me? Not so much. I'm better than 130, and I'm six inches shorter. Less flowing than clingy, this dress hits me low on the calf, when it should hit at or just below the knee. I want it a little more cocktail, a little less Oscar red carpet.

What's that got to do with knitting? I'm still not giving in and making a shawl or a stole for it, but I do want a little something for around my shoulders. When I bought the dress, the chipper Betsey employee tried to sell me a little bolero to go with it, soft, lacy knit thing retailing for about a hundred dollars. "It's so CUTE on YOU!!!" Never mind that she said the same thing about every other item I tried on, even the crap I pulled over my head to try to trip her up. "That's PERFECT on you!!" Really? It's a size and a half too small, and it's giving me back cleavage that rivals my front cleavage. Cabbage rose print with the flowers perfectly centered over my breasts like two frilly bullseyes? "SO flirty!!!" Look, kitten, you already know that I'm going to buy something. There's no need to push. Don't let's turn the boutique into a satiny den of lies.

I have worn this dress to a wedding, with a generic woven shawl around my shoulders. I wished I'd bought the little bolero, although it didn't fit quite right and it was a hundred dollars I didn't want to spend. It looked like Rowan's Elspeth. Hey, I have that Rowan book! And look at the luck. I have something like fifteen balls of Elann Peruvian Collection Baby Silk in this color. So that's next in the knit queue.

Resolutions: It's resolution time. I should move this over to the sidebar. Maybe next time.

Fitness: Going well. I'm doing much more cardio than I'm used to doing, and I'm almost to the point where I look forward to doing it. Sure, I still have to force myself to turn my car into the gym parking lot, but it's getting easier. I'm not expecting to see results yet, because I'm trying to be realistic about it, but I think I can already feel the difference.

Programming: Also going well. I'm in a learning groove, now that I've figured out how to read the dynamic help. My manager said, "When you get done with that program, you'll have to teach the rest of us how to do it." "Oh, haha haha! Too funny!" "Yeah, heh...but really. You're going to have to teach the rest of us. We don't know what we're doing."

Knit from Stash: I'm keeping with it...until Stitches at the end of February. Even at that, I think I'm going to be O.K. I dug through the yarn cave this weekend to find that salmon yarn, and fell in love with all of that stash yarn all over again.

Meet other knitters: Babies, I not only met other knitters, I managed to unite two separate knitting groups. More on that later in the week, once I've taken pictures. Suffice to say, I had a great time. I can't wait for tomorrow night.

Call/Write/E-mail: This is my worst performer so far, but I'm not giving up on it.

****

I took today off to catch up on sleep, and then to have one of my much loved "What the F&$K is THIS doing here?!" days. The "What the..." days are great. I get into this state of constant movement, roaming the house and doing things that have bugged me for weeks. I've mended a pair of pants, ironed the candle wax off of my hearth, cleaned out my car, washed my gym water bottle, did all of the laundry, stuff like that. It feels great. "blog" was one of the items on the list. Check! Ahhh...that's a good feeling.

weary unbright cinder

I'm sitting like this because...

A. I had a white-knuckle drive home in the near-dark
B. I didn't make it to the knitting group
C. I inadvertantly corrupted my little wine database after less than an hour alone with it.
D. All of the above

Should have left well enough alone at 4:45, when it was all working. I could have driven to Pleasant Hill while it was still light out, I could have relaxed for a couple of hours with some new friends, and I'd be able to pick up at work where I left off tomorrow instead of having to explain to the consultant that I poked around and broke everything as soon as he left my desk. But NOOOOOOO. I wanted to keep picking at it until it did something cool, and now my main form won't load, and the program's throwing exceptions at me like a monkey throws crap at a kid at the zoo.

Learn by doing. That's my motto. Well, alright, it's Cal Poly San Luis Obispo's motto, but I like it so I'm taking it as my own. You know, I learned a lot in my two years there. I learned how to do my own laundry. I learned that an Epilady wand will embed itself solidly in a man's chest hair, and that once entangled, it has to be cut out with scissors. I learned that you can outrun tear gas if you head uphill. Most importantly, I learned that by doing things wrong, I learn how to fix them.

Oh, Boddingtons Ale. Is there anything you can't make better?

"Hey, Suzanne? You still knit?"

Shut your pie hole, inner commentator.

Sleeves pre-block and post-block.

