Creampuff Revolution

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.

Creampuff Starts Off the New Year With a Bang! Followed by a Whimper. Then a Band-Aid.

It was a windy day in the city and after hours of trying to get my attention by flapping noisily, the vinyl cover on the grill on our balcony decided to make a break for it.

I looked up to see it heaving itself over the edge of the railing and instantly I sprang into action. I flung open the balcony door and leapt like a fat gazelle out into the wind, catching my foot on the doorjamb. As I tried to steady myself, a big gust of wind slammed the door. On my ankle.

Birds rubbernecked as I screamed the F word. Screaming was soon downgraded to a light whimpering as I limped over to the pile of vinyl, gathered it up and dumped it in the outdoor Rubbermaid bin. Then I came inside and had a little cry.

I suppose I was due a little pain, because so far 2007 has been good to me. First of all, in the last comment thread, Flippy made the brilliant observation that my site was actively discouraging indexing by saying, and I paraphrase the metadata, "Robots, fuck off!" Thanks, Flippy! You are a rock star! I investigated further and discovered that the tag was there because for some reason I neglected to choose the "Publicize this blog" option in Typepad when I switched over from WordPress. Yeah, that's right - for over a year now, you have all been reading MY SECRET BLOG. The secret? That I am a DOOFUS.

In the course of impatiently Googling myself long before Google would have had a chance to index anything, I stumbled upon Cream Puffs in Venice, a beautiful food blog with incredible food porn pictures. Seriously. I had to close the blinds and take a private moment. The whole thing made me want to sprinkle powdered sugar on myself and dab espresso behind my ears.  There are recipes too, if you are kitchenally inclined. I believe the Venetian "Cream Puff" (who actually lives in Canada) uses "cream puff" in the literal "A shell of light pastry filled with whipped cream, custard, or ice cream" sense, rather than in my euphemistic "delightful fat people like me" sense. Just to clarify. Anyway, it's lovely and I encourage the foodies among you to check it out.

Secondly, I was aided and abetted in my quest to become a sock knitter this year when my love (and hopeful future sock recipient) signed me up for the Petals Collection at Sundara Yarn as a Solstice gift! (Miss Sundara Yarn herself seems to be between websites at the moment, but her stuff is gorgeous, as you knitters all know - here's her blog). I tore into the package like a hoodlum but later, when the fondling was over, I took photos. They're a little blurry because my hands were shaking with excitement.

This month's petal inspiration, the lenten ROSE (Coincidence? I THINK NOT):

The actual sock yarn (photos never do yarn justice, but this comes pretty close):

The picture of the sock pattern. If I wasn't such a ham-fisted yahoo, I'd give it a go, but I think I'd better practice first. To the yarn store!

Thirdly, it's been brought to my attention that a kind reader has nominated Creampuff Revolution for The Lesbian Lifestyle's Lesbian Blog of the Year award.  Thanks, kind reader! I understand that the top five most nominated blogs will then be voted on starting February 2. My pomade-lovin' pal Curly's been nominated, as well as Ms. SassyFemme - so y'all should head over there and nominate YOUR favourite lesbian blog(s). That's where I'm headed - right after I dust this powdered sugar off. On the other hand, Katr might be home soon. And I DID buy whipped cream this afternoon. Hm.

Creampuff Enjoys Holidays, Reveals Mystery Knitting

Happy Boxing Day! Finally, a holiday we can all agree on! I hope all of you had a lovely celebration, whether you exchanged gifts and had a feast with family or whether you sacked out with Battlestar Galactica and a bottle of peppermint schnapps. Huzzah!

I myself had a really delightful holiday week. To kick things off, my best friend Padu came to visit for a couple of days and ended up modelling some of my keen knitwear! And then Katr's brother Drtr came to visit and did our bidding endlessly! And then we took the ferry over to Victoria and I finally got to see my parents' condo! And my cute and hilarious grandparents were there and my brother and my cousin and his girlfriend came over and she brought a pie and DAMN, it was good! And we had Christmas nachos on Christmas Eve and opened all our gifts and even though we all promised to go easy on presents this year, we all made out like bandits! Just like Jesus! And my parents kicked off all the fun by making an unexpected and very sweet and generous donation to the Creampuff Gay Wedding Fund! Sweet Lavendar Lord! Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Seriously. It was a whirlwind of deliciousness and exclamation points and it's taken us nearly two days to recover. And then Katr's mom is coming tomorrow night and the fun starts all over again! Which reminds me, we have to go shopping tomorrow - we're almost out of eggnog.

