The Jinks, They Were High

The Madrona Winter Retreat was everything we knitters and teachers could have hoped for:  Challenging classes, Marketplace brimming with covetable delights, Fantastic teacher/author presentations, and a Talent Show that raised over $14,000.00 for charity. 

My students kept me on my toes (you always do), including 5 steekmasters who finished their Thistle stoles in class.  The other 20 are right on their heels, as the photos they are sending me attest.  I am so proud of all of you.  I made 10 new stranded coloworkers, which fact tickles me to death.  And 16 of my new best friends workshopped ways to plan for the finishing of their next projects, before they even cast on.  Those are going to be some Dead Sexy projects, too, my friends.

And in between times, well, it was Madrona:

A diabolically clever beastie waited till I stepped away from my thistle stole and used it to yarnbomb the life-size horse lamp in the hotel lounge.  He's never looked better.

I got to sit next to the Hadron Collider of Knitting that is Amy Detjen, whose fabulous lavender nail polish and hair accessories were a perfect match to my thistles.

And Daniel Herrera used his luxurious beard to help Franklin Habit imagine what he would look like with hair.

You cannot make this stuff up.

If anybody needs me, I'll be taking a nap.  For, like, a month.

A Little Something Before Takeoff

I'm leaving for the Madrona Winter Retreat tonight, which means packing, and more packing.  And listmaking, and more packing.  I could invade another country with fewer supplies than it takes to teach a knitting class.  Bizarrely, I realized in the midst of my preparations that I have no knitting to take with me. I worked so hard to have all my projects buttoned up before Madrona that I actually did it, which means there's no knitting to do.  Cue panicky fainting spell.

The Scotties had to revive me by first pushing loud-smelling bacon-flavored treats under my nose, then noisily crunching them. 

Once restored, I did a stash-dive, which reminded me that I've been meaning to spend some quality time with this:

Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks That Rock Heavyweight, in "Vancouver Violet".  It's been earmarked for a short springtime something-or-other ever since I got it, and I think it's finally time. 

I picked this to make with it:

"Miette", by Andi Satterlund (CLICK HERE). It's got a lot of qualities I don't usually get to play with, such as:

1.        Someone else's pattern (you mean I don't have to do all the math?  YAY!)
2.        Worked top-down
3.        Heavier gauge than I usually work in
4.        3/4 sleeves
5.        Bust darts.  I think I've made bust darts before, but I can't remember when, so it must be time for a refresher.
6.        Someone else's pattern (I know; it's worth saying again), so I can work on it while talking to other people, riding in a car, or otherwise using other parts of my brain to do things besides Sweater Math.  Or as is more accurately my experience; Wrong Sweater Math.  Pretty excited about it.

Now, as I launch into the whirlwind (or more accurately, Force of Nature) that is the Madrona Winter Retreat, I am fortified by the knowledge that no matter what else happens, at least I have something to knit. 

Amazing how the timely administration of medicinal knitting can help get one off the ground.

The Cobbler Goes Barefoot

Around this time last year, I fell prey to an epic fit of slipper knitting.  Such was my mania that almost everybody I love got slippers from me.  Big ones, little ones, and there at the last, a pair with chicken beaks.  They were loved by all, and even though it took a while, I ultimately got the slipper knitting germs out of my system.  Or so I thought.

See, my feet are cold.  And when I say "cold" I really mean "medieval instruments of torture", or at least that is what my husband reports.  It usually sounds more like "Aaarrrgggggg-get-get-gettemoffame!", but the translation is accurate.  My feet can be used to chill beer.  My feet, when placed in hot bath water, actually make a sizzling sound and emit steam.

And until yesterday, I did not own slippers.  No idea why.  Just never thought about it (yeah, I know: Mensa called back, they said "No, thanks.").

For some reason, yesterday I finally managed to get the idea that I should whip up a pair of those swell slippers for myself.  And whip them up, I did:

The vintage buttons have been hanging around in my collection for as long as I can remember.  I'm so pleased that they have finally found their rightful home.

I never had put leather soles on before, but it just seemed the thing to do.  I traced around my foot to make a pattern and cut out two opposing shapes.  Then I put a leather needle in my sewing machine (unthreaded) and stitched around the edges to make sewing holes.  I stitched them on by hand with waxed cotton thread, and Bob's Your Uncle:  Slippers for the coldest feet in the land.

I had planned to embroider monograms on the toes (still might do), but my excitement to try them out overcame me, and I had to stop sewing and start wearing.

My feet are warm.  I can't believe it.  I might have slept in them.