2015 - The Year of the Stash Bust

If you're an avid crafter - of just about any type of craft - then, you'll know all about the STASH.  Your stash is all of your supplies - all the little (and big) things you've collected over time that aid you in your craft.

For those of us that love the fiber arts - your stash can often grow to be more than just your essential supplies.  To be fair, I only need a single pair of knitting needles, or a single hook to knit or crochet at will.  As long as there's some string around - I can make something.  But, I don't have just a single set of needles - or a single hook and a single ball of string.  Instead, I have lots and lots and lots of each.

Because I've got sooooo much fiber, in all those lovely colors and types and weights, it means that I'm utilizing quite a bit of space to store them.  As I can only work on one project at a time - that means that there's an awful lot of pretty string around here waiting it's turn to be transformed into something fabulous.

So, in an effort to get to each of those lovely colors and fibers in turn, I've made a resolution for the year of 2015:  I will not purchase a single skein of dyed yarn.  (it hurts a little bit to even type that...)

If I have a project that is just screaming to be made, and I don't have a color that is jumping for joy because IT gets to be that fabulous project - then I will just have to dye my own fiber to suit the project in question.  If that doesn't work, I'll have to move on to another project that's screaming for a turn - there are plenty. :)

This means that for the entire year of 2015, I will be working 90% of the time from yarn that I already have and maybe 10% of the time from yarn that I will dye on a project-specific basis.  There is only one exception to this rule of the 2015 Stash Bust - the WEBS Tent Sale.  For the Tent Sale, all bets are off.  I'm trying to be a good girl, but, let's not get ridiculous here.

In any event, it's now the 17th of January, 2015 and I haven't purchased a single, little tiny piece of beautifully colored string - not a single skein, hank or cake of yarn has been brought into the house by me.  (My lovely, amazing, completely ROCKING sister sent me some beautiful yarns and that is going to have to hold me over until the Tent Sale.  THANK YOU, KAREN!!!!)

We'll see if I can keep to this Resolution.  I'm at about a 50/50 split right now - half of me really wants to do this Stash Bust and the other half of me is ready to go surfing and see just what is on sale at Knit Picks right now...

Must, resist the pretty...

Never Lose Your Sense of Humor

In reading my sister's prior post, which we were total Daddy's Girls, it brought up memories of winter time when we were kids.  We lived exactly one mile from our elementary school.  According to the school board, we lived on the wrong side of the street to get bussed to school.  We grew up on a corner and a very busy one at that.  So Dori and I had to walk to school and it was uphill, both ways.  I remember walking to school and having to say this to my teacher:

I looked like Randy from "A Christmas Story".  I did fall in a huge pile of snow once, measurable by the foot, and could not move.  I was stuck.  For real.  It was a Laurel and Hardy routine when Dori had to come pull me up.  We were in elementary school for Pete's sake.  Think we are tiny now? Thumbelina was a giant compared to us but we made it through each year.  But that wasn't as funny when we would jump off the little league dugouts into the super deep snow.  Oh wait...that's right...I didn't jump...my sister flung me off into the snow, face first.  Isn't childhood grand?  Especially when you're the youngest sibling and your older sibling is forced to take care of you?  Actually, I was a stinker for a sister and deserved several of the whompings I received.  That instance, however, not so much.

But through the years of living in the north, it becomes an "Eh, whatever" with winter.  So many a time I find myself rolling in laughter at those who live down south who only see snow when watching "It's A Wonderful Life".  Shut down an entire city for a dusting that melts within hours.  Funny stuff.  

It's even funnier when you see someone from the south driving up here in the winter for the first time, as long as you are not on the road with them.  But the funniest isn't the driving, it's when you have to get out of your car and walk across what you just barely traversed in your vehicle.  Grown men crab walking on their tiptoes to make it to the front door, priceless.  But even those who are old hats in driving during the winter are void of all sense of reason sometimes.

But there are ways of knowing who grew up in the north and who are transplants.  I hate the winter, this is more than true, but having been through soo many, you know how to prepare and roll with the punches.  For example, a new northerner...

Lifelong northerner would be stocked to the eyeballs by mid-August

We get a ton of those here in the Chicago area.  Stocked up on salt by mid-July.  I've had it snow on my birthday and leave a foot.  I was born in mid-April, my husband late April, still snowing.

Grilling happens all year around, period.  Shovel a path to the grill if needs be.  The choice of food to be grilled may vary slightly from above, but the thought has run through many minds.  Sorry Phil.

