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There was a time when it took less than an hour to make Lexi a pair of socks. Baby feet are that small.

Now she’s a big girl, and at the end of this summer she’ll be a whopping 5 years old.

Now it takes a dedicated evening to come up with almost a pair of plain jane socks with short row heels and toes; almost but not quite a pair. Pictured is where last night tapered off.

For her part Lexi takes these delays for finished socks in stride. She’s very analytical about it, pointing out that it takes much longer to make Josey socks because his feet are “very very huge.” (Which indeed, Josey does have gigantic feet for an eleven year old.)

We also managed to work a new camera into the budget. R.I.P. old camera, you served us well right up unto the middle.

Buying a new camera that was within the budget was a difficult task. First I had to get the husband into the store. This might have been easier had I not divulged the fact that it was to purchase a new piece of electronics. (Note to self: next time hint that they may have a sale on Star Wars items and start a rumor that they are giving away free cookies.)

Then I had to actually get him to compare cameras, we’d chosen another camera awhile back, made comparisons on function and agreed that it was indeed the best one. So I’ll admit that choosing another model (as in a model that we could afford right at that very moment) was probably a bit of a shock to his system. He kept saying “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.” and I kept saying “How long will that wait be?” and he kept shrugging, so I’d answer his shrug with “We need one to get us through that wait.” and then he’d repeat “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.”

Lather, rinse and repeat for the next 40 minutes.

Let us not forget that while I only want a camera to document every second of my adventures in motherhood and knitterly activities, the husband actually needs a camera in the course of his professional life (as in if he doesn’t have a camera he can’t send very important photos to his clients in order to be paid.)

Eventually this all lead to buying the camera that we could afford: Canon PowerShot A470. Which, as it turns out Matt is absolutely delighted with, and I’m not going to turn my nose up at the macro setting. As my friend Opal points out “It’s all about the macro.”

My nephew requested not one, but two knit items. Requested.

That’s cool stuff right there, having a last minute knit request from a teenager. Of course we can’t do anything that isn’t video game related, he wants a hat and bag like Link’s from Legend of Zelda. I have the bag finished. The hat may have to wait until after Christmas, but I have the bag nearly finished (I just need to crochet the draw string to the appropriate length and run it through.)

I am so in love with this stitch pattern, the yarn I could live without, but the stitch pattern is yummy. Actually I shouldn’t disrespect the yarn, yes, it’s freakin’ Red Heart, but it’s not nearly as icky as I expected. And being plastic sometimes has its advantages, like the possibility probability that said teenager will probably want to throw it in the laundry every now and again.

Sorry for the poor quality of the picture, the brown yarn doesn’t lend itself to showing the stitch pattern in a photo.

I’m behind on my other holiday endeavors, usually I’d be done with cookies, but since I managed to contract the flu, I’m going to hold off on preparing baked good until I’m officially non-infectious.

The knitted doily mandala. I think it’s pretty but the sun ray effect disturbs me just a little, the offset of the rays seems like they should be more a little more pronounced. I do like the overall look of it though. Grafting the join doesn’t leave it completely seamless (I expected that) but it’s not obvious, it takes some close inspection to find the extra row.

I keep looking for other 2-needle doily patterns, and have found a few but most of them are quite large, vintage and require very fine steel needles. I have no rational reason for avoiding the double pointed needle variety of knitted doily, I just like the way the 2-needle variety grows it’s own lace trim as it’s being knit. I’m enchanted by the process.

I’m also trying to figure out how to make the kids some interesting advent calendars for the days before Christmas. When I was little my sister and I shared one that was made from cardboard tubes, glued together in the shape of a tree. Each tube was closed off by a bit of white fluff with a shiny star sticker. It was painted green all over and had glitter wrapping around it. Of course, we always peeked to see which ones had the best candy or toys and planned accordingly.

Poor little Josey has had the cardboard advent calendars with the weird tasting chocolates. It’s very sad. I made a matchbox advent calendar one year, but realized as the glue was drying, that I wouldn’t be able to put the cool toys or larger bits of candy in it.

I know that having one’s little advent calendar is not a requirement. It’s just one of those small things that makes the holidays a little more fun.

