Saturday night in LumayLand was a cleaning frenzy. Joe attended to the refrigerator and behind the stove, while I tended to and further tamed my stash. Patterns were tossed, yarn was sold, and everything was documented on spreadsheets. At this point, the bulk of my stash is yarn bought with particular patterns in mind, which should make it all the more compelling to join Knit From Your Stash 2007.

Because I am neither a sock knitter nor spinner, I may alter the rules to give me some flexibility. Stephanie is giving herself an additional "get out of jail free card" and La is committing to six months (rather than nine) and expanding her rules to allow for souvenir/vacation yarn and knit-along yarn purchases.

I took a trip to Pawling yesterday, and I purchased one skein (with a store credit) of Noro Silk Garden for a pair of Yoga Socks.

Which prompts the question: If there is no heel or toe, then is it a sock?

Unlike Jillian, I head into 2007 with quite a few objects on the needles.

• CeCe -- revisit on the Vernal Equinox
• Tubey -- nixing the charcoal and ripping
• Twisty Turns -- no comment
  
• Aurora Cap-Sleeves Raglan Top -- knitting circle knitting project
• Bella -- television knitting project
• Yoga Socks -- lunchtime knitting project

Happy New Year!

Time off has not translated into much knitting time. It is not that my schedule is so busy that I do not have the time to knit; rather I have been keeping myself busy with cooking, reading and yoga.

It is very difficult for me to relax and do nothing. When I have time off, I always feel as if I need to be doing something, going somewhere otherwise the time off is wasted. I felt this way when I lived in Manhattan, although it was not a sharp. Here, I am keenly aware of the fact that there is just not as much to occupy me.

Bella occupied me for a few hours last evening, and I finished the back without running out of the mustard yarn. The brick is the main color, which will be used for the Garter edging on the armholes and the slouchy turtle-cum-cowl neck. I shortened the body length (from cast on edge to armhole shaping) by 6", thereby saving myself precious time and precious yarn. My two stash hanks of mustard Cashmerino Aran should be enough to finish the project.

The color combination is very pleasing, and it will be a functional addition to my wardrobe. However, I am not sure of the bottom edge. The pattern is 5 rows of Stockinette and 3 rows of Garter before starting the stripes in Reverse Stockinette. I like the way it is rolling, but I fear it will create too much bulk. After it is seamed, I may well to rip it and rework it in Garter to match the armhole finishing.

One of the perks of my job is a generous amount of paid time off at year end. Thursday the 21st was my last day, and I am not back to the office until January 2nd. This much time off is fantastic, but it is imperative to schedule some activities to ward off boredom. Knowing someone with the same schedule is a bonus.

My knit-blogging alter ego, Nancy, and I decided that a mid-week, mid-way meet-up was in order. We agreed to meet in Katonah to grab some coffee, do a bit of chatting and knitting and check out Katonah Yarn.

I was more frightened at the prospect of navigating Route 684 into Westchester than I was about meeting a "stranger". At this point, are there any strangers within the knitting/blogging community? In fact Nancy and I blabbed so much -- and knitting was barely touched upon! -- that she missed her 4:26 train. I was rather jittery about driving in rush hour traffic, but the traffic was so thick that 45mph proved to be the maximum speed.

This time, I did mull over yarn, but I did not drive back a few hours later to buy what I passed up. Although, tomorrow is another day...

Last week at the chiropractor's office, I came a across a very interesting article in the October issue of Vogue. The article was one of a series on "going green", and the article on the greening of the beauty industry was of particular interest. I had some knowledge about the increasing concern on the possible links between beauty (and household cleaning) products and breast cancer. One recent study examined environmental risks and breast cancer.

I am not an alarmist, but giving up gluten has opened my eyes to the amount of "stuff" that is in just about everything we breathe, wear and eat. Supposedly, Jack LaLanne once said in an interview, "If man makes it, I don't eat it".

But is what I am putting on my body as important as what I put in it? If you believe in osmosis and absorption, it may well be. So, I spent a few hours today giving my beauty items the once-over. Within 30 minutes, I had quite a collection of products, including some "natural" products.

The ingredients in Kiss My Face Moisture Shave include Methylparaben and Propylparaben. Yes, the "obsessively natural" company is peddling parabens. Having worked in the cosmetic industry, I realize that truly natural products must be whipped up in a kitchen, refrigerated and thrown out after 3-7 days. Even the "natural" products sold have a shelf-life, and shelf-life requires stabilizers and preservatives.

One of my favorite face washes contains hydrolyzed wheat protein (gluten), which might pose a serious problem if I were suffering from Celiac Disease and not just intolerance to ingested gluten. So, it might not be just what you are eating that affects you.

