Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Reveals the Winner! And, Some Knitting

I know that six of you crazed Buffy fans - SIX!! - have been waiting with bated breath to see who would win my extra copy of Fray. I decided on an impartial draw of names versus choosing the winner based on their answers to my quiz. Because I can accept that we disagree about ... certain things. I can accept that.

So the winner is....KAJey (or Lehu, partner of Not-So-Cynical Knitting Gal!) Congrats, KAJey! Send me your address by email and I'll have that copy of Fray in the mail to you pronto. And thanks to everyone who participated - I loved reading all of your Buffy-lovin' ramblings. Because although I pretend to be cool, I am just a big fucking geek.

And now, for some knitting.

Mom's Socks

These are the Dahlia socks from the Sundara Yarn Petals Collection. Mostly. I futzed with the toes because I like my way better and I didn't continue the pattern down the whole foot because I would never have finished them. Seriously.

I have been knitting these socks for my mother since September. Yeah, that's right. September.  These socks have been knit in Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, Cancun, San Francisco, Monterey and Stratford, Ontario. But now - now they are done! In time for her birthday last Friday! Behold them!

I know! My mother had very shapely calves and ankles. As for the socks - I KNOW!! They're not THAT fancy. Nine months!! It's like I had a mental block about the pattern - here's a close-up from an earlier take:

It was an extremely painstaking process until about two pattern repeats away from the end of the leg of the second sock. Then, suddenly, I discovered I had finally memorized the six line pattern. And it only took nine months!! Let's take another look at my mother's shapely foot:

In the course of knitting these masterpieces, I also discovered that the pattern looks just as good on the back as on the front. So now that I've memorized the fucking thing, you'd better believe I'll be using this pattern EVERYWHERE. Other socks - hats - scarves - potholders - you name it.

Of course, my next project is a little larger in scope (but not much). Over a year ago, I bought yarn to make my best friend Padu a sweater. Yesterday, I bought the correct needles. Fortunately, Padu is slim and reed-like and the pattern for the sweater is easy. So at this pace, he'll have the sweater in time for his birthday!

His fortieth birthday.

In 2015.

Creampuff Receives May Flowers to Counter April Showers

I'm getting to that delicious point of tired - that point where you've been getting up too early, working for several hours on something you really like and then going to bed too late for days and days - where you start to feel nauseated all the time and your hair looks like Buckwheat because you had your "morning shower" at 11 p.m. and then slept on it and everything seems either TRAGIC or HILARIOUS. Hahahaaa - hilarious!! All caps is HILARIOUS!!

Fortunately for you, I'm just stopping by here to share some Monday morning cute-osity and report that this hat:

has found its way to this extremely innocent baby:

"What seems to be the problem, officer? No, that's not my weed. No, it's not."

"Hee hee - it WAS my weed! Lucky I kept the rest under my hat...Where are those Cheetos?"

Oh, the cuteness of this baby! The chubby cheeks! The mischievous expression! This jumper makes her head look like the topmost flower of a stalk of beautiful flowers. I would like a shirt like that and on the back, I would write "I'm a delicate flower - you asshole" because I always thought that would be funny.

Baby Elsa's mom, a friend of Katr's, sent these pics in accompanied by the nicest note ever:

Here are a few pics of Elsa in the hat. … the most beautiful hat in the world …. I think Rosemary could go into business selling these hats. I’ve had so many compliments on how adorable the hat is … in fact people comment on the hat and not the baby…. But I’m ok with that, we don’t want her getting a big head!

I was so flattered and flushed with her compliments that I briefly considered following her suggestion and going into the baby hat business. I love knitting! And babies, from afar. But then Katr pointed out that it takes around eight hours to knit these things and I can only knit for about four hours at a time and the yarn ain't free and that at even a fraction of my going rate, I would have to charge around $200 for each hat to keep the dog in her fancy designer kibble.

So people who are actually in the hat business? You can stop looking over your shoulder and relax.

I wish you all a most fabulous week!