My first knitting project was a bag. I was 23. I had just learned how to knit and wanted to knit myself a pretty handbag. I did. It had yarn overs. It had beads. It was a vintage pattern from a friends ancient Godey’s magazine and it told me to turn at the end of each row. I felt pretty accomplished when I was done.

Learning to knit in an ivory castle isn’t easy. I had my Mary Thomas’s Knitting book and the DMC needlework encyclopedia. I knew no knitters that would teach me, being dyslexic and left handed, I suppose pretty much everyone in my family figured I would be consigned to rectangular items or eternal frustration.

The first modern pattern I used confused me, mostly because the word “turn” was not at the end of every row. So I’d actually knit from left to right English style, and then right to left in continental. (Remember, I’d *never* actually seen someone knit by hand in person, only on machines.) I never felt that purl stitches were harder than knit stitches, and started doing intarsia wondering why it was described as being so difficult to follow a chart.

I knit a plaid patterned baby blanket, the front facing me the entire time. It was easy.

So then I was invited to a shindig with some coworkers, a few were also knitters, and that’s when they noticed that I wasn’t turning my knitting unless told to turn by the pattern (as in the reduction stage of a sock heel.) That explained why some written stitch patterns just didn’t work out when I was knitting them, and it was a huge “ah-ha!” moment for me.

I’ve settled into knitting continental style, left handed, much to consternation of a few people that insisted since I know how to knit “the right way” that I should adapt to take that style completely. My crochet tension has alway been managed by my right hand and that is the most comfortable way to manage tension when knitting. I do enough stuff right handed, I shouldn’t be forced to be in reverse all the time.

Anyway, this little bit of back story is why when someone asks me a remedial question, I don’t laugh hysterically or poke fun, because sometimes a very basic bit of information can overlooked or misunderstood. Secretly, I might be tempted to suggest to certain people that they not be allowed to use the internet unsupervised, but otherwise I’m well behaved about it.

Speaking of remedial. I have knit some potholders from cotton, in garter stitch. Yes, I still think cotton is a stupid choice for potholders because it has no thermal resistance and is flammable, but it’s a calculated risk and the yarn is very pretty. Pretty wins. I need more pretty in my life. I will soak my pretties in alum solution as a safety measure, fire is pretty too, just in it’s proper place.

I’m going to propose that we stop referring to round lacy things as doilies and start calling them knit or crochet mandalas. I like the way that sounds. Doily just doesn’t cut it for me, it doesn’t sound right, it sounds like a frippery. Mandala, on the other hand is fitting.

I don’t meditate while knitting, knitting is my meditation. My meditation does not lead to frippery, all ego in place, it just doesn’t.

Philosophical waxing aside, I have discovered that I truly enjoy knitting the second version of the Sun-Ray Doyly Mandala in my hand spun cotton 3-ply far more than I did in the original version.

First, it’s amazingly soft. Admittedly, everything is soft when compared to cheap pearl cotton, but this is truly super soft. Not as soft as cashmere, but incredibly soft.

Second, did I mention it’s really soft?

Third, it’s just such an enjoyable little knit. The pattern is straight forward, easy to follow and so nice looking (and feels really soft in this yarn) that I really could knit several in a row without hesitation or fear of burnout.

I had my first day of my first class today. The very not-so-intimidating BUS105. Classes are through live chat sessions, and scheduled on central standard time. I’m pacific standard time, so I figured out that a 10 am class would actually be 8 am for me. Woke up an hour early, started the day right, got into the classroom and was really the only one there besides the instructor.

So I know I’ve said it before over other things, but this is a sign the world is ending. When not only am I prompt, but even the instructor was a few minutes late– it’s the apocalypse, clearly an omen of the impending destruction of the planet.

There I am in the virtual classroom, with only the instructor, and he asks me “Do you have any questions?” Of course. I always have questions, but they aren’t always relevant; these questions happened to be relevant and I’m actually really glad I had the time to ask and get the answers (since without those answers it would have made it hard for me to finish my first assignment.)

All in all it was pretty good. About 20 minutes into class a few other students showed up (which probably kept the instructor from going insane with my questions.) He keeps calling us (the class) “TEAM” with capital letters, it’s an acronym, I know that; still doesn’t stop me from wanting to call him “Coach” in return.

