Erm, Remember That Post I Promised Two Months Ago?

Yes, darlings. They're here. At last. (As in, really long last.)

Without further ado, we present to you...

Snow Zombies on the Catwalk.



The hip and edgy Snow Zombies of the Things, featuring Thing 1's SZ doing a mosh-pit leap onto the runway.



The classically elegant look of the mature SZs, featuring accessories which can hold two of them up, if need be, and which are craftily disguised as a walking stick and snow shovel.



And the star of this event, the Carolina Snow Zombie in a beautiful pale pink ensemble, with glittery snowflakes all about it.

They were, needless to say, a sensation that hit the snow zombie society by storm. Within mere hours of this exclusive event, we were being pelted with orders from SZs the world over (well, the cold parts of the world over) with orders for the magnificent couture accoutrements. And the Things are right on that. Knitting up a storm, they are. (Me? I'm ducking lightning bolts right about now. Let's just move along from order-processing discussion, shall we?)

The organizers of this affair would like to thank one very busy photographer for all of his work with our sometimes high-maintenance models. What do you mean, he was having to mess with Photoshopping the SZs over human models?!? What is this photoshopping of which you speak? Never heard of it. Clearly, that is a vicious rumor started by Paris Hilton, who was all in a snit because she was not invited to the show. I mean, she called up crying and everything, but what was I supposed to do when Nicole Richie said no way was she coming if Paris was coming and...(Erm. Ahem. Time to move along once again. Right ho. Back to the ultra chic world-weary tone.)

Yes, yes, you say, in bored voice. Everyone know all about the runway (runaway?) life of models. But what are they like away from the bright lights and high fashion? Enquiring minds want to know.

Enter Thing 2, who has the makings of a first-rate tabloid paparazzi already blossoming in her teenage self. She stalked the snow zombies, stealthily intruded into their private lives and now presents to us a pictorial peek into their doings.



(The fact that Thing 2 discovered that my homemade light box had been taken over by this lot had nothing to do with shoving the Thing out the door with camera and SZs in hand.)



Thing 1's SZ headed straight off to see a concert. But not Slayer. Air Supply has kicked off their reunion tour, and this headbanging SZ had front-row tickets.



Thing 2's SZ headed back to its job as a sketchy droid dealer, thus negating my idea that its hood had an EZ-Tomten-meets-Laura-Ingall-Wilder look to it and confirming Thing 2's jawa-look opinion. Sigh. But at least it's a colorful jawa look.



Thing 3's SZ bought into all the, "You look like an owl" observations and, in the words of Elbow, decided that it was perfect weather to fly. (The pictures of said flight are here withheld. It wasn't pretty, and we do have certain level of decorum to maintain on the blog.)



Thing 4's SZ seemed overwhelmed by all the green and retreated to the shade of the trees, the better to protect its precious snowball. (Though how it is going to throw the snowball when said sphere is attached to its hand is rather a circular conversation at the moment. One cannot always reason with snow zombies. Rather like men in that respect.)



The Grandpa's SZ decamped without his ever-ncessary snow shovel. (If you know Midwestern farmers, you'll immediately understand what a scandal that is. Why it's not on the front page of every national newspaper I can't even begin to think.)



Carolina's SZ enjoyed a moment with Maine wildflowers in the charmingly natural (i.e. in desperate need of a mowing) front yard before being stuffed in a mailer and posted to the Dominican Republic. (Carolina has a dear wish to see snow. The SZ was the closest we could come.)



The Mom Zom in her natural, undecorated state*, next to her favorite flower, the effervescent dandelion. (Now picked for her exclusively by Thing 4, as the others have grown too up to do so.)



And Jed's SZ? Off into the wilderness it went. Completely unlike its new owner... ;)



Thus, we at tardily long last, present the final snow zombies post. They were great fun to make, and I'm trying hard to convince myself that Marie Mayhew's owls aren't just as cute.



