Extra long yarn ends, not fringe, define the change of place, of color, of steps to take to the end of the work.
I used all four colors that will go into the finished piece. The arrangement is something I'm a bit nervous about. The couple I'm making this for is very stylish and I'm not sure that I'm okay with the idea of giving them something that they will not like to have about their home. The idea is that it will go over the back of their couch or perhaps over a lap or under a pillow. It is not correct that this should be entirely about the person who made it, and yet, I must be a part of this, as they are a part of me and the gift is as well. Tonight I will ponder the color charting of the work, and the width and length that will best suit its purpose.
I have not written anything of the novel still this year. I suspect that I am waiting for something, but it all honesty I do not know what that is, and if I don't find it soon, I'll just make it up.
I've to make a list of things to do today. Which is always the first thing on my lists of things to do.
This morning found me pinned underneath cuddly felines, reading about developments and changes in word separation and writing and copying. "Protoscholastics" is now my new favorite word.
It is cold today and we're all used to it now, so everyone is out and about in the world, reading books, using Internet, listening to music.
Saturday 9 January 2010
Friday 8 January 2010
Tracks in the snow
The knitting projects for the year have begun, in grand fashion. This is not to say that there is anything grand or glorious about collecting needles and yarn and pattern and focus, rather that both of the projects I will begin soon are huge and will take many months to complete. The patterns are entirely new to me, and I've decided to be smart about them (as the finished projects are gifts for other people) and make actual swatches, to scale replicas, if you will, not only for practice and note-taking purposes, but also to have some remnant of the things in my home.
Not every project must be large and impossible. There is a need for fingerless gloves and perhaps even socks. A pattern has been chosen for the cabling that I would like to use on both of them. I find the idea matching gloves with socks deeply silly and wonder where the hell it came from. I feel that thick wool boot socks and matching gloves in various shades of orange and purple and green will be a lovely addition to my winter wardrobe. One of these years.
The small projects; the ones that take an hour or two; the ones that take an hour or two every day for a week - these are the ones that keep me focused on the larger ones. I learn more about consistency. I have something to do. Results are not necessarily immediate, but they are noticeable. and I've got stuff to show off to people. Which is always the goal, na?
I've broken the big projects down as much as I can. The house, the afghan, the couch runner thing, the novel. The novel is the one that has the most little steps. I've got an idea board for it. I've got ideas. The time is a little more haphazard right now as there is much going on. That will get worked out. Because it is a nice little project to sit with the calendar and my work schedule and move around each other for a little while.
Last night I began the replica of the couch runner thing. I've altered the pattern slightly to accommodate the yarn and needles that I've to use. This will be the first project involving more than one color that I've done in a very long time, and I'm more than a bit nervous, so the color change practice is good. It is good to just jump into a thing, knowing that there are more jumps ahead, never fear about the lack of challenge.
Also - oh, yeah, there's an also - the reading. I love the reading. but there's a hell of a lot of it to do this lifetime. The library that I leave to the world will be my gift to the next me. This is my reading list. What is yours?
The world here is cold, so cold that we all wish to be fitted inside with blankets and warm drinks. Our wishes go unfulfilled and the outdoors calls with sunshine and snow and we walk around in a daze, not quite believing where we are. These are days of coffee shops and long lunches and plans for winter adventures in snow-covered cemeteries in boots and gloves and many long layers under something lovely in flowing skirt. There is quiet in the walking, even the crunch does not always travel as far as it could. We will speak of fairies and families and perfect picnics as we take pulls from flasks of liquid warm and spicy. Our feet will freeze and our noses will turn us all into shunned reindeer and when we go home and finally sleep the dreams will dance in delight because their world has been given beauty and cold and spice.
Not every project must be large and impossible. There is a need for fingerless gloves and perhaps even socks. A pattern has been chosen for the cabling that I would like to use on both of them. I find the idea matching gloves with socks deeply silly and wonder where the hell it came from. I feel that thick wool boot socks and matching gloves in various shades of orange and purple and green will be a lovely addition to my winter wardrobe. One of these years.
The small projects; the ones that take an hour or two; the ones that take an hour or two every day for a week - these are the ones that keep me focused on the larger ones. I learn more about consistency. I have something to do. Results are not necessarily immediate, but they are noticeable. and I've got stuff to show off to people. Which is always the goal, na?
I've broken the big projects down as much as I can. The house, the afghan, the couch runner thing, the novel. The novel is the one that has the most little steps. I've got an idea board for it. I've got ideas. The time is a little more haphazard right now as there is much going on. That will get worked out. Because it is a nice little project to sit with the calendar and my work schedule and move around each other for a little while.
