Finished objects - Leif's sweater and couch quilt

All year, I have been inching along with this sweater, worried the child would outgrow it by the time I finished. SURPRISE, it is too big. It fits the teenager pretty well, and that's what you get for following the measurements on a kid-sized pattern. You never know what monster-child they used to base it on in the first place.

Pattern: River Forest Gansey, size L child
Yarn: Knit Picks Brava sport in heathered grey (because they don't sell Simply Cotton anymore HUMPH)

Well, the chilly season is mostly over for this year anyway, he can be warm on rainy days next winter and it should fit better.


ALSO

I have been stitching away at a kantha-type quilt for most of the year, as well. Finally sewed down the last of the binding this week.

 Thanks, Pan.

Cast-on time!

Waiting

The hospital would not return my mother, despite the success of the longer-than-anticipated surgery. I am pleased to report, however, that she managed to get two cups of coffee delivered to her outside of the mandated post-op diet, so it seems likely she'll be set to go in short order. "I am ze squeaky wheel!" she texts. That's ok, then.

In the meantime, I'm changing her bedding and cleaning the fridge and vacuuming the house to get the place ready for convalescing. Also drinking all her Sumatran coffee and eating her furukake chex mix.

Here are some things from this week:

I made a pillow. 

quilt-as-you-go log cabin, with Anna Maria Horner fabrics

The boy lost three teeth in two weeks, and scared me with a grinning mouthful of blood. The tooth fairy rummaged my quarter jar. Damn it. She should plan ahead.

Teeth are exhausting.

Zenny started washing dishes. It's really weird.

Gavin is finishing the school year at my mom's, so I only see him on the weekends, and I know that's more than I would see him at Hogwarts, but it is not easy. He's got a special bond with her, though, and I'm glad he has his very own adult while I'm overrun with little people. 

I am bad at crusts. But good at spinach pie.

I frogged the Shetland and made something simpler. Kind of.

Strange dark sky of clouds and wind on this subdued post-surgery day of waiting.

Penis pillow

Every time I convince myself that this type of fiber is ok to work with, my kid's lungs go all to hell. It could be vog or gross kindergarteners or the multitude of animals - but it could be the wool, and I don't want to be the cause of it. So last week Leif came down with pneumonia*, and I buried the kilt hose in my knitting drawer, cursing.

My down time is interrupted every few minutes, which is why I have projects I can pick up and put down throughout the day. Since I can't knit until I get a budget for safe yarn, I decided to dig in my fabric drawer and give Hawaiian quilting a try, since I'm in Hawaii and all. But I wanted something fun, so I made a mushroom pattern instead of a floral one. I knew this could potentially look like a pile of dicks, but I went for it.

Oh no.

So I've got some wieners to prune. 

Mushrooms aside, I have discovered that this process is absolutely perfect for me. (I may change my mind about this after spending 80 hours stitching echo lines for a 2-foot square pillow.) It's inspiring, meditative, satisfying, portable. There is a world of possibility - anything that can be cut from paper like a snowflake can be used in Hawaiian quilting, and now I want pillows and blankets for all my favorite books - snitches, mandrakes, and hipogriffs; roses and gunslinger revolvers; standing stones, heather, and daggers. In better colors than the remnants in my stash. And less wieners. I'm learning here.

*characterized by a constant wet cough accompanied by skipping, singing, and stick swordplay. He is one of those sick people you have to tape to the couch to force them to heal.

the pigeon, the hobo, and the police

Hyperventilating hobo came into the library, upset about a pigeon that had been looking in the front windows for 3 days. He gestured wildly and claimed it was a pet dove, a very special and important pet dove, like a pirate's parrot. Probably a homing dove. No, a pigeon. Definitely Filipino. Filipinos like pigeons. You can tell by the bands on its legs, it's a highly trained animal, someone is desperate to have it back, it's very smart and very important. It probably rode here in a car. Someone needs to save the Filipino pirate pigeon!

I went outside and had a look at the bird. It was fat and white and had colored, numbered bands around its legs. I promised to stop by the police station and ask them for animal control's number while I was on the way to pick up the library mail, and closed the door on the hobo mid-rant. Drove to the station. Officer blinked at me. A pigeon. Yes, a rogue pigeon. One of our hobos is freaking out because it is looking in the windows. He says it's Filipino. Fili- what?! That's racist. I know, right? You can't just ask a pigeon if it's Filipino! Here comes Ofc. A, tell him! It's on the campus, that's his area. Ofc. A! There is a pigeon menacing the library. Go arrest it. Not again.

I got back to the library, tossed the pigeon part of a hot dog, called animal control, and was told it was a racing pigeon, probably blown off course and resting, and please don't make them send someone all the way out there to chase it around. Went outside and stared at the pigeon with my janitor, discussing the likelihood of it being used as a football by asshole middle-schoolers when the bell rang. Pigeon looked affronted, made a big show of stretching its hamstrings, and flew away.

And that was the thing about the pigeon.


In other news

I'm keeping my hands busy again. Like someone treading water. Not like a serial strangler.