Sigh.



*And yes, I rather ran out of steam when it came time to accessorize my own SZ. Fun as they were, I think I may have made them to excess and ended up zombied out. I'll make the hat and scarf next winter. I'm leaning toward the Carolina SZ look, I think. Same yarn, anyway. Just a different color.

Big News

Yes, I am a bad blogger. I am way behind on posting on anything.

It's been a wild ride through February, March and April, from a love life with more twists and turns than a Maine back road, to busy, busy, busy rehearsals for both one-act plays (one of which went on to a festival, so that only just ended last weekend) to two birthdays to celebrate, to one breast cancer scare which fortunately turned out to be nothing but a scare, but which did leave me a tad anxious for a few days (i.e. a slightly zoned out mess who only got through it because of one rock steady friend--thanks, mi hijo. This is not to say other of my friends are not rock steady--he was just the only state-side person I told, outside of two co-workers who happened in on me right after the "Hi, it's Tuesday, could we have you back in on Thursday, please?" call). Throw a few swine flu cases in our county on top of it all, and well, I've not felt particularly witty of late.

Of course, it could be argued that I'm not particularly witty, period. So perhaps one could say I was even more, er, witless than usual?

Um. Yes. That would seem to cover it. (Sigh.)

So. Zombies this weekend, hopefully. Some additional photos will be required due to nature of cool thing friend did to them--they're group shots now, rather than having individual moments of glory. Also notes of progress (or lack thereof) on other projects, such as the double knitting and the still-to-be crocheted shawl.

But that's not why I'm blogging today.

Nope. Today's news is something that just blew me out of the water, even though I had been checking the news online for it.

Guess what my lil ol adopted home state did today?!

http://kennebecjournal.mainetoday.com/newsupdate.php?updates/gay-marriage-passes-on-first-vote

Did you guess yet? Did you?

Okay, so I'm providing a link but am still too excited to just wait patiently for you to click on it. So, in a direct quote from the Kennebec Journal, "The Maine Senate voted 20-15 today in favor of a bill to allow same-sex marriages in Maine."

It's got two more votes to get through--one more Senate required and then on to the House--so still more of a battle, but...we're finally taking steps to uphold constitutional rights of all our citizens rather than letting the prejudiced thinking of some of them hold sway. In no other issue that I can think of have we, the people, been asked to vote on the privileges of another group of people.

That's just wrong. Especially when it's the religious beliefs of one group that are infringing upon the constitutional rights of others. Separation of church and state, babies.

Come to that, I think it's time to go dig out my bumper sticker that my previous landlady gave me:

I believe in the separation of church and hate.

Because really, in listening to the Senate debates, the level of hate I heard from the opposition was terrifying. Time for more rational thought to hold sway, and kudos to the clergy of all faiths who provided it in their support of legalization of gay marriage. No more judging, no more assuming one way of loving is better than another. Instead let's see accepting people for who and what they are, especially since church emphasizes that we are as God made us. And geez, there was that son of God (or extremely insightful prophet, depending on your religion), who preached tolerance and love endlessly...

One happy little straight Christian girl here. (Too happy for commas in their proper places, even.)

Random Snow Day Moments

I absolutely could not believe it when I read my email from work this morning.

Classes are cancelled and offices are closed today (Monday, March 2nd).

I was further perplexed when I looked out the window and saw that my driveway was not a solid mass of snow, as it had been following the two previous big storms--neither of which had closed the campus.

Still, I didn't argue. Instead, I stayed curled up in my jammies, decadently reading Erin Hart's mystery Lake of Sorrows (good book) and contemplating whether or not I could wait almost a year for the newest William Kent Krueger, Red Knife, comes out in paperback.

I finally stretched and then pushed myself out of bed. (No, I'm not going to tell you how late it was, so don't bother asking.)

