Behold them! Be-hold them!

 Yes, I did quote the fairy from "The Legend of Neil."  Does this surprise/dismay anyone?  Bonus points if you remember what she was referring to.  This while listening to Mozart's Solemn Vespers on my media player--could be worse, could be the Requiem.  But where was I?  Ah, yes, the gloves: behold them in all their Ringwoody glory.  A pity the purple rosebud buttons didn't come off well on-camera, 'cause they really were something of the crowning glory of the piece.  And, well, see what I meant about the gloves looking sort of weird by themselves?

 So...after I finished the gloves, it only took me approximately no time flat to move on to my next great geekly knitting adventure.  New and exciting discovery at the craft store: affordable awesome yarn.  I've always kind of gone for Caron Simply Soft as a fallback worsted-weight for various projects, but the other day I discovered its dainty and refined-looking little sister, Simply Soft Light.  Running at about sock-weight, worked up on number 5 needles it makes this surprisingly luxurious pettably soft light fall scarf.  In other words, perfect for the Amy scarf/gloves set.

This is what I've got so far.  Yeah, long way to go, etc., but give the girl a little credit.  First of all this is 63 stitches wide.  Second, the pattern calls for repeats of knit ELEVEN purl 1 (big prime numbers in knitting are torture, I tell you, torture!  Can't count that high!).  Actually, I don't know if the 11 is a glorious coincidence or not considering the project.  Wait, where was I?  Third, I worked on the scarf to kill time before the They Might Be Giants/Jonathan Coulton concert at the Pageant on Saturday (Geek-tastic!  Squee!) and only irrevocably dropped 1 stitch (bet you can't tell where, neiner-niener).  Fourth, I did a few rows AFTER that unfortunate stitch-dropping incident while slightly intoxicated in order to get through a monumentally depressing "Doctor Who" marathon (i.e. current season episodes 10-12) and STILL did not screw up said rows.  Honestly, it was devastating: I had to shore up such fragments against my ruins as my beautiful scarf, the Doctor's shirt changes (costume nerd, remember?), and "OMG, is he actually kinda hot minus the coat?"  T. S. Eliot, if you're wondering about the shoring up fragments quote.  The actually in quotes quote is of course my own and nothing near as abstruse or interesting.  So, given a slew of distractions, dim lighting, and varying quantities of alcohol, this is actually, um, quite the accomplishment.  And now I should probably get back to it, you know, so it'll stand a chance of actually getting finished sometime this year.  Would that be counting the gloves or not?  Mozart + sobriety + lack of other distractions = success?  Tell you on the flip side.

Mission accomplished! Well, almost...

I am proud to announce that I have (almost) finished the Ringwood gloves.  By almost I mean I still have to make a craft store run for buttons for the cuffs, sew on said buttons, and make sure everything buttons together correctly, but eh, who's counting?  Pictures to come, but here I run into a bit of a conundrum.  See, I apparently have freakishly long skinny hands...or something.  Basically I misread the pattern a bit, gave myself an extra 3-row repeat over the metacarpals, and then still essentially needed the extra 3-row repeat over every single finger (not counting the thumbs since I have freakishly short thumbs which is probably why I suck at video games and string instruments/guitar, but are you supposed to count the thumb as a finger anyway?  Discuss.), so while the gloves fit nicely and look rather pretty on my actual hands, they look a bit...weird by themselves.  Which means I just might need someone else to snap the pictures.  Or sprout an extra hand.  Or learn to operate a camera with my mouth.  Or teach Raiden to use a camera (wouldn't put it past her, actually).  I'm sure there's a universe in which these are all equally valid solutions.