I actually knit something, as kind of a practice run. The Sun-Ray Doyly (sic) from Mary Thomas’s Knitting Patterns. This is from a cheap crochet cotton that I normally use to tie up skeins of yarn with before washing them. I’m glad I had it on hand though, because I really did want to see how this pattern knit up. I did not bother with the final seam or blocking, I am bad. (I’m also sorry for the horrible picture, I will retake it when I have fresh batteries for the camera.)

I think when I use my hand spun, I’ll use a provisional cast-on and graft the first and last rows together to minimize the seam, I understand it won’t be completely seamless but I think it would work better. (Yes, I know it’s recommended in the book to do it that way, but I didn’t read that part until after I’d finished knitting the doily.) There’s a couple other vintage patterns I’d like to try before deciding though.

I’m still working on the mohair shawl after rethreading the needles through all those open stitches. I am just trying to use up the last of that yarn. It’s not the last though, there’s more somewhere. It lurks, waiting in the dark recesses of the closet, silently mocking me.

The shawl is just miles and miles of stockinette stitch. It’s quite mindless and soothing, which is something I need at the moment.

So I have my official start date for my school, the kids curriculum outlined for the year and two + months of their planned schoolwork residing in MS Office and copies on my flash drive, as well as a full list of menus for our household. I believe this organizational anomaly represents a rift in the time/space continuum and may potentially signal the end of life as we know it. I don’t believe I was the cause of the rift, but if I was, I’m really sorry.

Of course none of this organizational genius can prevent me from having to do the magical printer dance every Monday, whereby a very secret and ancient ritual I convince my laptop that yes, the printer on our home network does indeed exist. I loathe MS Office for this reason. I loathe the magical printer dance.

Back to the mohair of evil and the soothing stockinette of brainlessness.

Law of mohair #142: Intentional ripping of mohair from knitted article in progress will be prevented by the innate ability of mohair to suck and tangle into itself.

Law of mohair #143 All mohair articles larger than 2 cubic inches knitted on metal circular needles will reject said needles when the article is in a resting state prior to completion.

Law of mohair #143 appendix a) articles larger than 2 cubic inches that have successfully rejected knitting needles in a resting state will spontaneously begin to unravel.

Further scientific study on the unique and often frustrating physical nature of mohair is required. The laws of mohair although baffling seem to be finite and immutable.

Look at the contentment of a knitter. Here’s Josey waiting for his sister’s birthday party to get underway.

In a house full of gameboys, comics, books, and movies that my child chooses knitting. Sweet.

And speaking of games. Darling husband decided that I should have a Nintendo DS lite, and Pokémon Pearl to go along with it. So my free time is currently being consumed traveling through the Sinnoh region filling my pokédex and battling team Galaxy. I just beat the 8th gym leader and I’m leveling up before challenging the elites.

If you have no idea what that means, you’re probably a mature adult. However, I am not a mature adult. Case in point, mature adults are not tempted to declare “Mortal Kombat!” when they see a really good sale on yarn. Or shout out “Merino! I choose you!” when shopping for sock yarn.

You have to admit some yarns do sound like Pokémon names. Koigu? It could be a yarn or it could be a water type Pokémon that oozes silk. You just never know, it’s not limited to yarn, knitting needles too. Addi Turbos could possibly be a hold item to boost speed in battle and help you escape from wild Pokémon.

Years ago I bought an amount of mohair on eBay. It was an excellent deal. I’ve made a few sweaters from it, a few shawls, some scarves, lots of cat toys, used it as mermaid hair, and knit basket liners (for Easter eggs) with it. The kids have used it for potholders, mitten decorations, and for wrapping very hairy wish dolls.

I thought I’d used it up with the last shawl for my mom. I thought it was gone.

It’s not gone.

I was sorting through my stash of yarn (because I LOVE my new swift) and found another hank of it. It will not end. It will not go away.

It’s sort of creepy, I think it eats other yarn in order to survive. Or maybe the mohair yarn is some kind of self replicating mutant; like a vampire, victims of its bite turn into cream colored mohair.

I’ll knit another shawl. Another shawl that uses miles and miles of stockinette stitch. Yeah, that’s the ticket. And I’ll wear a crucifix just in case, to keep me from transforming into mohair yarn while I’m knitting.

You know, as soon as it *is* really used up I’ll find the perfect pattern that I *must* knit up in that *exact* yarn.