What is it about a man in a vest?

While working on my Tour de Fleece projects, I've been working my way through a couple of new TV shows- including The Mentalist. I tripped across it by accident (and given my affinity for Psych, decided to give it a chance), and I have to say... wow.

Now, I'm not going to Clark Kent all over it because suspension of disbelief is part of the joy that is television. So, you're not going to get another attack of the implausible [noun] this time.

First- Simon Baker/Patrick Jane has the best Botox-ed forehead EVER. An un-paralyzed forehead has nothing on him- and even (shockingly) looks unnatural. Weird, right?

Second- he wears a VEST. Seriously. Evidently, vests aren't just for ushers and magicians anymore. He might be the only man on television who wears a vest, but I'll be damned if he doesn't rock it.

(Talking about underrated accessories- Mom pointed out that Gabrielle Anwar rocks a fanny pack on Burn Notice. Take that, you fanny pack haters!)

I'm sure the discussion that made that wardrobe decision went something like this:

Wardrobe Person #1: We want him to be different. Quirky.
Wardrobe Person #2: Maybe we should have him wear obnoxious ties, or a belt buckle, or mismatched socks!
Wardrobe Person #1: Nah, that's been done on Bones. And Criminal Minds.
Wardrobe Person #2: Hm. Since he works with law enforcement, maybe it should be a special tie.
Wardrobe Person #1: No way. They're California law enforcement. Nobody in California wears a tie to work.
Wardrobe Person #2: Flip flops?
Wardrobe Person #1: Flip flops aren't shoes. We need something that says, "Hey, I respect my work AND I'm unconventional."
Wardrobe Person #2: I know. A VEST. Nobody wears a vest anymore!
Wardrobe Person #1: GENIUS.

And so it was. The Vested Man.

Holy sock, Batman!

That's right. I can officially say that I have worn through the heel of a handknit sock. Proof:

I knit these in 2002 out of Silja sock yarn that I bought at the Yarn Place. (Someone, please tell me why I can remember that, but not what I ate for lunch yesterday? It's a puzzlement.) Seven years and a million washes later, we have a spectacular, spontaneous hole.

Tour de Fleece is going swimmingly- I have plied both the Mango Merino/Silk from Redfish Dyeworks and the Crown Mountain Superwash Merino (in Albatross) for Andrew. Of course there aren't pictures. Evidently, I can post cell-phone pictures of holy socks, but my Beloved Handspun(tm) requires a photo shoot. Puzzlement, part 2.

I am knitting like a MADWOMAN on my Adamas shawl. I'm hoping to finish it in the next couple of weeks so that I can do a huge blocking session out on the patio. I have not one, but three, shawls that need blocking. How is it that after a hundred hours of knitting something, blocking is what keeps it in the UFO bin? Puzzlement, part 3.

In regards to the Lace Gauntlet Throwdown (because nobody loves a challenge like I do), I have been slowly working through combing the Baby Cormo locks, and I think I'm going to bribe No-Blog-Rachel with wine (or mojitos) to come over with her Patrick Greene drumcarder so I can drumcard Frank and Luther. There is just NO way I'm combing all that.

(For your reference, it's taking me approximately one million years per ounce to comb - poorly - the beautiful locks. Sorry, Meghan, there is a real reason why I love Shari.)

I've sustained some minor battle damage, but I think Andrew might just dig fiber related scars.

"See this one? Combing baby cormo." Hm. Doesn't quite have that "tough guy" ring to it. (Considering I told a few people that I tore my chest muscles in a bar fight - because coughing hard enough to cause that damage just sounded sissified - I'm not above a creative story.)

...with liberty and libations for all!

Today kicked off the Tour de Fleece. After careful consideration, and much debate, I found my goal. I'm going to ply up all the projects that have been sitting, resting indefinitely, which include:

- 25 oz of Tallulah, to be knit into a Mariah:

- 4 oz of Redfish Dyeworks 80% merino/ 20% tussah silk, in the Mango colorway, spun for lace knitting.

- 4 oz of Crown Mountain Superwash merino in "Albatross". Spun for socks for Andrew. (Side note: Crown Mountain had a sale last week, and I totally resisted the urge to purchase.)

But alas, as the race kicked off, guess who got a flat tire? Yours truly. I start plying up the mango colored laceweight, and my Woolee Winder refuses to draw in. So I oil everything (because that's the first step in fixing any spinning issue. Yes, the bobbin is new, so it needs to be broken in. But alas, my Woolee Winder needs to be cleaned and tightened. My pit crew (Andrew) has been informed.