My eyes fell on the snow zombies. I had said in my last post that I was feeling more like picking up the needles and hook again. That had been only partially true, I'd discovered. Though I'd notched things down to quiet sadness, I found focus was still a bit fuzzled and I was maybe not quite as optimistically optimistic as I had optimistically projected.

The problem with reading, knitting, crocheting, writing (or working) is that while I absorb myself in the one task, my mind wonders into other territory. I call it thinking on simultaneous levels; others have referred to it is analytically freaky. There's probably some truth to both descriptions. (I mean, you're talking about a person who could listen to a never-read-it book on audio tape and keep up with the story line--I actually cried at a sad bit, okay?--while writing example business letters and not missing a beat nor falling behind on number of letter produced compared with the other example letter writers, none of whom were listening to audio books. My boss pointed out that most people can't truly listen and pay attention to one thing and write something else. I didn't know that. Heck, I listen to people tell me things and talk back to them while typing emails to other people about other things at the same time. I thought everyone did stuff like that, but evidently I'm a bit weird.)

Anyway, acting is the one place where I have to use all levels at once. There is simply too much happening onstage, too much to react to and timing to watch, etc. etc. It's the only time and place where I think in only one moment, the here and now. Well, maybe not the only one, but any others I can think of are rather personal and so not bloggable, you know?

(Tell me there are other level-thinking people out there who tend to think past/present/future simultaneously, okay? It'll make me feel better.)

Sunday's rehearsal was one of the best first run-throughs of which I have ever been a part. Terrifically fun cast members, stellar director. For a few hours, all of me was completely collected in one moment of synergy, with no offshoots into territory that really needs to go to ground anyway. It left me calm and centered and clearly focused. And that focus was still with me when I woke up this morning.

So, when I saw those snow zombies? Well...

Dudes. They're done.

They're having their wee pictures taken in the lightbox tomorrow, and then are being sent off to a pal in Chicago for some special treatment before being posted. Neglected Blogs promised something cool, remember? And hey, that's a whole whack of late Christmas and ALL my Hanukkah gifts gone in one go.

Getting that done made going out and tackling the driveway with the Things seem like a walk in the park. Thing Two went after the snow slump by the garage that had fallen from the roof the last thaw, and then froze itself to my driveway before I got home from work. (I'm seriously starting to loathe sloped metal roofs.) Thing Three valiantly trudged out to take on the snowplow hill at the top of the drive. Thing Four just went little-kid nuts with a mini-shovel and packed down more snow then he moved. And yeah, I got the entire rest of the driveway.

It was great. We had a snow dumping fight. (It's the best when the snow is too powdery for snowballs--just scoop and dump, preferably on someone shorter for full impact.) We discovered a good inch of ice at the top of the drive, hidden beneath the few inches of snow, which sort of pointed to why classes were canceled for snow I could have easily driven over. We were visited by a lovely yellow lab who played with us, then led the Things to the back yard, where he was almost buried in snow as he ran about with them. (Sometimes driveway shoveling just doesn't matter in the grand scheme, you know?) When everyone returned to the front yard to tell me of their adventures (like I hadn't heard and watched and laughed already), yellow dog came along. I christened him Sam, and the Things agreed. He looked very Sam-like.

Eventually, the Popsicles named Thing Three and Thing Four took their much-reddened cheeks inside to warm up. (I'm still pondering how it is that none of the Things got any of my light Mexican-Lakota coloring, which led to barely reddened nose on my part, and instead dived firmly into the pale Irish-Swedish side of our gene pool, which led to complete Rudolph noses and apple cheeks on their parts. I've been accused of adopting them all, and I'm beginning to wonder if that might be true; though who the hell would hallucinate labor? Four times?) Thing Two and I were left with Sam.

"Mom..."

"No, we can't have him in the house; we're renting and it's not allowed. Why don't you walk him down the road and see if he lives at one of the neighbors?"

"You're doing that answering before I ask the question thing again."

