Katmoget

Nary an entry for the month of March. Bad blogger. Meh.

Why? I've been hitting the needles pretty hard, and tiny ones too.

Size ones. This from a woman who swore she'd never go below a size 4.

I'm almost done, and pictures will be posted in the fullness of time. Once my hands stop cramping.

To quell the shooting pains of RSI, I decided to apply a little lanolin and wool.



Meet Norton Bucket. Bottle lamb extrordinaire.

The smallest of triplets (he was 3 1/2 pounds compared to his 7 pound siblings), he wasn't thriving with his mother. Now at 2 weeks, he's a whopping 5 pounds.

Wally and Rupert were pleasantly surprised to seem him walk by their enclosure and have had a supervised visit already.

I think he's enjoyed his first twenty-four hours here. Don't you?



I just need to convince him that breakfast is not served at 4 am.

It's happened again. Another intolerably long absence with little to show for it.

I'll distract you with pictures in a moment.

I have semi-vowed to not buy any new clothing for a period of time a la Wardrobe Refashion. But I never did agree with myself how long that would be. Frankly, it hasn't been a hardship - clothes shopping is pretty low on my list to begin with.

Along with this un-shopping spree I've decided to re-open my life to skirts and dresses. This is a huge leap for a woman who's everyday wardrobe consists mainly of abused Levi's 501 jeans, old t-shirts and vast amounts of dog hair.

So I broke out the old Huqsvarna Rose and came up with this:
Butterick 3134 view B.



Here's a detail of the panel:


I saw the dragon fabric and desperately needed to own some. More grey dragons will likely appear somewhere else in my wardrobe.

I also cranked out this:

A four panel skirt of my own design:


Note the bias cut side panels:


And it's even lined. I feel like such a seamstress.
A vintage housedress is on the cutting table next. If I can get the cats to roost somewhere else.

When I decided to start this blog I swore on Knitting without Tears vowed promised myself vainly hoped that I wouldn't be one of those bloggers who wrote relatively consistently than completely disappeared for weeks on end.

Oh well.

Very little of interest has occured during my hiatus. (Okay, one thing. But you'll have to wait.)

My Mac remains in a state of working unrestored-ness.

I bought a new truck. Her name is Mama Bear. Pictures forthcoming.

I sewed a couple of skirts. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed sewing. Sew So much sewso I've decided to sew myself a new wardrobe. Or try really hard. (I'm only partially sorry about the sew/so thing. It was just crying out to be done.)

I knitted baby booties and a hat for a friend's newborn. As I'm not in the habit of taking finished object photos, you'll have to use your imagination. Imagine booties and a hat in a variegated rainbow superwash. They were both itty-bitty and cutie-patootie.

We took a 48 hour whirlwind drive to Cincinnati. While we were there, Curly-Top touched a shark at the Newport Aquarium.

And last week Pfeffer ate two of these:

Silicone baking cups. This was not a good thing. At. All.

Today, the good folks at Veterinary Specialty Hospital of the Carolinas removed them with an endoscope.

Wanna see? [NB: An actual picture of the actual inside of my dog's stomach. Baking cups and all.]

What a way to start a new year, isn't it?

Just imagine Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" playing softly in the background.

Twelfth night has passed. The Holidays are officially over. And I am well and truly exhausted.

Why?

We've had the in-laws and the out-laws, in one form or another, in our house for the last two weeks.

That's fourteen days of visitors. (Okay, thirteen. We had one full day off.)

But my tale of woe gets better. (Or worse.)

My beloved original flat panel iMac, Ralphie, languishes on the desk upstairs hating his upgrade to Tiger. Yes, I know Leopard is out. I'm not the up-to-date geek I once was. (And yes, I think the crashing of my computer is a greater trial and ordeal than nearly two weeks of visitors. I am still a that much of geek.)

It gets more woeful than that.

Two days after Christmas, my beloved truck, my Bianca, gave her life and airbags to keep me safe.




Both airbags deployed, the frame was bent, the engine was moved off its mounts, the left front tire was nearly removed from the front axle, and the right rear tire was popped off the rim.

My sister-in-law and I were exceptionally fortunate. (As was the driver of the the car that caused the accident). We all walked away shaken, upset and bruised.

Way to end the year with a bang, eh?

Here's to hoping that 2008 is a safe, restful year for all of us.

May the Hogfather grant you and yours a Happy Hogswatch.

Don't forget to leave out a sherry and pork pie for the fat man himself and some greens for Gouger, Rooter, Tusker and Snouter.

And for those of you who don't live on the Discworld Happy Solstice.

In this season of Conspicuous Consumption, many people (myself included) choose to shop for gifts, send holiday cards, attend and host parties, and decorate the family home with vast amounts of lights and dog-hair collecting geegaws. All of these things can produce masssive angst mild to moderate insanity a wee bit of stress.

(You'll notice I did not mention holiday gift knitting. That is a different sort of insanity. And one I'm not participating in this year. There is that one gift. It should be a quick knit. I have how many days? Remember, math ain't my strong suit.)

So, in order to survive (and not wanting to turn to controlled substances), I have invented a new, non-traditional cocktail of sorts.

I call it: Shetland on the Rocks.


The recipe:
Place young sheep in pen with rocks. Watch sheep frolic on rocks. Listen to happy bleating. Inhale lanolin and fiber fumes. Repeat as needed.

It's even better with an eggnog in hand. Leaded or unleaded? You decide.

Last Friday my spinning guild got together for our Annual Fiber Swap at Wolfhoundgirl's lovely home.

Purling Plans, PSSO, Fresh Groundknits, Blogless S, K (also known as Leigh) and I spent quality time chatting, knitting and gorging lightly snacking as we waited our turn to dive into and grab patiently choose items that we hovered over like vultures spotted.

Last year my number was in the high forties. Out of fifty. Crap.

Ever the true friend, PSSO offered to switch numbers with me this year should she draw lower than I.

As a result, I was became 11 of 30ish and she 15.

I scored a bounty of fabulous things:


Sadly, this would not stop wiggling enough to fit into my bag.

Darn.

As a result of a recent Household Holiday and a burning desire to make and re-make my own clothing, I was gifted this:



A Unique You dress form. [NB: Uniquely You does not have a presence on the Intarwebnets but you can find their products on many retail sewing sites]

Unlike most mass-produced dress forms, there are no adjustable dials to change the form's size. Instead, you alter the cover to fit your own body and zip it on. The poly-foam compresses and the headless wonder is your doppelganger.

I really hope it does compress the 10-30% the manufacturer claims. Why?

I know I'm not svelte or petite. I'm pretty happy with my curves and admit that some could be reduced.

But in no way are any of them shaped like this:



Nurse Diesel and Madonna just don't share my sense of style.

After all those mittens, I needed a quick and easy project.

Two skeins of Skacel Posh, some size 17 needles, and an evening's work produced this:


A Muppet pelt. (No actual muppets were injured.) It is warm. It is fabulously soft. And Curly-Top loves it.

It kept him warm and stylish as he stalked and "photographed" those elusive creatures, The Greater North American Christmas Flamingos.


Ever the young photojournalist, and blogger-in-training, Curly-Top insisted that he take my picture and I his.


He then announced that when he was eight and as big as me, he would knit a scarf and take pictures of it.

Clearly, I am doing my job as a 21st century parent and raising a proto-blogger.

First, they feast:


Then they frolic: