For Love or Money

I'm not one of those generous people who hands out hand-knitted gifts to everyone who crosses my path. I'm actually very stingy with my knitting.

According to the law of Knitting Supply & Demand, the more stuff I give away, the less people will appreciate ("Demand") it. This is even more important, because once someone wears hand knit socks, the commercial socks in the drawer lose their appeal, and the recipient of the lone pair of hand knit socks begins to ask/beg/negotiate for more.

[Except for old socks. Everyone loves those, and I gave away a drawer full (more to come in a year, I suppose) making room for all of the new socks I had knitted.]

I think it's funny when people (in a complimentary way) suggest that I sell my hand-knitted socks. They don't realize that the materials alone usually cost about $20, and easily have 16-20 hours of work in a pair. They considerately see it as a quaint little hobby that could earn me some pin money** [click the link if you don't know what pin money is].
Really? Some pin money of my VERY own? Why, how thoughtful! I think sarcastically, but I say, "Some things I do for love, and some I do for money."

D, my boss, calculated at a lunch meeting what a custom "Made by Jasmin" sweater would cost, given my hourly rate here. I laughed hysterically while he verbalized the math he was doing in his head. If only the rest of the world saw it like that.

I will admit, that at my most desperate of financial times, I have knit for pay, completing sweaters for between $150-$300. The hourly rate would make you weep bitter, bitter tears if you had to make a living this way.

It's just interesting to me. I find other people's generosity with their knitted items to be staggeringly touching, but with the limited knitting time that I have, I'm stingy.

I'll share my home, my food, even my money sometimes. But knit for you? Pffft.

Do I like you that much?

New and Greatly Improved

We got our new washer and dryer delivered! It's the Kenmore, HE4T, which I've been lusting after for ages.

I would have taken pictures, but the laundry room is a tight squeeze, and the washer complained that I was making her look fat. Vanity, thy name is Washer.

[Pictures courtesy of Sears.com. I don't know why they have a disproportionately large picture of the dryer. In real life, they are the same size on the outside, and are not so freakishly sized.]

Well, as much as you can lust after a washer/dryer. There's a lust scale, and although washer/dryers sit pretty low on the list, when it comes to buying one, it begins to matter more.

I immediately started doing laundry like a madwoman. Two weeks without a functioning dryer and a mutual hatred of taking wet laundry to the Laundromat means that I did six loads of laundry. SIX.

I love it. It's basically silent (it makes a hum), and the pre-set settings keep it quiet and balanced. I can leave the laundry room door open, and still be able to hear things. It's glorious.

So Much Fanfic…

I'll admit it. I read fanfic. I enjoy fanfic.

There's nothing funny about bad writing, except in the case of fanfic.

I read fanfic based on TV shows that I like, and I have to say, I have found ONE good author, **Mossley (CSI/House Fanfic), in slogging through the endless bogs of the fanfic webverse. The fanfic I have read through includes: West Wing, CSI, Criminal Minds, House, and probably a couple of others.

So, I was surfing the web for some House fanfic (because I am NOT addicted to House, M.D.), and 99% of what I came up with was a fair amount of House/Wilson slash fiction. Which is HILARIOUS/ a little hot. There was even one (I should have grabbed the link, sorry) where ALL OF the characters were gay. I thought I would die I was laughing so hard.

There was another piece where it was exactly like Virginia Woolf's Orlando. There is gender switching for every character- but no time travel. Yeah. Virginia Woolf did it better, and she still didn't overwhelm me with her literary prowess with Orlando, never mind some adolescent fanfic author.

**Some of the stuff is a little odd, but for the most part, I find that she captures the essence of the characters very well.

Just Say No

Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's the fact that I'll be 24 years old on Thanksgiving.

What possesses women to wear stage makeup as REGULAR makeup?!

Don't get me wrong; if wearing makeup makes you feel good- go for it. But you shouldn't be wearing greasepaint with your street clothes, is all I'm saying.**

I understand that when you know you're going to be photographed/are hoping to be photographed, that you should wear makeup that is super-flattering. But come on; under NORMAL lighting stage makeup looks like stage makeup. You can tell it's stage makeup from ten feet away. Not subtle, not natural.

Please, join my campaign to stop middle-aged women from applying makeup with a paint roller. Tell them to Just Say No.

**This statement is void if you're a drag queen trying to cover your stubble. Those girls at Sephora just don't sell anything strong enough to cover it.

