Ay, macarena

I don’t know what it is with this week, but knitting-wise, it’s been pretty meh. I have a Baby Surprise Jacket that I just need to sew together; I have a heart hat that somehow doesn’t work and I have a sinking feeling it’s not the pattern; I frogged my Sherlock scarf that I didn’t even take pictures of because the pattern and the yarn didn’t work together after all; I have a sort of awesome project going on that’s all hush-hush and classified information, so I can’t randomly post pictures and be excited about it.

I did, however, watch Annelie steek an Icelandic cardigan last night, which was more than a little insane. I have it here, in all its ‘holy mother of crap AND THEN SHE TOOK SCISSORS TO IT’ glory, so that Annelie could take a day off to breathe without being tempted to just get it over with. I dare not move it for fear I could destroy something (the one stitch I was coerced into cutting ended up being cut wonkily. so much for my steeking prowess), but here’s a picture of the pretty, pretty color. In situ.

The bag it’s in, by the way, is my super-awesome Ravelry bag I got the other week. I’d ordered one for Saskia and one for myself, along with some stickers, and I’m pleasantly surprised at the fact that you can indeed stuff a whole, rather bulky sweater in there.

Also, now I can finally tell my calender and my diary apart at a single glance. It’s scary how many times I’ve accidentally tried and packed my journal only to discover my horrendous mistake when I wanted to check my schedule or what I’m supposed to be doing or the million other things I put down in my calender. Because I’m lost without the damn thing. Especially in this semester of frantically running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off.

So that’s what I’m posting now, instead of the super-secret project I’d much rather like to show off. Not that there’s tons to show off, but. I have a good feeling it’s gonna be totally awesome.

SPEAKING OF WHICH. I have no idea if there are any Gleeks who read this, but if there are, I hope y’all like Blaine. Cause look what I got the day before my Ravrav package arrived — what a week that was!

Now I just need a blue blazer. After I finish the super-sekkrit project, that is. And finish the bazillion other things I have going on.

Jitterbug

“My father was a beekeeper before me, his father was a beekeeper before him; I wanna walk in their footsteps.” And their footsteps were like this: [running wildly from imaginary bees] “I’m covered in bees!” (Eddie Izzard)

Like all knitters, I’m fairly concerned about moths. And when I say fairly concerned, I mean absolutely hysterical if a moth just shows so much as the tips of its wings, regardless of whether it’s an actual wool-eating moth or just a butterfly that prefers to stay on the nocturnal side of things.

But apart from moths, I don’t have any particular beef with the generously-legged part of the world population, as long as they’re reasonably small, don’t try and suck my blood, and don’t flutter hysterically into my face. (Or are behind plate glass.) I have my windows open 24/7 as soon as the weather allows, so it’s only natural that between April and September, a fair share of small insects gets confused by my lamps and decides to pop by for a visit.

As far as insects go, my favorites are the stripey ones. Wasps just look really cool in their sleek, patterned body-armor. Bumblebees are fuzzy and adorable, and look ridiculous when their hind legs are so thickly covered in pollen they can barely lift off. And bees are also fuzzy, with the added bonus of making honey.

So when a bee flew into my room the other day, hung around under my desk for a bit and buzzed off again, I didn’t pay it much attention. And when it (or another bee with a very strong family resemblance) came back a couple of times, I still wasn’t worried. I was annoyed, yes, at some point where a bee headbutted me in the knee at 5.30 in the morning until I was very much awake (at 5.30. ngh.), but, y’know. What was a bee gonna do under my desk? Climb in through the back of my stash and build a hive? Absurd, right? Hah, hah, haaa…

My diabolical laughter suddenly rang hollow in my own ears. I opened the lowest drawer of the three, the one most accessible from the back, since the backing doesn’t go all the way to the bottom. I saw… nothing. Poked around a bit. Still nothing. Lifted up a bag of alpaca roving. Wondered whether alpaca roving was generally supposed to buzz, until a fairly enraged bee popped up and flounced indignantly out of the window, calling my mother names while doing so (I imagine).

Under the alpaca roving, there was a second skein of the yellow yarn I made the Swallowtail Stole out of, and nestled carefully among the eggyolk-yellow extrafine merino, I found this:

I feel a bit conflicted, to be honest. I mean, obviously I can’t have a beehive in my room. But on the other hand, I’m destroying the work of what as far as I could tell was a single, lonely bee, slavering away for days and days, having found the perfect, cozy, dark spot with a narrow entrance and lots of space inside, and now trying to build a new future.

Still, I did the only sensible thing.

HYSTERIC AMOUNTS OF TAPE.

❧

Man, I could’ve shown you the cool stuff I ordered from Ravelry, or how I’m getting back in the lace groove, or the tons and tons of yarn I bought on our road trip to the Hamburger Wollfabrik. And what am I blogging about? Fuckin’ bees, man.

But hey, at least it wasn’t a moth.