Got Math?

Or, Thank Goodness This Tank Has Ribs Because I Sure As Hell Can't Find Mine.

I don't know how other bloggers do this. It is seriously hard to take a photo of one's belly. I'm not even talking about the obvious a priori I'm-female-therefore-I-hate-my-belly hardness (yet). That's bad enough. It's the circus act with the two circs, the hanging yarnballs, the risk of dropped stitches and stepped-on ends, plus the tripod-less digital camera which seems to reset itself before I get the chance to press the button, all the while holding my breath to suck in the gut, that's got me stumped. If you're not already stunningly gorgeous (and I most certainly don't rule this out because you knitbloggers are a cute bunch), you all must be using body doubles or something, because your little waists seem flawless and focused in those amazing "look, I'm halfway there" shots.

Still, fifty-two or so crappy photos and a slightly blue face later, I thought I'd show you the miracles of mathematics, also known as how much progress I've made on the Frankentank. It isn't halfway there, but it doesn't suck either, and the math is so on target, I'm nearly giddy.

Oh, wait, that's the wimp-out photo.
That's not a belly, that's just a set of decreases.
Still, it's kinda purty, eh?

I have made less progress than I would like, mainly because I spent an entire evening ripping out and reknitting what I spent an entire afternoon with the Montréal Knits group creating. (Nevermind the medical shit and its effect on knitting time. Suffice it to say, there is medical shit, it's taking forever and a lifetime because this is Québec, I'm frustrated beyond belief with this system, I'm having to fight hard just to know what to do next, and I'd rather not blog about gory details right now because knitting progress is far more fun.)

So, progress! I needed an extra set of decreases in the waist because the littlest tire on top of the stack of tires that I call my waist is apparently smaller than I thought. It's still a tire, but it needed a decrease nonetheless, and it was not going to be happy until I ripped two inches of knitting and gave it the goods.

Yep, I'm holding my breath so hard, my face is the colour of my shirt. The best thing about this little concoction of mine is that it fits even when I breath normally. Trust me, ribbing is miraculous. Can I let out the gut now?

I am, however, happy with the Frankentank so far. Despite the swearing, the frogging, and the reknitting, I'm happy because (1) the tank fits exactly to my body thus far, even when I don't suck in my gut (you'll just have to trust me on this) and (2) during the process of trying to take a picture that does not look like the Michelin Man in drag, I did not damage the camera.

Spiff suggests we get another camera just to take pictures of me trying to use the current camera. Ha bloody ha. Me, I suggest that we simply try to keep the camera we have, not to mention Spiff's head, intact, no matter how frustrated I get trying to take a picture that features a successful stitch pattern rather than a failed diet/exercise pattern.

In any case, I'm hoping that you can at least gather from these photos that Mathematics is our good friend, because by some calculative miracle, the 11-stitch repeat of arbor lace plus the extra side decreases have worked out to be exactly what I need to cover my particular little stack. I so love it when that happens.

Successfully covering the rack, however, remains to be seen. But at least I don't have to hold my breath for that one.

May 31, 2005 10:58 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (15)  | Print

Behind The Thirty-Eight Ball

"Behind the eight ball: to be in a predicament; to have to make a difficult decision between two undesirable outcomes."

"Behind the thirty-eight ball: to put off all difficult decisions until another day, in favour of birthday cake, a present, and a dinner out with the love of one's life."

Yesterday I voted for the latter, as I was going to turn 38 no matter what kind of ball I ended up behind....

So. I decided it would be far more fun to make my birthday cake with my kid than to wait for a call from a surgeon, even though Twinkletoes is an absolute disaster in the kitchen needs a wee bit of supervision when it comes to mixing things. Too bad Mme. Super Vision did not notice until it was too late that Twinkletoes decided it would be a cool idea to mix blue-coloured sand in with the salt.

You see, we had previously thought that this independently-conducted instance of "il faut faire des expériences pour apprendre" only extended to a glass of red goop which, by the look of it, had been carefully created from red sand, water, and a bit of blackcurrant jelly, and thoughtfully placed in the refrigerator for us to discover later.

We were wrong. Mme. Super Vision discovered this new phase of the sand experiment when she noticed blue flecks in the oh-so-lofty egg whites from the last three remaining eggs in the house. This cake recipe requires three eggs. Of course it does. Murphy lives here. And Mme. Super Vision does not even want to know where the yellow sand went....

(Cue massive cleanup of salt, sand, and eggs, followed by ardent lecture on the undesirability of the mixing of non-food items with food items, threat to call Poison Control, explanation of what Poison Control is and why the mere thought freaks the hell out of every mother alive, trip to store for eggs. Rewind....)