Picked a bag of guavas from my friend's tree, and made a small batch of luminous jelly. No ants were murdered this time.

Working on a Christmas stocking (the argyle stripes and name go on afterward).

And because I just had to make sure sheep are out to kill me, it is made of wool. We all went into fits of asthmatic death-coughing. I had to put Leif's head in the freezer again - which is difficult, because I only have a deep-freeze, and had to hold him upside-down. Have packed the stocking off to work, where I am continuing to kill myself discreetly over lunch breaks.

Trimmed Leif's quilt for binding. Finally.

Worked on the most boring blanket ever. Am going to snap and go wild with the stripes soon. WILD.

Made a head out of sculpey for next illustration project.

Have been entertaining fantasies of quitting my job, getting an agent, finding a mainland publisher, and going full-time with it.

Hmm.

A quilt for Leif

Leif has been taken away by his father. Mike flew over, and we spent Saturday wandering the mall, watching the boy climb foam whales in the kiddie mosh pit area, drinking pints at the Mexican cantina, and awkwardly edging around difficult topics. Leif ate a sundae as large as his head. With two spoons. 

I've had the kids away for vacations before. I have been looking forward to the productivity time, since I have 3 weeks left to illustrate an entire book. So it was a bit unexpected for me to start crying suddenly in Costco, pretending I had something in my eye and hiding behind a sample of guacamole with my sunglasses on. I made it out and sobbed into the cilantro lime shrimp in the car. 

So I bought tickets to see the Avengers. It was awesome. Then I listened to shitty music and got shmoopy and cried some more on the drive home.

Today was my first day without children. The house was empty. I finished a two-page illustration, ate some sashimi, chatted with Mike about Leif's first night and then with my mom in Indiana, walked to the beach, found S. and his boys, caught a ride home, and knocked out the rest of Leif's quilt top. 

The visiting boys liked the quilt, so I promised to make them one next. It is always a surprise to me that I can make a nice dinner and kids will say, "eew, is that sauce? I wanted ketchup," but when I knit or sew things, they spread out on them and ask for more. I do not understand the difference.

Someone - and I really do not know who - weed whacks my front yard and clears out all the rotting mangoes while I'm at work. I do not have yard service. All the yard men I know have blamed each other. I am going to start leaving baked goods tied up in bows in the leaf pile - which they will then have to scrape up with a rake after the weed whacker finishes with them.

Next - sandwich, quilt, and bind. The binding will be black and color scraps*, the quilting will be by hand. I love the squooshy loft and bold detail of hand-quilted blankets.


* right at this point, the artichokes boiling on the stove blew up in a burst of electrical fire that left a hole in the stove coils. Fail. Get the ketchup.

Craft Corner DEATH MATCH - kid designed

The challenge: let your kid design something. Then make it for them.

Gavin's first idea was "army of kittens". On a quilt. No, on a t-shirt. No, a pillow. And not kittens, instead we should do "Death of cats," to go with the Death of rats in the Hogfather. With "MEOW", in ALL CAPS. Because that is how Death talks. MEOW. 

So that is what I made.

I finally used my freemotion quilting foot, which I got for Christmas three years ago. It was a first attempt and I completely suck at it, but hot damn is it fun to use. Like driving a machine gun.

The pillow was a hit. For about 20 minutes, they rolled around on the floor, dragged out one of my quilts, and pretended to put themselves to bed - until someone got an elbow to the face and someone pulled out a foam sword and in the resulting brawl I threatened to hang them both by the ceiling fan and beat them with a stick.

The key to successful parenting: follow-through.

Or video games. Whatever, I made a pillow.

President's Day

I am not really sure what President's Day is for. Presumably to settle politics in some sort of Hunger Games scenario.

So obviously, I was not eligible to participate. I sewed a pillowcase, instead. 

It fit the first time I zipped it, which was lucky because I accidentally tore off the pull tab and can never get it open again. No washing for you, pillowcase.

The cat watched me from on top of the hutch. For about 20 minutes, she just sat like this:

Yes, that is my actual cat. I had to check several times to make sure she was alive. She was. Well - animated, at least. I have a shovel ready if she's not actually alive.

We went to the beach, which I did not document because we were all huddled against the whipping sheets of sand. Went home smooth and blemish-free. Except for the sandblast scabbing.

In the afternoon, my mom figured out how to text me.

Gavin made a model volcano.

He assembled the mold, poured the plaster, painted it, and then we murdered all the cardboard villagers.

In the evening, I started knitting kilt hose. And, I admit it, they are wool - I am taking my life in my hands.

But I opened a window, so that should totally stop me from dying of asthma.

Lent starts Wednesday. I am giving up beer, chocolate, not exercising, and other people's drama. This last one is difficult, as there is a giant angry wife after me, pressing her face against the library window every morning to see if I'm - I don't know - banging her husband over the circulation desk in broad daylight*. But as of Wednesday, I promise to stop wearing push-up bras just to piss her off.

