I know someone who knows someone. You know how that is? Well, the someone that my someone knows holds a very special accolade.
Every year, my someone tells me, there is nothing less than a Beanie Festival in the unlikely location of Alice Springs, Australia. And the someone that my someone knows attends the festival. And that someone, during that festival, smashed into a cocked hat the world record for the fastest crocheted beanie.
The previous world record stood at around 13 minutes. This someone has now set the bar at nine minutes and 48 seconds.
That's a fast beanie.
Anyway, I'm proud to say that the someone-who-knows-someone chain now works the other way. You see, the world record beanie crocheter now knows someone who knows someone (ie, me). And the someone that she knows (ie, me) has achieved an accolade. Though I did not need to attend a sock-knitting festival in the Bungle-Bungles to determine it, I am officially: the world's slowest sock-knitter.
Oh lord, this sock!! First, out of the sizing options (small, med, large, x-large) I chose large, figuring that I tend to knit a bit tight, and if they're still too big I can just wear them over another pair of socks. Well, I don't know what x-large looks like, but this is one monster big sock.
Second, I might be a bit quicker if I did not drop three stitches out of every four. Learnt the hard way: buy bamboo needles, not metal ones. Teeny tiny slippy slidey metal needles, that slip-slide right out of your piddly-tiddly stitches if you breathe on them.
It's a slow sock. Don't hold your breath.
Friday, 29 December 2006
Sunday, 24 December 2006
Dear Bookbuyers
It's Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah and Solstice, and the perfect gift for every child in your life - your own, your friend's, your sister-in-law's cousins - is a book. Good choice. Children need books. They can't break them on Christmas morning. A few pointers to improve your bookbuying experience:
1. If you've left it till today, you're not getting anything as specific as volume #26 of the Nancy Drew series. You will have to settle for a book from the Nancy Drew series. When there are four hundred titles in a series, the chances of the bookstore having every one of them on the shelf are remote, and on Christmas Eve, nonexistent. Repeat this mantra: settle.
2. When the bookseller tactfully suggests that Captain Underpants isn't ideal for a fifteen year old, accept that they know more about kids' books than you do and follow their suggestions. Accepting that your child has grown up might be something you need to do at some point, too.
3. The bookseller doesn't know which ones in a series your child/grandchild/friend's child already has. Shouting will not help them to remember.
4. It helps booksellers if you know how old the child is. Somewhere between five and thirteen is slightly too vague.
5. Yes, you can get a copy of Eragon cheaper at Costco. Welcome to the term loss-leader. They sell books cheaper than a Kleenex. However, after you've driven all the way across the city to get there, and your car now contains a copy of Eragon and $250 worth of groceries, including four litres of ketchup that you "know you'll use", you may realise that the book wasn't quite so much cheaper after all.
6. Sadly, the chances of the book that was your absolute favourite as a child being still in print and available for you to get your grandchild, are slim. The chances are slimmer when you can only remember that the book cover was blue and the story was about a bear, or possibly a cat, who had a balloon, or possibly an ice-cream.
7. If all else fails, look for Ukrainian roots in your family. Then it won't be Christmas till January 6th.
And by then the bookstore might just have a copy of Nancy Drew #26.
Happy Holidays.
1. If you've left it till today, you're not getting anything as specific as volume #26 of the Nancy Drew series. You will have to settle for a book from the Nancy Drew series. When there are four hundred titles in a series, the chances of the bookstore having every one of them on the shelf are remote, and on Christmas Eve, nonexistent. Repeat this mantra: settle.
2. When the bookseller tactfully suggests that Captain Underpants isn't ideal for a fifteen year old, accept that they know more about kids' books than you do and follow their suggestions. Accepting that your child has grown up might be something you need to do at some point, too.
3. The bookseller doesn't know which ones in a series your child/grandchild/friend's child already has. Shouting will not help them to remember.
4. It helps booksellers if you know how old the child is. Somewhere between five and thirteen is slightly too vague.
5. Yes, you can get a copy of Eragon cheaper at Costco. Welcome to the term loss-leader. They sell books cheaper than a Kleenex. However, after you've driven all the way across the city to get there, and your car now contains a copy of Eragon and $250 worth of groceries, including four litres of ketchup that you "know you'll use", you may realise that the book wasn't quite so much cheaper after all.