But through it all, one must never lose their sense of humor.  Winter can be lots of fun and it's a blast watching the kids go sledding, snowboarding, fort-building-trash-talking-snowball-fights, making igloos/dugouts from the 9-10 foot tall snowdrifts, snow angels, and the classic snowman. Growing up, we loved reading Calvin & Hobbes.  Love Calvin.  Here's a homage to the little boy that makes us remember how cool it really was being a kid.

And to those who haven't lost their sense of humor in adulthood, you rock.  We have a lot of front yardage, I think we can come up with something good...

Snowman on snowman violence...why can't we all just get along?

Frosty my ass...wwhoooo-aaahhhh

I wonder if this is Gulliver's twin in a parallel dimension

Henry didn't quite catch on as to what would happen if he lost the bet with Barry and Wendall

Answers that question

Being a major fan of Halo, this is nothing short of kick-ass

My all time favorite land animal

But no matter what you do to pass the time during the snow laden winters, always remember to never lose your sense of humor.  And always have a good stock of alcohol.

Daddy's Girl

Even though this post is completely going to date me (and poor Karen, too), I'm going to plow ahead anyway.  I'm a child of the 70's.  Born in 1971 (which puts me at 44), I graduated high school in 1990.  Go, Bulldogs!!

I wasn't lucky enough to have hippy-dippy parents, though.  Nope, no wandering the countryside with stoned-out loons for this kid.  (And by the time Karen came along, in 1976, things were rolling into the 80's and the hippy-dippy-parent dream was dead.)  Our dad was a chef.  A chef who combat-served with the 82nd Airborne, and more** in Vietnam.  All my life, I remember people coming up to Dad - really, really excited - and begging for his autograph.  Everywhere we went they thought he was Jerry Garcia.  No matter how he changed his look - the requests would come.  Eventually, he gave up trying to explain that he was not the famed Garcia and instead just gave them his autograph.  His OWN, that is.  Lots and lots of people walked away with a quickly scrawled, 'all the best, Dan the Man'.  Seriously used to crack us up to no end.  But, as he was a Dead fan, I don't think he actually minded much. ;p

I've been thinking quite a lot about my Dad lately.  Having grown up a tried-and-true Daddy's Girl, I truly enjoy watching the same bond between my daughters and husband.  All three of my girls are Daddy's Girls.  They truly adore that man.  So, I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge all the Dads out there and all the Daddy's Girls.  Love him lots while you have him, girls, and be sure to pick a man that will adore YOUR baby girls just as much.  I did and it's a blessing.

Thanks, Daddy. I love you!


**our dad spent time in Special Forces - he entered a PVT, left a PVT and his jacket only states TDY for the entire time in-between with no destination or designation assigned**

What To Do In The Middle Of A Blizzard....BINGO!!

One of the things that a person must do when they live in the north is have a backup plan for everyday in the winter.  The weather can shift in an instant and any plans that you had for the day could totally explode in your face.  For example, when I went to bed last night it was 45°+ with dense fog and a very light mist.  I drove with the windows open at 7 o'clock last night to pick up pizza and wings for the fam - yup - totally punked out on making dinner.  I woke up this morning inside a snow globe.  It is currently 20° outside and the temperature is dropping.  We will get roughly 8" before the evening is over.  And because I live in a rural farming area, there are not a lot of trees so the wind is insane around here.  Yay.

I had planned today on going to the grocery store, post office and my local yarn shop.  So, yeah.  We instead will be taking down the Christmas tree and I will be playing Bingo.  And knitting of course. That never stops, no matter the weather.  I could be lounging on the beach with a Mai Tai, garnished with a lil' umbrella, the palms listing gently in the soothing tropical breezes as the ocean waves playfully lap along the untarnished white sands, littered with tiny unique seashells that have made an amazing journey throughout the seas, and I, hoping they would share their stories of what they have seen and experienced.  But I would be swearing at the pattern that I am trying to hammer out and failing at an epic rate.  It's messed up I know, but hey, at least I would have alcohol.

I do miss playing Bingo at a local Moose Lodge, church, or rec center.  I play Bingo Blitz for free on my tablet. It's fun and cool but it lacks the little old lady surrounded by her multitude of trolls, 6 different colored ink blotters and her worry stone she rubs the entire time she's playing, all the while greatly impressing me that she has 24+ squares in front of her and I'm struggling to keep up with 8 squares.  I once had a lady who was sitting next to me blotting my numbers as I was falling behind while she had stamped all of hers, had a sip of coffee, crocheted a dishcloth, washed her car and fed her cat.  But that instant where you get to yell "BINGO!" and have every eye land on you, wishing they could shoot laser beams through your skull is awesome!  Unless you are the one wanting to shoot the laser beams.  Especially with a big pot; they can reach into the thousands.  You're a liar if the thought doesn't flash through your mind of knocking out an old lady in the parking lot.  I call liar, liar, pants on fire.  And don't forget the knee high pile of pull tab cards...