So. I decided it would be far more fun to make my birthday cake with my kid....

The eventual cake came out beautifully—its usual fudgy, non-crunchy self—and I'm having a piece right now for lunch. Because I can. And because my ability to cook myself a nice lunch has been shot to hell by the second Montréal's-finest-construction-workers-broke-the-gas-line-again power outage in two weeks, downing my blog, my computer, and my oven.

I don't know about you, but I see, at minimum, three important food groups represented on this plate. The fourth was taken care of last night by foie gras and a medallion of caribou. Yep, I ate a caribou. Bonne fête à moi.

This is what I'm thinking of getting for myself as a wee little birthday present (apart from the slightly less oh-my-god-if-she-bends-over-we'll-see-a-thong skirts I bought yesterday because after all, I am 38 now and we have newer, marginally more decent, standards to uphold):

It was only a matter of time, and we all knew it.

And when it arrives and Spiff sees me using it, would somebody please answer his question better than I did last night? (This was the best I could do: "Uhhhh...wellll...because we can?") Here's his question: "Why the hell would anyone (a) buy a spinning wheel or, even more inefficient, a drop spindle, then (b) bring a stinky sheep fleece into the house to lovingly and time-consumingly prepare said stinky fleece to be less stinky and then (c) even more time-consumingly spin the stuff into yarn one can easily buy in a well-stocked yarn shop?"

Ladies and gentlemen, Spiff is a software developer. He is all about clarity, logic, and efficiency. Do, however, notice that there is a glimmer of hope in that question: he did not simply say "yarn shop." He said "well-stocked yarn shop." See? Every little bit of catching on to the fever helps. (He's also pissed off at our local yarn shop for carrying Addis only when the whim strikes them and refusing to special-order them for individual customers. I told you, he's the love of my life, that Spiff...fighting for a steady supply of Addis...I'd marry him all over again, I would.)

A few more highlights of the best birthday I've had in a long time, which included discussing...gasp...my new World of Warcraft character and how to play nice with it:

Highlight Number One: My present from Spiff was the exact espresso machine he has been telling me we can't have for nearly two years because "do you see any space on that countertop? I see no space on that countertop. There is NO space on that countertop. Are you hallucinating? because we are NOT buying an espresso machine because we HAVE NO SPACE and have I told you that you drink too much coffee? You drink too much coffee...." There is still NO space on that countertop, but you know what? We don't care anymore. I'm going to MAKE more space. Real coffee (which is another way to say espresso) is an essential food group right up there with chocolate, and I need to do all I can to take care of myself and my nutritional needs before I go get a scar the size of Alberta on my temple.

Highlight Number Two: The babysitter offered me a bottle of purple hair dye to soften the angst I will feel when I eventually have part of my hair taken away by the surgeon. She warned us, however, that the tub might also turn purple.

Highlight Number Three: Spiff's response to the idea of having the tub turn purple was "Coooooool!" What. A. Man.

Highlight Number Four: Just being with Spiff. He rocks.

And you all know what I was thinking when he said that about the tub turning purple, don't you? (I mean, besides "wow, this guy really is the love of my life....")

Two words: "hand-dyed roving."

Stay tuned. I'm on the verge of becoming a happily married spinster with purple hair, hands, tub, and roving. I'm even closer to becoming a knitting elf.

Talk about Super Vision...
Life is good, scars and all.
Peace, dudes.

May 26, 2005 10:04 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (17)  | Print

Heads Behaving Badly

Well, I'm home, but it ain't over. The surgeons went in, but they couldn't make the fix and beat a hasty retreat. The risks ended up being too high.

Before I say anything about that, however, I want to make sure I thank each and every person who commented, sent words of love and support, and otherwise made me and my family feel far less alone. This situation is extremely shitty, for sure, but it is made far better by having people like you around to help us get through this. I will try to e-mail you all individually, but please understand that if I don't manage it, it's not because I don't appreciate your support. It's only because I'm a bit of a wreck.

Thank goodness I did not lose the impulse to knit. In fact, I discovered that 2 x 2 black rib is so incredibly mindless that I can read a book on UNIX and understand what I'm reading as I am sitting in a hospital bed stuck full of unmentionables, waiting to be rolled down the hall to surgery, all the while knitting 2 x 2 black rib. Who knew?

And look, arbor lace! (I know...arbor lace is bloody simple, this is not...uh...brain surgery...but look! arbor lace!)

The first step of the Frankentank has been accomplished. Okay, so it's hard to tell it's really lacy...because it's not blocked. Trust me, it's lacy.

