Spoilt

Three down, four to go.



Sarcelle.



This yarn is so soft and the colours are so gorgeous, I may never be able to go back to knitting ordinary yarn again.

There is much to say..

But you see, I have been knitting. Like a demonic knitting machine.

I'm test knitting a shawl the size of a rugby paddock for a lovely yarn store/lady in the USA. The yarn is heavenly, the colours divine, but I haven't been able to stop and take a picture for the blog yet. I can't believe my luck in bagging this project, makes me feel on top of the world. Back to back with my show ribbons, I feel on knitting fire.

I'm having a go at adapting a lace pattern for a smaller dimension - trying to knit a mini peacock feathers shawl in black cashmere laceweight. I thought I'd give that a go for my ISE4 pal, but I fear the maths might get the better of me by the deadline, so I've had to change my plans.

I decided to make a mini sarcelle instead for my ISE4 pal. Oh cookie, you've done it again - fantastic pattern, clever and simple at the same time. Like the beaudelaire's and the pomotomus. Well, nothing simple about the pomotomus but you get the idea. I'm just about up to the straight section, in a fingering weight yarn, and I'd say it's up there with my favourite things I've ever knit. Looking good ISE4 pal - who won't be reading this.

Also, there's patti from Rowan Collection 1. I got the book elsewhere, but you get the whole picture on this link. I went to the Wool Inn in Penrith today with Donna and ordered Jo Sharp Silkroad DK for this pattern, the Rowan being a bit out of my price range at the mo. They didn't have enough in stock, but they were kind enough to order me some. I haven't been there before and they were so lovely, we stayed and chatted for ages after Donna and I ransacked the place. I'll have to go back to pick up the ordered yarn - what a shame!

Flair is just about done, although I'm a bit suss about double breasted coat in 10ply yarn over a buxom set of ta-ta's like mine but what the hey it's nearly finished. It only needs sleeves, and I've had zero luck getting a pair of them done to my own satisfaction EVER, let's hope for the best, shall we?

So there's a lot of ambition on the needles at the moment.

In more humbling experiences:

I've been trying to spin. Kerry lent me a spinning wheel, Donni gave me some fibrous materials and I've been closet spinning. I secretly like it more than I've been letting on. Even though what's filling those bobbins looks like crap. It seems Donni's in love with knitting her handspun. I'm in love with chucking mine in the bin.

I went for a job interview on Tuesday. I did not get the job. I fluffed the interview with nerves like a graduate going for a job at the millionaire factory.

And in more bizarre experiences.

You won't believe what Donna and I drove behind for about 20km out Penrith way today. Click here - BUT NOT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE A DEAD FERAL PIG!!


I'd block out his number plate but the feral pig doesn't deserve it.

Boudicea

Years ago, my teenage runaway sister had a budgie she named 'fellatio'. Something went wrong (as it happens) in a rental flat somewhere and she ended up living back at home. The budgie came home with her.

My mum spent a lot of time wandering around the house calling 'fellatio, fellatio' in a high pitched sing song voice when we let the thing out for a fly around. My sister and I (nine months and six weeks apart in age) spent a lot of time pissing ourselves laughing at her. As did dad as I recall.

How did she find out? She went to lunch with the David Jones china and glass ladies (where she worked) and told them stories of fellatio's antics. I presume someone informed her there. She was not amused. This only made the whole situation funnier.

There was a song on the radio called 'space invaders' and I remember she thought it was 'baked potatoes'.

We thought she was such a dork.

It is a sad fact that I'm sure she hexed us many times over the years, for I believe that every day I get more like her.

For example: I thought that Nancy Bush was George's wife. Not for a long time, mind, but for long enough for it to be embarrassing.

There's a song on the radio - it goes, 'suddenly I see, this is what I want to be, suddenly I see, why the hell it means so much to me' - it's not a great song.

There is a line in it 'got the power to be, the power to give, the power to be the power to see yeah yeah'

I thought it was 'got the power to see the power to be the power to give the power of Boudicea'

I like my version better. But I am still becoming a dorky mother.

I banged my head on the steering wheel

So I pick up my knitting from the Easter Show. There's a handwritten judges note attached, in a bit of a wobbly hand. It says:

"Well knitted. Could have been a finer yarn. Would have won a prize if not for unfinished end."

Wha?



Oh Stimpy, you idiot.

Royal Easter Show Knitting round up

The knitting at the Royal Easter Show was a mixed bag.

The lace was amazing. Beautiful. I realise I won two highly commended ribbons but truly I think there were other more deserving entries. (I did learn something though; don't enter a rose of england no matter how great it turns out, I'd say they're sick of seeing them, at least two this year - back to the drawing board for me in 08)

Some of the crochet was tragic.

One of the colourwork items with a lifeguard beach scene on it was incredibly fugly. Just because you can does not mean you should.

I agree Christine's faster pussycat go go! cardigan was robbed, however the criteria clearly don't include any aesthetic or wearability element.