Anyway, on to real reason for this post: the knitting!

I learned to knit one year ago yesterday and this year, many people were recipients of my occasionally lumpy but always well-meant knitting. In my beginner's zeal, I tended not to notice when the giftees did not appreciate or even acknowledge the hours and expense their knitted gift cost. Katr noticed, though, and she has a running list of people I am no longer allowed to knit for. Thanks, baby!

Of course, all of the holiday knitting recipients were so gleeful that they will all be getting knitted goods for years to come. Whether they want them or not.

Mom's Scarf

I tried a bunch of different patterns with this super-soft, cream-coloured, crinkly acrylic yarn (Mom's allergic to wool) but the thing just looked like ten kinds of ass. I eventually settled on this basket-weave-y look. Mom thought it was a winner. Score!

Katr's Shawl

This summer, my mom took me to a yarn store in Edmonton where she had spotted a stole/wrap/shawl that she thought would look great on Katr. She and I put a bunch of different colours and textures together and she commissioned me to knit it! We figured I earned about $0.50/hr. Not my usual rate.

Here's Padu as "The Virgin Mary, If She Was a Dude Wearing Katr's Shawl". He looks so coy. What is he hiding? The Son of God? Or a pack of smokes? History will decide.

Drtr's Brave's Fan Scarf

Katr's brother Drtr, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, is a huge fan of the Atlanta Braves. And I'm a huge fan of his! And he's been pretty excited about the knitting. So I made him a scarf in the Atlanta Braves colours. Jealous?

Padu sure was. 

Mom's Dishcloths

Again, when I was home in the summer, my mom handed me a ball of lime green cotton that she thought would make nice dishcloths. She thought that perhaps I could teach her to knit them! And then she thought that maybe . . . I could just knit them myself. So I used them to experiment. The seed stitch was disastrous, but the other two turned out okay.

Let's take another look at that fine fishtail technique:

Katr's Subtle Hint Scarf

Katr saw me knitting this scarf earlier in the fall and fell in love with it. She kept mentioning it, you know, whenever she saw me knitting, or whenever she saw scarves, or whenever she saw things that were blue. And so I gave it to her! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah! And then I gave her the scarf too.

New Yarn

The best thing about holiday gift giving is that sometimes you RECEIVE things that are knitting related. Like this luscious baby alpaca silk  and 6.5mm bamboo needles from my brother. Nice eye, young man. Nice eye.

And then my mom got me this pile of blue Shetland Chunky Tweed and a pattern for a very fetching shawl. For ME!! I have been touching it lovingly all the afternoon. Don't judge me.

I was so pleased with myself over the sheer amount of holiday gift knitting accomplished that I failed to notice that all my knitted holiday gifts were either scarves or scarf-like. Since this is my first year at it, I feel that this is allowed. However, next year, I will have to knit it up a notch (See? See what I did there?) Next year, look for more hats and mittens and yes, that's right - SOCKS. This year will be the Year of Socks!! And perhaps learning to drive. Huzzah!

A Creampuff Bereft

I can see, from the window of my room on the edge of de Nile, that the end of October is upon us. With the coming of the end of October comes the mass exodus of Katr and my furniture, which our friends Dapo, Jusm, Kism, Xath and Jeba paid for and then kindly and patiently let us keep until now so that a) we could "stage" our condo properly for sale and b) I had somewhere to sit, somewhere to sleep and something to watch this month while I was living here.

Jeba, who bought our TV, made arrangements to pick the TV up on Wednesday, which meant that the TV would be the first to go. This in itself is no big deal - I can watch DVDs on my laptop. But I have greatly enjoyed having the TV, for while we no longer have cable, I often had it on to keep me company at night, because I am a pussy and get scared when I am alone. 

Because Jeba was coming for the TV on Wednesday, I made a date with the TV for Tuesday night. I bought Smartfood and Dr. Pepper. I had a good knitting project to work on - very conducive to TV watching. I promised the TV that I would go and rent something fun for our last night together; a goofy romance, perhaps, or something with Gina Torres in it. I canceled other social engagements. I picked out a nice outfit.

