What Kind of Boob Am I?

I'm the kind of boob who forgets to tell you that I finished the Leaf Beret over a week ago. It is lovely, wearable and an easy knit - especially for those like me re-entering the crafty atmosphere.

Pattern: Melissa LaBarre's Leaf Beret
Yarn: One skein Louet Gems sportweight in Mustard colorway; 100 grams and 225 yards.
Modifications: None. The pattern is very clear, as written. Even the chart-averse will have no problem understanding the leaf motif.

It wasn't my beloved marigold alpaca, but I did try to hold true to the pale color of the original yarn. I did end up using the alpaca as part of a cowl that can easily be paired with the beret. It's in the seed stitch collar stage and should be ready by week's end.

I am also the kind of boob who cares way too much about what some anonymous person had to say recently in a new comment to an old post from 2005:

"JC has left a new comment on your post "Ciao 2005, Bon Giorno 2006!":

how about sticking to one language, you pretentious boob, preferably the native lanugage (sic) of the readersip (sic) you hope not to put off..."

Dictionary.com says:

pre⋅ten⋅tious –adjective

1.	full of pretense or pretension.

2.	characterized by assumption of dignity or importance.

3.	making an exaggerated outward show; ostentatious.

---

Studying the brain of the boob

Please don't confuse knowledge of more than one language as pretentiousness. This is simply a result of my environment and upbringing. I may be many things but feelings of self-importance are not part of my make-up. On the contrary, I'd rather ham it up and use self-directed humor to divert attention away from the "real me." I will retreat to a corner before making an ostentatious show.

Like many people, I can be complex, intense, perceptive, impulsive and worried over the smallest things (like why I've lost a few readers or how to stop the cat from chewing my patterns). That may make me both perspicacious and paradoxical but never, ever a pretentious boob.

Starting Over with Marigold Leaves

It's times like these when I feel like a rank amateur.

Indeed, I think it ironic that I'm starting to blossom just when the leaves are falling from the trees. Maybe my circadian rhythm or my satellite reset button. Is. Just. Off.

The Leaf Beret (Ravelry) from knit.1 is the first new thing I've started to knit or crochet since February 2009. Eight months is a long time to take a break from something that once caused a fever of "I've-gotta-make-this-this-and-this-itis."

Truth is, anyone following my ramblings for some time knows the physical stuff has gotten in the way for the past three years off and on. There are more rumblings from the right arm of doom which I'll share should it become necessary. Meanwhile, my personal journey has me knitting again, albeit making one or two rookie mistakes.

1) I love love love Vera's marigold-dyed alpaca. I stick my beak in the center of that ball and take a whiff of the slightly soapy clean wooliness (you yarn sniffers know what I mean). My errors are not the fault of the yarn. I adore alpaca, though I know it's not for everyone. For some reason, I forgot that this is not the most elastic of yarns.

2) I couldn't find my size 3 needles, so I opted for the 2.5's instead. To make up for the smaller needle, I cast on a few more stitches. You can see the next oops coming, can't you?

3) Inelastic yarn + too many stitches = a hat band big enough for a monstrous melon. Frog and rethink.

Not only did I err in yarn choice, it seems my fingers have a little rust in their sense memory. I mean, I was once an old hand with two-circ knitting. I cast on half the stitches on one needle and the other half on the second needle. Knit knit knit. Get to the end of the round and all the flippin' stitches are on one needle. I hate that!

Reboot.

It's on, knitting! I will make that cute beret in time for the coming nasty weather. I will not go quietly. Well, mebbe a bit. It took so long to get here. My marigold leaf beret deserves to come to life.

Mommy's Alright

Nikita, working that beauty shot, says, "We're All Alright" (Cheap Trick. Holla!)

As you might have guessed by the lack of posts, I'm not crafting. And since this is a primarily a knitting blog, I generally try to keep it light and focused. See, my current life is a series of struggles with impersonal bureaucrats in a large insurance company, figuring out how to pay unexpected bills that keep popping up (failing appliances, water damage) and which doctor to see next.

Meanwhile, I've taken up water aerobics to strengthen my body as I search for things to occupy my mind other than the aforementioned. So why not knitting, you ask? It seems I've lost that feeling of intensity and desire to have my heart and hands working to create. I am literally surrounded by projects but they do not call to me.

One day, perhaps, they will. I did, after all, take a very long break before and came back with a vengeance to learn new techniques and work with all kinds of new fibers and colors. Waxing and waning and waxing again. That's life.

Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird.
Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away, ay, aaaaaaaay.

Coming Up For Air.

I can hardly believe a week has flown by since Rocky discovered the joys of the ScratchScroll. Luckily, he's still enamored of it - so much so that he's already plucking up bits of the tight industrial carpeting that covers the surface of the kitty sine wave. Lucky too in that the lounger kept him quiet during my mother's birthday party.

Party. Right. Didn't mention that. This was an important one (platinum I think) and she wanted a homey, intimate gathering at my place instead of a restaurant or the like. We'd been planning things for a month and everything was under control until last week's power outage. Now, there was an air of uncertainty over the impending festivities. Would the power stay on? Would the weather hold? The freezer was off long enough for the food to spoil but, thank jeebus, I hadn't yet purchased any perishables for the party.

Later that afternoon, I got a call from someone whose a voice I'd never heard before. It was KnitPastis! She and her husband were visiting Chicago for a few days and she asked if I would be interested in meeting up at one of the local yarn stores. What is the sound of one arm twisting?

What a lovely couple! He, a man of few words (at least in the few minutes we were together), and she, a petite natural beauty with a faint Southern accent. We only had time for hellos, hugs and a few pictures before I had to run. Grocery shopping for mom's party and a body that hurt like hell kept our meeting from being anything other than rushed. Too bad, too. Next time, more time for a meal and relaxed conversation.

Friday was CRAZY busy! My mom was at loose ends. She and my brother arrived late and prep was still required for two dishes. She was the one holding the recipe. Guests had begun to arrive and I could do naught but answer the door in bare feet with a spoon in my hand. By the time I popped the cork on the champagne and poured the mimosas, things settled into a rhythm of serving and seeing to my guests comfort.

I was worn to the nub, but all the effort was worth it. I originally wanted to send her to Italy but my circumstances have changed since that promise was made. In my mind, a party at home just didn't measure up. That's why, when my mother hugged me goodbye, I apologized because it was so much less than what I'd wanted for her. She held me a bit tighter and said that, for her, this was better than Italy!

I sighed, put my feet up and napped more comfortably than I had in days. It was over. She was happy.

Now it's almost Wednesday again. Where did the week go?