I waved that away--I'm a mom; it's what we do--and watched as she and Sam trudged down our road, where they found Sam's owner. Thing Two wilted. She had already had visions of Sam tucked up on blankie in a corner of her room, maybe playing with her yarn while she knitted, just like Muffy the Yarnslayer (scroll down to the last paragraph for the low-down on Muffy).

But what's more, Sam wilted. Though his owner was obviously a very kind man and very good to his pet, Sam did not want to go back into the yard with the other two dogs. He wanted to stay and play with his New Girl. It was touching, and bittersweet. The guy talked to Sam (who's other name is apparently Gus), he cajoled and wheedled and finally had to put an arm around Sam's neck and lead him away, tossing a, "Thanks for bringing him home, deah," over his shoulder to my daughter. She stood in the middle of the road and watched them go, not moving.

I went and met up with her, and arm around her, walked back home with her.


So it was a day of quiet accomplishment. Reading. Knitting. Chores turned Thing-Memories-Made time. Er, lines NOT practiced for show like I promised director I would so I would know whether or not I needed a one-one-one line run through (sorry, Sir Director, but I'll have time tomorrow). Blog posted (almost).

Four out of five is not bad, all in all.

Oh, and one other thing. A February thing. It seems only fitting that in the month of the Blogversary, I discovered that I was actually listed in a Blogs I Read list on a new blog called Stringin' Crazy! She does Tunisian crochet (which I want to do as well as her) and her embroidery, from what I saw, is freakin' to die for. I only wish mine were that good (yeah, I do that sometimes too--even people who craft both ways have occasional dalliances outside the yarn). And her Wednesday Musings made me laugh. I don't know, maybe I'm listed on other blog rolls out there, but that is the first I've ever seen and I was darned chuffed about it.

Snow days. They stand out, don't they?

The Blogversary

The wee little blog celebrated its one year birthday this month, and I have shown that by…

Um. Well. I haven’t shown it in any way, actually.

This has been an oddly not-much-knitting-or-crocheting month for me. There have been job worries; although my acceptance of an 11-month contract instead of a 12 was presented as “completely voluntary” it doesn’t take a genius to know which way the wind blows, especially when you're standing in gale force economic winds. So, I accepted and have until June to figure out how to make up the money I’ll be losing. There have been Things who saw fit to share the sickness love, taking their turns one week after another will new variations on each illness, instead of getting all done in one go (marathon few days of no sleep for mom is actually preferable to drawing it out over six weeks, let me tell you). And there have been things to think about and get through.

You know how it is. Sometimes life demands so much attention that you can arse up even single chains and stockinette stitch when you attempt them. When that happens to me, I find that it's best if I simply set the crochet hook or needles down.

It’s kind of lonely doing that. Most times, when things are off-kilter, there's nothing like shaping a granny square or knitting down a row to bring me back to myself. When I hit that land of thinking without thinking, working with my hands grounds me. This month, though, my focus has been too scattered. I've looked down at the yarn in my hands and realized I was making froggable moments, again and again and again. And wasn't even irritating when I did it. That's when I decided to just set things aside.

But, me being an incurable optimist (read totally naive idiot), I can't help but bounce back before I should; really, I know it's fashionable to languish more in these moments, but I'm sort of hopeless at it. I'll still have some worries and sadness with me, but it will be of the quiet sort that moves gently along with me and still lets me enjoy what I can.

We had a huge storm and beautiful amounts of snow. I'm getting out and meeting new people. I still have a job next year, unlike so many people who have been laid off. I was cast in two one-act plays and both are parts which will challenge me to try new things. Thing Four came and snuggled with me last Saturday morning, almost falling asleep against me, the way he did when he was a baby.

All these things have nothing to do with money or other worries, and all are great gifts. They are bringing things back into focus for me. They are making my hands feel like it's time to pick things up again.

As the month draws to a close, then, we here at Neglected Blogs are making a change. It’s going to be big. It’s going to be shocking.