Then, late on Monday night, as we were watching the TV she already has at her house, Jeba informed me that her friend Da(no last name) couldn't get the truck for Wednesday night.

So they would have to come for the TV early.

They would have to come on TUESDAY. The night of TV and my last date.

I have to say, I didn't react very well. "I had a DATE planned," I said pleadingly, "tomorrow night, that's . . . that's NOT ENOUGH TIME!"

"Well, I paid you for it in August," Jeba said, reasonably, "so who's really getting the bum's rush here?"

"MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I wailed unattractively, "MEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow night," she said and then she smoked in my face 'til the cab came.

Okay, she didn't really smoke in my face. But if she HAD, that would have explained the tears.

And now, a brief photo essay of my last day with the TV.

The dawn dawned partly cloudy, which is good. As you can see, our living room is very bright, which makes it impossible to watch TV on sunny days. It's like the clouds KNEW. In the photo above, the TV is in repose. As you can see, it had a couple of DVD options to consider.

Firefly, with Gina Torres, was a very strong contender for the Last Day of TV festivities. Hi Gina. Call me.

But in the end, Season Two of Buffy won out. Can you see Angel on the DVD cover there? You might thing he's having a good look at Buffy's ta-ta's, but the reality is that his loving look is directed at  . . . the TV. "Let me work my taciturn magic on you one more time," he is saying. The TV trembled with desire as I popped the disc in. I cracked the Smartfood.

Here on the DVD menu, Willow, like Angel, too seemed to be gazing out of the TV with warm affection and her inimitable charm. The TV admired her sass and brains. By this time (Disc 2) I'd gotten into the scotch.

This is the couch where I sat during my Last Day of TV. Note the scarf I was knitting. It's the very first item I've ever knit for myself and I'm so glad the TV was there to see it. God, I don't even remember the Miss Vickie's. It was that emotional. Good thing I had that Kleenex.

The scarf couldn't take it anymore.

I heard it whispering its final goodbyes to the TV under the strident tones of the Buffy DVD menu "music". I let them have their moment. You know, except for the part where I photographed them without their knowledge.

It was an intense day. But for all my fussing, I'd have to say that I let the TV go with dignity and did not embarrass it in front of its new owner or its new owner's gay friend with a truck. And once the TV was gone, with a shudder and a sigh, all there was was this.

 

The end. Or perhaps . . . the beginning? History will decide.

Crafty Creampuff

When Katr and I were packing up to move this summer, I came across my old wool scarf in a pile of winter garments. I've had this scarf for awhile; I think I got it on sale and it was okay. But it was quite worn and also smelled and so, because I knit now, I decided that I would knit myself a new scarf when the time came and I discarded Stinko McWoolly and gave it no further thought. Until this week.

Man. Monday I was out and about in my sandals with no socks on and 3 days later the icy wind was whipping my hair about so violently that I nearly lost an eye. The zipper on my wintery jacket is all fuckered up and so I have only my raincoat for protection. I knew myself to be desperately in need of scarfage. But all my current yarn is mystery knitting yarn and I have none to spare.

I outlined my predicament to my love over the phone last night. As she was fresh off a professional triumph and also delirious from lack of food, she warmly encouraged me to drop some coin at the yarn store. Oh, and I did. Jealous?

Of course, in my lust for yarn, I honestly, if conveniently, forgot that I DO have a scarf. My friend Jecr of Creampuff Gets Her Wings fame knit it for me in high school. It's a very fine scarf and it's been held hostage for its size and coziness by my mother in Edmonton these 8 years. But when I was home this summer doing the Fringe, I liberated it. And today - today, with my new camera, I finally took photos.

Jecr Scarf Photo Essay

As you can see, the scarf is very bright, which is important for scarves in Edmonton. In winter, you leave for and get home from school in the dark and the bright colours are essential to survival. Not only do they keep your spirits up, but they help you not get hit by Swervin' Mervin, the driver of the 54 Kaskitayo bus.

Panel 1: "Random" Words and Phrases

This panel sports the following words and/or phrases:

• Mole
• The same old story (some kind of U2 reference? Jecr?)
• A vacuum
• Inlet

I'm pretty sure that mole, a vacuum and inlet are all a) words we enjoyed and/or b) punchlines of Blackadder jokes.