Creampuff Distraction

Many of you have emailed me privately to ask why, WHY, after my many and varied protestations, I totally caved and joined Facebook yesterday. The reason is too embarrassing and mundane to go into detail about here; suffice to say that it involved a good-looking woman who isn't my spouse and a German existentialist fable.

While I may have gone over to the dark side, it's important to remember that innocence and purity still exist in the world.

Exhibit A:

Oh my holy Jesus. This baby is KILLING me softly with his hat. Killing me softly - with his hat, telling my whole life - with his hippo jumper. It's the kind of picture that makes me think about having babies. Thank goodness I read this right after seeing the photo. Whew! Reproduction averted.

Many thanks to my cousin Jero for the gorgeous soft blue Baby Ull yarn, which she gave me as a wedding gift. And many thanks to the baby's parents, who let me post their gorgeous son's picture on my blog for knit bragging purposes.

Where did I first see this photo? Yeah . . . Facebook. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

Creampuff Detritus

It occurred to me as I reached for my coffee this morning and nearly sent the phone, my glasses, an open bottle of Advil and a CD on the loose from its protective case skittering across the floor that I am in dire need of some office organization.

My "office" is the dining room table. While I love its proximity to the goodies in the kitchen and excellent view of the front door (like Katr, I am on constant ninja-alert), I do not love its lack of drawers or other office-type amenities. I don't need much to make it more functional. Perhaps some kind of caddy, with a place for pens and USB keys and slots for a "to-do" pile and a "filing pile" and an "Old Fashioned Black Licorice Cigars with Authentic Look Red Glow Tip in Genuine Wood Look Cigar Case from Costco" pile (licorice cigars make me more productive. Also, butch. Are my black teeth turning you on?)

Right now, my "important papers management" system is best described as "Oh my fucking god, I TOTALLY just saw it yesterday, where is it?? Where is it?? Where the fuck is -- oh, here it is." No WONDER I never get anything done.

This morning, I finally snapped and went through it all. I found (mostly) paid bills, countless USB keys, pens I thought were lost forever, our marriage certificate and a teeny tiny string of plastic pearls. What the . . .

"What are these?" I asked, waving them at Katr.

"Hammy the Hamster's anal beads?"

"Yeah," she replied over the sound of me DYING over my own joke, "aren't those the beads you found before Christmas? The ones you thought looked like hamster anal beads and you saved them for the sole purpose of blogging about them?"

Oh. Yeah, that's right. I've had some hamster's anal beads on my desk for over a month because I wanted to take a picture of them. For you guys. Never say I don't love you.

Speaking of love, I'm back on the knitting. I'm still labouring through a tiny mystery project (so laborious! so tiny! so mysterious!) but I've also been knitting a lot of baby hats. I sent two off without documenting them (I'm hoping to get pictures back with actual babies in the hats) but since I was taking photos of Hammy's sex toys anyway, I thought I'd take a picture of this one before it wings its way east.

I hope the kid's head is at the upper limit of size.

Creampuff Says "Wha...?"

I've been doing some knitting lately, but it's all mystery knitting, because it's that time of year. The time for mystery knitting. I was choked, because posting pictures of my amateurish knitting always fills me with a sense of accomplishment but we all know that the first rule of mystery knitting is that you can't post photos of it on your blog. But then - in a flash! - I remembered I DID have some unposted knitting pictures nestled in my inbox. And so, I share them with you.

Lidy's Hat

I knit this cotton hat for little Lidy before he was born and then totally didn't mail it (as Sparkles can attest, I'm ass at mail). So when we were in Toronto in August, I brought it with me and we gleefully and sneakily dropped it off on Lidy's mom Lupa's porch, like fat fairies.

Time passed and I heard naught of the hat from Lupa, which was very unlike her. As it turns out, she got the hat but was confused over who had left the gift bag on the porch (our signatures were poor and her neighbour has the same first name as Katr). Once we figured it out, though, she gave ME a gift - these HILARIOUS PICTURES of her adorable son in the hat.

Oh my god, Lidy. That's the look I have on MY face most of the time. A sort of "Wha . . .?" look.  Except I don't have the "I'm a baby in a fetching hat getting my picture taken" excuse.