Last night I began the replica of the couch runner thing. I've altered the pattern slightly to accommodate the yarn and needles that I've to use. This will be the first project involving more than one color that I've done in a very long time, and I'm more than a bit nervous, so the color change practice is good. It is good to just jump into a thing, knowing that there are more jumps ahead, never fear about the lack of challenge.
Also - oh, yeah, there's an also - the reading. I love the reading. but there's a hell of a lot of it to do this lifetime. The library that I leave to the world will be my gift to the next me. This is my reading list. What is yours?
The world here is cold, so cold that we all wish to be fitted inside with blankets and warm drinks. Our wishes go unfulfilled and the outdoors calls with sunshine and snow and we walk around in a daze, not quite believing where we are. These are days of coffee shops and long lunches and plans for winter adventures in snow-covered cemeteries in boots and gloves and many long layers under something lovely in flowing skirt. There is quiet in the walking, even the crunch does not always travel as far as it could. We will speak of fairies and families and perfect picnics as we take pulls from flasks of liquid warm and spicy. Our feet will freeze and our noses will turn us all into shunned reindeer and when we go home and finally sleep the dreams will dance in delight because their world has been given beauty and cold and spice.
Wednesday 6 January 2010
Well, what of it?
It is the time of year for me to make no resolutions, plan nothing and generally not re-evaluate my life and activities in general.
It is also the time of year when I and all of the people I know spend enormous amounts of time stuck inside for many many hours and days on end because Mother Nature thinks it's funny to send us all around the bend with mild stale breath poisoning. So I go through my stuff. And I start thinking about why I have all of the stuff that I still have. And I listen to lectures on CD, or music or movie commentaries and I knit or sort papers or wind yarn or bother to open three different tubs and take out the necessary materials to make a sort of pin-stuff-to-it board that I really need to have around the place (I need more than one, actually) in order to put up the cards and things that I've got ideas and sentences written on so that novel that I started waaay back in November (you know, for nanowrimo?) won't languish in the pits of my guilt-filled hatbox of shit that never saw the light of day.
Because these things are in my home, and they are a part of me, and I am more than a little in love with them both right now. The commitment is a long-term one, you know? It isn't about the long ass blog post that will not be followed with anything for months until I have a fit of the 'must communicates' like I'm having right now. Nor is it about making one huge installation piece of yarn and recycled grocery bags and bits of chewed gum for my living room. These are small steps and terrifying because they build up and life changes and it almost never happens in any predictable shiny happy dreamtime kind of ways. I've made a rug. and a thing to stick cards to. and I've started fingerless gloves. The pile of books to read is lovely and not daunting, but damn if it isn't going to challenge me.
It could be just the timing of it. Could be coincidence. Could be that I'm just ready for things to happen. Could be the New Year.
Don't really care. It's happening and the movements have become forces in some direction that I know I've determined, but I certainly don't know the terrain yet.
It is also the time of year when I and all of the people I know spend enormous amounts of time stuck inside for many many hours and days on end because Mother Nature thinks it's funny to send us all around the bend with mild stale breath poisoning. So I go through my stuff. And I start thinking about why I have all of the stuff that I still have. And I listen to lectures on CD, or music or movie commentaries and I knit or sort papers or wind yarn or bother to open three different tubs and take out the necessary materials to make a sort of pin-stuff-to-it board that I really need to have around the place (I need more than one, actually) in order to put up the cards and things that I've got ideas and sentences written on so that novel that I started waaay back in November (you know, for nanowrimo?) won't languish in the pits of my guilt-filled hatbox of shit that never saw the light of day.
Because these things are in my home, and they are a part of me, and I am more than a little in love with them both right now. The commitment is a long-term one, you know? It isn't about the long ass blog post that will not be followed with anything for months until I have a fit of the 'must communicates' like I'm having right now. Nor is it about making one huge installation piece of yarn and recycled grocery bags and bits of chewed gum for my living room. These are small steps and terrifying because they build up and life changes and it almost never happens in any predictable shiny happy dreamtime kind of ways. I've made a rug. and a thing to stick cards to. and I've started fingerless gloves. The pile of books to read is lovely and not daunting, but damn if it isn't going to challenge me.
It could be just the timing of it. Could be coincidence. Could be that I'm just ready for things to happen. Could be the New Year.
Don't really care. It's happening and the movements have become forces in some direction that I know I've determined, but I certainly don't know the terrain yet.
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