Hi. Bye.

Self promotion. The recent discussions on ravelry lately (and other places too) have made me think about how I feel about people promoting themselves in a commercial sense on ravelry and elsewhere.

I think there are cultural factors involved, and I feel that, as a bit of a dinky di Australian, I find the idea of promoting yourself at every opportunity to be a bit off. Then again, maybe I picked that up from my years living in England.

I don't like the trend here of the proper professions ie; the doctors and the lawyers beginning to advertise on the radio and tv - I guess to an extent they've always advertised in the print media. I find radio ads for a law firms (if you've been in an accident call us - no win, no pay) to be particularly offensive. I wouldn't go to a lawyer who advertised on tv. Then again, the likelihood of me ever chasing compensation for an accident or wrongdoing is so remote it doesn't bear thinking about.

My sister, who has traditionally been employed in the sales 'industry' says I'm just typical of the anti-sales snobbery that comes from being an Accountant and having a bachelor degree, and that I should change my tune.

And maybe she's right.

Here you go then, different tune.

I 'designed' a short-sleeved boxy swing cardigan. Top down raglan (so what's there to design?), no seaming (except five stitches under the armpit), and a simple lace pattern to give the 'swing' part more of an airy feel, it has a Jackie O sort of feel - a perfect match for those black saucer sunglasses of mine.

Made in an unrepeatable but beautiful shiny mercerized cotton yarn (Moda Vera luxor) I got in a bargain bin from Spotlight - probably a worsted weight or 10-12 ply equivalent.



And now, no tune at all.

Due to various factors, some in the past, some in the future, coupled with some serious internet connection problems at home (from the lightning strike), this will be my last post from this blog.

I'm going to take February off to do something different, (the last two posts might give you a hint) and in March I plan on launching a new, improved, superfast blog. And maybe even a suprise or two to go with it.


I'll still be active on ravelry, I'm knitabulous over there - my avatar is the Sydney Luna Park Entrance.

Repeats

I had this conversation over and over and over at snb on Saturday.

Other person: "What's this beautiful thing you're knitting, Ailsa?"

Me: "It's a scarf"

Them: "Lovely colour"

Me: "Yes. It's one of Donni's"

Them: "What pattern are you using?"

Me: "I'm making this one up as I go along."

Them: "Geez. You're very clever."

Me: "Umm. Not really. But thank you anyway".

Since a lot of people liked it in person, and against my better judgement (I'm shy of showing my originals in public), here is the progress of something original.

Hey, wanna see what housefrau gave me in the tea cosy swap?



And later, this;
I've bought so many of these for various swaps, and never kept one. I've always wanted to though. I loved this one so much, it's the one that sells out the fastest. Thank you housefrau, it was all lovely.

My kids love their Nonna

And I love mine too.



I have spoken before of loving knitted socks but not loving knitting socks. It's the round and round thing - I can do it, I just hate doing it.

Solution - Sidewinders by nona.

Why didn't I think of these before?

I am a happy knitter today.

Second FO of the year

May I present to you my completed tofutsies sock.



Ahem. I tried. But I just couldn't go round and round like a frickin mouse on a treadmill. If any of you reading here really love me they'd email me and offer to make me some socks. In return I'll make them some lace stoles/scarves. Seriously.

It's still a bit damp in this shot, so the colours are a little dull. What do you think?
Anyhow, on account of some new books arriving at the casa (look! Nihon Vogue!, Elizabeth Zimmermann!);


If you haven't read any Elizabeth Zimmerman books I'd suggest you go out and buy one immediately. She's such a good read, maybe the original knitting blogger?

I immediately cast-on for the baby cardigan. In tofutsies. Three nights later I had a result.






It was a particularly colour-co-ordinated knit, because I used my new knitpicks harmony needle (thank you Donni, I's a lucky girl!) Check out the leftovers.


Look what else came into my possession. Claudia's handpainted 2 ply silk, a Christmas gift from the gorgeous Jae of impeccable taste. Thank you so much Jae, it's going to be my new sarcelle.


I'm off camping again right now, so I'll be out of action for about a week.

And in case you think it's all holidays and parties, I'll show you my glamourous photoshoot location.

With every party and holiday comes the inevitable washing.

A Clarification

The term tramp stamp in my vocabulary refers only to BUM ANTLERS.

Just to avoid confusion.

Yesterday I did not knit

Much as I drivel on about my social life, my car accidents and general anasthetics, my actual day to day life is consumed with thoughts about knitting.

But yesterday, due to a case of too much sun caused by a very active day at Jamberoo Recreation Park*, I crashed out at about 8pm with both the kids on my bed.