And then this is the look I have after I realize I have a "Wha...?" look on my face and then I think "Homo says what?" and laugh at my own joke. Ah, good times.

Because I can't resist, here's a close up of some mystery knitting. Just a close up. I'M NOT SAYING WHAT IT IS.

And finally, the reason we're all here . . . today's truffles.

Cassis * Silky dark chocolate ganache paired with a thin layer of cassis. (This truffle put the "ass" in "cassis". But in a good way. The way that Gina Torres puts the "happy" in my "pants".)

Vanilla * Dark chocolate ganache scented with Tahitian vanilla (I feel like Thomas Haas has some kind of Tahitian connection. The truffle was, naturally, delicious, but the artwork on it was the real attraction.)

Creampuff's Fourth Sock Only Took Three Months

Warning: This post contains some obsessive photos and detailed descriptions of my knitting. The dog may make an appearance.

As some of you may recall, learning to knit socks was one of my New Year's resolutions this year (along with "learning to drive" - HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! Yeah, that's going well.) After overcoming some adversity near the beginning of my sock journey, I managed to successfully finish my first pair of socks by April. But I held off on posting pictures, because I wanted to knit Katr a pair of socks too! And then I could take a photo of our chubby feet in our handknit socks! Because I am a dork! 

I started Katr's socks (using Bird of Paradise yarn from Sundara Yarn's Petals Collection) in April and finished the first one fairly quickly. Mindful of the dreaded Second Sock Syndrome, I immediately and smugly cast on for the second sock. That was in May.

My near total cessation of knitting coincided with my near total cessation of blogging this summer and I have no one to blame but the dog. Fortunately, I did not cease to READ blogs and it seemed like you other knitters were turning out finished items left and right. Several of you, in fact, posted pictures of your latest accomplishments just last week and after all that eye candy, I was so jealous that I couldn't take it anymore. So with fresh determination, I took up the sock again this weekend and several hours of crappy tv later, lo, it was finished! What the fuck happened with the toe seams? Good question.

Behold: 

 On the left - my right foot clad in my first sock. On the left, Katr's left foot, modelling the newly completed sock. Yes, yes - our feet are creampuffs too.

Katr said I should take a shot just to prove there were two complete Bird of Paradise socks. Oddly, I suppose I thought you'd all take it on faith that I had also finished both of MY socks:

A close-up of the carpet, my slip-stitch ribbing action and screwed up Frankenstein toe seam:

And finally, the dog getting some action from the duck and modelling the finished Bird of Paradise socks:

My god, you two - GET A ROOM!!

Now that I've finally finished that fourth sock, I am back on the sticks with a vengeance! I'm touching the stash! I'm coveting patterns! I'm thinking of getting back on the giant poncho. I'm already several inches in some sparkly action with the two balls of fun on the right. And speaking of balls of fun, a certain Padu had better get me his measurements if he ever wants his birthday present.

Creampuff Moves to Vancouver, Part Deux - Electric Boogaleux

It occurred to me early Monday morning, as I sat on the john, hurling into a garbage can, that this was not the best way to be spending my last hours in Toronto. What the fuck is with me and the sudden, violent, simultaneous expulsions this year?? GAH. I had originally planned quite a vigorous day of activity for Monday, but as I barfed and otherwise eliminated all nutrients and available water from my system, my priorities shrank to two key items:

1. Make it to (and through) my own effing play reading Monday afternoon ; and

2. Make sure UPS picked up the two boxes I needed to ship to Vancouver Monday night.

Fortunately, the reading was a very informal "cool chicks sittin' around the table reading the thing so I could hear the results of 16 weeks of government funding out loud" kind of deal, so if I needed to sprint to the ladies shitter at any time, I could. As it turns out, the box of Immodium I took before the reading precluded any wild, inappropriate defecation. Three days later, it's still working. Thanks, Immodium. You can let go now.