Yes, it’s the uber how-late-can-you-get-the-feckin’-Christmas-&-Hanukkah-stuff-done extravaganza.

The snow zombies are about to return.

Stay tuned.

Mass Thing Migration

You know, I think three times back and forth over half the country would be enough in one year's worth of months, don't you?

But no, at barely the 13-month mark we are setting out again, this time so the Things can visit their dad, who has moved back down south.

I told myself that at least we got to drive through a different half of the country this time. (Yeah, I know I was reaching there. Thanks for pointing that out.)

So, Things Two through Four and I packed up

(small bag, clothes; large bag, stuff of a yarnish nature)

and swung south in our own state to pick up Thing One.

When I hit the interstate, the bread van did something interesting. It began to shake. Not the mild, I'm-an-old-car-and-don't-care-for-all-road-surfaces-anymore shake that it did from time to time, but a strange, full-car-body shake. When I hit sixty, though, it disappeared.

Not feeling there was much choice, we drove on.

We stopped in New Hampshire to pick up our other co-driver, and Thing One was so taken with the beauty of the mountains that he asked for my camera, then said he took only two shots because there were too many buildings at the Highland Center and he didn't want those in the pictures. (And this is the Thing who thinks that nature is something best viewed through a window. Go figure.)

While we waited for the co-driver to get off work, we participated in a gingerbread house building contest (nice Christmas present--thanks!)

Thing One helped in the usual teenage fashion

but the other three Things went to town.

We all agreed that our gingerbread person (who was almost as tall as her house) looked severely deranged, though. And thus it was here that Thing One added his contribution.

(Every pyscho gingerbread person needs a butter knife to guard against home invasion by hordes of hungry children, after all).

Once that was complete, we hopped in the van and did what we always do on long car trips. We talked. We didn't talk. We read. We watched movies and listened to music and books on tape/CD.

And we crafted. I didn't get any pictures because I was too busy either knitting or driving, but Thing Two sewed buttons on snowpeople and completed the woven pipe cleaner sunhats she was making them, while Thing Three knit on a snowperson beach towel (Thing Four gets car sick easily, so exempted himself from this activity).

I knit on the red hat hat and its accessories. (Sherry was nice enough to model it for me when I returned. See?)

About the only time I put down my needles (apart from some reading and lots of driving) and did nothing was when we were in the eastern part of Virginia. There was something about the feel of the landscape, even from a van window, that just stilled me. It's the sort of place where you would go to sit beside the tomb or burial mound of your ancestors, silent, and then from which would depart as noiselessly as you came.

I want to go back there someday. I want to soak in the history of the whites and of the people who came to be there because of them and of the people who were there before them. I want to find out the name of the plant that was in all the roadsides, and someday try to capture its winter color of beige with tones of pink and orange in a dye pot (I still regret that I was "sensible" not to mention schedule fretting, and did not get a picture on the way out, as it was dark on the way back). And I want to go with someone who will walk silently with me.

Obviously, this was not the trip for any of the above, but I loved even the feeling I received from just passing through.

We did not stay long in eastern Virginia. Instead, we drove westward through some states that were longer on their east-west axises than they were tall running north-south, met the Things dad one state away from where he currently resides, and turned right around and headed back to the lovely snows of the north.

The drive back was pretty much identical to the drive down, with the exception of fewer people in the vehicle and a lot less gear (which meant that I no longer felt like a sardine with claustrophobia issues).

(And with the exception of this hotel hallway, the like of which we most definitely did not encounter on the way out. Not something you really want to step foot in at 2 a.m. I mean seriously, who the h--- did the decorating??)

There was also more shake. Definitely more.

We tried to alleviate the bad mojo of this by stopping in Chilhowie, VA at a Tastee Freeze. I had never seen a Tastee Freeze outside of Blairstown, Iowa. (And it had been a very big deal when my Great-Aunt Helen would take my cousin and me down to Main Street so we could be handed the cone of our choice through the tiny building's service window.)