So to all of those on a beach right now, I really don't like you.  I am stuck in the house with two top-of-the-line weirdos cheering on the snow, screaming "More! More! More!"  At least I would have alcohol with my knitting on the beach.  OH!  Wait!  I think I have some Smirnoff left!  Gots ta go! Hafta take my anti-weirdo liquid medicine!  BINGO!

Brighten it UP!

One of the things that keeps me going in the long, drab, cold and just plain icky winter months are really, really bright colors.  I like to surround myself, literally, with things that are brightly colored - and then it's a little bit easier for me to ignore what's going on with the weather outside.

As I live in a house full of winter-loving-odd-folk, I seem to be the only one that suffers this particular affliction.  Seriously, my house if full of the oddest people.

In any event, here's a little something I made to help keep the colors close over these long, grey winter months - you know, that type of winter that seems like it's decided to stay forever...

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Merry Festivus! Happy Hanukkah! Feliz Navidad! Happy Kwanzaa!

Soon little boys and girls will be squealing through the house, checking the plate of cookies and glass of milk to make sure Santa came, wondering what could be behind that wrapping paper with dancing bears and reindeer, and jumping up and down on the bed to wake you up.  Of course they don't know you went to bed a half hour ago because you just got done wrapping their gifts.  Merry Christmas Santa!  Ho! Ho! Ho!

But to me it is worth the lack of sleep for the hours of cutting, taping, stuffing, ribbon tying, and the paper cuts to watch them have that moment of wonderment, curiosity and eeps of glee in a hurricane flurry of tissue paper and pretty bows.  I do miss having a little one running around at times but as they get bigger, taking them to different things is pretty awesome too.

If you have never been to the great city of Chicago, make sure you add a trip to your bucket list.  We went to Daley Plaza where the infamous Picasso is located.  You know the one...it's a lady, it's a duck, it's an extraterrestrial that gave Picasso some space drugs...it's in "The Blues Brothers" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off".  Every year they set up the German Christmas Village and have proprietors sell their authentic wares from Europe.  You can find hand carved Austrian cuckoo clocks, wooden shoes, German hard candies, traditional wooden toys, gut busting bratwurst (yum), fresh roasted almonds and the Biergarten, of course.  They set up around the Picasso sculpture and have a Santa for pictures with a more Norman Rockwell traditional look.  The man they had this year was a dead ringer; it was almost unsettling but awesome!  Kids were going bananas.  I am not much of a connoisseur of shortbread style cookies but ooo-me-oh-my there was a clutch of French nuns (wearing the traditional "flying nun" habits) that were selling fresh baked butter cookies.  Wow.  Those didn't make it home.  I also got some hard candies that remind me soo much of what my grandmother would bring home from her latest trip to Germany when Dori and I were children.

Picasso at Daley Plaza in Chicago

From there we walked on over to Ed Debevic's for some verbal abuse.  It was awesome.  They have pretty good food and the staff there is rude and obnoxious.  Not to an unbearable extreme but there is a whole lotta sass rolling around in there and it's set up like that, on purpose.  The staff has a lot of fun and I have never seen anyone leave from there insulted and pissed.  It is a great place to check out and it's just a mile over the Chicago River from the plaza.  Not to mention the plaza is about a mile from the train station so everything is well within walking distance.  If in-your-face sass isn't your cup of tea, you are only a hop, skip, and jump away from The House of Blues, Bar Louie's, Rainforest Cafe, The Hardrock, Harry Caray's Steak House, even the two story rock 'n' roll McDonald's.  There are soo many different places to choose from in a very small area, in city terms.

I have to say the only part of our trip that just plain ole sucked was the non-stop drizzle.  Just light enough you can ignore it but just wet enough that it drenches you.  My pant legs were soaked up my calf to just below my knee.  My knit hat was starting to droop from all of the weight of the rain but my head was dry!  Even with the shoddy weather, there were a ton of people at the plaza, giggling, taking pictures in front of the large Christmas tree, enjoying good eats and creating memories.  No one was rude or pushy, complete strangers warmly smiling and new friends being made at a spur of a moment. So although I no longer have a little person at a center of a living room wrapping paper tornado, I found myself unaware of how drenched and cold I was and how wonderful it felt to share that time with my loved ones.  We had a smashing time in Chicago and the train ride home, well, that's another story.  Let's just say I laughed so hard I came close to popping out my contact.  