Then Monday night, UPS was scheduled to come pick up my two boxes between 5:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. When I got home at 4:00 p.m. I sealed the boxes up and nearly passed out hauling them upstairs. It took me nearly an hour. I then installed myself on the couch with my Gatorade and a book about dog behaviour. I had to skip a lot of the questions in the book, because they involved dogs eating cat shit and then licking you and I didn't want to puke again. Even when I did read a chapter, I absorbed no information whatsoever, because I was checking the door for the UPS guy every two minutes. I did, however, absorb some much-needed sodium and potassium.

3 hours passed. The lovely roommates came home and began preparations for dinner. Everyone was there. Except UPS. I finally called them at 8:30 p.m. and asked what had happened. "Oh," the customer service representative said, "well, the driver was running behind."

"Oh - so he'll be here later?"

"Well, no. He didn't make it by the deadline, so . . ."

"So he didn't come at ALL?"

"Well, I can have him come by tomorrow!" she said brightly.

"Yeah. I'm leaving for the airport at 10 a.m." I told her, "can he come before that?"

"Oh dear. Well, it seems like we're in quite a pickle!"

Mmm . . . pickles.

My roommates generously offered to deal with the pickup. I got off the phone, then turned off the porch light in despair. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door. My heart leapt. Could it be . . . UPS?? It was! And sure, he was late and didn't have a waybill and didn't leave me a tracking number, but at least the boxes were away! I sucked hungrily at my Gatorade bottle and headed into the kitchen to relay my tale of shipping triumph to Grmi.

"Are you sure he was from UPS?" Grmi joked as he shaped ground beef into patties.

"Heh heh . . . oh. Huh."

In that moment, I realized I hadn't seen the van. I didn't fill out a waybill. I had no tracking number and I had paid by cheque. In all probability, this guy was actually from UPS. But there was also the possibility that, in my weakened state, I had just given our good linens, some small household appliances and several hundred dollars worth of books, yarn and DVDs to some random guy in a brown toque.

As you might imagine, I spent much of my last hour in Toronto on Tuesday phoning UPS. And I have to hand to them - those people rolled into ACTION. By the time I got home to my beloved, I'd gotten both the tracking numbers AND a separate call apologizing for the inconvenience AND, even though I paid for standard shipping, they switched it to "express" and I got my boxes first thing yesterday morning. So thank you, UPS! Thank you for not making off with Padu's future sweater and my Joss Whedon collection. Thank you for showing me what brown can do. You are good kind people.

As Jeba pointed out in her comment on the last post, I neglected to display the beautiful knitting needle carrier she gave me for our birthday! Because UPS rocks, I can show it to you now! And you may gaze in awe and envy. DO IT!

Ah. So fetching. Thanks, Jeba! It's particularly ideal for travelling, as you can stuff notions or a small project in its pouch. Or you can keep your weed in there. That sock looks like it's trying to make a break for it. Not long now, little sock.

While I'm at it, I ALSO did not take photos of the lovely knitting tote that Deye and Grmi gave me for my birthday. As you can see, it is very fine and the mix of tropical print and Anne of Green Gables-esque gingham suits me to a T. Plus, it has a pocket at the front. Where you can keep your weed.

Yes, those are VHS copies of Bring It On and Centre Stage on the shelf behind the bag. Shut it.

So I'm back in Vancouver! Reunited with my beaverancée! Ready for the next adventure! Right after I take this nap. And watch some Buffy.

Creampuff Spring Cleaning

WARNING: This post contains photos of a stuffed animal modelling my knitting. If you make it through to the end, you will be rewarded with a photo of a sweet little baby! Modelling my knitting! Jealous?

Jeba's Scarf

Last year, I knit Jeba a hat for her birthday. This year, she requested a matching scarf. Could she BE any more demanding? Like her hat, her scarf was finished at the tail end of "scarf weather". But this way, it will be fresh when winter comes 'round again. Score! I used the same black with flecks Silky Tweed and because the original pink cotton was back home in my stash, I bought some cerise Noro instead. Giraffe looks quite distinguished.

So boho. And nice 2x2 rib! Also, a nice crotch shot of Giraffe. Dirty Giraffe . . .