The most ironic part of the potential hazards of beauty products is that many companies in the beauty industry sell these very products to raise money for breast cancer awareness! The Worsted Witch has called this out previously, but perhaps, it is time to Think Before You Pink.

I am a long way from my Catholic beginnings, but I am bewildered by both sides of the "Christ out of Christmas" debate. Having worked in retail, I can tell you that there never was a Christ in Christmas at Corporate Headquarters. In fact, discounts, store gift certificates and the almighty Black Friday are the holy trinity of retail.

There are logical points on both sides of the issue, with a near equal amount of snark and judgment as logic. I am as irritated by Atheist snark as I am by Christian snark. I find nothing offensive about the baby Jesus in a manger. I find nothing offensive about the Menorah. Maybe it is because I value the religious freedom we (should) have, but I find nothing offensive about any imagery, religious or non-religious -- including the complete lack of it.

Frankly, I find a $20 million Christmas bonus offensive. I find it offensive that we want to bicker about a figurine of a child when real children are starving in the world.

Icons and imagery are all very nice, but it seems they too often obscure the very idea they are meant to embody. But beneath the manger, the Menorah, the Pentacle, the Santa and the snowman we share very common threads.

I have been touched and inspired by bloggers who sit quite squarely in opposition to many of my deeply-held beliefs. We may touch on those issues from time to time, but I'm not sending, nor am I receiving, hurtful missives about being "wrong". I may smirk when I read a particular post, and I may be on the list of souls for which to pray; but in the end, we see the interests and beliefs that unite us. These friendships were formed because of the open minds and open hearts on both sides.

This season should inspire us to action now -- and throughout the year -- to walk the earth with an open mind and an open heart. To live a life that is one of simplicity, compassion and authenticity. How miraculous!

As everyone knows, sustaining a muscular injury can be debilitating and limiting. You must care for the muscle, but you must also be certain to keep it flexible and strong. My regime for battling back from my terrible triceps brachii at the hands of the evil Angela Lansbury has included chiropractic, massage, yoga and light weight work.

Today, I tested my triceps brachii's strength and endurance with a bit of heavy lifting cream. Inspired by Marie's post on making butter, I decided to give it a go.

Because I am utterly lacking in the domestic arts, I was forced to use a plastic container, rather than glass, for shaking. This gluten-free gal owns a bread machine, but our kitchen lacks a simple glass jar! The plastic worked fine, however, I suspect that one gets a smoother "lump" from glass.

Butter!

I am so thoroughly tickled. I made butter! It is not complicated, but that is the amazing part. Making butter is so simple and so satisfying that it seems rather silly to buy it.

The workers at my local library must wonder what sort of self-help, diet and fitness junkie I am. Perusing my lending sheet must give them a good giggle when the same old me saunters in week after week to borrow these books of transformation.

The fact is that I know that proper sleep, proper diet and exercise are the keys to good health, weight loss, and a better quality of life. However, I find it quite motivating to learn more about fitness and nutrition, particularly as it relates to aging. The three-day diets and deafening Step Aerobics classes are of precious little interest to me now, and I thinking about a fitness regime for life -- one that will serve me through my Golden Years.

Upon learning that Angela Lansbury had written, Positive Moves, in response to hundred of fan letters wondering how she maintained her figure and her grace, I made my way posthaste to the library. The moves are focused on stretching and easy movement to keep the joints and muscles flexible and limber. Clearly, less than I needed, but incorporating more stretching and "loosening" moves into my life could not hurt. Or so I thought.

I managed to pull my right triceps muscle whilst doing some Zoom-like arm circles. That was at the start of October, and I am still in pain.

The only thing that hurts more than my triceps is my pride. What kind of out-of-shape forty year old woman sustains an injury doing a warm-up written by freaking Jessica Fletcher?

Am I wrong, or have I been in a funk since May or June of this year? One can expect to feel a bit introspective around a birthday or the year's end, but this is getting ridiculous. My Gemini wings are getting restless. My love, my life and my job are good, but there is an itch, a desire for...more.

Thus, I have been losing sleep as I ponder the usual questions about the meaning of life, my direction in life and why I am not a trust fund baby. I awoke around 4:00 a.m., and I was unable to stop my mind from trampolining. At 6:20 a.m., I abandoned the goose chase for the elusive Mr. Sandman, and I arose and responded to a strange craving for zucchini and egg. My maternal grandmother is famous for her concoctions of peppers & eggs, tomatoes & eggs, chard & eggs, dandelion greens & eggs, and maybe I just needed to feel a bit of home comfort today.