Panel 2 & 3: Jecr's Favourite Actor

I think Jecr's obsession with Stephen Rea began when she saw him in The Crying Game. Between U2 and Stephen Rea, it's no wonder she ended up living in Ireland. Since she found the love of her life, has her passion for Stephen waned? He was pretty great in V for Vendetta. History will decide.

Panel 3, 4, 5 & 6: Roro's Favourite Actor

Yeah, I had a big thing for Kenneth Branagh after I saw his film Henry V when I was 14. A BIG thing. A thing so big it's embarassing to think too much about it. I had a scrapbook of magazine articles. I bought movie soundtracks I didn't like because his picture was on the cover. I learned huge parts of Henry V off by heart and murmured them fervently to myself in those times that try the soul. I read his autobiography Beginnings, which he wrote at the age of 28, reverently. I wrote him adulatory letters that I never sent. Once, when I was 16, his name and my name appeared, for completely unrelated reasons, in the same theatre column in the Edmonton Journal and I nearly passed out. I didn't mind that he had no lips and held him in the highest esteem. I know, I know - I am a dorkwad.

Panel 3 & 4: Before He Was "House" . . .

 

. . . Hugh Laurie was on my scarf. Jealous?

Panel 3, 4, 5 & 6: Roro's REAL Favourite Actor

It occurs to me know that for all my obsessive letter-writing and shrine-having, I wasn't actually in love with Kenneth Branagh.

I just wanted to play him on TV.

Because then I would get to shtupp Emma Thompson.

Panel 7: We Are Geeks

This last panel is entirely taken up with the following Blackadder quote: Never ask directions in Wales, Baldrick. I believe the follow-up is "You'll be cleaning spit out of your hair for a fortnight", but that's clearly too much to stitch onto a scarf.

I think we can all agree that Jecr's scarf is an heirloom. An heirloom that should be worn and probably be framed. Maybe when Katr and I find a more permanent home in Vancouver, we can finally get it under glass, where it belongs. Perhaps with some cunning lighting to bring out the duplicate stitch.

Now that I have bought that other yarn, however, I'll still be knitting myself a scarf, you know, for every day use. I don't want to, people. I HAVE to. Besides, I'll need a new scarf to go with my creampuff wedding dress:

Alert reader Kicl sent this gem to me this morning. She noted that with the creampuff dress,

"You can have your bride and eat her too. Er, I mean…never mind, you know what I mean."

Oh, Kicl - you're a doll. And I DO know what you mean. And your suggestion is delicious.

Creampuff Give Thanks, Starts Residency, Knits

It was Thanksgiving this past weekend in Canada and I'm just emerging now from my pie-induced fugue to comment on it.  My list of things to be thankful for last Thanksgiving still stands, with some noticeable additions.

1. The internet. With Katr and I apart this Thanksgiving and my nearby relatives going on adventures to Italy, I wasn't sure where the turkey would be coming from. Turns out it came from Lex, who is an incredible cook, a marvellous hostess and is extremely generous with the most incredible gravy known to woman.  What does "I need a private moment with this" gravy have to do with the internet? Well, like many of the other smart, hilarious, wise, insane, sick, sick people I have come to know over the past couple of years online, I met young Lex through blogging. And for that, I am deeply thankful.

As some of you may recall, I also met my lady love as she was cruising by me on the information superhighway and I was all sappy and thrilled a couple of weeks ago when two of my favourite bloggers, Winter (in Wales) and Andygrrl (in Arizona) declared their mutual affection. Sure they fell in love after meeting in person - but would they had MET in person if not for the mighty internet? WOULD THEY?? (Special to HB - those two might benefit from your Long Distance Lesbian Relationship Poetry Pack. I know I am.)

2. Knitting. A lot of people thought I was kidding when I said I wanted to learn to knit so that if I survived when the world exploded, my mad knitting skillz would keep me from being the first one eaten. But I wasn't kidding. And since my life might one day depend on my sticks and string abilities, I should spend as much time as I possibly can knitting, right? Obviously! Shopping for groceries and cleaning toilets is all well and good but it's not going to help you out when the RADIOACTIVE ZOMBIES ARE ON THEIR WAY. Or, you know, the Cylons.