I include this wee little bit of progress here not because it is so stunningly gorgeous but because I wanted to give at least a little knitting content (anaesthesia and panic are pretty much all I've been experiencing these past few days, and I'd really rather knit). The difficulty is not yet over, so I plan to knit like crazy through it. Otherwise I'm going to lose my cool.

And now, the bad news. This, unfortunately, has also not been blocked:

The medical system, they are highly advanced in their diagnostic assessments, no? Labeling courtesy of us.

The less-invasive surgery was not do-able without the possibility of me going blind in the left eye. You can see from the above highly advanced 2D imaging system that the aneurysm is, indeed, quite close to my eye. And we really didn't want that...If I ever expect to navigate two-handed fair isle, having only one eye is not an option. So we have some decisions to make, because the only way to shut this thing down is to clip it. That's major, invasive surgery via the head. We don't want to gross anyone out on the front page here, so if you really want to know what was supposed to happen, what didn't happen, and what probably will happen if I can gather my courage, we have put together a bit of educational information for you here. A little Aneurysm 101, if you will.

Meanwhile, thank all of you again, so much, for being here for me. And if the docs could see their way to making me look like this, well, then, I might stop complaining....

Now that's gotta hurt....

May 20, 2005 4:35 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (26)  | Print

We are for each other.

They are one person
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for each other

—Stephen Stills, "Helplessly Hoping"

I wasn't going to write something emotional today. I was going to be a complete smart-ass, write something funny to distract myself from being scared shitless, and hopefully have you all laughing with me, not at me...

I can't do it.

I can't do it because, as Spiff says, surgery and hospitals are just not funny. And although it may seem a bit dramatic to put a love note in my post before I go, well...sue me. If this situation ain't dramatic, I don't know what is. And if there is anything I want to publicly say about it, it's these two incredibly important things:

Twinkletoes, I love you, forever and ever and always. I'm on your side, little darling, no matter what.

Spiff, you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Period. Being loved by you makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world, and I can only hope that what I give you allows you to know in your heart just how precious you are to me. You're the other half of my own heart, and I love you exponentially more than I know how to say in words.

I am trying not to panic, trying to think positive thoughts, and I've got a gazillion (or at least a few) people thinking them for me too, and that means the world to me. You are all awesome.

So, off I go. I will be back in a week, hopefully not blonder than I already am. And if I end up seeing double, well...that's one less sock to make, and holy shit, there are TWO stunningly gorgeous loves of my life in my bed. How lucky is that, eh?

Until then, I leave you with the image I'm going to be keeping in my head while the doctors play around in there. This, to me, is the one, the only, the best "happy place" I can think of: in the arms of my petit atome. I waited a bloody long time for this, and I'm not giving it up, not for anything.

J'aimerais quand même te dire,
Tout ce que j'ai pu écrire
C'est ton sourire qui me l'a dicté...

May 15, 2005 11:33 AM  | Permalink  | Comments (35)  | Print

Tanks, Buddy...

Or, The Frankentank.

Who knew it would be so hard to choose a tank pattern that is not (a) designed for a mosquito-bitten coathanger or (b) something my mother would say is sensible and tastefully feminine, not because it has shaping, but because it DOESN'T have shaping and YET that picot lace edging is very nice, don't you think, Lee Ann?

My apologies to my mother, whom I love, but whom I do not wish to emulate in the wardrobe department. Apologies also to mosquito-bitten coathangers. I don't really hate you. Much. I just can't wear your clothes.

Since I can't find what I'm looking for, I'm going to make a Frankentank of sorts...which will include the circular shaping I want from here and the edge with an interesting triangle and column effect I want from here, which also happens to meld nicely with the neck opening detail on this:

From Phildar Printemps 2004, Modèle 30. No, Mom, it is not too "scoopy." In fact, it covers the rack quite well compared to some things I wear. Yes, I did indeed say "rack." Here's a napkin for your coffee, Mom...mind you don't spray the keyboard....

On the Phildar tank, I don't like the little bit of rib at the bottom. It looks too accidental and not very functional. Also, what you can't see in this photo is the 3 x 2 (or is it 2 x 3...) ribbing all the way up the back of the tank. The idea of having the back completely ribbed and the front stockinette with a lace panel at the neck seems a little too patchwork to me. It's almost like a halter without the halter straps. But the neck is cool...and the lace trim I found for the bottom really echoes this neck element. My Frankentank will be ribbed all the way up, back and front, but it is a ribbing that is part of the trim pattern I chose. The shaping is going to be a bit funky on the sides, given that it will be a ribbed pattern, but I'm going to try to hide the decreases and increases inside the ribs.