*In case this does not go without saying, I AM NOT.

still lingers here

Woke up with tear tracks and tiny mouse eyes. Bad dreams, two nights running. The dark things are starting to circle overhead again, time to armor up. Yesterday was a day of shopping and ice cream and organic pizza in Paia, but this morning the children gnashed against each other, until the man stuffed them (along with the kiddo's peace-making best friend) into the car for the beach, and left me with my thoughts. I bent over the sewing machine in the quiet house, combating the mindghosts until I was trembling and sweaty. I'm a person poisoned, and I have put my running shoes by the door in anticipation of my miraculous rejuvenation after the upcoming onslaught of drills and antibiotics.

Angst works for me, productivity-wise:



Ignore that loose thread from when I accidentally stitched the backing to itself.



Ooh, look, I'm so angsty and pale. Sign me up for a case of black eye-liner and a Stephenie Meyer tattoo.



The other thing that helps: happy family; hand-smashed burgers grilled with blue cheese, fresh basil, and tomatoes; mounds of potato salad; music with a good beat; a cold pint. I'm still a fan of summer.

Spiders included for free

Yes, I still do stuff.

The spiderweb monstrosity is ready for trimming, binding, and foisting.



Look, an action shot. It's a terrible yoga mat. Which is fine, because it's a baby blanket.

winter weekend

No food. Rummaging in the backs of the cupboards, we pulled together bits and scraps and forgotten boxes.

I made cereal candies, which the kids poked at suspiciously. Gavin opted for back-of-the-fridge yogurt, Leif ate a butt wipe.



Covered up the smell of the neighbors' ciggies and spliffs with a loaf of beer bread, made with the new batch of home-brewed honey beer.



Slim pickings are good eating.

Knitting occurs in the in-between bits, amidst mid-morning coffee and evening popcorning. Yesterday, a mitten was born.



Then I remembered that I hate double-pointed needles. Also the thumb is too stubby. Mittens are stupid and I WILL NOT MAKE ANY MORE MITTENS. Pulled out the super-squashy Dark Horse yarn to soothe mitten rage, despite the fact that it was an absolutely hideous color.



variegated yarn = gross

Knitting not doing so well. On to sewing instead.


To Do List

As soon as these illustrations are done, I will run back to the embrace of my sewing cupboard. There are several pregnant women who have been holding in babies while I stall for time.

Realized that I forgot to show off the manly quilt, which has already been in use since Halloween, and blessed with cat barf. Thrice. But you can't tell, because it is black! I win!



Still needs some more quilting.

In the works: the Deer Valley blanket. Has been basted and slowly hand-stitched for ages now.




note: these are the stairs of doom which we keep cartwheeling down. Points detracted for endangering my first-born offspring by perching him on the landing.

Nowhere near finished: the Anna Maria Horner quilt - last year's Mother's Day gift to myself. But the top is done!



Yes, will be very productive when I get a break from all this stuff I'm doing.

quilted by monkeys

Progress report.

Here there be zig zags:

The Anna Maria Horner quilt is coming along. Kind of having a problem with crookedness, owing to a small screaming person wrapped around my pedal leg. Hoping that gives it character later.

Stupid baby blanket. My first attempt at that fun, spontaneous, sew-as-you-go patchwork style has resulted in a hot mess. Will try to salvage it with broad colored borders to knock down the busyness. Thinking I am not a quilting prodigy.

Leif said his first word! Dada. Very original. I am still counting his clapping as a word. Also there was banana bread today, a stop at the farmer's market, pasta salad all over the floor of the car (not my fault this time), work on the book illustrations, and minimal shmoopiness. Also gossips: stupid chain-smoking synthesizer-playing donkey-sex neighbors are behind on rent. Landlord has been buying the guy canvases in the hopes that he can sell more crap paintings and pay him. Other neighbor gave them smoking stuffs (ahem) for which they have not paid and are pretending to know nothing about. A few weeks ago they left their kitten alone all weekend with no food or water, so we had to orchestrate a break-in to save it, and now the little thing is up here all the time. We may not have to move after all.

Memorial Day Weekend

More stripes on the quilt top:

Our basil has sprouted, in spite of Gavin helpfully trying to drown it. Maybe we put a few too many seeds in there... I don't know a lot about nature stuff. I like wild growth and overgrown gardens, maybe there's a book for the willfully ignorant gardener I can find somewhere. It'll be short; "plant, water, neglect, repeat".

Sookie has become a ratter, throwing rats all over the lanai, running through the living room with corpses, and then kissing my face with her little ratty lips. Po, feeling peer pressure, has started venturing outside a few steps, then gets scared, scrambles through the house on her tiny legs, poops in the bathtub, and climbs on me to nuzzle with her poo paws. Evidently I am made of an attractive wipey-type material.

Being a holiday weekend, most of the folks around here have opted to avoid a trip to town, and the general stores are cleaned out of meat. Mike came home with giant steaks, which were delicious even though I caught them on fire while he wasn't looking.

Ahead: very exciting stuff.

Trip to town

On the way to town for a meeting, I passed under the now twice-fallen landslide. Kind of furtively.

Am working on first grown-up sized quilt. With bits of cat sewn in.