Now, where was I?  Oh yes, glove-making.  So I've finally gotten over my fear of knitting 2 of something by making gloves, of all things.  I gather from people who do this sort of thing properly that it's supposed to be socks.  Well, I never could do anything like a normal twenty-first century human (see my flip-top phone and collection of college-ruled notebooks and pencils; er...flip-top phones are cool?).  Anyhoo, in celebration of my new-found ability to make gloves, I think an appropriate next project would be...Amy Pond's red scarf and gloves set?  Yes, yes, I know, boldly going where so many fan-girls have gone before, but we forget a few essential things: 1) I look nothing like Amy Pond, 2) I look good in red despite looking nothing like Amy Pond, and 3) the scarf and gloves would go beautifully with the black blazer I've been meaning to break out one of these days when the weather gets predictably cool.  That and I'm absolutely itching for a crack at fingerless gloves with a covered thumb: they look interesting to make.  Plus I think I've found the perfect lace pattern for the scarf: Wheat in the Wind.  Even sounds appropriate, like something Van Gogh would approve.

In short, I think this means I'm putting the Dalek cross-stitch on hold.  Might have a few takers on the washcloths, as I could see giving them to family members or friends as presents during the holiday season.  The Ren-faire hat might have to wait a bit too.  And, of course, if the mood (or more likely request) strikes, I'll probably be putting them all aside for porcelain-free Jammie Dodgers.  Just say no to porcelain shards.  That concludes today's public service announcement.

MOAR progress tweets!

What?  I'm at work and have 15 minutes to kill before my next task.  What you want I should do?

Slow progress on the gloves thanks to busy nights, plus I don't work on them on my nights off 'cause that's when I tackle the more complicated projects.  So...2-1/4 fingers down on glove 1, 2-3/4 to go, and wow, I really hope I have enough yarn.

I cut out pieces for the Ren-faire costume hat the other day but haven't gotten around to piecing them together and sewing yet.  That'll have to be a project for another time, whenever that'll be.

No progress on cross-stitch since my last post.  Also, side note, lesson 1 is do not spend long periods of time on Dalek cross-stitch before bed.  Lesson 2 is not to try to improve work morale/inspiration by pulling up reruns of "Doctor Who" while working on said cross-stitch.  Consequence to ignoring both lessons being extremely weird and vivid dreams.  Let's just leave it at that.

And on a side note from my last tangent: quote remembered (more like a paraphrase I think), not important, not really about poetry, let's forget about it and move on now.  Yeah, 'nuff said.

10:32PM.  The score is 10 minutes to go, progress tweets done, no pictures (sorry y'all).  Um...not sure where I'm going with that either.  Till next time...or something.

Procrastination in progress

Live and learn, and then sew Daleks!  Or just sew Daleks, as the case may be.  I think this one's a bit less melted-into-the-armchair than the original image, but it doesn't look too bad, does it?  TV, bulletin board, and logo to go.  That'll be the really tricky part (the board, not the logo--white backstitch over blue cross-stitch for the TARDIS blueprint just might be the death 'o me, but we'll find that out in due time).  Also probably should start snooping around for a new digital camera: mine has an appetite for batteries to rival my cat's appetite for cat food (and human food and any other food she spies with her little kitty eye--no, Raiden, you can't eat that!).  Anyways, since I hadn't posted a picture since before I gave my friend his comfy chair, popcorn, and beer--can they even eat popcorn and beer, and if so, through what orifice?--I figured no time like the present.

On a side note, I finally got around to checking out my friend the Desultory Knitter's suggestion of Dalek washcloths (well, we're on the subject, after all), and it seems a worthy pursuit...with a few small provisions.  First, it's simple enough to do at work, but that'll be interesting to try to explain to people--pair of gloves it ain't.  Second, I think I'd actually stitch "Exfoliate! Exfoliate!" onto the thing just for giggles, which might kick up the difficulty a notch.  Third, for those of you who know me, the Dalek would probably be the tip of the iceberg; before you know it I'd have the whole collector's set crankin' out on the needles (Cybermen, I'm lookin' at you).  And then I'd have copyright law sitting squarely on my hindquarters.  Hmm...maybe better not.  Like I said, live and learn, and then sew Daleks! 