***This message brought to you by the Campaign For Good Taste.

My Tomato

This is an old story. It pre-dates Sam.

I was little- about three years old. Mom and I were growing stuff in the backyard of the townhouse we lived in. I, young tomato lover that I was, saw a perfect, ripe tomato and was DYING to pick.

Mom, in her infinite wisdom, told me if I waited until the next morning it would be even better. I'm sure that she was trying to teach me some sort of virtue (like patience), or if it was merely a day short of utter tomato-ey perfection.

The next morning, I went to pick my perfect tomato, when I realized to my great horror, that SOMEONE ELSE had eaten half of my tomato. That's right. Some rude little vagrant rodent dined on my perfect tomato with a side of the basil we were growing. Good taste, bad rat!

Since then, there have been a number of rodents who I have hand fed delightful goodies, but I will never grow tomatoes again.

Stephanie, the Rockin’, Sockin’, Yarn Harlot

Yesterday, the MOTPS made the trek up to Full Thread Ahead to hear Stephanie Pearl-McPhee [the Yarn Harlot] speak, and to get our books signed.

Andrew was a champ. Here's how the day went:

2:00 PM: Andrew drives up to FTA alone, to get us signed in.
4:15 PM: MOTPS pile into Colleen's van, and drive up.
4:45 PM: We get there, claim our seats, and half of us go to Jamba for refreshments.
5:00 PM: Hollis does a few contest-y things. Andrew got to stand for three of them. He feels that he is an accomplished knitter now.
5:30 PM: Stephanie comes out to the podium, there is a roar of applause and cheers, and this:

I'll admit, I was a total dork. The dorkiest, even. I took her a Space Bag, the miracle invention that allows Andrew some storage space in our house. Every knitter should know and love the Space Bag. When Stephanie pointed out that they can't get plus-sized Ziploc bags in Canada, I stood up with pride, shook out the Space Bag and ran it up to the front for her.

Andrew said her expression was either shock or that she had seen the Holy Grail of yarn storage solutions. I'm going with the latter.

After the talk until 8:00 PM: Dinner at a sushi joint.
8:00-10:00 PM: Hanging around, chatting with knitters until the line slows down for signing. The MOTPS were second to last in line.

In a moment of temporary panic, I considered running out of the back door. I am such a huge fan, that I was overwhelmed for a moment.

Anyway, in classic Jasmin fashion, I admit that I am totally stalking her. In a good way. I suppose "SuperFan" may have been the more eloquent way of saying it, but Stephanie took it with good humor, and even took a picture (with the sock!) with the MOTPS. She had the misfortune of having to crouch in front of the three shortest MOTPS, and having to hold the crouch until the picture was taken.



Stephanie, the MOTPS love you, and next time you're in town, we should have beer. Or Shanty's. Or margaritas.

Oh yeah, and in true SuperFan form, here you go:

I Wish…

I wish I could do fashion drawing. My fashion drawings suck. They suck so hard that I have to write VERY descriptive explanations next to them. Making the drawings themselves basically pointless.

See?

I drew that when I was interning at XRX, and bought the yarn after work the same day. This:

is what the sweater looks like. Not bad, huh?

It is exactly how I envisioned it, but alas, not how I sketched it. See the problem? I can see it in my head, but alas, when it comes to paper and pen/cil, small children outdo me. Easily. You could say I'm more of a coloring-in kind of girl. And I can trace REALLY well. But draw? No.

I wish I could draw, period. Colleen brought over MOTPS logo concepts a few weeks ago (one of which I am getting tattooed on me, post-babies, to avoid odd and awkward stretching/distortion), and I was blown away. Blown away.

My mother can do fashion drawing. This is further proof that I was genetically HOSED. I bet my father can draw, too, and the crappy-drawing gene is recessive, and lucky me, I got it.

Mom likes my stick figures. That's about the best I can do. Maybe I'll post the book I wrote my senior year of high school for Econ. It's a children's book about supply and demand and, of course, yarn.

The Sunshine Ribbon Shell

This project has MAYBE two evenings worth of work left in it. It is a beautiful shade of golden sunshine yellow, and I had originally intended to have it finished by Maryland Sheep & Wool. I got it completed up to the armholes and then… couldn't finish it in time.

It happens.

As part of my UFO jihad, after I cast off the Harlot Red ribbon shell (same pattern, I'm boring and it looks amazing on me), I picked up the Sunshine shell. I still love the color.