I've got about six inches of the front done, but it's slowing down a little bit. I picked up the other active project, the Sahara Knitted Something that I'm creating from the two patterns and this vague idea about a cowl that I can cinch to make the top work appropriate, and leave loose when I want it to be more fashionable. It's a faster knit, because I'm working on the body right now. 'Round and 'round with all of that stockinette. It's a foot race between the two. First one done gets to be the January sweater for the Sweater-a-Month KAL. Which I haven't checked on since asking Stephani if I could join.

I'll get right on that after I finish this delicious beer. You know what would make this interlude better? That's right. Some Mama Mellace's Cinnamon Roasted Almonds. Mmmm...sweet and crunchy, with that toasted almond flavor. I swear they aren't paying me for this. They're really that good.

Wondering about the title? I decided that, like an e-mail worm, I'm going to add snippets of words in my subject line when I can't think of anything clever to say. This one is from the opening of 'Look Homeward, Angel'.

The Wild, Wild Sea

Pretty #2 - More Fiesta Insignia La Boheme. I bought it because the colors looked like San Francisco Bay on a choppy afternoon. They're actually a little lighter in real life, but still lovely. I'm going to make the Portland Pullover from the Fall 2006 Interweave Knits with it. The blue bleeds like crazy, so I'm knitting it on aluminum needles. The only aluminum needles I have in the correct size are these super-long Susan Bates straight needles. It's a good thing this is a fast knit, because those heavy needles are not fun to sling around. The yarn makes a lovely teal stripe around my left index finger. I've put this one aside for the time being, as I've got two sweaters and a scarf ahead of it on the priority list.

The colors of the yarn and the bean pot are accurate, but the counter is way off. Weird.

Gratitude #3 - Can I say Mama Mellace's Cinnamon Roasted Almonds again?

They're that good. No, I don't work for them or have any financial stake in their success. O.K., fine. I'll pick something new.

Gratitude #3(a) - I'm grateful that I have a warm place to call home.

We walked through Union Square on Sunday and got stopped by a guy taking donations for a soup kitchen. Accountant Boy gave him twenty bucks. "He said you looked like a movie star, so I though, 'What the hell? He had a good sales pitch.'" I know what he was really thinking, because I was thinking it, too. We were having a great day, happy in every respect, walking around San Francisco in the cold. We were happy because we knew we'd be able to get back in our car and turn on the heater, and go home and turn on the heater there, and be relaxed and warm. Why not give the guy twenty dollars so someone else can be warm for a couple of hours? We have it too good not to share.

Resolutions?

Fitness -- I've been to the gym four times since Friday. I'm working up to the running goal, hoping to soon reach the point where my toenails don't hurt after the workout. I usually hit that point about three weeks into the program, when I stop running on my toes. The Starbucks weekday ban went wrong today, because I though I had a morning-long meeting that would require a gigantic espresso drink. When I got here, I discovered that the meeting is tomorrow, but I already had the gigantic espresso drink. What was I supposed to do, throw it out?

Knitting -- Still knitting things that never actually made it into the stash, but at least I haven't purchased any new yarn. That's gotta count for something.

Be a Better Programmer -- I'm designing the screens for A.B.'s wine database. In our spare time, the .Net consultant is going to help me with the data binding and process flow. I'd feel guilty about doing this at work, but my manager says that any programming I do is valuable, even if it has nothing at all to do with the mortgage industry. I feel much better about this than I did a couple of weeks ago, much less like vomiting from stress when I think about coming to work tomorrow.

Contact -- I sent a long overdue e-mail to my dearest cousin this morning. Next week's e-mail goal? Our friends from college. They've sent Christmas cards to us for the past four years, and we've been meaning to get back to them for the past three years, eleven months and five days. We pick the card up off the desk in the office and say, "We HAVE to get back to them." The card sits on our desk, not lost in clutter and not covered by anything, no good reason other than procrastination, until the next year's card shows up to replace it. "We REALLY have to get back to them!" They have no way of knowing this. As far as they know, we either hate them or we're dead. I'm going to remedy that situation next week, if not sooner.

Meet knitters -- Tomorrow! (I hope...)

I finished one sleeve of Bella. I'm going to knit both body pieces, then see if I have enough yarn to make the sleeves longer.

Finally for this afternoon, I leave you with this. I have the distinct feeling that I'm being haunted. Yes, by a otherworldly spirit. No, I don't believe in that kind of thing, either, what with my Dana Scully-like belief in the primacy of science. Maybe I'm sleeping strangely because of the cold, or maybe Accountant Boy is gaslighting me. Nevertheless, I...but more on that later.