Rabble Rouser

I've been swarmed.  Lucky for me, this lot is pretty good-natured.  There's more where they came from, too.  Did you know that the collective noun for butterflies is "Rabble"?  No better description for an unruly profusion, in my opinion.

Furthermore, A Rabble-rouser is a person who speaks with the intent to stir the passions of their audience.  Just like knitters.  Here are a few you may have heard misquoted, elsewhere:

"Give me Free Patterns, or give me Death!" -  Patricia Henry

"And so, my Fellow Knitters, ask not what yarn can do for you.  Ask what you can do for yarn!" -  Jeanine Fitzsimmons Kennedy

"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of knitters and the sons of crocheters  will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood." -  Martina Louanne King

"The only thing we have to fear is Moths, themselves!" -  Francis Delores Roosevelt

"We shall defend our yarn stash, whatever the cost may be!  We shall knit on the beaches, we shall knit on the landing grounds, we shall knit in the fields and in the streets, we shall knit in the hills; we shall never surrender." -  Winnifred Churchill

Stirring words, aren't they?  Just makes me wanna get out there and start something. 

Like maybe a cardigan.

Wanna Get Stranded?

No, not on a desert isle (no yarn there - we'd hate that).  Our friends at Yorkshire Yarns are planning an adventure, and we're all invited!

Have you ever wanted to make your very own stranded colorwork sweater?  Have you worried that it was too much to take on by yourself?  That's how I felt the first time I attempted it.  And since I first began my stranded colorwork journey of discovery, I've picked up a lot of information and skills that I really want to share with you.  So I've created what I consider to be the perfect sweater workshop:  Stranded With Mary.

First, I offer personal guidance to each student in selecting your favorite pattern before class.  There's also a Ravelry group where you can meet, compare notes, and get help between sessions.  We meet four - count em'- FOUR times, in as many months.  Which means that you can actually create your stranded colorwork masterpiece, from start to finish, with my personal help and encouragement all the way through!  

And if all that weren't enough: the timing of the workshop is perfect for you to finish in time for the holidays.

Yorkshire Yarns is located in Lakewood, WA; just about perfectly centered between Portland and Seattle.  Why not grab a friend and share the drive?  

CLICK HERE for all the details.  Class fee includes a copy of The New Stranded Colorwork, in addition to my exclusive workshop handbook.

I can't wait to get stranded with you!

Regifted

For my 30th birthday (the first one), I was given a lovely set of patio furniture by my husband.  Not teak, but some other nice oily tropical hardwood, it withstood the ravages of thirteen several winters, without ever being covered or coddled.  Somewhere along the way the table fell to bits, and the cushions got lost in a move.  But the chairs and bench hung on, useful for piling stuff on if not much else, without a table.

Campbell was the first to point out that for a family with such a small house, we really don't spend much time in the back yard.  "How come we don't have a picnic table outside?"  How come, indeed!  In a fit of can-do spirit, I decreed that Campbell and I would build a new table together.  And build it we did:

Campbell became an expert power sander.

We felt pretty pleased with ourselves when the base was finished.

And once the  table top was on, we decided to try and resurrect our poor old chairs.  Every joint was loose.  All were covered with a combination of moss, mildew, and mold.  In our climate, we seldom have hard freezes, but the constant moisture turns everything green.  And Lo, there was MUCH sanding.  And yes, we did wear dust protection.  Yuck.  But miraculously, under all that grime, the hardwood was still rock solid.  With all their screws and bolts re-tightened, the chairs were really as good as new.  With one exception:  

This one had a massive crack along its top rail that required some persuasion back into position.  And its seat refused to quit wiggling, even after a second round of screw tightening.  I just couldn't bear to leave this soldier behind, though.  Sweaty and sunburned, and truly tired of the whole episode, I placed a number of new screws in strategic spots.  And by a number, I mean, like, a billion.  We can sell this chair for scrap metal.  It's got an infrastructure like Wolverine's skeleton now.

We put on a coat of pretty green stain (Lindsay picked the color: "Aligator") to seal the chairs.  We think we'll seal the table with something clear, later in the summer after it's had time to dry out a bit more.  We made it with decking cedar, which is really wet when you first get it.

We worked so hard, and feel so proud of our accomplishments.  Not only is the table just what we hoped it would be; we got the satisfaction of having rescued the pretty old chairs from the brink of mildew-struction.  And we did it all together.  It's like getting that lovely birthday present, all over again.  And of course, I'm still only 30, so it's like that stuff in the middle never happened.

Think I'll go knit outside for a while.