Some of the aran jumpers were beautiful. The baby layettes were gorgeous - I wish people would use them more - newborns look so snuggly in hand knitted/crochet little matinee coats. I don't like seeing babies in dark colours or mini versions of mummy's fashionista outfits, I find that a bit off. Kinda competitive and sad. Anyway, I'm sure I'm alone in thinking this. And since my babymaking days are over (well, never say never..) it's a moot point anyway since I don't 'should' on other people. And nor should you. (hardy har)

Once again though, it was the baking that drew the crowds. And the cake decorating

My main gripe with the show was the styling and display. It is a shambles. I realise that glass cases only allow so much creativity but surely some thematic stories could be grouped together, or even some colour co-ordinating. And how about some timber coat hangers? Those mismatched plastic and wire ones just look so cheapo.
(eg: why would you shove a bright red aran next to these airy things??)

The easter show is getting more and more marketing savvy each year - which is great for the showbags and rides. Pity that the art categories aren't getting a share of the budget, it's a tired and dated way of showcasing what are meant to be the best handmade items in the country.
(a shambles, but not a beautiful one - and yes, that feathers up the back seems to have won a prize)

Anyway, that's what I think. I'll let you make up your own minds.....

Up Up and Away

We got the exhibition up on Friday.

Many many thanks to all the bods who showed up to help. You know who you are.

Even my mum came and went into commandant mode (they invented the term control freak to describe her). She began by asking me if I didn't have anything more flattering to put on as I looked fat. She then moved on to the knitting.

However, in her defense, she's got over twenty years experience in china merchandising for David Jones, and she's a perfectionist, not a bad combination when you're trying to display a knitted afternoon tea.

I won't go on in words, I'll just post the pictures. It really looked beautiful, if I don't say so myself.

My favourite was the dressing table, but the shawls looked pretty spesh too. It's hard to photograph shawls inside, but the public loved them. (And thought they were crocheted, but there's non-knitters for you - they can't help it)

Wonderful to see so many visitors, at least 400 through the door, which I'd say would be a resounding success for Wollongong, and guest appearances from Rose Red and Retro Mummy made it even more special, how excitement when bloggers meet? And, even though she didn't make it in person, Cindy 2paw sent a lovely labrador card and a parcel of tea and shortbread which we'll enjoy together and think of you Cindy!

For more pictures, head on over to flickr, where all the images have been posted.







Roll on exhibition 2008 - where I will pass over the co-ordinating reins to someone else, so I can just show up, help, knit and chat. Without the worry.



Phew.

Speed

So, given that my mood is black, I haven't had a shower and after looking after four other kids for the day in addition to my own (why? I'm just a girl who can't say no)m leaving the house looking like the aftermath of a tsunami, what's the worst thing that could happen?

A journalist from the local paper rings me telling me that she wants a photographer to come to my home and photograph me and the exhibition knitting, and can he be there in half an hour?

Friends, I shit you not.

Anyway, it got the adrenaline going at least; and I respond well to most things that end in 'ine'. And luckily, he didn't need to use the bathroom during the shoot.

Tomorrow we shall discuss the Royal Easter Show and the sighting of Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban with nephew at same. For now, here's a sneak preview...


That is a suri alpaca (thanks Tianne and Kerry, I didn't know).


And that is 4 kilos of the best superfine merino fleece in Australia, possibly the world.

You thought I had pics of Nicole and Keith didn't you?

No amount of zoloft can mask the awful truth

I really didn't know whether to publish this post, although writing it was very helpful for me.

My friend sent me this article today. It almost made me cry.


I've just finished working eight days straight at my new job, including Good Friday and Easter Sunday, where the following happened:

• As a casual staffer there were no penalty rates for weekends or public holidays
  
• Someone died there on Friday night
• Which left me to deal with his paralytically drunk mourning family all weekend
  
• I was called a moron by a, ahem, moron
• I was forced to approach a riotous party of about 30 people (a 40th birthday) to ask them to mind their language as there were children about. I was, naturally, then pawed by a blind drunk buffoon in his mid fifties telling me to have some fun.
  
• Someone gave me a really nice bottle of wine (yay!)
  
• On numerous occasions I was held personally responsible for the rain
  
• I mopped and vacuumed the floors about fifty times
• The response involving sexual favours to the question 'how can I help you' wore very, very thin indeed
  
• On Thursday I opened up at 7:30am, left to pick the kids up from school at 2pm, went back and worked until 9pm.
  

I can't believe I've been reduced to this. I used to have the makings of a glittering career in finance, where people invited me to meetings and listened to what I had to say and paid me some respect. I wore expensive shoes. Had facials. I exercised, was taken to flash restaurants and I was thin.

Now here I am, almost 40, on the scrap heap, taking crap from idiots and mopping floors for a pittance, wrinkled and fat from responsibility and work, and if I want some spending money I have to answer to a man. I'm consumed with guilt for having a dirty house and couldn't care less if I never had sex again.

And all because I got married and had two children.

If I had my time over again (which, of course, I won't, making this lesson even more stern) I wouldn't make that mistake again.

Right now, the best advice I could give my daughter would be not to get her hopes up.

And that is why male doctors prescribe anti-depressants to women. To stop us from getting angry and keep us fat, dumb and happy. I doesn't always work.

(Please don't tell me to pull myself together and count my blessings. I'm all too aware I should do this, making me feel guilty for being so selfish does not help.)

I realise, of course, that this too shall pass. I'm trying, at least, to knit through it.

Who loves the chocolate

Happy Easter Everyone

Got an Ebay Bargain

I'm too embarrassed to tell you how much I got these for on ebay.


Put it this way, if we included the price of petrol into the post office trip, it wouldn't have broken even for the seller.

They're so lovely, full of handwritten notes and pin holes.