I've got all kinds of secretive winter solstice and birthday gift related mystery knitting on the go right now, but here's the hat I made Mipa for her birthday. Yes, it was supposed to be pointy. And yes, that's Darth Tater. Jealous?

3. Government Funding. I got some earlier this year and this week marks the first of 16 non-consecutive weeks of being a playwright-in-residence. I spent several hours yesterday in the microfiche room at the Metro Toronto Reference Library reading the Daily Globe from 1863. Scintillating stuff. My favourite line so far? An ad for the Fun Almanac. Here it is:

             FUN FUN FUN!
      Fun Almanac for 1863
             Price 6 cents
No lover of fun should be without it

It was a simpler time.

Creampuff May Need to Have Some Kind of Mental Evaluation

When last I checked, my friend Jesk had a white winter coat. So for her birthday this September, I was planning on knitting her a warm fuzzy something that would match her white coat. I had some very nice yarn for the main body of the project but needed a little zaz for the trim. And that's when I found the ball of gorgeous, pure white angora at Three Bags Full. It was a little pricey, but come on - it's ANGORA! And yes, it will shed, but it's white! And Jesk's coat is white! White on white!

I didn't even ask for a handjob at the till.

It was after I got the angora home that I started to have suspicions of the "sneaking" variety about this particular knitting project. Hadn't Jesk told me a story involving her winter coat on the phone this spring? Hadn't something unfortunate befallen the coat? Hadn't Jesk's sister dirtied the coat and then put the coat in the washing machine? And wasn't the coat a down coat? And hadn't Jesk's sister killed Jesk's white winter coat?

An e-mail was dispatched to the birthday girl to confirm.

In the meantime, of course, I couldn't leave the damn angora alone and was dying to see its sweet fuzziness in action. But where to start? Aha!

I taught Katr to knit in March, as she expressed an interest and also a jealousy around my t.v. watching industriousness. Being a genius, she picked it up quickly and actually knitted 3/4 of an attractive pink cellphone cosy before she completely lost interest. She'd repeatedly hinted that if I wanted, I could finish her cosy. And if I finished the cosy, I could trim it with my new fuzzy friend. Score! I couldn't wait to see how it looked!

Well, "darn cute" is how it looked (I'll try and get a photo of it later). But I noticed while I was knitting the three rows of fuzzy white trim that, for the first time in Vancouver, I was feeling . . . scratchy throated. Also, tickle-y.  I sneezed violently once and rubbed my eyes. They immediately started watering. I also noticed that my fingers were very red and a little blotchy. Perplexed and on the verge of another life-threatening sneeze, I looked at the yarn label again. And that's when it hit me.

You were all ahead of me on this, weren't you? And you probably all figured out WAAAAAY before I did, didn't you? You probably all remember that angora comes not from sheep, but from RABBITS, don't you? And who's allergic to rabbits the same way she's allergic to cats? Holy shit. ME.

Sweet fuzzy Christ.

So there I was, with my tiny brain thinking I was knitting with a soft and extremely fuzzy version of this:

while instead, I was knitting with this:

which means that I might as well have been rubbing myself all over with these:

I am itchy just thinking about it.

So it turns out Jesk's new winter coat is forest green and my project idea is totally out the window. Which is fine, because clearly I need to take sometime to knit myself a brain. In other news, I'll be back in Toronto next week, for anyone's who interested in swapping me something for a ball of $13, pure white angora. Slightly used.

Edited to include sexy photos: Here is the cell phone cosy. Makes Katr's phone look a little racy, I think. Now if only she'd get that "If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don't Wanna Be Right" ringtone, the package would be complete . . .

Rainy Day Creampuff

I'm in a new city! A city surrounded by mountains and ocean! A city with a rich history! And so I present to you - more pictures of my knitting! Huzzah!

Sorry guys - it's raining sheets outside and my trip to Gastown's been put off until my shoes stop making that squishing noise.