This Tastee Freeze was LOTS bigger. So we went in rather than going through the drive through--anything to leave the shake for a bit--and, while being served by employees whose vowels rolled and bounced in enthusiastic waves, I discovered that in all those years, the Tastee Freeze's menu hadn't much changed. Fried food and soft-serve ice cream.

Hmm. I think that wasn't the right mojo. Because the shake got worse. Lots worse. As in the -cup-holder-routinely-popped-out-of-its-slot worse.

By the time we got back to New Hampshire, I could only go either 30 or 85 without the vehicle shaking so much that it felt as if I was receiving a rather violent full body massage (though on the up side, this did keep my shoulder from locking up).

I didn't find this reassuring, and when I rather hesitantly mentioned the lack of fun involved in driving a different route home in the dark with bad headlights (don't ask) in a car that was intent on shaking my fillings loose, my co-driver sighed and admitted that he didn't like the thought either and would follow me home.

That meant it was once more to the couch, dear friend, for you. And then stuck 1) eating eggs that were spiced in a way you didn't care for and 2) with a six-hour drive back home the next day rather than a three due to the forecasted storm hitting a day late--definitely no fun.

Sorry, dude. Two cool Chanukah gifts headed your way, okay? (Late--I mean, I'm not even making my own holiday's deadline--but headed.)

What's A Voodooiene To Do Now

After surviving the wroth of the snow zombies, I turned other projects, reasoning that not all the SZs were dry yet anyway so it was perfectly fine to turn my attention elsewhere.

Luckily for the Things, they had chosen plain vanilla SZs for their dad and his girlfriend, and as those were the first to felt and dry, they were able to begin their work.

I, meanwhile, had a choice between making my dad Lined Sandal Socks (aka Socks To Stuff Into Work Boots When Working in Cold Environs, because my dad so does not do sandals) from Socks, Socks, Socks, edited by Elaine Rowley, or I could download the free Red Hat Bag and Red Hat Pillobox Hat patterns found on the Crystal Palace website and begin those. I looked at the socks, which would be k2p1 in plain black for an entire sock on wee needles (though I satisfied my need for color by choosing a bright red with thin bits of black for the lining) and then at the bag and hat and their respective pieces, all of which would knit up nice and quickly on large needles.

With willful denial (for which I am perhaps a tad too well known) I skimmed over the fact that the Red Hat presents would lead me inexorably back to the washing machine, the zippered pillowcase, and the Shoe of Agitation.

I wanted to knit something fast, something that would make me feel like I had accomplished a great deal all at once, instead of feeling like I was knitting the same lunchtime bottom snowball over and over.

I knew I could produce the right felting magic this time around. One zombie bag and one zombie hat were sure to magically, happily felt. (Voodooienes never say die, after all.)

And before we embarked on the great Take-The-Things-South-To-Their-Dad migration, I had finished the bag, the rosebuds, the straps and most of the leaves.

Life is good. Particularly as I’m going to be gone and won’t have to face the washer in the immediate future.

Ta ta!

The To Do List and the Want To Do List

Somehow, there is a wide gulf between those two right now.

I have reluctantly set aside the partially completed Shetland Lace Socks, the completely not begun Frankensocks, and the I-have-no-idea-how-the-Panda-Wool-yarn-for-these-socks-slipped-in-with-my-Crystal-Palace-order Hearts & Shamrock socks.

(I also set aside the BSJ plans

and Silly Bunny, as I am now quite ex with the ex-b'friend and apparently family would feel awkward receiving gifts. Oh well, I'll save them for others.)

And I must say, bistickually crafty me feels quite virtuous for having set aside the socks-for-me projects, as 'tis the season of To Do Lists.

And what do I have to do?