Lest you think I spun alone today, I was joined by some of my closest friends, and their families. What started as a casual day of sitting around, watching movies and spinning turned into a full-out pot-luck style barbeque. I haven't had this much fun on a Fourth of July in ages!

When we served dinner, we packed a dozen people into our living room, tossed in 1776 - which might be the best movie EVER, second only to Xanadu - and watched William Daniels declare independency for the United States. Sure, it was a tight fit, but we still had a great time.

So, I close with some self-evident truths:

- Where there is a fire pit and s'more components, fun will be had.
- Getting into a hammock can be a challenge, but well worth it.
- Friends come to party, real friends help with the cleanup. Mine are the best!

Rules of the universe

On Monday, I ended up with a "bacterial situation" in one of my eyes, that resulted in my right eye being painfully swollen shut and a trip to the ophthalmologist's office.

Sam, kudos to him, came and got me from work, and stayed with me until Andrew got home to take me to the doctor. Andrew, to his credit, offered to come into the exam room with me. I told him that I was a big girl, and if I needed him, I would call for him. (Really, all I needed was a ride to the doctor.)

I almost made Andrew take a picture of it, but he suggested that I do an artist's rendering of it, for the weak of stomach.

Jasmin, on a normal day:

Jasmin, on Monday, with her Freak Eye:

The resemblance is uncanny, right? In any case, the way the universe works, the worse I look, the better looking the firemen/paramedics/ or in this case, ophthalmologist is. Smokin' hot. Seriously.

(He was also incredibly good at his job, and had a sense of humor, which is important when you're dealing with someone like me. It seems that hiring wicked hot, super-good doctors is the trend with Kaiser. It gives all new meaning to "Thrive".)

The exchange went like this:

Dr. EyeCandy: Well, I've got good news for you.
Me: I get to keep the eye?
Dr. EyeCandy: You get to keep the eye.
Me: Sweet.

He then prescribed my FAVORITE prescription to date- to go home and lay on the couch with my eyes shut. I may have professed my undying love for him. Two rest days, a few cold compresses, and some ointment later, my eyes are almost the same size and color again.

(By the way, I love ointment. I love that they're a historic cure, I love that there's an ointment for all that ails you, and most of all, I love to call 'ointment' 'oinkment'. Shades of my pig-loving childhood.)

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.

It has been 16 days since my last post. I confess; I have been knitting. I have been spinning. I have been finishing. I have dyed. I have knit in public. I have even been (gasp!) hand processing wool.

I have finished my Wool Peddler's Shawl, except for the blocking:

(Notice the Swarovski crystals in the edging:)

I have finished not one, but TWO pairs of show notes socks. Here are the Andrew's Vanilla pattern in Abstract Fiber's "Newport":

I finished my Abby, which Kalendargirl says makes me look like Ginger Rogers:

I have cast-on, ripped out, cast-on, ripped out, and cast on my Sunshine Socks:

And now that Chloe has set in the sleeves and seamed the shoulders, I'm THIS CLOSE to finishing my Katarina:

So, I leave you with pictures, and I assure you, there are stories to go with these pieces. As my penance, I have been tasked with knitting a 5" garter collar and cuffs (with US 3/3.25mm needles) on the Katarina.

My cup runneth over!

There is no TV event I look forward to more than the Tony Awards. I'm a giant geek, and while I completely understand that they aren't really representative of the whole New York theatre scene, it's a taste of fresh theater.

I love it. They also pick the HUNKIEST hosts, including my one and only Wolverine (Hugh Jackman), and this year, my first love (Neil Patrick Harris) will be hosting. Neil Patrick Handsome- I mean, Harris - is the origin of my affinity for spiky, "sticky-up" hair.

My six-year-old crush on him was the reason my parents let me stay up past my bedtime to watch Doogie Howser, Md. Though, in retrospect, I think it may have been my parents, telling me from an early age that marrying a doctor was all right with them. In any case, NPH has always held a special place in my heart, and now he's hosting the Tony's.

I have a morbid curiousity about "Shrek: The Musical", but my instincts warn me that where all the good books become mediocre movies, all good movies will become cheerful, sanitized, simplified musicals.