Deye's Hat

My brother Jaro gave me some beautiful alpaca silk for Solstice and I thought it would really suit my roommate Deye. Since I've been itching to try my hand at proper cables and am delighted by gathered-top hats, I knit her this for her birthday. Speaking of itching, it turns out I'm allergic to alpaca. Balls.

Giraffe says it's like wearing a cat. Oh, Giraffe - I feel you.

My Hat

When I came back to Toronto from Vancouver, it was cold. Cold like a penguin's ass. A lonely penguin. With low self-esteem. Living in a basement apartment with mice. So, with the leftovers from my Yarn Harlot scarf, I whipped myself up a little cashmerino lovin'. I look like a flower-headed dork in it, but it saved my delicate ears from being torn off by the rough winter winds.

Giraffe says "Kicky!"

My First Sock!!

I finished one! And I'm close to finishing the other! I was going to wait until I had both to display, but Giraffe told me that she'd like to pose with the first sock before the sock found love - with the other sock. I didn't ask questions. I just took the picture.

It fits Giraffe perfectly

Chezza's Hat

I knit this hat for Chezza's birthday. I finished it in January. And in March, I mailed it. You know, because a good hat needs to ripen for a couple of months. I hope she got it before it got all warm and shit. The weather, I mean - the hat is ALWAYS warm.

  

Come closer to the glory.  

Bech's Hat

Yes, yes, it's true. I saved the cutest for last! My lovely friend Jech, of Creampuff Get Her Wings fame, and her equally lovely husband Roch, welcomed little Bech to their home recently and I knit him a pumpkin hat "for his pointy head". I think his head is lovely and round. And orange!

Here he is sleeping with a stuffed black cat (a plush toy, I mean, not a dead cat). Black cat? Pumpkin hat? HOT.

Now that it is officially spring, I find myself longing for a new spring jacket. Or wait - a poncho! A blue poncho with a leafy pattern! Wait a minute! I have just such a poncho on the needles! It must be nearly finished! And then I remember that I have not knit a single stitch of that goddamn poncho since I've been here. And then I hang my head in shame. And wear my winter coat instead.

Creampuff in Progress

WARNING: Post contains talk about, and photos of, knitting.

Last Saturday, I arose with a spring in my step, for Saturday was the day that I was to turn my first sock heel. I had knit 8 long inches of "practice sock". I had completed the heel flap. I had slept well the night before and was feeling a little cockly. I had my sock pattern, a step-by-step photo demonstration and online videos at the ready. I sat confidently down with my sock and began.

I followed the pattern closely and made it through a number of rows before I realized that the heel was not taking shape as it should. I was puzzled. Perhaps after a couple more rows . . . or not . . . I tried to keep my cool as I realized that, despite my many resources, the heel turning had somehow eluded me.

I would like to pause here to state, in defense of my tiny brain, that the pattern was written assuming you already knew how to turn a heel, the photo-demo assumed your pattern would tell you how to turn the heel and the video demonstration was mainly about picking up stitches. Obviously, I didn't get that far.

Clearly, I would have to start the heel over. So I unravelled a little. Then a little more. Then tried to start again. Then got confused. Then frustrated. And then . . . came then.

To describe my reaction as "a meltdown" would not be inappropriate. I am embarassed to say that there were tears. There may also have been a throwing of perfectly innocent needles. There was certainly an angry, vicious unravelling of the entire practice sock. The F-bomb was dropped repeatedly. It was a SCENE.

Katr happened upon the scene just as the vicious unravelling began. I imagine it would have been rather confusing for her - one minute her beaverancée is humming and spritely and the next, she is TOTALLY LOSING HER SHIT over a SOCK.

Katr rolled into action immediately. She removed me from the sock and from the room where the sock went to die. She didn't mock me. She comforted me while I recovered from my strange and unreasonable freak out. And then she offered to TAKE ME TO THE YARN STORE to buy more appropriate sock tools and yarn.

I KNOW.

It is like she loves me.

Sniff.