Eight Snow Zombies to finish. (Though most of them can be finished while the Things are away at their dad’s this Christmas.) Particularly must try to finish the snow zombies for Carolina and for my dad—I think I have figured out how to make him a wee John Deere hat and felted snow shovel—as those must be mailed.

Red Hat Bag and Hat. My mother is a Red Hatter. Not the benign, quiet type of Red Hatter who trots out once in awhile for tea served in a delicate china cup and a few dainty lemon pastries. Nope, my mom and her friends are still party girls, and she was able to customize her request for party gear. That made us both happy; she, because she will be getting exactly what she wants, and I, because I will be knitting something that I have no doubt the recipient wants.

Socks for Dad. Because my dad is the sort of person who needs warm socks.

Snowflake Shawl. Again for Carolina. I’m taking a pattern from Heirloom Afghans to Knit & Crochet and crocheting it with not-quite-lace weight but technically Lion Brand Superfine LB 1878. I’m crossing my fingers I can jam it into the mailer (there are very specific mailer size limitations). I’m completely winging it—just using the blanket pattern and tweaking as I go to make it shawl shaped. I hope it turns out nicely.

A train decorated hat, mitten and scarf set. This needs to be lined

not to mention it needs duplicate stitched trains on the mittens. And I need to make the matching scarf, which will be blue on one side and red on the other. Must finish before Thing Four outgrows both coat that these things match and any interest in trains.

Ditto. Also must make a gray and orange striped hat and scarf to match Thing Three's coat (Lesson has been learned with hats and this type of yarn, though. Thing is getting a double knit hat. No more lining of hats for Mom.)

One more Marie Mayhew. And, last but not least, I'm following the German tradition that a nest in a Christmas tree brings luck to the family. Better definitely get my luck done.

Yes, yes, not a big list, but I won’t win any competitions for speed knitting and crocheting here, you know? In fact, if there were a speed limit for knitters and crocheters, I’m the one that would get pulled over and ticketed for going 20 mph under.

The fun of knitting things for others is unparalleled, though somewhat dampened by the knowledge that everyone is going to be getting this stuff slightly to seriously late.

C'est la vie.

The Want To Do List? (i.e. the list in which I get in quickly over my head.)

This shawl. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. I have been in love with this shawl for ages. And Halcyon Yarns in Maine carries the fiber. (Unfortunately, the yarn price has not been in love with me. Ah well.)

This blanket, Babette, which got me completely hooked on Interweave Crochet. (Um, pun mostly not intended.) It, if I remember correctly, has the same yarn price non-love issues with me as the shawl. Though in fairness to both projects, they're not that pricey. I'm just a single mom with four Things, is all.

Winter Twilight Mitts using this yarn

Thing Two and I are going to knit a pair each, one using black for the background color, the other using the wild multi for background. They may turn out totally bizarre and un-wearable, but we are going to have some seriously fun knit nights.

Waves of Grain, because I want to learn how to knit with beads and I think I could do enough repeats to make it a smallish shawl.

The Dollar and a Half cardigan by Veronik Avery. If this is way above my level, shhhh. Don’t tell me. I am operating under the premise that knitting is composed of two stitches, and having mastered those two stitches, I can therefore learn to do just about anything. Please do not disturb my delusions. Thank you.

(Oh, and I just glanced at the skill level when I added the link! Easy!!! Bwa ha ha ha, I am so there!)

Gromit.

(Gromit is the patron saint of all knitting, Canine SAR volunteer wannabes, I'm telling you.)

And last but not least, it would be seriously cool to do The Rockin' Sock Club. It's the ultimate sock knitting adventure (well, one of them, anyway).

Maybe in 2010...

...and Night (and Yet Another Day) of the Felted Snow Zombies

It was the experiment’s fault. Remember, I ran out of Trendsetter Aura and had to make due with Berroco Sparkle Bright to finish the last sparkly snow zombie, which led me to the huge error of creating a whole new snow zombie from the Berroco just for fun.

