Blogsam and Jetsam

Flotsam is the part of the wreckage of a ship or its cargo found floating on the water. Jetsam is cargo or parts of a ship that are deliberately thrown overboard, as to lighten the ship in an emergency, and that subsequently either sinks or is washed ashore. This is my personal blog version of the above. Loot freely.

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Location: The Hinterlands, Upstate NY

I'm annoyed that the world is going crazier faster than it used to be. But it's interesting to watch.

Monday, April 16, 2007

They DO Suck:

Both the weather and the design concept, that is.

Behold the horror:




Isn't it frightening? My knitting basket is sitting on my freshly-shoveled sidewalk.

Can't argue with the weather but the damned mitten idea is so-so-SO a "what WAS she thinking*?!" moment. See?


Imagine the completed left mitten. Don't worry, your eyeballs won't bleed (right away, anyhow.) Awful, ain't it?


The really scary thing is that I saw it coming and forged ahead anyhow. It wasn't enough warning that my first thought after the second round of ribbing was "this thing is gonna be huge; I hope I can shrink it" even though I hate deliberate felting even more than I hate two-alike. (Oh no, I'm not listening to that alarm, not this time. I like this.) Nor was it even warning enough that my mental response was "shit, despite all that rinsing those blues might still bleed."

I thought "but they'll be so cu-u-u-te!" and sewed the joining seam together.

(Knitting Veterans may freely laugh.)

Even as I was stitching the Still Small Voice of Calm said "y'know, that's gonna make it a real bitch if you've got to unravel it..."

Yeah. It will. Did I listen?

No, but I sure should have--here's another shot of the carnage:




Mitten pattern? Great.
Yarns? Great.
Using any two of the three together? Probably okay.
All three? DISASTER.

The snow isn't swell either.


On the "up" side I've learned that I do indeed want to try that mitten pattern (two different! Hooray!) but that I'll need finer-gauge yarn and smaller needles. Also a less...painful...color scheme. I've also learned that the Easter Egg Yarn definitely needs to incubate longer; it hasn't declared itself yet.



My Plow Guy hasn't come yet but I'm reasonably sure that's a blessing in disguise.



* Hormones. Two days too early. Horrible killer (like late pregnancy) PMS is my middle-aged payback for having not believed in the entity in my twenties. I surely believe now. Hand me that box of Kleenex and the nine-mil, would you please?

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