I’ve almost forgotten how to check my email on my own on a computer, since my phone just notifies me when an account has fresh mail in it. I haven’t really had to check my email since entering in my account information via my Droid because my phone makes sure my email checks on me.

My phone; the one I dropped into the sink earlier today.

One thing I didn’t anticipate happening is the deep sense of loss I feel concerning an inanimate object. But it’s not really inanimate is it? My phone Droid did all sorts of things for me besides allow me to make calls, check voicemail, and text. It was my wi-fi hotspot, my jukebox, my photo album, my point and shoot camera, my video game console, my trivia keeper, my stitch counter, my calculator, my speedometer, and my go-to on the go thingie for Google, Gmail, Facebook, Wikipedia, and Twitter. It’s like a little friend that keeps all of my friends in it with all of my stuff and reminds me how awesome things are all the time. It was also my alarm clock.

And now, it might not be the same as it was prior to taking an unintentional bath.

This is so not the way I wanted to start 2012.

With vague patterns, I’ve found the best way to decide if I want to invest time is to approximate the required yarn and needles, then knit some small part, for instance starting at the cuff of a guernsey instead of around the body. The cuff is usually a good indicator and easy enough to tear out and adjust the gauge by changing wool or needles, it takes a little guessing and a little math but if the pattern is worthy the effort eventually pays off.

With a person who is utterly vague, I have no solution. Guessing doesn’t work, one of the advantages of being completely absent of specifics is that no matter what other people might take away from a conversation the non-specificity lends enough confusion that no matter what. The vague person always (and I mean always) claims everyone else misinterpreted what he or she means. Patiently waiting for context doesn’t work, because that’s never going to happen– if you think it’s happened, too bad, because whatever you took from the context you thought you got: You’re still wrong.

Which leads me to think that maybe, when dealing with such a person, that they mean for me to treat them like a Victorian knitter would her latest magazine pattern, that I should gather the necessities and be obedient to the instructions and hope to heaven that whatever comes out of it fits someone in the situation.The author, having carefully constructed this knit pattern with much thought towards the fashioning of this garment has clearly more insight than the lady subscriber.

This isn’t to say that being unwilling to be specific is meant to be evil or manipulative, but when it’s continual it has the effect of keeping the target of all that vagueness off balance. The finished garment then resembles a canvas jacket with very long sleeves, lots of straps and buckles, and fastens in the back.

I haven’t exactly been very definite lately.

Me? A sock knitter?

I seem to work best in bursts. After a stint of yarnlessness (it was really not pretty) I went through a bit of a knitting related dry spell.

Actually, if I hadn’t been for the knitting this week I would have probably gone off the deep end.

It’s been a rough week for me. Not to sound cynical, but I learned (for the umpteen-thousandth time) that people who have a track record of flaking off will not randomly metamorphose into reliable and trustworthy butterflies. It’s one of those lessons that I think I’ve fully integrated, then I relapse and start with the whole irrational belief that people are generally benevolent.

So, with this kind of frustration I figure it’s best to put yarn on my knitting needles before I succumb to the temptation to violently stab them into human flesh. Because that sort of thing is generally frowned upon in polite company.

If you aren’t familiar with this style of truck, relax, close your eyes and envision a gun rack. Slowly let the truck form itself around the gun rack and a tattered John Deere baseball cap in your minds eye. This is one of those machines that if it gets in a serious wreck you just hose the old driver off the dashboard, fix the chrome, replace the radio antenna, and you’re good to go.

Ours is just that kind of truck, sans gunrack (we believe in keeping our firearms out of the reach of redneck teenager social deviants, thank-you-very-much.)

My darling husband is giving me driving lessons in this thing. I see the little white Kias and Toyotas with the “student driver” sign on the top of the car and I want one of those signs– except my sign should say something like “Caution: *You* are my crumple zone” or “WTF!?” or “How good *are* your airbags?”

It’s really nice to see that so many drivers on the road are completely at peace with their maker. Those of us that aren’t quite ready to hear the sweet song of the choir invisible would appreciate it if they’d mind not taking us along for the ride. I’m certain of my salvation and all, but I’ve still business in this life so I’d like to stick around for a while.

Speaking of which, is it a bad thing that instead of seeing my life flash before my eyes I see my unfinished knitting projects? Just curious.

Am I just a freak of nature because I’m not bored by stockinette or garter stitch?

Or am I just so obsessed with composition that I think the eye should have a clear line to travel and a place to rest, before taking in the contrast of complexity?

This is something to consider when choosing a pattern.

What I like about the Flower Basket shawl is that it’s a complex all-over design on a small shawl, therefore it’s not overwhelming on a normal sized person (who hopefully will wear a dress or blouse under it that is a solid color with clean lines.) What I like about the Icarus is that the lace pattern is mature and clean and the large field of lines is quite flattering– that and it has feathers so I can pretend to fly around the front yard singing the theme song from “the Greatest American Hero”

What I don’t like to see are shawls that visually make no sense. Like the designers decide to throw in everything and the kitchen sink just to make an entertaining knit. Stop it dammit. Stop it. Don’t you know some misguided soul is going to knit your bastard child design in Koigu and destroy us all? Just stop it. Please.

Why do knitters fall into this? Is it just to avoid miles of ‘boring’ stockinette?

Is it for bragging rights?

Come on, think about like this; good accessories are like good makeup. Both should be clean, fresh, and artfully applied to frame and not distract.