I got up again around 11pm to find my husband trying to unblock a toilet - don't ask me what happened there - I kind of blearily looked and blinked and went straight back upstairs where I sneaked into Louis' bed and left the moving of the sleeping children to him.

Anyway, because of this, I didn't knit a stitch yesterday. And I feel kind of funny today, like I forgot to pick the kids up from school or I missed my stop on the bus.

Knitting is a part of who I am, ridiculously Opra-ish though that might sound. To know me is to know about the knitting. I could talk about knitting, read about knitting, scour the web looking at knitting, for ever and I probably will.

And on that note, I am shutting down the computer and taking to the sofa for a knit. The children are across the road playing (apparently they're making a movie on the ten year old neigbour's digital vicam he got for his birthday - whatever happened to British Bulldog or Marco Polo?)

Once again, I am attempting to get a successful sock going.

Finishing Frost Flowers and Leaves is my next goal, I am about halfway through repeat four of the second chart.

*What a place. The social services groups bus them down from the Western Suburbs of Sydney in their droves. I've never seen so many gangsta tattoos on torsos (some with their jail serial numbers under them, presumably in case they forget next time, or maybe they were on weekend release) in my life. And the girls, if you think a nose stud, belly button ring and a tramp stamp on your lower back is unusual and sexy, you should get down here and have a look at them en masse. Eww.

Being perfectly gorgeous, it is easy for me to be the judge of others of course. I fear I am turning into one of those middle aged women, tut tutting the young ones on their choice of attire - suprising how easy and pleasant it is to become what you used to despise.

And, speaking of pointless postings, anyone been reading the Australian ravelry forum lately?

Paradise by the Dashboard light

Knitabulous: 'Well I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday.Casting on for you there was not another project in sight. I never had a pattern looking any better than you did, and all the kids on ravelry they were wishing they were me that night.'

(insert passionate knitting noises)

Ariann: ''Stop right there! I gotta know right now. Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life, will you take me away and will you make me your..'

Knitabulous: 'I couldn't take it any longer, lord I was crazed. And when that feeling came upon me like a tidal wave I started praying to my God and on my mother's grave that I would love you till the end of time.

I swore I would love you till the end of time.


So now I'm praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive. Cos if I've gotta spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive. I'll never break my promise or forget my vow, but god only knows what I could do right now.

I'm praying for the end of time that's all that I can do. Ooh. Ooh.

Praying for the end of time so I can end my time with you..'


Ariann, you're beautiful and we look good together but man you kicked my knitting butt in the raglan decreases and in the end, I hated your guts. So sorry.

It's been a long time

Since I've had a hangover this big. It's not of 'never again' proportions but definitely greasy breakfast required proportions.

Spent last night dancing and toasting a friend's 50th birthday in a harbourside restaurant - they had booked the whole place so there was nobody else around, except the passers-by - some of whom started dancing on the jetty. We took balloons out to the kids.

It was one of the best parties I've ever been to.

The best part about it? Elvis was there.

The big ugly

Everyone eventually gets to an age where the essence of improving one's appearance is by good grooming. As a result, the one thing that happens when you camp rough is that you look really really ugly while you're doing it. Knowing this, I made no effort in the grooming department save a shower when I set off in the car with my kids, my niece and the dog in the car for company.

When I accidentally bumped into the car in front of me in the carpark that should have been the Princes Highway in Nowra, and a big, burly fit looking naval officer got out of the car in front (the one I'd hit) and angrily barked 'driver's licence' into my window, I regretted that decision. I got very serious 'woman driver' vibes from him, and it was very unpleasant.

Not that I think I could have knocked him for six with my hotness, but in the absence of any cosmetics at all and no saucer sized sunglasses, I just looked like a tired old housewife who took her eye off the ball and drove into his bumper bar. Something about his obvious bully prick personality/attitude sucked the assertiveness out of me - I would have been a bit more dignified in defeat and perhaps not felt so pathetic if I'd blowdried my hair and put on a bit of lippy. And found those sunglasses before I set off. A kind of armour, if you like. Against pricks.

In addition to this, I hate my haircut. Brassy yellow, straggly, short (ugh), with 2cm dark regrowth - it looks disgusting. A bit of hair and some big black sunglasses can do wonders for the confidence and create an illusion (apparently known as the 'Bondi beach' effect) where the ravages of time have taken their toll. I want my hair back. Pass me those dark glasses.

But if I thought I looked ugly on my way down there, you should have seen me four days later with no shower, sloping around the campsite in my swimsuit and sarong and crocs. Eww.

I'll be going back next year though, let me show you why ...



Worth every ugly second of it.