We wish you many blessings of health and happiness during the holiday season and throughout the many years to come.

Dori & Karen

An Invitation to FLASH!!

So, this post is going to be all about FLASHING!!

I'm so totally going to flash you!

With my stash -

of yarn.

Boy, you've got a nasty mind...
:)

Mind you now, this is actually not even close to all of it...

So, here goes...

Oh, I should probably mention that this unit is just over two feet deep - and the yarn is starting to push it's way out.  Oh, oh and did I mention that 70% of it, or so, isn't even in this shot?  Oh, oh, oh, um, also you want to know the worst/best part?  There's more coming from Knit Picks sometime this week - and I can't find a single damn skein that works just right with the project I want to start next. *le sigh*

<3

Consider this an invitation to flash (your stash of yarn, please)!

I'm May Not Be A Lawyer But This Much I Know

My sister Dori and I can be easily described as fiber fanatics.  To the extreme.  What can I say, we love all things fiber!  From grabbing a pair of sticks, or a hook, some string and a pattern to make something beautiful to trips to our local yarn shops to frolic happily through all the lusciousness we can get our hands on.  One of those joys is meeting new knitters/crocheters and helping them learn a new stitch or how to pick out the right yarn for a project to teaching them how to read a pattern/chart and all the abbreviations that can be absolutely overwhelming and confusing when you are first starting out. Thus leading me to a very frustrating and completely irritating point.

There are literally thousands of patterns available on the web as well as in magazines, books, leaflets, and the hand-written ones skritched on a napkin while dining.  You can find a pattern anywhere & everywhere.  Many fiber art forms have been around for thousands of years, so the vast majority of patterns you see are comprised of thousand year old stitches.  Sometimes a designer comes up with a new variation of a stitch, bind off method, cast on method or the like.  Even then, any pattern that is publicly distributed, whether for free or for a cost, is only legally covered to an extent.  Let me expand on this statement.

These cotton socks found in Egypt are some of the earliest knitted pieces. From L to R: Textile Museum, ca. 1000 – 1200 AD; Victorian & Albert Museum, ca. 1100 – 1300 AD; Textile Museum, ca. 1300 AD

http://sheepandstitch.com/the-history-of-knitting-part-1-mysterious-origins/

This evening I was searching through patterns, both free and pay-for, to match with some awesome sock yarn to make shawls.  As I am searching through the hundreds of pages of available patterns, several copyright notices were written beyond the scope of what the copyright actually encompasses.  The only part of the pattern that is legally protected is the pattern itself as it is originally presented, ie: any pictures included, title, the written pattern, charted pattern, special instructions, etc..  It does not cover, however, the completed item.  You may do what you wish with your completed item.  You can gift it, sell it, donate it, or wear it while dancing nude through the streets, it is your item and the designer has no say whatsoever on what you may do with the item.

I have been finding designers stating in their "copyright" that you may not sell the completed item for profit without their permission or not at all, that donations are acceptable only with their permission and that a link/reference must be tagged with the completed item.  One goes so far as that once you pay for the pattern and download it, it pops up a disclaimer stating that with the purchase you have entered into a binding contract that disallows you from selling your completed item.  Ummm....no.  That is all sorts of illegal.  You cannot force a contract onto someone, especially when there is no form of notification of said contract prior to the purchase.  So yeah,  I do not have to do any of that.  I can link/reference your pattern to my completed item out of sheer kindness but there is no law stating that I have to.  The only thing I cannot sell, transmit or distribute is the original pattern in its original presented form without prior consent from the designer.  If I alter the pattern at all; say I find a shawl pattern I love but it is not beaded.  I then alter the pattern to include beading.  And I also decide I want a different edging.  I now finish said item, take pictures and present that as my own pattern because it is not the original pattern as it was presented.  Now copyright laws only cover my pattern as it is presented in its original form.  Someone else can come along, make alterations, and it is now their pattern.

What concerns me are these bogus copyright disclaimers that are totally and completely invalid, and frankly laughably ridiculous at best, will scare away those new to the fiber arts.  The majority of patterns do not have these unenforceable disclaimers, but now and again one pops up and I just start frothing at the mouth.  Some people you just wanna grab by the collar and smack them across the face. But then I will happen upon a pattern where the designer states that you may do what you will with your completed item and to enjoy it but to please not sell their original pattern.  Fair enough.

Yup...hasn't changed.

So to anyone who has come across any type of copyright disclaimer stating that you cannot sell, donate, gift or dance nude through the streets with the item that you have made, they are talking out of a malfunctioning colostomy bag, a.k.a., their mouth.  The cops, however, may wanna have a chat with you about the whole nude thing.