And the old favorite “justify your existence” games with potential customers. Ooh– another one– I don’t sell my display pieces which just gets people twisted up in knots. Like people are so desperately uncreative that they can’t assemble their own little vingette or display at home, they must use mine? Actually I just lied, I’ve been known to sell displays if the price is right and it’s the last day of a show, but in general I don’t.

Fun justify your existence questions are beyond the typical “Why does this cost so much?” My favorites are “Where did you find the instructions to this?” (This is my absolute favorite– primarily it not only implies that I’m incapable of doing something truly unique and creative, but also implies that I’m violating someone’s copyright.) “You made this?” (No. I leave milk and bread out for the pixies, they make them. I inflate the prices and sell them to you.) “How much did it cost you to make this?” (I had to perform a blood sacrifice– does that include the cost of a live pig or just the thread and hot glue?) “Where do you get these?” (See pixie answer above.) “Do you make this in ______ (fill in the blank)?” (If you pay me enough I’ll make them in human skin.)
I really wish I could give my snarky answers, I wish I could– if for no other reason to spare fellow artisans the pain of hearing those questions or their endless variations. Now despite what I wrote above, 99% of the people that go to craft shows are nice people with fairly well behaved children and husbands in tow– I’m only referring to a small but vocal irritating minority.

I’ve also learned to do things like put chunks of representative wax in front of the candles so people can mark them with thumbnails to their hearts delight, keep baby-wipes handy for light colored soft goods, and smile indulgently. The indulgent smiles (and a quick mapquest search of all the local bars within walking distance) are essential.

The indulgent smile is one part “Really?” one part “Ah, oui?” with a good splash of “Oh boy!” and a twist of lime. One must not include “STFU!” with the indulgent smile or the happy facade that the smile presents will be shattered.

Earlier in the week I went up with the kids to stay with my mom, for as overwhelming as funerals are, imagine Thanksgiving Thursday, Memorial Service Friday, and Open House Saturday. My sister also flew in from Florida to help and to be here for the my Grandmother’s service. This meant that my husband was at home without proper spousal supervision for nearly 3 days. Evidence suggests that he spent the time working, eating things that require little or no preparation while going online, and just generally being a guy– letting food wrappers and laundry fall where they may. It’s quite festive actually.

It’s a dorm room sort of festive.

I bought the kids a gingerbread people kit, complete with candy and decorators frosting. There are four gingerbread people in the box so that should buy me at least half an hour of unadulterated knitting time after the housekeeping. In a move of sheer genius Matt bought me one of those chocolate oranges and took care of the garbage before I was even awake. I also took advantage of the grocery store’s StarBucks kiosk, it was a close call between the gingerbread mocha and the eggnog latte– eggnog latte was the lucky contestant.

I really just want to crawl back into bed right now. But I know I’ll feel better when things are clean and orderly (or what passes for orderly around here) again.

I just spent half an hour breathing rubbing alcohol fumes and learning that permanent marker does not come up out of a carpet, even if you say you believe in fairies and clap your hands and use baking soda with the rubbing alcohol. I could keep trying, however I’m convinced what the rubbing alcohol does is let out so many fumes as you are scrubbing that you catch a buzz and no longer care if there is permanent marker on the carpet.

Wouldn’t it just be more effective to use schnapps and drink it where I can’t see the permanent marker?

I suppose the larger question here is do I have to keep trying the rubbing alcohol with baking soda scrubbing (or schnapps drinking) every day until I have enough brain damage that I permanently don’t care about the carpet?

I am seriously craving a jumbo flyer for my Traveller wheel. I have four 80+ yard skeins of 3-ply teal yarn and (darnit!)I could have one big skein if only I had a larger bobbin and flyer set up. I know I could splice the yarn together but that takes motivation that I just don’t have at the moment.

I think it’s time for me to brandish the knitting needles for a good old fashioned poking, I haven’t poked anyone with the knitting needles for quite a while now. Now the key to proper poking technique is to poke hard enough to hurt without breaking the skin. The targets of my poking are the five or so members of the local Freecycle(tm) group that constantly gripe, whine, attempt to organize coups, try to order me to do things and generally just make my life as a list owner living hell.

First of all, I’m a volunteer. I run the local group for free, without any reimbursement (or gratitude) or expectations of reimbursement (or gratitude.) It’s heavily moderated to keep spammers at bay (because all heck will break loose if someone offers free ringtones or a new home mortgage) and inappropriate (or totally inept) postings off the list. I un-moderate members as soon as its clear that they get the proverbial “it”. I help some members write and edit their posts to make it clearer of what they are offering or wanting. I even let members use my home address for exchanges if they are having a hard time meeting up and so on.

I do this alone although I’ve asked for moderators to volunteer and two people have, one could barely use a computer or navigate yahoogroups website and the other turned himself back into a regular member after dealing via multiple e-mails with one of the complainers.

So if I’m away from the computer for a few days, or without internet access, I can’t approve some messages. Or if I approve a message and yahoo’s servers burp and it doesn’t go through to the list immediately I am accused of being “Stalinistic”. In retort all I can say is that I have yet to murder 10 million Freecycle members, when I do then I can be compared to Stalin.

So what have I decided to do about this bit of drama besides rant about it here? I’m going to knit. I’m going to knit serenely and peacefully now that I have unloaded my frustrations. Knitting is good, yarn is good, and I am just going to enjoy it.