(Legally Blonde, anyone? Ok, short rant: they made Elle stupid in the play as a plot device to give Emmett the opportunity to tutor her, which COMPLETELY missed the spirit of the story. In case you weren't paying attention, the point is that she always WAS smart, just perceived to be otherwise.)

Where are the original thinkers? What's with all the revivals?

Ahem. But, I digress.

Neil has got some big shoes to fill - and you know what they say about guys who wear big shoes - and long legs to keep up with.

Stunning, long, keeping-up-with-the-Rockettes-in-a-kick-line legs.

Yesterday's conversation

Me: [Spills drink.] Crap!
Work Husband Mike: What?
Me: I just spilled my drink down my sleeve. [Look down.] And down the front of my cardigan.
Work Husband Mike: What was it?
Me: Club soda.
Work Husband Mike: Quick! Pour more club soda on it! It'll keep it from staining.

So, a nun walks into the vet...

No, really. Except, that's not where my story starts.

On Saturday, Andrew and I loaded the dogs into the car to go get their shots updated. When we got there, the office wasn't busy and didn't close for over an hour, so we let the dogs sniff in the ivy around the office (Elphie's favorite thing to do, for the record).

Niki decided that he was done sniffing and was ready to go into the clinic, so Andrew took him in. Elphie, who experiences the world one blade of grass at a time, took a little longer. As Elphie was finishing, and started to head towards the clinic - no joke - out walks a nun. In a habit.

I was a little surprised; I've never seen a nun in person, and here was a nun, in the wild. I smiled, because, never having attended Catholic school or church, I don't have a Nun Thing.

"What a pretty dog," says Sister Mary Nun-in-the-Wild, "It looks just like another dog in the clinic."

"He's mine, too," I answer, "They're a matched set."

"Poor things. My dog shakes like a leaf when we come to the vet," says Sister Mary Nun-in-the-Wild, "She must be so nervous."

"Nope; my dogs don't mind coming to the vet," I say, as Elphie is pulling on the leash to go INSIDE, "Happy vet visits make all the difference."

"Happy vet visits?" asked Sister Mary Nun-in-the-Wild.

"Yeah, Dr. Johnson suggested them. The dogs come in, get weighed, get a cookie, we go home. All positive experiences, so they don't mind coming here," I answer.

"For Heaven's sake," says Sister Mary Nun-in-the-Wild, "What a good idea!"

[At this point, I giggle - on the inside- because somehow I find it POSITIVELY HILARIOUS that a nun would say "For Heaven's sake."]

We part ways, the dogs get boostered, everything goes smoothly, and I got to leave with a nun story. Winners all around!

At the end of a long week

At the end of a long week
Originally uploaded by cuteknitter2000

Sometimes you need giant margaritas and some killer company.

Congrats on your BA, Tika!

Sometimes Vulcans wear ugly sweaters, too.

So, it's been more than a week since the new Star Trek was released. Before I say anything else, it is only fair to say that I LOVED this movie, I think it was brilliant, witty, fun, and Zachary Quinto plays one hot Vulcan.

I think what I might have liked best about this movie was that we get some interesting alternate exposition. We see Spock as a child, and later, as a young adult. We learn that despite logic, even a Vulcan has to wear the Ugly Sweater.

We all know the Ugly Sweater. The one that some well-intentioned family member (or family friend) made for you. The one that itched, or grew, or had some dorky intarsia. Since none of the other Vulcans in the film wore ugly, ill-fitting sweaters made of acrylic (Homespun, anyone?) over their beautifully tailored outfits, I can only deduce there is one person to blame.

Winona Ryder. Aka, Mrs. Sarek, Amanda Grayson, and most importantly, Spock's Mom. She strikes me as the Ugly Sweater knitting type. (Would it be cliche to make a joke about her shoplifting something better for him than ACRYLIC?)

Poor Spock. As if he wasn't a pariah enough for being half human; now he has to don the Ugly Sweater of Half-Human Shame that his mother made for him. Nobody spoke up for him.

My mother saved me from an Ugly Sweater (which, by the way, would have been the autumn-colored, cardiganed sister of Spock's USoHHS) in high school. I saw the end result, which the offending relative decided to make for herself and it was a crime against knitting. A CRIME!

Someone needs to stop the madness. If you happen to witness a crime against knitting, please call the [fictional] Crimes Against Knitting Hotline: 1-800-STOP-THE-ACRYLIC.