Fun. I should have known.

Berroco came out looking like an abominable snow zombie, and everyone knows abominable snow zombies have more will-power than regular snow zombies, even snow zombies that like that sparkly look. I distrusted him from the word go.





He was the one. He did it. (And I have my suspicions about the 1/3 Berroco-headed sidekick I saw him hanging out with as well.)

The snow zombies revolted, and it was a scene that haunts me still.



(See?! See the haunting snow zombies on the march? See?! All that’s missing is a city in flames.)

The little suckers would not felt completely in four washes for anything. At first, I blamed the slower felt time on things like the fact that the washer in the house that I rent had a hot/cold choice rather than a hot/warm option. This, I reasoned, might make the fabric a bit less happy about bonding. Then there was the added novelty yarns—maybe that had something to do with it as well?

Still, even the plain vanilla snow zombies took a bit longer. So I threw them in the wash, again. And again. And again. On and off over the next day or so.

They had lots of in the washer down time while I did things like run errands and work. Leaving them alone like that to plot was a major tactical error on my part. I’m sure they had a code of knocks they used to communicate from bag to bag. (The Things reported hearing muffled thumps coming from the direction of the laundry.)

I, however, preserved. I am, after all, the snow zombie voodooiene and no upstart Berroco abominable snow zombie was going to get the best of me.

The plain vanillas were the first to capitulate to my you-will-felt-now-or-else spells. I chuckled, low and gleeful, rinsed them, stuffed them full of fiberfill and left them on the hearth to dry. And then, tired of their top secret code knocking (and worried that they would leave dents in the landlady’s washer), I stuffed the remaining snow zombies into one zippered pillowcase and tossed them back into the deeps of the washer.

One pillowcase, seven snow zombies.



Amazing what a little additional agitation does for felting, isn’t it?

(For those of you who are wondering, why, if I was throwing a shoe in with the bagged snow zombies—only two zombies per case—I was worried that putting multiple snow zombies in one bag would create a stuck together mess, when clearly one shoe could cause two snow zombies to adhere to each other as easily as it could four, or six, or eight, I point you to a specific word in the heading of my blog. It’s the one that begins with an N and ends with an O.V.I.C.E.)

Idiocy of self aside, I still had my revenge on Berroco and his side-kick for their plotting against me (it still must have been a factor—had to have been).



They are now just regular sparkly snow zombies.

(I love scissors. Scissors are my new voodoo tool of choice.)

Day of the Felted Snow Zombies

After days of knitting (well, in between things like work and making dinners and doing laundry and cleaning house and driving kids places), I began to feel like some sort of weird voodooiene. I was creating, it seemed, an entire band of mindless followers, all of whom could do my bidding (thus getting me clear of the entire list of things that interrupt my knitting time).

Yes, it had happened. At long last, my little village of hapless snow zombies was complete. They were all there, the plain vanilla woollens, the sparkly Trendsetter Aura ones with the jazzy look all the new snow zombies are wanting (they were very much for breaking the poor hygiene and no fashion sense stereotypes, that group) and one poor mongrel snow zombie who had to had to have the top 1/3 of its head covered in Berroco Sizzle Bright because nowhere, absolutely nowhere, had Aura by Trendsetter and I was on a finish-the-snow-zombies-now-or-else quest, so I was not willing to wait for mail order.

So what did this hurry up and get done mindset get me? One more snow zombie, because I was curious what an entire one would look like in Sizzle Bright.

(I'll find somebody to give it to...)

So, the seeds of zombification were sewn, but the final spells had to be performed.

We bagged them in the magical zip pillowcases

(Please note the lovely bracelet created by Thing 2. She whined and bugged me until I agreed to mention it.)

and tucked into the washer our most secret, esoteric ingredient

the Shoe of Agitation.

We set the load on small, squirted soap into hot water and tumbled all ten of them in.

And then we left to go do other things.

Zombification takes time, after all.