I was re-enamored of this project, and in a fit of glory and enthusiasm, walked into the bathroom to see how the color would flatter me. I'd already picked out what to wear with it, but I wanted to revel in its' beauty and splendor.

Oh. My. God.

I looked like I had jaundice. I was finished with the back and about to start the neck shaping. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I had to think fast. I showed all of the MOTPS [Minions Of The Pointy Sticks] the top, hoping the color would flatter someone. The only one it flattered was Cynthia. Who is at least 6-8 inches taller than me, and considerably bustier.

What to do? I called Melinda of Tess Yarns. I mentioned how popular the color was when I was working on the top at Stitches West, and then I said:

"Can you overdye the top so that I don't look dead in it?"

So, after SW 2007, I will be the proud owner of the Ribbon-Top-Formerly-Known-As-Sunshine.

I think I may draw it a symbol.

Insanely Cute Elphie Pic

On Saturday, we caught Elphie sleeping:

This doesn't look like a dog who eats softcover books, now does she? :)

Fugly Socks

I've been on this finishing kick (or UFO jihad, if you prefer), and while I was re-organizing the stash to be more space-efficient, I pulled out the yarn for the shop sample socks I knit in August of 2004. Since they were shop samples (which dutifully were there until we sold out of each colorway), I didn't feel compelled to knit their mates immediately.

So, a few months ago I found myself with a half dozen pairs of socks. I looked at them, UFOs that they were and thought, "I can boost my FO count if I just knit the mate to these."

It's amazing. I don't have second sock syndrome, because there has been enough time between the first and second sock that it's new and fun and fabulous again. So the cure for SSS is a two-year separation period from the initial dose of sock.

Except for the sock I cast on Saturday. It the brown/tan/salmon/blue Meilenweit. It is inexplicably fugly. I know this, because that's where I looked for the color number so any of my 5 readers could find it (in the unlikely event that they found it attractive). This color is so ugly that it's not even on the Lana Grossa website.

I think they were ashamed. It came off of the production line, they knitted a sample, and were horrified. But as P.T. Barnum cleverly pointed out, people like me are born every minute.

The tragic irony of the fugly color, is that it matches a million things I have that AREN'T fugly. I finished the second sock, but criminy. I'm surprised that anyone bought it once they saw what it looked like. It looked nice enough in the ball. I was bamboozled.

The only downfall of my brilliant SSS cure is that two years ago, I liked a different heel. I liked the shortrowed heel for about a year. I no longer like doing it or wearing the garter-stitch version of this heel. Standard flap heels work better in non-clog shoes. I'm doing a regular flap heel on their mates, so the socks are a little more fraternal than normal. S'all good, I say.

[Note: I am not an anal-retentive knitter that requires my socks to be identical. In high school, I regularly wore mismatched socks deliberately. My mother, who dutifully was knitting me completed pairs of socks then, was a little miffed with this particular fashion decision. I only wear matched socks now because I do the laundry and want to know which socks the dogs have stolen out of the basket.]

When I started this jihad against my UFO's, I pulled my favorite half-pair, which has only been held up because I no longer am in love with the garter-stitch short-row heel. I'm sorry, it's great in clogs, but not ideal in regular shoes. Now that I'm in regular shoes more than clogs, this is a big deal.

I've gotten rid of 95% of my garter-heeled socks. These socks were distributed globally. (Seriously, someone sent a few pairs to her sister in Germany.) This is fine with me; not only is my sock drawer still full to the bursting point, I have enough sock yarn to knit socks through the apocalypse. Seriously. [Another reason that the Yarn Diet is necessary- I have entire Space Bags full of exclusively sock yarn.]

Anyway- I bought yarn for Day-Glow socks on the honeymoon (in Seattle at the Acorn Street Yarn Shop **), - I knit the first one right after the honeymoon- when I was in the midst of my love affair with the garter heel.

I didn't get second sock syndrome, only because I had to pack everything when we moved into the house, so the cuff of the second sock was at the completed to the beginning of the no-longer loved garter heel. Every time I saw this sock, I was saddened that I no longer loved the heel, and would undoubtedly never wear it.

In the spirit of the UFO jihad, I decided that I would not be defeated. I ripped out the first sock to the beginning of the heel. HA! Everyone knows that once the heel is done, the sock is basically finished.

Easy cheese.

**If you find yourself in Seattle, and near Acorn Street Yarn Shop, make sure to go up the street to Nana's Soup House. It will change your life.