She’s like the wind
August 13, 2009 § 1 Comment
Just watched another video of the Yarn Harlot knitting – the vid with the slow-mo that actually makes it possible to see what the hell she’s doing. Craaazy.
Instead of knitting, I’ve been winding a bit of yarn today. Not much, the bulky handspun from my vacation, took me maybe 15 minutes for 100g. A dream. Still have to wind the second skein of green laceweight for Muir, already dreading that, but Saskia has agreed to help and be the swift.
Oh, Muir. Last night, I knit on it for about 5 hours, I’m guessing, and I finished one repeat. That makes my knitting speed about 10 minutes for one row. Ugh. I mean, a single row does 157 stitches, but still, that’s kind of disheartening. Five hours for one repeat, and I need at least fifteen… I have the feeling I’m gonna run out of yarn. I have six repeats by now… oh god. Though actually, maybe 12 or 13 reps are gonna be enough. Oh, what a dream that would be.
Reunited with my camera, I spent half my day today photographing… stuff. My new favorite mug, the new yarn, myself. Half my day isn’t even that exaggerated, because I got up at three today. In my defense, I was up till 8am this morning, talking with Saskia, listening to music, knitting, watching a shitload of Dr Who and getting my arm clawed in fright during ‘Blink’, the fucking scary Weeping Angel Statue episode. Eep. Good thing we waited with that one until dawn.
Enough blabbering. Picspam!
It really is a lovely mug. Looks and might even be handmade, and even if it isn’t, it’s very down to earth. Holds about 450ml. Also doubles charmingly as a yarn stand.
Shiny. They also didn’t leave a trace of fuzz in the mug, which I’m endlessly thankful for.
Hair is lovely, tea is awesome, I’m nice an tan, but my skin is terrible at the moment and I don’t even know why. Too much stress, I’d normally say, but I’m kind of on break right now?
Got out my softball glove, I love to sit in my window and toss the ball in the air a bit. And the balls I wound were almost the exact size of a softball. Still unsure why it’s called softball when the ball is exactly as soft as a stone, but I guess it’s one of these mysteries of life.
[We interrupt our scheduled program for a short public service announcement: It’s not even 10 and it’s already dark! Holy crap! Then again, not long ago I was aghast at how long it was light outside. But that’s me, always surprised by such unexpected things as the seasons changing!]
Look at the colors! Just look at them!
Also, I’m a person who loves post-its. Or small pieces of paper of any kind. Yet, for some reason, I never have any at hand, so notes get written pretty liberally across the right side of my body all the time. This is what my notes on which photos to upload looked like today:
Still traces from the other day… ah, well. I don’t especially mind looking like an exploded calculator.
I’ve only been up seven hours and I’m already kinda tired. Must be my body’s way of saying that the last thing it wants to do today is wind a mile of yarn into a ball.