Breakfast was a simple dish of grated zucchini and spring onion bound together with one egg white. I topped the dish with a helping of gomosio [sic] (should be gomasio, I believe) from a local herbalist and some shavings of an aged goat's milk cheese from The Cheese Plate in New Paltz. Sadly, the name of the cheese and the artisanal cheese maker are lost with the original wrapping from the store.

If I am already feeling the Winter Blues and Cabin Fever in December, what the hell should I expect in February? Do people still run off and join the circus?

Is it human nature or social conditioning that makes us desire that which we cannot have? Knowing that I should not eat certain foods generally does not bother me, but it does make them more attractive at times. In spite of what I am forced to give up, my decision to eat gluten free was an easy one. Eating a meal and not feeling discomfort for hours was wonderful. I had not felt well for so long that the stomach issues seems to be a part of me. I ignored them and learned to live with them.

Unlike many, I am not vigilant about cross-contamination (a toast crumb on the butter) because it is does not fully "register" with my body. I am merely gluten intolerant or gluten sensitive.

While the random crumb may not send me into the gripes of illness, all-out wanton consumption of gluten will. With full knowledge that I was about to commit calorie, saturated fat and gluten sins, I dove face-first into a plate of Garlic String Beans and some Sweet & Sour Shrimp last night.

This morning, I awoke (after a night of little sleep and lots of stomach pain) face down in my pillow still reeling from the effects of that mischievous little protein chain.

I have paid Peach Detox Tea Penance, and if I can haul my glutened glutes to the store, I think Stephanie's Antidote Soup (minus the pasta!) may be on the menu. Actually, the vegetables may be more than my stomach can handle. Perhaps I should stick to Contrition Consommé.

If anything feels like punishment, it is a garment knit in double moss stitch. The Karabella Raglan Cap-Sleeves Top is dragging along. I finished the back this morning, and I am dreading the tubular cast on for the front. In truth, it is not the cast on that I am dreading, but rather the miles of double moss that stand between me and a finished project. Notice that the sleeves have a raglan shaping but the armscye is not raglan, which will result in the small headache of fitting a triangle into an arc. I hunted around to see if other bloggers had any tips on the seaming, but I only found Lauren, who like me, was lamenting all of that double moss. At least I am in good company!

My love of the unclad leg borders on silly. As the rest of New York State embraced tights, socks and trousers, I held firmly to my credo that tights are for cold weather. Cold weather is heralded by snow.

After a glorious flirtation with spring weather at the start of the month, the chill of last Friday was shocking. Friday morning greeted me with a smattering of collected snow dust and a most vicious blowing of winds.

I had not bothered to check the weather the prior night, so I was wholly unprepared for the day ahead. My boss decided that we needed to run some work-related errands Friday afternoon. Poor me without tights, gloves or a hat. My ears were so cold that I was fighting back involuntary tears.

My freezing legs could have endured the blustery winds if it were not for the lack of gloves and hat. Really, I could have held out longer! After all, the weather has been a bit warmer these past few days, and yesterday's weather was certainly more bearable than Friday’s. However, I thought it prudent to wear tights with my wrap-around corduroy skirt (REI-approved, no doubt) for hiking Lake Minnewaska with Joe. I brought gloves and a Panta for the trip as well.

The more temperate-by-comparison weather continues, but I have given in. I have grown soft in my old age.

At a balmy 49°F/9°C, I have given in and succumbed to peer pressure -- I am wearing tights. Tights are the ultimate admission that bad weather is upon us. I never wear trousers, so tights are the official marker in Lumayland of a long, cold season.


At least I can still wear proper shoes. Yes, the tights are maddening, but the donning of snow boots is utterly depressing.

Throughout my working life I (as Spooky Girl) have always been a bit sneery towards coworkers who were consumed by the lexicon of work days: Manic Monday, Hump Day, Over the Hump Day, ad nauseum. Poor Tuesday! Tuesday is just Tuesday, often mistaken for Wednesday, but thankfully not Monday.

And with a healthy dose of self-mockery, I present to you, this fine TGIF my Finally Fully Finished Rhinebeck Weekend.

Pattern: Weekend by Ivete Tecedor/Chiagu
Cast on: 17 October 2006 (with the delusion that I would wear it to the NYS Sheep & Wool Festival that weekend). Tubular 2x2 cast on.
Cast off: 5 December 2006
Yarn: Karabella Aurora Bulky, as per the pattern
Size: 36" size, calling for 13 balls of yarn, but I used 14
Modifications: Shorter body and sleeve length. Cast on the final increase number for the sleeves and knit straight until the double cable raglan decreases.


In spite of a well-written pattern and being a rather easy, I pro-cras-tin-ated such that the mighty knitting forces nearly took the project away from me with a yarn shortage scare.