6. Sadly, the chances of the book that was your absolute favourite as a child being still in print and available for you to get your grandchild, are slim. The chances are slimmer when you can only remember that the book cover was blue and the story was about a bear, or possibly a cat, who had a balloon, or possibly an ice-cream.
7. If all else fails, look for Ukrainian roots in your family. Then it won't be Christmas till January 6th.
And by then the bookstore might just have a copy of Nancy Drew #26.
Happy Holidays.
Tuesday, 19 December 2006
one part cordial to ten parts water
It just seems to me that, since he's carrying a sheep in one hand and everything, this Santa character might know a thing or two about knitting. Anyway, in this picture he's modelling What You Need To Knit Socks. Look at that. Piddly little teeny thin needles. And there's FOUR of them. This is going to take me forever. 
Speaking of knitting, have a look at www.yarnharlot.ca/blog
There's a very nice entry on the winter season with a nifty means of donating to medecins sans frontieres.
The very low sun shining directly on the screen so I can't see what I'm writing, reminds me that we are approaching Long Night (and the moment at which we can all start saying "the nights are drawing out now; soon be summer" except it won't, it'll still be minus 20 and snowy for three more months). It makes me miss the misty, moisty Midlands midwinter. (do you see what I did there?) Other English Christmas things that it's hard to be without: the double issue of the Radio Times; sparkly London looking its best; people knowing what mulled wine is; the proliferation of "European markets" in town centres selling hot caramel peanuts and vaguely Scandinavian-looking crafts; mud; the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols on Radio 4 even though you aren't religious; The Snowman on tv.
One English winter tradition that I HAVE managed to replicate here, and I am almost weeping with gratitude, is Warm Ribena. Unbelievably, our Canadian superstore has dusty bottles of Ribena on the shelves (who here would know what you do with it?) They come in at nearly ten bucks a pop, but ahhhhh...the joy of warm Ribena after three years is hard to beat.
It's the little things. On to the socks.
Speaking of knitting, have a look at www.yarnharlot.ca/blog
There's a very nice entry on the winter season with a nifty means of donating to medecins sans frontieres.
The very low sun shining directly on the screen so I can't see what I'm writing, reminds me that we are approaching Long Night (and the moment at which we can all start saying "the nights are drawing out now; soon be summer" except it won't, it'll still be minus 20 and snowy for three more months). It makes me miss the misty, moisty Midlands midwinter. (do you see what I did there?) Other English Christmas things that it's hard to be without: the double issue of the Radio Times; sparkly London looking its best; people knowing what mulled wine is; the proliferation of "European markets" in town centres selling hot caramel peanuts and vaguely Scandinavian-looking crafts; mud; the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols on Radio 4 even though you aren't religious; The Snowman on tv.
One English winter tradition that I HAVE managed to replicate here, and I am almost weeping with gratitude, is Warm Ribena. Unbelievably, our Canadian superstore has dusty bottles of Ribena on the shelves (who here would know what you do with it?) They come in at nearly ten bucks a pop, but ahhhhh...the joy of warm Ribena after three years is hard to beat.
It's the little things. On to the socks.
Thursday, 14 December 2006
The Bag is Back
Behold the finished-ness of the Bag.
The following features are of particular note:
1. The festiveness of the picture, in my clever incorporation of Father Christmas.
2. The colourful knitted-in-wool sides of the bag, one of which for some reason ended up slightly longer than the other. I still think I should've done the handle in this. The colourful wool is cleverly referenced in the little (just-visible) loop that goes over the button.
3. The (adequately visible) button, that comes from an old sofa.
4. The semi-visible logo on the handle. Knitting For Peace is a book that gives knitters something good to do, with addresses of nonprofit organisations that could Totally Use Your Stuff, like knitted shawls and teddy bears and socks and that. Trouble is, they are all in the USA so no use to the rest of us. So instead, while I was making this bag I also ran off a couple of 8in blanket squares. These you can donate to a local knitting shop, preferable on account of being Local and not Elsewhere, and their folks will put them together to make big blankets for them as needs 'em. I liked the logo; helps me remember there's worse things than the abject pain of knitting with tweed (though it's hard to believe). And also will indicate to the recipient of the Bag that it was a Bag made with Nice Thoughts, rather than actually being a Nice Bag, and then they can't complain about its wonkiness.
