i actually got misty-eyed looking at all of jasika’s knit projects on ravelry. everything is so cute.
how stranded knitting? how cute in all the sweaters? how anything other than hats and scarves? how?
All I did was make the decision to try something new- THAT’S IT! I didn’t know any knitting gurus who could walk me through the steps. When I started using patterns, youtube wasn’t a thing, so there was no easy access to tutorials. The first pattern I ever made after completing a few knitted and crocheted scarves was from a book called Weekend Knitting that someone gave me, I forgot who, or why. I wasn’t advanced enough for a book of patterns, but I accepted the gift. It was hardcover and heavy, and all I really wanted was to luxuriate like the attractive white people in the book. There was one picture of a woman knitting in a bathtub with bubbles. It was so cozy looking. I tried it. That shit was impossible. Knitting with wrinkly fingers is gross, the humidity of the hot water makes the yarn gummy, and your arms get real tired after a couple of rows of holding them above the water line so the knitting doesn’t get soaked. But I digress. The pattern I chose was like, the easiest one from the book- a pair of knit-in-one-piece fingerless gloves, better described as a hand cozy. I was in Philly at The Prince playing my first lead role in a musical which was very exciting and inspiring, and I had lots of time to hang out in my hotel room around rehearsals so I worked really hard on learning to knit with no distractions (I used the Stitch N Bitch book to learn). Working on the pattern was the first time I threw a knitting project across the room in anger and frustration (at the knit gods) (not the last) (I’m not violent). I must have started and restarted those gloves 5 times, and when I finally got one right, after a couple weeks of attempts, I wore just the one glove proudly. I took a long time to try and make the second one. I thought it was a fluke. I was channeling my inner Michael Jackson. Eventually I tried to make the second one, and she was beautiful, better than the first. And the next project I made after that was a little bit better. All a sweater pattern or a dress pattern is, is like, 11 hats. All connected together, prettily, so that they don’t actually look like hats anymore. I have always said, most DIY projects don’t require any excessive skill, or out-of-this-world talent, or a deeper understanding of the inner workings of your fingers; all you need is patience with yourself. And just cause you don’t have patience with yourself now doesn’t mean you can’t work towards it. When I started, I threw things across the room that confused me. Now I have knitted enough things to know that I will figure it out eventually, so I put my shit down when it gets too *heavy* if you know what I mean, and then I go do something else until my mood is better and I can come back to it with new eyes. Do you know how many times I sewed the snaps on my bodysuit? TEN. There are three snaps. Six pieces. And I sewed them TEN times. Because I kept getting distracted or losing focus and putting the penis on the wrong side of the flap, or sewing the vagina on backwards. Every single time I cursed loudly, and then immediately pulled out my seam ripper and started over. That’s really all you can do. Because frustration has no hands.
"I have always said, most DIY projects don’t require any excessive skill, or out-of-this-world talent, or a deeper understanding of the inner workings of your fingers; all you need is patience with yourself. And just cause you don’t have patience with yourself now doesn’t mean you can’t work towards it."
I freaking LOVE this.
--Tagged under: knitting--
--Tagged under: you can do it!--
--Tagged under: I am not magic!--
--Tagged under: I just read directions carefully and go slowly!--
Shoutout to thulium
All it takes is one random solar flare and we’re going to have the next Godzilla sequel.
No, wait, THIS is my favorite thing from this week.
Not planning on watching the trailer, but this is my favorite quote of the week.
[Also sort of tangentially related, yesterday at the playground I saw a caregiver (coulda been a mom, but also aunt/babysitter/cousin/whathaveyou) wearing a t-shirt that read “Sub Life” and my mind boggled at all the different things that could mean…until I caught a glimpse of the back and realized “sub” meant sandwich. Frankly, I was a little disappointed.]
--Tagged under: 50 Shades of Grey movie--
--Tagged under: a thunderous fweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--
I was a telephone switchboard operator for 65 years. I started right after high school and I worked the pay stations during World War II. The pay stations took nickels, dimes, and quarters, and we could press a button to collect the money that the person put in.
We knew when the troops were coming into Boston to be shipped out because the phones were ringing off the hook—they all wanted to call home and let their families know they were being shipped overseas.
One day, I said to the other girls, “I want to take you out to dinner tonight. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
So we went out, had dinner and I said, “OK, I’m going to do it, and if you don’t want to, that’s up to you.”
“What is it?”
“We all have boyfriends in the service, and some of them have already passed away. And we know when the troops are being shipped out. Now, when they give you the number, push the ‘return’ button so the money will go back to them.”
They said, “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. These kids are being shipped oversees and who knows when they will come back. They don’t have any money.”
“OK, but what if a supervisor sees us and says something to us?”
“Oh, just innocently say you pushed the wrong button.”
We all did it and none of us got caught, and we did it until the end of the war.
That’s the tl;dr version of the parenting post I want to write but by the time I have time to do it the kid’ll be 18 months and then that will probably be my favorite.
His first word is “yeah,” or more accurately it’s “yeah-yeah.” Ask him something like “Do you want more banana?” and he says “yeah-yeah!” He also says “dada” and “mama” but “yeah-yeah” was first.
Sing the second verse of “King of the Road” and get to the line “Old worn out suit and shoes” and he grabs his foot because that is where shoes go.
Ask him if he wants to do a somersault and he’ll get himself into an inverted V (like downward facing dog, I guess), ready for you to flip him over.
Play him any kind of music and he’ll dance. He dances to Mozart and Public Enemy and whatever random snippet of music is blasting from a car that drives by, even if we’re inside the apartment — if he hears it, he dances. The ice cream truck goes by and he dances.
I want him to get more teeth and a bit more of a vocabulary but otherwise I would be content for him to stay this age for a while.
--Tagged under: because if i wear it any place else it chafes--
this is your periodic reminder that old-timey medicines did not fuck around
It’s called One Night, because that’s all the time you have left.
But you will stop coughing.
As someone who is deeply familiar with purple drank, I would become BFFs with this buddy here.
Honestly, I think my favorite part of this is “skillfully combined with a number of other ingredients.” Like the manufacturers are saying “Shhhhh…shhh…don’t worry about it.”