Creativity is Great ... Now Let's FINISH Something!

Hello, my name is Dori and I have FO Syndrome.

For those of you unfamiliar with this rather harrowing syndrome, I'll be happy to explain.

In crafty terms, an FO is a Finished Object.  This syndrome is very specific.  It does not inhibit our ability to create, or to conceive of a lovely, or to see all the fabulous possibilities for that very cool pattern, or even cooler yarn.  It does, however, hinder our ability to FINISH these projects.

Ask an avid knitter or crocheter how many projects they have in any stage of progress and you might be surprised by the answers.  Of course, there are those lovely people that begin a project and work the entire project and then finish, block, weave in ends and photograph and share all before even buying the yarn for their next.  I haven't actually MET one of those lovely people, but, I allow for the possibility that one exists, somewhere.

Well, I have been afflicted with FO Syndrome for years and years.  I've learned to deal with it.

Which is to say, I've learned to ignore it and get really happy over the items I actually DO finish.  Hats and such little things, don't really count toward the Syndrome - they're too fast.  But, well, lace shawls, that's a whole 'nother ball of wax.  Sometimes, putting down a complicated piece of lacework is just a mechanism for preserving your sanity.

So, what this post is really all about, in the end, is that I FINISHED A LOVELY SCARF AND WANT TO SHARE IT WITH YOU!!!  :)))

Here is my version of the Clockwork Shawl/Scarf by Stephen West (isn't his stuff just fabulous?):



Just getting into the groove - loving the colors

 


OK - we're rolling now!

 


FINISHED OBJECT!!

Although I still suffer from FO Syndrome - - I am seriously NOT going to even speculate on the number of projects I currently have in the works - - even I can finish something that I've started.  There's hope fellow Syndrome sufferers!  :)






I Love My New Truck, Even Though My Husband Thinks It's His

We were trying very hard to wait one more year before getting another vehicle.  We haven't had a car payment for several years and were having a hard time swallowing the thought of absorbing a payment again. We have three vehicles: his Ford Escape that everyone hates named The Grinch, my Lumina named Dragonlily and an older Ford Ranger named Lil' John as a back up in case one of the other two broke down and could be used until the broke one was fixed.  By the way, my daughter is in charge of naming the vehicles...have no clue where she comes up with some of these names.

My step-son had been borrowing Lil' John to get back and forth to college while he stays at his mom's house since it's not that far from where he is going.  It is bright teal with a red tailgate.  His mom lives in a very urban area so every night he would park it under the streetlight.  With those colors it is an illuminated road cone, you can not possibly miss seeing it.  Except for the nimrod that smashed into the back end and totaled it.  And was uninsured.  Actually, it was her uninsured boyfriend's car.  Her boyfriend's new Dodge Charger who lives five doors down from where my step-son's mom lives.  So the girl backed up and limped the Charger down the street.  Thankfully my step-son wasn't in it.  She hit it so hard that it shot it forward five car lengths and left a trail of pieces everywhere. The truck is a manual and we always park it in 1st gear.  You know how hard it is to move a manual left in gear is?  So our backup is trashed.

Then my car decided to take a dump a week later.  Awesome.  I have had it for roughly 8 years and have traveled through and to many states.  From New York to Virginia and back, twice.  From New York to Wisconsin, twice.  Then when I moved to Indiana from New York.  And a few trips to Wisconsin since I moved.  That car has definitely earned its keep.  So what do we do now?

Get a new truck!  We ended up getting a Dodge Ram.  My head clears the bed by about four inches.  I have to lift myself to get in.  From behind, you can't even see me.  From the side you can't see me. And from the front, I look like "Kilroy was here".  I have to stand on my tiptoes to just touch the center console.  I have to use rock climbing skills to get into the bed.  My husband, on the other hand, just slides right in, you can see him from any angle, he can reach across the cab and open the other door, and he can reach into the bed of the truck without stretching.  Even with the seat almost to the floor, he towers over the steering wheel.  So who fits better in it?  ME!

And so begins whose truck is it.  For all intents and purposes, it is our truck.  For all reality purposes, it's mine!  And I have never done well with sharing.  Learning how to share in kindergarten and all that jazz, yep, I failed on an epic level.  So now we do the shoving match to see who gets to the driver's side first.  Sometimes I think he forgets how nimble I am.  By the time he works his way around, I have entered through the passenger side and climbed across into the driver's seat.  I win! Yay for being little!  

But it's fun messing with each other.  And considering how much this puppy costs each month, looks like we are going to have it for a long while.  Plenty of shoving matches to keep us in shape!

People have told me this is what I look like