5. Santa. Did I mention? The picture's got Santa in it.
And while we're on the subject, Santa lives in Lapland. Everyone here seems to think he lives in the North Pole. What kind of rubbish is that?
Thursday, 7 December 2006
eleven inches
This eleven inches of hair is no longer attached to my head.
It's now on its way in the post to Wigs For Kids, a nonprofit that makes wigs for children who've had chemo.
Wouldn't it be weird to get hair in the mail?
It's now on its way in the post to Wigs For Kids, a nonprofit that makes wigs for children who've had chemo.
Wouldn't it be weird to get hair in the mail?
Tuesday, 5 December 2006
Come in, Number One
Something’s missing. In the thick of the holiday season, things are suspiciously quiet. See, it’s about this time of year in England that you start hearing the music publicity machine cranking and grinding into action. The battle in the singles music chart is beginning for the Holiday Number One.
For my Canadian chums: the chart is a serious business in the UK. The pre-release radio air-time given to a song makes or breaks its position. A stalwart like R.E.M will enter the chart around number eight and steadily climb to the top spot over a number of weeks; bubblegum-and-ponytail teenyboppers will flash straight in at Number One and then drop out of the public consciousness for good.
In December, though, anything goes. The British will buy just about anything for music at this time of year as long as it’s got a bit of tinsel and some bells, and preferably a TV celebrity whose singing ability is somewhat suspect.
The holiday chart offerings divide very neatly: Covers, Cash-Ins, Cliff, and Curios.
A handful of groups opt to Cover a bona fide Hit. You’ll see a boy band striving to croon themselves a rat pack image or Beyoncé vamping up “Santa Baby”. Covers always work best with an “odd couple”, as people buy it to see how perfectly good solo singers fare in weird tandem. In 2001, Nicole Kidman and Robbie Williams hit chart paydirt with Frank ‘n’ Nancy’s Something Stupid.
The Cash-Ins are released by interchangeable boy bands. These original numbers are about being “far away from you, baby, this Christmas”, to ensure a maximum teenage girl consumer base. In the videos, the bands wear huge furry parkas and have homoerotic snowball fights during the middle-eight. There are always bells (chiming, not jingle) and a soulful, rousing chorus that repeats to fade. The Cash-Ins make No.1 due to sheer pocket-money power.
In a category of his own, is the practically-unknown-to-Canada Sir Cliff Richard. Aged four hundred and seven, Cliff has been releasing records since the 1950s. His 1988 Mistletoe and Wine had the standard chiming bells and snowballs, but clinched the top spot by including Sir Cliff banging a massive gong at the key change in the rousing chorus, and a choirboy carol singer at the end. More recently, though, Cliff went off the rails a bit with his Millennium Prayer, which was the Lord’s Prayer crowbarred into the tune of Auld Lang Syne. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t clever. And it didn’t win him any friends.
A children’s TV character constitutes Curio gold; Bob the Builder topped the holiday chart in 2000. Generally, some DJ can be relied upon to back a Curio so adamantly that his or her listeners buy it just to be part of the “let’s see if we can do it” mentality (the same ethos, in fact, that got that obscure Winnipeg radio presenter into the 100 Greatest Canadians list, so it clearly also works here in Canada).
The worst Curio holiday No. 1 ever in history was Mr Blobby in 1993, performed – I won’t say “sung” – by…er…Mr Blobby. This eight-foot pink and yellow monstrosity could be found on any children’s TV show that called itself “madcap” or “zany”, and effectively just ran around yelling “blobby blobby blobby” and knocking things over. His Christmas hit was more of the same. I can’t tell you what a moment of shame it was for the entire nation when its success was announced.
The Brits are nothing if not unpredictable, though. A couple of years ago, the No.1 was the sorrowful and disturbing Mad World, from the film Donnie Darco. It just knocked the favourite The Darkness off the top spot – and yes, people do bet on this.