As some of you may recall, my childhood best friend Chma got married last fall and I was elated to send her a giant polyester poinsetta as a wedding gift. Clearly, the poinsetta was an aphrodisiac, for Chma was soon in the family way! And she's due around now! So, as I type, she and the hubs (Jode) may already be cradling their little bundle of joy. And if my package got there in time, they may have wrapped their offspring in:

Chma's Baby Blanket

I was totally gonna do the Big Bad Baby Blanket from Stitch n' Bitch, but Chma casually mentioned that she was knitting herself a sweater from that book. FOILED! So I searched for another blanket to make and found this free pattern over at Major Knitter. This is what the blanket's supposed to look like:

 

I wanted to make mine out of cotton in case the kid takes after me and is allergic to everything. And I wanted the colours to not bore the pants off the kid - 'cause bad things happen when babies run around without pants. So here's what my blanket looks like:

It's a good thing I ignored the "knit with two strands held together" note, because then this blanket would be more like a restraining device than a lustrous, snuggly treat. As it is, this blanket, she's heavy, like the lead apron they make you wear at the dentist when they take an x-ray. Not that that's a bad thing. The heavy apron is my favourite thing about the dentist. Will my blanket help make Chma's baby less frightened when he has his first dental visit? Or will Chma and Jode's dog Lola claim the blanket before the baby even has a chance to spit up on it?? History will decide.

Now if only we could see the blanket wrapped around an actual baby . . .

Creampuff Does Not Know What to do With Herself

Ladies and gentlemen, the long drought has ended. It's been 94 days, the 87% True Fringe tour is over and with its cessation, so too does Creampuff cease  . . . to wear pants. Fly free!

So, uh . . . now what?

This move to Vancouver has been, to quote playwright Stewart Lemoine, disorienting in a really immediate and gratifying way. It's easy to wrap your head around the IDEA of being in a new place but it's those little realities that conspire to either delight you or trip you up. Stuff like:

*Wanting to cash a cheque/mail a gift/go for pancakes/get some sweet, sweet liquor and realizing that you don't know where the bank/post office/best cake house in town/closest hooch shop is.

*Craving chocolate and finding a Purdy's. PURDY'S!! Where have you BEEN all my life?

*Hearing a weird little yipping sound and wondering if it's your new shoes squeaking, until you look down and realize you've stepped on one of those tiny, tiny Yaletown "dogs". Sorry, Mookie.

*Forgetting to put on moisturizer because, it's, like, moist enough here already.

*When you see a Starbucks and think "I see a Starbucks", by the time you've finished the thought, there's another Starbucks.

Crazy stuff, people. So what grounds a girl when she's feelin' all liminal and shit?  That's right - KNITTING.

Yesterday afternoon, Katr and I took an exciting trip down Main Street to visit Three Bags Full, a new yarn shop that just opened. It's lovely in there; friendly staff and yummy fibre. I picked up a couple of exciting new things and Katr bought me a couple of knitting magazines - knitting porn, if you will. I spent some time alone in bed with them last night. It was . . .  ahem . . . nice. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.

Chgi's Birthday Scarf

As long-time readers may recall, Chgi and I stopped on our way out of Toronto to buy yarn for a birthday scarf that I would knit him as we drove across the country. The scarf, like our trip, had its ups and downs, but in the end, I must say it worked out nicely. I just hope that Chgi doesn't look too closely at the end of the scarf, where I ran out of brown and had to skip a couple of rows. Close call, my friends. Here is Chgi modelling the scarf. If you're wondering, he is also modelling his kicky street jive for "East Vancouver". HOT.

Jaro's Hairy Sack

Four months late, I finally presented my brother Jaro with the felted bag I made him for his birthday. Fortunately, he's just moved to Victoria, so he'll be wearing jackets to protect himself from the itchy hairiness of the sack. Unfortunately, he's just moved to Victoria, where rain makes wool real wet n' heavy. Enjoy!!

The Femiknit Mafia rocked my world by sending me a couple of toggles I could use for the closure of Jaro's itchy bag and here's a close-up of the toggle I went with. In person, it looked okay, but in this picture, the thing looks so poorly sewed it's like I did it with my feet. Clearly, I need to work on my finishing skills.

I'm DYING to post pictures of some mystery knitting I recently finished, 'cause I'm pretty sure the 8 3/4 months pregnant recipient isn't following the ol' blog that closely. But in case she IS, I'm going to hold off 'til it's had a chance to actually get there. Because I'm not an ANIMAL.