So later that day, Katr took me to the yarn store. And she bought me a new set of needles and a big ball of this:

which I have since turned into this:

I am entranced by the tiny stitches. Oooo, tiny stitches:

HEEL! My old nemesis. Soon I will turn you. For NOW, I have the proper instructions and I have practiced! HA ha!

While we were at the store, Katr also bought me these, so I could make her a sparkly scarf. I will gladly oblige.

In less dramatic knitting news, I have made some headway on the big chunky poncho pattern my mom bought me for Christmas. The pattern didn't come with a photo and I only saw the finished project once, so it's been a real adventure watching this thing come together. That SOUNDS sarcastic, but it's true. This thing is addictive. Also, the larger it grows, the more of my lap it keeps warm as I knit it. SCORE!

Yep. That's 100 stitches in Chunky Tweed on a straight needle. That shit was TIGHT, gang. Obviously, I invested in a circular needle shortly thereafter. And four weeks later:

Are you SEEING this?? I KNIT this!! Me! Come closer to the magic:

Clooooooooooooooooooser:

What concerns me are these "leaves" on the side, which, as you can see from the first poncho overview, are weirdly rumpled. I've been following the pattern religiously, so either they're SUPPOSED to look like that or I'm missing a page:

Maybe they'll "block out"? History will decide.

In "Finished Object but still mystery knitting" news, I have this:

knit from this:

waiting in the wings. Chezza, the longer it takes you to send me your address, the closer this thing gets to being MINE! ALL MINE!!

Creampuff Refuses to be Intimidated

I went to a local yarn store earlier this week in search of, among other things, new needles on which to knit socks. Year of Socks!! I have been to this yarn store before and enjoyed myself so much that I walked away with this loveliness, even though I knew I would be allergic to it:

I spent my first few minutes in the store pawing over the sale bin and peering at the sock yarn before I made my way to the needle area. And there I stayed for many a long minute.

The friendly yarn store clerk was busy with other knitters before me, but after awhile he came over and watched me fondling the smaller size knitting needles over and over. (I was trying to decide between bamboo and aluminium, but after ScaryBez showed us these - scroll down IF YOU DARE - I'm glad I went with metal.)

"Can I help you with something?"

"I'm learning to knit socks!" I said brightly, as I continued to bogart the needle wall.

"Ooh. Socks are hard," he said. But see, he didn't say it appreciatively, like "Socks! An exciting challenge!" He said "socks are hard" the same way one might say "Dog shit makes bad icing." The implication was that socks were not only hard, but also, in some way, DISGUSTING.

"Socks, are, like the hardest thing you can knit," the store clerk went on, shaking his head.

"Well," I said, slightly less brightly due to bewilderment at having sock knitting shat upon by a CLERK IN A YARN STORE, "I imagine that's what . . . makes them fun."

"Well, I guess so," he agreed reluctantly, "I mean, once you can knit socks, you can knit anything." But he looked me up and down while he said it, like I was proposing to climb Mount Everest in an iron lung. "Are you a tight knitter?"

"Does the Pope shit in the woods?"

Silence. He handed me a set of needles a size bigger than I wanted. And then he started in on the one ball of sock yarn I'd been carrying around to see if it spoke to me. (It did. What it said was "Why is this guy shitting on socks?")

The clerk told me that the yarn I had chosen was "pretty pricey" for a first project and suggested instead that I comb the sale bin for "something cheaper to practice on". Dude! Do I look like someone who doesn't have enough odds and ends laying around to make a practice sock? What if I'm buying myself a skein of "incentive yarn"? You don't know my life! Fuck you, yarn store guy!

You know, I expect to be treated like an idiot at Future Shop, because they think that's how best to sell gadgets to chicks. That's why I don't go to Future Shop anymore. But I didn't expect to be bullied out of socks by some guy at my local yarn store. What the hell?

I didn't buy any yarn. And I did buy the needles I actually wanted. And I eyed the guy warily as he rang my purchases up. What would he crap on next? Lace? Circular needles? SANTA CLAUS? I took my receipt and bid him good day. And later that night, when the mood was just right - I cast on for my first pair of socks. So you can suck it, yarn store guy. Suck it.