This year’s offerings are more in keeping with the usual fare. Cliff Richard is back, and with potential double points for the odd couple effect by singing with Brian May. Kids’ telly brings us Pingu the Penguin’s politically incorrect Eskimo Disco; boy band Westlife are donning their parkas; and, horrendously, even Borat is in with a chance.
So here in Canada, I’m really missing this fundamental part of the holiday season. I’m hoping that after reading this, you guys will get started on something, so that by the end of next year the Canadian Top Five might look something like this:
No. 5 – Celine Dion featuring those scary babies from her calendar – When A Child Is Born
No. 4 – The Corner Gas cast featuring Vicki Gabereau – Have A Holiday Gas
No. 3 – Celine Dion – Quand Un Enfant Soit Né
No. 2 – Kalan Porter – I’m Lying Here All Alone in Bed Waiting For You, Yes You (Insert Name Here) And Only You This Christmas
No.1 – Theresa Sokyrka and Eugene Levy – I Believe. Or Are You Lonesome Tonight. Or I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. Or…hell, I’d pay to hear these two sing just about anything, wouldn’t you?
Ladies and gentlemen: place your bets, please.
For my Canadian chums: the chart is a serious business in the UK. The pre-release radio air-time given to a song makes or breaks its position. A stalwart like R.E.M will enter the chart around number eight and steadily climb to the top spot over a number of weeks; bubblegum-and-ponytail teenyboppers will flash straight in at Number One and then drop out of the public consciousness for good.
In December, though, anything goes. The British will buy just about anything for music at this time of year as long as it’s got a bit of tinsel and some bells, and preferably a TV celebrity whose singing ability is somewhat suspect.
The holiday chart offerings divide very neatly: Covers, Cash-Ins, Cliff, and Curios.
A handful of groups opt to Cover a bona fide Hit. You’ll see a boy band striving to croon themselves a rat pack image or Beyoncé vamping up “Santa Baby”. Covers always work best with an “odd couple”, as people buy it to see how perfectly good solo singers fare in weird tandem. In 2001, Nicole Kidman and Robbie Williams hit chart paydirt with Frank ‘n’ Nancy’s Something Stupid.
The Cash-Ins are released by interchangeable boy bands. These original numbers are about being “far away from you, baby, this Christmas”, to ensure a maximum teenage girl consumer base. In the videos, the bands wear huge furry parkas and have homoerotic snowball fights during the middle-eight. There are always bells (chiming, not jingle) and a soulful, rousing chorus that repeats to fade. The Cash-Ins make No.1 due to sheer pocket-money power.
In a category of his own, is the practically-unknown-to-Canada Sir Cliff Richard. Aged four hundred and seven, Cliff has been releasing records since the 1950s. His 1988 Mistletoe and Wine had the standard chiming bells and snowballs, but clinched the top spot by including Sir Cliff banging a massive gong at the key change in the rousing chorus, and a choirboy carol singer at the end. More recently, though, Cliff went off the rails a bit with his Millennium Prayer, which was the Lord’s Prayer crowbarred into the tune of Auld Lang Syne. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t clever. And it didn’t win him any friends.
A children’s TV character constitutes Curio gold; Bob the Builder topped the holiday chart in 2000. Generally, some DJ can be relied upon to back a Curio so adamantly that his or her listeners buy it just to be part of the “let’s see if we can do it” mentality (the same ethos, in fact, that got that obscure Winnipeg radio presenter into the 100 Greatest Canadians list, so it clearly also works here in Canada).
The worst Curio holiday No. 1 ever in history was Mr Blobby in 1993, performed – I won’t say “sung” – by…er…Mr Blobby. This eight-foot pink and yellow monstrosity could be found on any children’s TV show that called itself “madcap” or “zany”, and effectively just ran around yelling “blobby blobby blobby” and knocking things over. His Christmas hit was more of the same. I can’t tell you what a moment of shame it was for the entire nation when its success was announced.
The Brits are nothing if not unpredictable, though. A couple of years ago, the No.1 was the sorrowful and disturbing Mad World, from the film Donnie Darco. It just knocked the favourite The Darkness off the top spot – and yes, people do bet on this.
