••• Thursday, September 22, 2005

Do You Speak the Cottonese? 

In my last post, I presented a posse of potential post-pea-yach projects. Plus, I promised to preview another piece, in another post. For posterity.

Okay, maybe I didn't do all that in my last post. But I did make an inappropriate comment. Then I logged off my computer. Then I had myself a beer.

Anyway. Back to the future knitting plans, Part II.
The makings for The Next Big, Badly Knit Thing on my reality checklist, can be found in this here Bucket O' Cotton Ease. And, as you can see, I got me some (Not as much as some folks got, but people, this is not a competition.).

For those of you lucky enough to not be in the knatlist know, early in the summer, The List was foaming at the collective mouth, about Lion Brand discontinuing the Cotton Ease.

Since I'd never used the stuff, and also possess a healthy sense of perspective (i.e., it's fuckin' yarn, people.), I held no bitterness regarding this turn of events. Said sense of perspective includes the ability to recognize a good deal when I see one. So when I heard that Tuesday Morning* was selling it for 2.99 a skein, I cottoned up with ease.

And yeah, I did go to Tuesday Morning a couple times. A day. For a couple of days. ::You know what they say about cottonese. Twenty minutes later, you're hungry again.:: The first day of shopping took place during what I call my orange and yellow period. The second day was devoted to blue and green.

And when the Cakers saw this bin of sin, she immediately laid claim to my first day's pick, the orange and yellow. She then asked me me make her a sweater. Of course, I said yes. But not without taking a minute to assess the personal toll such an endeavor would take, against my own selfish knitting plans.

Fortunately, my higher mutha self smacked me down prevailed, and I set about to find the perfect pattern. And here it was, in a Miss Bea book:

I was so excited about this project, that I got right on It.

It didn't go well.

How so?

Well, let me explain. This is my brain:**

This is my brain on intarsia:


It's probably been at least 10 years since I did intarsia. Either my memory is faulty, or that portion of my pea brain has gone to seed, but I just don't remember it being this bad.

Notice that I'm not showing a picture of the front of the piece. It was bad. It was ugly bad. So ugly, in fact, it wouldn't even frog. I had to take the scissors to it. In several parts.

Half way through the cottony carnage, I wondered what the hell I was doing trying to salvage this cheap-ass shit, in scraps and pieces, when I still had about 20 skeins of orange?

Thusly, I threw it away. Gone, but not forgotten.

Finding MEME. Oh.
Imbrium tagged me for a MEME, as follows:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.

I'm a strumpet for uncharted sterile venues and cutting edge lectures on flossing.

I have not been keeping track of who has already participated in this recent Scheme du Meme, so I'll just leave it out for the taking.

Benign Whine

Tomorrow we're going to the cottage, immediately after I get home from work. I'm putting up the usual stink. Of course. But secretly, I think it's a great idea and am actually looking forward to a weekend of sitting and knitting and drinking at the lake.

What really won me over. was the husband agreeing to do all the laundry and ensuring that The Cakers does not take an afternoon nap at daycare. Or one oyster fork will not suffice, for the three hour ride.

But lets just keep this between you and me and the 27 other faithful readers. In the meantime, I probably should go stomp around a bit, and practice the fine art of being put out at the imposition.

*I was at the cottage when the Cotton Dis-ease first infected The List. Looking for the nearest Tuesday Morning store, I googled. Ever tried googling Tuesday Morning with a small town?

**I just found out that my brain and a pea were twins, separated at birth. We recently enjoyed a bittersweet reunion, over a bowl of succotash.

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