I would love to make the Goddess tank, but right now I don't have that issue of Vogue Knitting, and while I can get it from Vogue as a one-off, it will take them bloody forever, I'm sure. I would also like to try some short-row shaping, but in the interest of quickly finding a shapely tank which does not have three-inch wide straps that will make me look like a tank, I'm putting that on hold.

I have Micro in my stash. A gorgeous blue. It cries out to be something shapely and fun. (It is acrylic, but it's a NICE acrylic...ohhh, have you ever put this stuff against your face? I nearly got kicked out of the store for overfondling the Micro....)

I need to make this now. I need some instant gratification. I need a sure thing.Oh, yeah, Lee Ann, tossing together three different decorative elements, combining two different patterns, using a differently gauged yarn, trying circular knitting for the first time, and trying lace for the first time too—that would be a sure thing, alright. Damn. Anyway, I'm going to need some all-night knitting soon, so it's got to be relatively simple. And knitting in the round in mostly rib except for the tricky bits, that's simple, right? Here's my little start:

I wanna be an Arbor Lace Ranger, I wanna live a life of danger...

But today, I am stuck at home while Norma and Cassie whoop it up with the Yarn Harlot at Kaleidoscope in Vermont. It's a two hour drive for me. I have a class tonight. So I can't even be a decently horrible mother and take my kid out of kindergarten to drive two hours across the border to play with yarn and meet a bunch of really cool people who think I'm nearly normal (horrible is in the eye of the kindergarten teacher if I pull a move like that. My kid, on the other hand, would be quite happy to take a road trip if it involves alpaca and cool people at the other end...well-trained, no?). I am so unhappy about this. But the Frankentank is sticking it out with me, whether it likes it or not. Otherwise, I pull the wool. Heuuu...the Micro. It's good to be the creator....

May 12, 2005 11:11 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (7)  | Print

SaSaSaSaturday Night...in Not-Maryland

We are not in Maryland, my friends. And we are not in the least bit bitter. We are eating sushi and all is good.

This guy makes Saturday night worth a whole week's troubles.

Julia and Margene have spearheaded the Stuck At Home No We Are Not Bitter Blogeuses Movement...and here's my mini-post for what Saturday is like here without a trip to Maryland for rampant wool-buying and all-night knitting extravaganzas...

Every Saturday night we go to the same restaurant to have sushi. Sometimes we go alone, sometimes with friends. But we are always treated like family, and this makes Saturday night a real treat. Tonight, they created a new dessert sushi with banana and chocolate in it, deep-fried. We have to give it a name by next week. How do you say Heavenly in Japanese?

Happy weekend to everyone who is not in Maryland, and even happy weekend to Claudia, who is in Maryland. She had better give good blog afterward, is all I have to say....

May 7, 2005 11:04 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (4)  | Print

Just because we can...

Doesn't mean we should.

But we did because Twinkletoes asked, and because "Ma maman peut tricoter tout," and how can one argue with that. (If you didn't know any French, you might have a leg to stand on, but since I know this means "My mom can knit everything," I have absolutely no excuse. My reputation as a loving mother means far more to me than my reputation as a skilled knitter. Usually. Don't ask me about this when we are in the aisles of Pharmaprix and she is giving me "the look" and trying to disappear down an aisle where I cannot see what she is doing, and the entire store discovers that yes indeedy, that little woman has a big voice....)

So, my latest FO is the above Phildar Neige capelet (oh, man, we are busting our knitting boundaries all over the place) in size "Queen o' the Plastic Torpedoes." Complete with a glass button from my antique button collection. Girl's gotta have the bling, you see. And girl's gotta place the bling strategically. Why?

To show off the tattoo. We are Barbie of Montréal. Hear us roar. Hear our mothers weep. And then, when they've gotten over it, hear them secretly consider getting a small, tasteful tattoo where only the very curious and the husband will notice it...minus the plastic implants....

Note the additional, somewhat bizarre choice of contrast thread for button-sewing. Twinkletoes is nothing if not an exercise in contrasts. She regularly chooses to wear unmatching socks on purpose. It was funny until she started doing it in public. And then it infuriated me. Now, I've let it go. For the most part. There are worse battles to fight, and I wouldn't want to, say, blow a blood vessel or anything. And at least if my self-striping yarn doesn't self-stripe in the same way for each sock, Twinkletoes will consider this a feature, not a bug.

Bugs and socks. Another post for another day. Happy weekend, everyone...I'm off to seek out solace in some Lorna's Laces.

May 6, 2005 7:48 AM  | Permalink  | Comments (5)  | Print

How To Make Takeout A Sure Thing

"Hello, Wok This Way?"