In Search of the Perfect Ren-faire Gown, Part 2

 I promised lots of pictures, and here they are.  Part 2 of the saga involved discarding the premise of historical accuracy altogether and getting my fairy tale on.  This was possibly because I was envying the woman in front of me in line at the faire, or rather envying her light yellow medieval-style dress (gown? kirtle? bah, whatever, it was nice) and how it was all thin and flowy.  Then I figured, eh, what the heck, I've got a pattern for that.  OK, I went the pattern route.  McCall's M5499 to be exact (actually, usually I prefer Simplicity--check out their Regency and Victorian/Steampunk for comparison).  And in case you're wondering if it really calls for 7 yards of your fabric of choice, the answer is only if you're built along basketball-player lines.  Anybody want about 2-1/2 yards of apple-green satiny stuff?  Also, word to the wise, if you're shortening the pattern at or near the waist, remember to narrow it back down too--you know, preferably before you've already sewed the pieces together and then keep having to take it in.

So...above was the work in progress, minus sleeves and trim.

 Each of these down here is a shot of the finished product from different angles.  Wanted to catch the lacing in back.  I also wanted to do a close-up to show off the trim; well, it sort of works...

This one to the left I included because of the unintentional Weeping Angel effect.  Actually all I meant to do was get a profile shot, but heck, accidentally elaborate hair plus bell sleeves plus wide skirt plus scowl equal...well, not nightmare fuel, but pretty funny all the same.

Now, question is, to make the hat or not to make the hat?  Yeah, one of those cone-shaped ones with the veil draped over it.  Not particularly convenient for running around the faire in, but I just hacked off about a foot of hair for Locks of Love a few weeks ago and besides, hats are cool.  Oh well, that'll be Part 3 if it ever gets made.  Who knows?

By the way, in case you hadn't figured it out already, I have a drawerful of patterns catalogued in chronological order based on historical period.  If time travel existed in my lifetime I think I'd have a ball.  Or several.

Progress tweets and yet another tangent

There used to be a critical care attending at Children's who dictated extremely brief progress notes I once heard referred to, a bit derisively, as progress tweets.  I thought the concept was howlingly funny, so I'm going to appropriate it for this post.  Here, in no particular order, are my progress tweets on various projects:

I have to admit (sorry, folks) that my "Ren-faire" gown is actually finished, but I have pretty pictures to make up for it when I get the chance.

My PROCRASTINATE cross-stitch now includes both the Dalek and its armchair.  Also 2 cans of beer and a bowl of popcorn, but I still need to give those a table.  The force is weak with this one.

And the winner of the knit-at-work awesomely fun mindless projects contest is...Ringwood gloves?  I cheated and surfed Knitty, breaking approximately 2 years of abstinence to do it.  But gloves are cool.  Warm.  Oh, shut up, it looks good with the purple Kool-aid yarn if I have enough of it, and I have yet to make real gloves rather than mittens, AND it's not garter or stockinette.

Maybe later on the dice bag: at the moment I have only 1 proper set of gaming dice (RPG, not casino.  Geez.).  My boyfriend gave them to me after he realized the clear set he purchased in fact had iridescent green glitter in the centers, but he's quite content to shlepp them around for me.

The next time I bake cookies, I'm making them smaller than the specified size and using new flour and possibly new sugar.  Unless anybody likes their Jammie Dodgers with an extra helping of porcelain shards.

Now for the forewarned tangent: random fits of poetry.  Yeah, sorry, I have them.  Definitely had "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock" stuck in my head last night when I got to work.  Try explaining to the work crowd why the lines "Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?...I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each" are on the tip of your tongue.  Go on, I dare you.

Today I made a trip/pilgrimage to Borders, which is closing down (the inside of the store, by the way, is enough to make a grown lit-nerd cry).  On the shelves: "Birthday Letters," by Ted Hughes.  I thought I'd make myself a White Russian (yeah, I realize that's not particularly apropos, but I had all the ingredients handy) and have a good cry over his poems addressed to his dead wife.  The melancholy poet in me wouldn't mind a Ted to my Sylvia, actually, mental illness and extramarital affairs aside.  The Muse wouldn't mind a John to my Fanny (Keats and Brawne, a perennial favorite couple for completely inexplicable reasons, in case inquiring minds want to know).  There's something intoxicating about a man who knows the magic inherent in words.

