…is the approach I went with for the next Christmas project, which is why there are two hats in this post. Always ask the parents, people. It’ll save you grief in the end. A while back, a dear friend sent me some merino sliver, all the way from New Zealand, which spun up into a pretty, soft, red and pink yarn: Now, I may not be a big fan of pink, but The Ever-Growing Niece loves it. Loooooooves it. Pink, pink, pink, the brighter the better. I knew who this yarn was going to.
Remember this? It’s the blanket I started for my nephew, Galactus, Eater of Worlds. Well, I took Jacqui’s excellent advice and blocked it, and it still looked wrong. That pattern with a plainer yarn or that yarn with a plainer stitch — either would be lovely. That yarn and that stitch together were just too much fancy all in one place. Perfect for a shawl, maybe, or the bottom of a summer top, but for a baby blanket? No. I started again.
When I was little, I had this hat. This hat was long — at least as long as I was — and pointy, and it was striped in blue and grey with a tassel on the end. It was long enough to use as a scarf and a hat at the same time, and it tapered over the whole length until it was as pointy as one of those icicles on the tip of the eaves at the end of winter that almost reach the ground. It was a ridiculous hat, and I loved it so.
This here is Chicken-leg Al the Wonder Cat. You may remember him from such posts as An Elephant in a Day, Which Inexplicably Disappeared to Some Place Called Canada, Which is Weird Because Clearly it was Mine, Lady, it’s Raining, Would You Let Me IN Already, and A Brand New Thing for Me to Sit On.
Even here in the Dirty South, the cold is coming. Well, as much cold as we get here, which by Northern standards is more like a brief flirtation with the idea of being chilly. Still, the air has gone from soft to crisp, and I’ve been here long enough that I get whiny at anything below about 45 Fahrenheit (that’s around 7 Celsius for the rest of the world). (I’ve also been here long enough that I describe temperature in Fahrenheit, though I use the ‘double it and add 30’ conversion from Bob & Doug McKenzie* to make sense of…
Remember my one piece of Christmas knitting? Well, it’s done. It’s done, it’s off, and thanks to my ability to procrastinate and the wonder of USPS Priority international mail, I didn’t even have to go to the post office. I know people like to complain about the postal service here, but a public service that will come to my door to pick up outgoing packages is a thing of joy and a wonder to behold. A few extra bucks to avoid the aeon in Hell’s waiting room that is a post office at Christmas is money well spent, in my…
Home! I am home. Hello, home. I missed you so. It was wonderful to spend so much time surrounded by family and old friends, and to walk around my old stomping grounds (and boy, did I walk. Everywhere. Vancouver is great for that.) Still, there’s no substitute for being in your own space and sleeping in your own bed, and I missed himself and Chicken-Leg Al the Wonder Cat.