This year’s offerings are more in keeping with the usual fare. Cliff Richard is back, and with potential double points for the odd couple effect by singing with Brian May. Kids’ telly brings us Pingu the Penguin’s politically incorrect Eskimo Disco; boy band Westlife are donning their parkas; and, horrendously, even Borat is in with a chance.
So here in Canada, I’m really missing this fundamental part of the holiday season. I’m hoping that after reading this, you guys will get started on something, so that by the end of next year the Canadian Top Five might look something like this:
No. 5 – Celine Dion featuring those scary babies from her calendar – When A Child Is Born
No. 4 – The Corner Gas cast featuring Vicki Gabereau – Have A Holiday Gas
No. 3 – Celine Dion – Quand Un Enfant Soit Né
No. 2 – Kalan Porter – I’m Lying Here All Alone in Bed Waiting For You, Yes You (Insert Name Here) And Only You This Christmas
No.1 – Theresa Sokyrka and Eugene Levy – I Believe. Or Are You Lonesome Tonight. Or I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. Or…hell, I’d pay to hear these two sing just about anything, wouldn’t you?
Ladies and gentlemen: place your bets, please.
Monday, 4 December 2006
knitsick
Since you asked, I have finished the bag handle. No picture because I am too depressed by it. It is a bendy-edged rod of tweedy dismality. Haven't decided whether to try a new handle using the bright and cheerful yarn that I have used for the sides of the bag, or press on assuming it will look better when it's put together.
To cheer myself up, I used lots of different greeny-creamy wools to make a rather pretty scarf as a present for my aunty. She is an artist, and I hope this means that she will be pleased by the artistry of the colours and textures, and overlook the fact that the craftsmanship isn't up to much. I arranged the scarf artfully for this picture, but as it turns out it looks like someone sicked up a bunch of wool like some sort of giant hairball.
Speaking of sickness, I found whilst knitting the bag handle that I continuously felt car sick. This also happened a bit while knitting a Christmas Present That Shall Remain Nameless And Photoless (because it would ruin the surprise). I conclude that it is something to do with long-time focusing of my eyes on something that is moving quickly and continually, like the scenery when you're in a car or train.
Action: learn to knit without looking.
simply break or shave off a teaspoonful
Many moons ago, I received a very lovely gift for the tea-lover who has everything: a tea brick. It is compressed tea, historically used as a way to import large quantities of loose tea. It has a very nice picture moulded into the tea, and on the back it is divided up with a grid into handy-sized cubes. I have kept it as an objet d'interet, cos I like to show off my tea stuff to people.
However, today, it is time to enjoy the brick tea.
"Brick" is, I find, an extremely accurate term. I can no more break off tea that I could break off a bit of a real brick with my hands. I try sawing it with a bread knife. Then a meat knife. This results in a lot of uncontained tea dust. After a quick go with Chris's bike pliers, I resort to the magic of the internet to find instructions, as I am clearly missing something.
"Simply break or shave off a teaspoonful" is the best I can find. Shaving, even with the craftiest of craft knives, again result in a fingertipful of unsatisfactory tea dust, and I haven't got five hours to get enough tea for one cup. This is the hardest work I've ever done to get a cuppa.
You can see above the solution I ended up with.
Thursday, 30 November 2006
what on earth is wrong with me?
Yesterday, Chris went to his mum's to borrow her car so he could get to work (snow problems...bus problems..walking impossibility). Unfortunately when he arrived, not one but two vehicles were parked across the driveway so he couldn't get out. One of said vehicles was a BIG-ASS TRUCK of the sort that many people drive in Saskatoon, obviously assuming that to be a real westerner you need some sort of gas-guzzling, lane-filling, small-car-ignoring, BIG-ASS TRUCK.
So Chris went doorknocking but nobody was in. By this time it was, y'know, time to go to work, and they ended up having to get the truck towed.
So in the evening, a knock at the door came, and it was the truck owner, wondering if they had, on the off-chance, seen a BIG-ASS TRUCK that was lately parked right across their driveway. Informed that it had been towed, the gentleman in question looked so surprised and kind of - hurt - as if it made him not angry and aggressive at the person who had his truck removed, ncessitating a $300 fine for getting it back, but just sort of saddened that his lovely truck would be stuck in the Wilderness of Towing Land and would need to be rescued.
