This Sort of Worked For Me - It Could Sort of Work For You!

On my way home from a pretty crappy day at work, I decided to think about something good at each train stop and maybe by the time I got home I'd be a relatively good mood. It sort of worked, hence the ringing endorsement there in the title.

There are six stops so think of this as a kind of commuter Stations of the Cross, suitable for any season of penance.

33rd Street: The 44th President of the United States is a superhero.

23rd Street: Tiger Woods is back to work, sort of.

14th Street: It's really okay to just buy Noro yarn and not knit anything with it.

9th Street: I may never want to knit anything else but Alice Starmore patterns.

Christopher Street: a good remix of Love Hangover can take you all the way under the river and remind you of your misspent dancing youth.

Try it! I was still cranky when I got home, though, but nothing that a pork roll sandwich couldn't cure.

And the Oscar Goes to ...

Riddle me this: why isn't anyone wearing hand knits at the Oscars? Someone pointed out that the Oscars are usually held in the winter, the perfect season for handknits, but yet, there wasn't even a lacey stole covering Sarah Jessica Parker's...shoulders. And that Jessica Biel dress could have only been improved by a fair isle cardigan of some sort.

There is plenty of good knitting the movies, though, so I had my own little ceremony while I ate my lunch at my desk.

Best Actress: Greer Garson in Mrs. Miniver

Best Actor: Cary Grant learning how to knit in Mr. Lucky

Lifetime Achievement Award: Gromit, for knitting in every movie, even though he seems to only know garter stitich.

I am sure I could add more, but I had to eat fast and go to a meeting.

Two Tall Heroines

This weekend told the tale of two tall girls, on either side of the U.S. of A, who's heroic efforts in the face of great odds accomplished great deeds.

Six foot tall golfer girl Michelle Wie played great golf on Saturday, coming in second in a close match in Hawaii against Angela Stanford in the SBS Open. Although she had been ranked in the low 200's due to a wrist injury similar to the kind that has sidelined Embloggery - and coming in second is nothing to shake yourputter at - she's a hero because she's playing as part of the LPGA tour: maybe she's realized that there is a lot more to her craft than trying to beat a boy.

In local news, tallish Lynn scored me a copy of The Knitter. At last! Lynn, who is taller than me, found a stash of this magazine at our local chain bookstore, on the top row of the crafts section in the magazines behind the quilt magazines. She brought one right on over to me, even though it was Valentines Day and she was on a romantic date.

My heros.

Kniting + Golf = 4 Eva!

Here's to the perfect couple on Valentines Day.

What Jane Austen Didn't Do

No sooner did I find myself recovering from the vampire fiction obsession, when I fell into the Jane Austen fan fiction/sequel/prequel hole.

There are more people writing this stuff than, well, publishing amiguri patterns on Ravelry. For the record, I have visited the Jane Austen Theme Park and wouldn't be too ashamed to go to this place if I get a chance either. And even though this blog is no longer being updated, it's an excellent time waster when you are in between library books. And, as a plus, you can even get your Jane Austen Valentine Cards if you are the kind of person who sends valentines (which I don't think Jane was).

Those Mason Dixon wimmin did a nice little Jane Austen pattern, and I while I am considering making a few for the little girls in my life, I decided that this particular pattern fit the whole Regency vibe better. Here is a picture of the lacy bottom, up close and personal:


It's a surprisingly easy going with all the fol-de-rol and hoo-ha trim on it. And isn't that just how you'd describe any Jane Austen book?

Trouble Points the Way

Thank you to Trouble who located how to get your paws on that The Knitter Magazine. You can pay in British pounds, which always makes me feel like I'm getting something better than if I paid for it with American Money.

A Picture and A Thousand Words

A camera is a good thing to keep in your traveling knit bag. I had both knitting and a camera with me on Tuesday when it snowed, and took this picture out of my office window.


It's the kind of neighborhood where the best you can say is that it has drawbacks. That projectile thing is the dirt mover of which you've heard tell; it moves dirt from one side of the street to those piles on my side of the street. The snow made the whole scene look very steampunk, and not quite as unlovely as on a sunny day. But still. Can you spot the neighborhood Starbucks in this picture? Hint: there isn't one.

A camera is also a good thing to have when you are out looking in every bookstore in Manhattan for that magazine The Knitter. Readers, have any of you seen this for sale in this country? Today I got a visa to visit civilization and a ventured into a big box bookstore that was purported to stock it, and they were sold out. When I went downstairs to the knitting books section to console myself, this is was the state of the craft books section:

Silent, But Deadly, Fun

I can't get behind the hoopla about a rodent predicting the weather, but I did remember that today was Silent Poetry Day. I entertained myself on the trip home from work by thinking this bit of favorite poem in my head, and I can't guarantee that my lips weren't moving a little as I thunk it: (From The Hunting of The Snark by Lewis Carroll)

"There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pairs of boots--but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But especially "Thing-um-a-jig!"

While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him "Candle-ends,"
And his enemies "Toasted-cheese."

"His form in ungainly--his intellect small--"
(So the Bellman would often remark)
"But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark."'

Jane Austen or the Superbowl: No Contest

Since when is Superbowl a holiday? I foolishly attempted to purchase guacamole today and could find none on the shelves at several stores. When I inquired about it, I was told: hey lady, it's Superbowl Sunday!

Here are all the facts you needed to know about the Superbowl: a) one of the teams was from Arizonia; b) the Patron Saint of New Jersey was playing at halftime and c) Masterpiece Theater was re-running some of the Jane Austen series from this past spring. Now what would you choose?

I chose none of the above because I was consumed with a completely engrossing and thoroughly satisfying monster of a project, which I cast on earlier this weekend in the few minutes I wasn't reading Inside the Victorian Home. I don't have any pictures of it yet, because digital cameras weren't invented in in Victorian times,but here are someone else's pictures.

I did happen to turn on the TV at the exact moment when Springstein was swinging his guitar in the air, and I thought that was a pretty good trick for a old guy. My delight in it was tamed by my concern that his lead guitarist was now the old Italian widow from around the corner.