I mangled the neck and collar area, resulting in the wider 1950s feel that I wanted but was too lazy to do the calculations and such to obtain it. Alas, the mighty knitting forces rewarded me for tending to this project without further delay. This was completely unintentional, but I am pleased with the result. I still need to block it and find that one Joe-confounding button!

Now get back to work!

Whenever I finish a knitting project, I model it for myself and then model it for Joe. Joe is neither a knitter nor a fashionista, but he has to look at me. I want his input. I am slowly realizing that this is a bad idea. The reaction (scroll to bottom) is never really "right".

I want the truth, but more than that, I want what every knitter wants: praise.
I want his face alight with the wonder that this creative knitting force shares his life. I want his eyes ablaze with passion for me and my hand knits. Instead, I get the blank stare, quickly followed by the squinchy face and furrowed brow.

ME: Oh, it isn't finished. I still need to make the button loop and add the button.
JOE: *squinchy face*
ME: Joe? It still needs a button.
JOE: What about the other buttons?
ME: There are no other buttons. Just the one at the top.
JOE: I come from a cold place where clothing is functional. I don't understand a sweater that would hang open like that. I want warmth. I want buttons.
ME: It's warm, but it's also fashion.
JOE: Well, I don't get it. But then, I don't get a lot of what you knit. Most of it doesn't "grab" me.
ME: *contemplating murder* My next project is latex thigh-high boots.
JOE: *raises head with rapt interest*

This is a man who has surprised me at knitting with my beloved Starbucks Tall Soy Latte -- not once, but twice. And one of those was a very dark and stormy night. How alarming to learn that inside this wonderful, thoughtful, sweet and sensitive man lurks...
a man.

No matter how evolved and aware, it seems the most interesting fashion to men is black boots and a birthday suit.

I love my mother but she has a few food habits that send me reeling. She loves wings. Not Spicy Buffalo Wings, mind you. No, she likes to munch on crispy skin, cartilage (aka "the gristle") and all of those fatty, jointy bits of wings and legs.

This gristle chewing makes the former vegetarian in me go weak with nausea. Several years ago, I mortified my mother by asking, rather loudly I will admit, at my cousin's wedding, "Hey mum, do you want my scraps?".

Well, last night, it was I who was digging around for scraps. Yarn scraps. Karabella Aurora Bulky color #13 yarn scraps, to be exact. Even if I could squeeze 2 inches from that small pile, I lack the fortitude to weave in that many ends. Basically, this is a spanking from the Knitting Goddess for procrastinating on this project. A big Universal Ass Spanking!

I never fully understood that saying all's well that ends well until today. Yarn Central had another ball -- same color, same dye lot. Initially, I was prepared to wait until Thursday to pick up the yarn and finish at knitting group, but I was not home for more than thirty minutes when I was possessed by a fierce longing to finish that blasted sweater. Forty minutes later, I was plopped on the couch, library video in the DVD player and Weekend in hand.

Last night's feature was Ginger and Cinnamon, an Italian movie enjoyed mostly for the language and the scenery of Greece. The final scene between the Stefania and her boyfriend is one of those classic Italian film moments that makes you wonder what goes on in the offices of Cinecitta.

Model shots of Rhinebeck Weekend forthcoming.

The Weekend Comes To A Close

If the 2006 Knitting Olympics did not prove that knitting is a team sport, I must add Thursday night's knitting group to the argument. That evening was a fine example of pulling together and making individual projects a team effort.

I had seaming to finish on Rhinebeck Weekend, and Anneliese had a baby sweater to finish and a hat to start and finish before 9:00am Friday. Originally, the shower was scheduled for mid-December, but the shower was moved to accommodate the fact that the pregnancy will be induced early this week.

As usual, I would rather knit than seam, so I took over the baby hat knitting, and Theresa took on the task of seaming and weaving in the end on Weekend. Anneliese finished her baby sweater and started on a baby blanket with a due date of Tuesday, December 5th. Given the time constraint, we suggested a simple "washcloth" type blanket, but Anneliese fears knitting boredom more than a deadline, so she opted for a mitered square throw. Ambitious!

With mere hours to go before the end of this weekend, my Weekend is still in need of a collar. I picked up the stitches last evening during Bee Season, but ended up with two more stitches than the pattern instructed, which turned out to be two less stitches than I need to keep the ribbing correct. I ripped out the stitches and settled into the movie.

While we lack definitive plans for the rest of the day, Joe and I are keen to spend some of the time outside, walking in nature. There is a bit of food shopping to be done, as well as dinner to be made. With the aid of watching a few hours of my favorite Belgian detective, I hope to finish the neck of Weekend tonight. I have procrastinated and drawn out the finishing for far too long.

Even if I do finish the neck tonight, I still have not found the proper button. And a project without the proper button is hardly a finished object.