After this, I began to feel sorry for the truck man who had looked so sad about his truck, instead of justified because he TOTALLY PARKED ACROSS SOMEONE'S DRIVEWAY in a stupid gas-guzzling pedestrian-despising BIG-ASS TRUCK and got what he deserved.
What on earth is wrong with me?
The bag handle is still coming. I'm getting there. Stitch by yanked stitch.
And it's still snowing. We're up to about, oooh, probably thirty or forty feet by now.
So Chris went doorknocking but nobody was in. By this time it was, y'know, time to go to work, and they ended up having to get the truck towed.
So in the evening, a knock at the door came, and it was the truck owner, wondering if they had, on the off-chance, seen a BIG-ASS TRUCK that was lately parked right across their driveway. Informed that it had been towed, the gentleman in question looked so surprised and kind of - hurt - as if it made him not angry and aggressive at the person who had his truck removed, ncessitating a $300 fine for getting it back, but just sort of saddened that his lovely truck would be stuck in the Wilderness of Towing Land and would need to be rescued.
After this, I began to feel sorry for the truck man who had looked so sad about his truck, instead of justified because he TOTALLY PARKED ACROSS SOMEONE'S DRIVEWAY in a stupid gas-guzzling pedestrian-despising BIG-ASS TRUCK and got what he deserved.
What on earth is wrong with me?
The bag handle is still coming. I'm getting there. Stitch by yanked stitch.
And it's still snowing. We're up to about, oooh, probably thirty or forty feet by now.
Tuesday, 28 November 2006
The weather outside is frightful, by the way
So this is what I have at the moment. The bag is pinned out and blocked, and I have bent all my pins by pinning it into the carpet because I don't have those pinny-out tile things that real knitters have. The two coloured bits are for the sides of the bag, and I may or may not need them. I thought I would not have enough tweed to do a handle that went all the way to the bottom of the bag, so I made sides in nice bright wool and it took me about two seconds compared with working with the tweed.
Ah, the handle...I am using the tweed cos I have lots of it, but I decided to knit on smaller needles that the main bag because I figured the handle needs to be pretty robust. It's killing me. I am knitting nine stitches in a row, that's it, and it takes forever. Each stitch has to be yanked through, hard. At the end of each row, I sit and look at it for five minutes and try to decide whether to carry on or rip it out and go back to the big fat needles.
Incidentally, it is still snowing, and the temp. is currently minus 26 degrees C. I need to go out for milk and bread this afternoon. Yesterday when I went out in this temperature, the tiny letterbox of my face that was exposed to the cold, around my eyes, got windburned. On the weekend the Vanier Cup - the national university football tournament - was held here, and the temperature on the field was minus thirty.
Today's factoid - the Saskatchewan University campus is officially the second coldest in the world. The coldest is Moscow.
And finally, in case you think I seem to have an awful lot of time on my hands for mindless yakking and knitting, may I point out that today is my "kend" - ie the second day of my weekend. And I am prevented from doing very much else today because it's So. Flippin. Cold.
so then what happened was...
Snip snip snip...and lo, there was Yarn. The Bag pattern I'm looking at wants 800 yards of it. I have something like 200 yards. But it is extremely fat compared with proper wool.The Bag pattern also requires felting. I know nothing about felting. I barely know anything about knitting. I knitted up a swatch (yes! I really did!) and, lacking quarters for the washing machine, attempted "hand felting". This, to me, means swishing it around in a sink of very hot water for about ten minutes till I got bored. Needless to say, no change to the swatch.
Executive decision: The bag will not felt. Therefore it won't shrink. Therefore I don't need 800 yards. Therefore I can just get started.
First go...
Morning to all...
It's my first go at a blog. Although this is nt really a blog of me. It's a blog of A Bag.
The bag in question began life like this just a short time ago.
It's a pile of tweed that mum gave me and I have never quite found the right project for it, until now.
It turns out that I can only add one photo per post (or rather that I am not clever enough to work out how not to have all my photos sitting at the top of the post). And this is such a good photo story that I must post this and then start a new one to show you the next step of The Bag.
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