Note: To those of you who are becoming frantic at the thought of (a) the flammability factor in my house, given my last post, or (b) me burning off the stash so no one knows how bad it's really gotten here, no mohair balls were harmed to make this photo. Besides, I only left it there for one minute. The stovetop wasn't even on. Honest.

I know how to cook. I love to cook. I do it extremely well. However, there are days...

Days when the kid's doctor calls and says yes indeedy, Madame, your daughter has asthma and now requires two inhalers every time she gets a sniffle and by the way, get rid of all her stuffed animals, please, even though she's slept with no less than thirty of them since birth and if you take even one away she will not only go on a hunger strike but will picket the house with a sign that says "Bring Back Squeaks The Flying Squirrel"....

Days when your brain surgeon calls and....

What? you don't have a brain surgeon? Ah. Well. I do, now. Let's not even go there. I will simply say that "Madame, we need to set a date for the intervention procedure required for your aneurysm" is not tops on my list of conversation starters.

Hence, takeout.

Here is another surefire way to get takeout without complaints about it being the third fried rice night of the week (by the way, I make supplemental vegetables and other decent things for my kid. We have standards. Hers involve picking the healthy things out of the fried rice. Mine involve putting them back in without her noticing anything's different.):

Make your partner the same sweater he has already bought in stores three times. Make it on US4 needles. In 2 x 2 rib. In black.

This sweater's saving grace is that it is in Zara, which is the yarn of the gods. Its other saving grace is that this is the first time I have ever done a tubular cast-on, and I did it for a 2 x 2 rib, which is a wee bit tricky to do without it looking wonky.

I am more than pleased. This edge is so...tubular. No, I will not dance for you. I may have gone clubbing in the eighties but I am no Valley Girl and I have to draw the line somewhere.

I am, however, bored out of my mind knitting 2 x 2 rib. This pattern is a nice one, very hunky-masculine and exactly the kind of thing that looks really good on a guy. Have you noticed, by the way, that men have only recently discovered that women think they look hot in turtlenecks? Took them long enough....

Fashion tips for the clueless straight guy aside, this sweater is very simple, very nice, and a good bet for a first sweater for one's darling love. The pattern is called Rolf (which engenders many bizarro jokes because a friend of mine's husband is named Rolf and I regularly "work on" him...the sweater, not the friend's husband...). It's a Jaeger pattern (see sidebar for the pattern info). But...

I can't stand it anymore. I'm going to add cables because I can't stand it anymore. And I have to stand it. I am determined. Spiff has never had a sweater from me. My reputation as a loving, knitting partner is on the line. Because this is the first time I have ever been in a relationship with someone who actually wears sweaters. In fact, Spiff wears nothing but "jumpers."

Okay, he also wears pants. You knew what I meant....

So I've got to add something brilliant. Spiff is a big fan of Celtic culture and role-playing types of games, so I feel that I ought to create something not only lovely and sanity-saving but also meaningful. The back will remain 2 x 2zzzzzz...rib. The front and the arms are open for rampant addition of detail, deep meaning, Spiff's undying gratitude for receiving the nicest sweater he's ever worn, etc.

I thought of just adding a few simple cables to the front and sleeves, set in the middle of the ribbing. But that just didn't seem different enough from anything I could already get in the stores. I know, it will be nicer and so meaningful coming from my needles. Yeah. But there is something so disheartening about making a generic sweater, even if it's nice-looking and generic.

So here's my plan. Either I find a cable pattern that looks good set in the middle of 2 x 2 rib but is so complicated it will make me rue the day I began it, and yet will have the happy side effect of making me a better knitter in the end (despite the agonising sound of it, this is really a viable option because of the "experience points"...you World of Warcraft fans know what I mean...). And I have determined that every single project I make from here on in teaches me a new technique. So I'm covered with the tubular stuff, but why stop there? Why not become superhuman? Or at the very least, competent?

Or...I do something in the middle of the cables that is personal. Geeky. His World of Warcraft character's name in Quenya Elvish. Or maybe a love note in some kind of code embedded inside cabled lozenges. Aie. Somebody kick me.

I'm still working on the back of this thing because it's so damned boring. So there's time to come up with something brilliant for the front and sleeves. Any suggestions?

And yes, for the curious, the photo of this WIP was taken on a cutting board on the top of the stove. What can I say? The lighting was good. It's black 2 x 2 rib, unblocked. I needed good lighting. Hello, Wok This Way? Yep, it's me again....

May 3, 2005 11:49 PM  | Permalink  | Comments (5)  | Print