Though, speaking of Poet Laureates, this is going to bother me until I've found the answer, so I'm just going to have to float it out there: which British TV star recently quoted Seamus Heany?  Has to be one I've seen recently (and remembering which side of the pond I actually hail from, there aren't many I'd know of), so tentatively I've narrowed it down to either James May or Matt Smith.  The car-guy or the Doctor?  Erm....well, no matter, what's as important to me or more so is the quote itself, which I also can't recall, so please help a self-proclaimed poetry dork and put me out of my misery.  It'll count as a work of community service or something.  I'll be right here, eagerly awaiting your answer (especially if you're tall, dark, and handsome and see above note about magic inherent in words--I kid, I kid!).

The night she wouldn't shut up, or In Search of the Perfect Ren-faire Gown, Part 1

You ever have one of those nights when you just can't stop writing?  I think the official pathologic term for it is hypergraphia.  Pretty sure blogging counts in that too even if it is strictly typing not writing.  Ow.

Bit of history: I love historical costumes.  Once made a Regency gown just because the pattern and suitable fabric were on ridonculous sale and it looked cool.  I just can't get the same thrill out of a pair of jeans and a novelty tee (though if anybody can tell me where my Zombie Kibble shirt has got to, I do sorely miss it, it was the perfect shade of girly pink to make me grin wickedly every time I wore it).  Actually I volunteered to be the costumes mistress of the med school musical my fourth year just for a chance to teach myself machine sewing and make lots and lots of "Roman" tunics and things.  So of course I love Ren-faire for a perfectly understandable reason.

Now, the garb, on the other hand.  The first time it ever occurred to me to so much as show up in costume was my first faire as an adult--the Wentzville faire my third year of med school.  Didn't know how to use a sewing machine back then, of course--that's what "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" was for.  That and good ol' Sondheim; actually, what don't I love about that show?  Anyways, armed with brand new sewing know-how and leftover fabric, I trolled the intarwebs for tips on making "faire legal" vestments and came up with a surprisingly roomy and versatile gored skirt (think the pattern's gone now, sorry) and tips for drafting your own corset/bodice pattern.  Had to cave and use another crafty friend's purchased chemise pattern later on, but after much cursing and gnashing of teeth I had...well...a costume of sorts.

Unfortunately, um, did I mention the Wentzville Ren Faire is in May-June and that the St. Louis area by that time is, well, hot?  As in ninety degrees, 100% humidity, saunariffic hot?  Yeah, might've touched on that a bit.  The peasant-wench's ville-best, in other words, was soaked through with several layers of sweat within an hour's time.

When you're in a bind at the faire, of course, the first recourse is to buy things.  After all, exorbitantly expensive is in the eye of the beholder when it comes to lightweight faux-velvet 16th-centuriesque gowns doing a sort of European tour of couture.  And that's when I realized the problem.  See, while the Elizabethan ideal reportedly might have been five-foot-two and straight up and down (yeah, add powder of arsenic and a red wig and I'd be quite the commodity, hoo-boy), the Ren-faire wearables' ideal most certainly is not.  Try five-ten with a 24-inch waist.  Wait, is that even possible?

Thus was born the quest for the perfect Ren-faire gown.  Necessity as the mother of all invention?  Perhaps.  Though creature comforts and vanity are a close 2 and 3 on the list of candidates.  In part 2 we'll discuss sacrificing historical accuracy for breathe-ability (goodbye corsets, hello sashes!).  And no, that will not be tonight.  Even Scheherazade has to shut up occasionally.

Tangents ahoy!

This was going to be a post about my at-work knitting project followed by observations on knitting like an old Chinese woman (well, what d'you call it when you learned to knit from your mother and grandmother and therefore do things verrry differently from your friendly American neighborhood knitter?), but, predictably, I had a night off and got derailed.  Very derailed.  Epic levels of derailed.  Let's just say I had a sudden craving for Jammie Dodgers.

