mom's foot, RIP

Farewell, old friend. You'll be missed.

Okay, I'm exaggerating, but my mom broke her foot yesterday. She and my dad had driven out from PA to St. Louis the day after Christmas for my dad's best friend's dad's funeral, and then to Chicago to visit her sister, as long as they were in the neighborhood (the entire length of the state of Illinois being a "neighborhood" when you're already that far from home), and on the way my mom tripped over some uneven pavement in a gas station parking lot and skinned her hands and knees. She didn't even realize she had hurt her foot until they got to my aunt's house in Chicago and she tried to get out of the car. So now she has a temporary cast on her foot and is at a Chicago orthopedist's office for a follow-up as I type. My poor mom, who's very independent and dignified and hates asking for help, is hobbling around on crutches nine hundred miles from home. I know my dad's taking good care of her, but I wish I were there to help.

The picture is her Christmas gift, the Log Cabin Socks from Handknit Holidays, in Cascade Pastaza. (And her skin isn't actually gray, she's just wearing black pantyhose under the socks.) She refused to let me get a better picture. She was busy with the roast beef she wouldn't let anyone help her cook. Aw, Mom.

Clapotis revisited

Thus begins my Christmas gift round-up. It won't take long, I wised up and only knit three gifts this year. Gift the first: the world-famous Clapotis for my sister Katie. She admired mine, so I subtly, delicately investigated what her color choice for such a piece might be (i.e. I sent her a link to the Andean Silk page at knitpicks and said, "What color do you like best? I mean, if I were to knit you a scarf or something"). She picked olive, which is nice on the screen but gorgeous in person. My only modification was to omit one repeat of the increase section to make it a little narrower. I liked the drape of my Clap post-blocking, although I know Kate Gilbert says not to block it, so I blocked Kate's too. She models it fabulously on one of my parents' notorious vintage plaid couches; it goes with her new ipod.

Can I just take a minute to rave about Andean Silk once again? It feels thicker than it is, if that makes sense, it's so soft, and just look at that drape. If I had to describe it in one word, it would be sumptuous--accurate, but also, a word you don't get to use all that often. And if I had to use only one word to describe the picture below, it would be... spectacular.

Get it? She wears glasses.

people, I love this weather.

I have to scrape off my car. The sidewalk is icy. Albuquerque drivers are insane in the snow. And I'm doing a mental Charleston of joy. I can't help myself, I just love winter. It's visceral. The first little snap in the air in the fall is like an alarm clock. No, wait, I hate alarm clocks. Well, whatever, I'm loving it. The downside is, I have to work. I can't bring myself to call in sick to go snowboarding, because I'm such a goody-goody. Dammit.

Anyway, it's sweater weather, so today I wore my LMKG Hourglass and my fabulous new Scout's Swag panta, color Orchid. Look, pretty!
This is, sadly, the best FO pic I have of the Hourglass. I meant to get someone to take a good one at Thanksgiving, but I forgot my camera, and I'm the only one who ever takes pictures. But I will remember to take it home for Christmas. Although, sadly, it'll be a much smaller crowd--no cousins, no aunts, no nephew. But my sister Katie and I need to get a picture of ourselves in our matching Dinosaur Vice Principal t-shirts, and I want to get pictures of all my Christmas knitting being enjoyed by its recipients. Just in case it's the last time they ever enjoy it. (That sounds like there's going to be a Christmas massacre or something. I don't mean "last time" like they're going to die, I mean they may not wear it if I'm not around. In which case I will have to kill them.)
p.s. peep my bloodshot eyes, yo. They match my panta.

cheeseless vs. cheesefree

Long time, no blog.
So earlier I had a craving for my mom's cheeseball, for which I have the recipe, at which I've never looked. I dusted it off and went to the grocery store, struggled through the crowd of people who apparently all had the same idea--"I'll just stop by the store after work"--got my sharp cheddar, bleu cheese, cream cheese, Worcestershire sauce, and onion, and brought it all home. Only then did I read further down the recipe, where it says, "let cheese soften outside fridge 1 hr" and "best after setting for 24 hrs." So starting right now, it's 25 hours before I can eat cheeseball! And I bought two varieties of crackers and everything! And I'm exhausted from the grocery store, where I (stupidly) did not buy anything else but cheeseball supplies! I can't go back there! I can't face it again! I just can't!

I've decided to take charge of this situation. Instead of being cheeseless (i.e., a sad, passive victim in a situation beyond my control), I am declaring myself cheesefree (i.e., a take-charge grrrl with a strong sense of her own agency, who doesn't want any damn cheeseball!). I decide my destiny, and for the next 25 hours, I am cheesefree!

In other words, I'm going to order a pizza, and make the cheeseball while I wait for it to get here.

December, yo!

Not only am I close to finishing my mom's first sock, finished with my dad's socks, finished with any sisterly knitting that may or may not have occurred, and any other Christmas shopping necessary, the yuppie water feature at my apartment building is now an icy pond. Winter is here, bitches! (Sorry, but it's my favorite season and I get a little worked up.)

In other news, I'm about to take an oath never to knit flat again and rip out my Central Park Hoodie because I hate seaming so much, I knit a hat on the plane, I love my hourglass sweater, and while taking Thanksgiving family photos, instead of "cheese," my 85-year-old grandmother yelled, "sex!" Awesome.