Keep Calm and Carry On

My new Catalytic Converter is really just the best.  You know, it's not every day that you can be required to spend so much money, and still have no visible evidence of having done it.  Every so often, I go out to the driveway and open the hood of my car.  I try to guess where my new Catalytic Converter is by looking for something that seems less dirt-covered than the rest of the stuff in there.  I can't say that I've located it, but there are definitely finger prints all over the engine compartment which make it look like something must have happened in there recently.  Of course, that forensic analysis could just as well confirm that somebody dropped a contact lens, but I'm choosing optimism.

I've been working on the Crunch Berries Kingscot.  Back done and one sleeve almost there.  And I was feeling fairly smug about that progress, since knitting flat is so rare for me that the pace seems kinda glacial.  Which smugness was of course, the cue for the Universe to Smite me.  Phillip's car is making the most wretched noise (in addition to its prior symphony of other, mildly annoying noises).  I have no idea what it is, of course, only a vague feeling of dread that causes me to top off the charge on Phillip's cell phone every time he puts it down.  I will be retrieving him from the side of the road someplace very soon.  Which necessitates my finding a new car for him, stat.  I throw myself on this grenade because 1.  As hopeless as I am about all things car, Phillip's lack of knowledge is eclipsed only by his stunning disinterest, and 2.  My schedule is much more flexible than his, since I work at home, and he works at, well, work.  So it's on me to score a new set of wheels for the spouse.  What could possibly go wrong?

I put the whole thing out of my mind for a while and worked on this secret project.  Kinda, sassy, no?  I think I dig it.  I may have mentioned (a time or two) that I hate swatching because it doesn't produce anything but a dumb knitted square.  So any time I can, I try to swatch by making something.  It takes more time, but it tells me a lot more, and at the end, it's hopefully something somebody can use.  Stay tuned - all will be revealed in time.  This, too caused me a bit of knitterly satisfaction that I ought to know better than to have.  I came home from the grocery store yesterday to see that my entire kitchen was half an inch under water.  That's right.  In case there was any chance of my striking some sort of karmic balance, the Universe has made its position perfectly clear:  "Get out your checkbook".  It's nice, in a way, knowing exactly what is expected of me.  The plumber will arrive this morning.  Allegedly.

So I shifted gears again, this time returning to my first knee sock.  I was so totally convinced that it would never stay up that I made eyelets to run this cool elastic ribbon through.  Now let it just try to sag.  I had crazy hopes of having a mate for this in time for Sock Camp, which coincides with my birthday this year.  Having not even cast on for sock 2 yet, I don't like my chances much.

Plumber's truck just pulled up.  Gotta go find my checkbook.

Soy Beanie

Mom and I went to visit a friend who was convalescing after minor surgery.  We stuck around for a few days to help with the heavy lifting (you know how heavy crates of beer can be), and while we were there, I finished Mom's new spring hat:

We'll see if this one stands up to the Grammy Test:  Can it be worn to lunch with the ladies, home through a monsoon, and then slept in during the afternoon nap without discernible consequence?Only time will tell, but I feel that I've done my part.  Ain't she sassy? 

In unrelated news, I paid off my car loan on Tuesday, and smugly got behind the wheel for the road trip with Mom.  The Check Engine light came on immediately.  Which can only mean my theory has been proven:  Somewhere at the bank who held my car loan, there is a lever which they throw, the minute the loan is paid off.  This action alerts the auto manufacturer to send a signal to the car's catalytic converter/radiator/flux capacitor, which in turn fries key engine components, using an untraceable combination of high voltage and bad Ju-Ju.  The Check Engine light then illuminates, causing the driver to proceed directly to the service department, where she parts with all of her yarn money to repair her newly owned, and newly broken automobile.

And in case that wasn't enough to harsh my mellow, the car guys at the garage think that the car guys at the tire joint (last week when the tire was flat) failed to notice that my alignment is jacked up and my tires are worn out.

I'm changing my car's name to Lucky.
 

Three Days, Three Things

Thing One:  Last Thursday, I had the great good fortune to meet the members of the Tigard Knitting Guild.  Of the 100 or so who turned out, here are the half that would fit in my camera.  We talked about knitting, and colorwork, and math, and the fact that I sometimes don't know what day it is.  They liked me in spite of my calendar-challenged nature, which tells me that they are not only a delightful gang of knitters; they may have experienced the occasional Time Pleat, themselves.

Thing Two:  On Friday, my mom (who's visiting us) and I set out to visit a yarn store I had never been to.  At the beginning of our journey, my car's tire looked like this:

See how it's nice and round, even at the bottom?  This is the desired state of things,  But that's not what it looked like when we arrived at the yarn store.  Instead, thanks to an ill-placed nail, my poor tire looked exactly like this, but much, much flatter on one side.  So think about it:  I was actually stranded at the yarn store:

I had plenty of time, while I waited for the tire rescue gentleman, to ponder the ramifications of being trapped at the yarn store.  And while the scenario was certainly a dangerous one, financially speaking, it was also, I'm guessing, every knitter's fantasy.  That's right: indefinite time, in a place filled with nice people, and more yarn than I could knit in several days.  Too bad my cell phone worked when I called the tire guy.  He did, eventually show up, and fixed my tire.  Which was the only bleak moment in the whole situation.  Once my tire was round again, Mom and I were able to move on to

Thing Three:  My mom really loves the handspun hat I made her last year.  And by loves, I mean she all but sleeps in it.  Which is fine, in my opinion.  I hope that when I reach the sassy age of 77, I can wear my favorite hat all the time without anybody bugging me about it.  Even if it has feathers on it, which I'm guessing it will.  However, Mom's hat has a decidedly wintry feel about it, which might be less well-suited to spring wearing than she would like.  Frankly, she doesn't care about this at all, but my sisters and I worry that people might think we aren't taking good care of her if her wardrobe crossed over from "Adorable Grammy" to "Hobo Chic".  So I took it upon myself to make her a spring hat that she will like as well as the winter one:

It's made of Sublime Soya Cotton DK, which is super soft, drapey, and decidedly non-wintry.  But a stand-in for the favorite is a tall order, even for me.  Stay tuned...