Now, I know what you're thinking.  Well, maybe not.  I'm thinking you're thinking, "What in the seven hells does she even know about the entity known as a Jammie Dodger?"  Because you'd be right if you were.  Nevertheless, I had a craving for jam-filled cookies.  With the little hole cut out of the middle of the top piece.  Oh, all right, I like my tea and biscuits a bit more than is strictly conscionable for someone whose sole experience of life in the UK was a weekend trip to London at the age of 19.  That was eight years ago for anybody that asks, and I'd rather you didn't.  I was on foreign study in Versailles--I had a perfectly good reason (English major, heavy on the English lit) and a Carte Orange back then.

In any case, cookie craving plus night off plus desire to make something.  Very bad combination unless you're prepared to face the consequences.  So, naturally, I thought, "Eh, why not make my own?"  The basic recipe, by the way, is not that much altered from the one that appears on the msn.com-linked food site.  Let's see if I can find it again...ah, yes, here: http://www.delish.com/recipefinder/jam-sandwich-cookies?click=recipe_sr.  I simply hijacked it and poked a hole in the top cookie.  That and I have a rather shameful lack of vanilla extract at the moment and far too much booze, so I substituted French Vanilla Khalua (sp?--bother that).  Cook down a 12-oz jar of red cherry preserves, apply liberally, and voila!  (By the way, anybody know how to do accent marks on this thing?)  I brought a few over to a friend who happens to be on vacation and can stay up into the wee hours, and he swore they were excellent.  'Course we were also eating them with tea, Belgian-style ale, and "Oz and James Drink to Britain" or whatever that show's called, so that ought to help a bit.  Still could swear I'm crunching down on pottery shards from the time my flour jar exploded though...and this is why I only bake when I'm up all night, because only then am I stupid enough or brave enough to risk it.  This shall not be attempted again.  You know, until the next time I get a craving for random biscuitry.

Coming attractions: MOAR Dalek cross-stitch pictures, progress on a set of Victorian-style gloves, the quest for the perfect Ren-faire gown, and of course lots and lots of tangents.  Cheers.

Crafty on call

OK, you got me.  This is not a knitting, sewing, or any kind of crafting post whatsoever.  That is, unless I can come up with a knitting project on the fly that uses a finite quantity of cheap stash yarn and looks cool despite being composed entirely of stockinette or garter stitch.  Ew.  But there it is: the Hamlet-esque to do or not to do of whether to bring one's latest project to work, particularly when one's work is...well...on a good night, sitting around waiting for the pager to go off.

Don't get me wrong.  I actually kind of like working nights as the floor doc.  You know, once my body stops yelling at me for thinking I can get away with being nocturnal (waaaaay easier 10 or even 5 years ago, probably).  And also assuming I ever get over the tendency, when a nurse or patient comes up to me and asks "are you THE DOCTOR?" to look around frantically for a) the attending, b) the fellow, c) the TARDIS, all of which would get me off the hook of actually admitting to being "THE DOCTOR."  You know, in different ways, and on various planes of reality.  I like nights because it's much more low-profile than days, less formal and regimented.  On quiet nights I catch up on reading and join the nurses in learning new dances with names like the Cupid Shuffle and the Wobble (honestly?  who comes up with these?).  But seriously, right now, I'm just bored.  And boredom is dangerous.  Especially in a children's hospital.

So...I have in a dresser drawer at home several mismatched sets of bamboo double-points, a set of wooden circulars (size 11-ish), a set of plastic size 7 circulars, several skeins of Lionbrand Jiffy or its equivalent in various colors, 2 medium sized balls of purple-white-green Koolaid-dyed worsted-weight, probably 200 yards of black-and-rainbow bulky stuff, and...a partridge in a pear tree?  Anyone who can come up with a passably interesting yet mindless project to make with any of the above is my new hero.  I'll even name the thing after you.  I'll try to make that a compliment.  Please don't use the partridge.