Wednesday Miscellany

Can you imagine!


Llama print skimmer from Keds

Ked’ll have every alpaca/llama rancher in Colorado sporting these chick little flats whilst pursuing their animal husbandry duties, don’t you think?


The horror

D’yall think we’re ready for our two-page spread in Martha Stewart Living?


Our neighbors love us!

Let me refresh your memories. This is where we started. Lots of dead grass. Drought + bluegrass = death (in our hands anyway.) Then we built the arroyo.


Notice the pronoun, “we.” It was Mitch mostly, I came in for the heavy lifting. “Honey, move that rock over there. No. There!”

Now we have men. Men with shovels who are removing our hill.

Stay turned for further installments of “As the Yard Turns.”


Radio silence

Observing a day of blog silence in honor of my really crappy attitude. Arggggh!

Reduced to cat blogging

My knitting life has ground to a halt. So I can either show you crocheted yarmulkes, lawn devastation or complain about all the paid work I’m committed to finish before I can starve for art (using the broadest, most superficial definition of the word. Starving for chick lit is a more accurate turn of phrase.)

But look at the kitty. Isn’t he cute? Everyone all at once now…Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!



Red devil, recumbent.

Celebrating the Fourth

A review of the Declaration of Independence is always in order. Out of curiosity, I did a search on the word “God.” The word and concept are used exactly once in this context:

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Nature's God. Not Christian God. Not Jewish God. Not Muslim God.

All I can say is, God bless those wild and wacky Transcendentalists.

As an aside, we'll be celebrating the Fourth by viewing An Inconvenient Truth.

Just sayin'.

Go listen to NPR celebrities read the great document. It'll give you schpilkas.

Shrugging it off

As I suspected, the shrug was just a little too gamine for someone of my vintage. It delighted me, nonetheless, in that it’s my first crocheted FO not destined to catch dandruff.

But Stephanie looks darling in it, see?



Free shrug pattern from Craft Yarn Council; crocheted in Elsebeth Lavold’s Silky Wool

Isn’t it nice to have family who will take one’s funky shmatas?



Rio de la Plata por portamonedas

Yesterday I just happened to be in the vicinity of our new neighborhood yarn shop. Just by accident. Pure serendipity. Nothing pre-meditated about my peregrinations. NOTHING AT ALL. A completely unconscious twist of kismet landed me at Posh’s doorstep.

So as not to tempt fate, I stumbled in. Sylvia’s amassed a tempting selection of yarn—lots of GGH, Noro and other sumptuous goodies. Newly opened, she’s awaiting orders from Alchemy, Blue Sky, and Rebecca Magazine. A very tasteful, lux selection of fiber, I must say.

This came home with me. Again, just followed me home. Hopped into my bag and wouldn’t hear of me leaving without it.


Rio de la Plata in Begonia Pink

I think the world needs another Nipple Bag, don’t you?

Check out the new LYS: Posh Yarn Boutique, 4420 Tennyson St., conveniently located next door to Tenn Street Coffee.

No guts, no glory

To put it in even more militaristic terms, no balls, no air medals. (A phrase, which carries particular significance in our home this week given that Antone is having his, ahem, procedure.)

But back to the point: I've pretty much decided to limit my assignments. (Sounds definitive, “Pretty much decided...”?)

Let's try that again, shall we?

I'm going to take less work so as to finish my novel before I'm too old to look good on a book jacket. There. I said it.

Of course, I have many commitments to meet before this all occurs. And, though Mitch is always like, “do what you need to do“ when it comes to my business, I probably need to couch this with him in pretty bald terms. As in, “Dude, how'd you feel if I didn't make a cent for six months?“

I do intend to make some cents, but want to curtail the bigger gigs so as to focus on the book. This means the flakey “me” going to war with the practical “me,” and, of course, the scared, doubting “me” battling it out with diva “me.”

Wish “me” luck!

Fashion layout

Those of you who read my blog regularly (hi Mom!) know I love independent clothing designers. Like all us knitters, these are usually people who put their hands to work making cool stuff. And if they don’t put their own hands to work, chances are they’re paying someone locally to bring their ideas to life. Given that most of the clothes we buy come from points unknown, it’s nice to encounter (and support) the minds from which our clothes spring.

That said, when we were in San Francisco last week, we stumbled on Martha Egan’s lower North Beach atelier (1 Columbus Ave.). There she was at her cutting table, cheerfully whipping up a pair of pants. Her racks hold armloads of vintage-Hawaiian-fabric shirts for men, dupioni silk blouses for women, tons of cool Slainte bags and great boxy jackets. She’ll even customize a design with your choice of fabric. She’s also got a sale section, where I scored the pantaleones below. 20 bucks!


Just call me, Fancy Pants.

Local alert: Fashion Denver holds its Summer Market this Sunday at the Walnut Foundry, 3002 Walnut St. from noon-8 p.m. The $5 admission benfits the Denver Rescue Mission. Be sure to check out Literary Luggage, handbags crafted from book jackets. Don’t you love how people’s minds work?


Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

From time to time, Mitch and I buy lottery tickets—usually when the jackpot hits some extraordinary number. Not that we think we’ll win—one is more likely to be kidnapped by a legion of aliens than win the Lotto—but it’s fun to think about. Do you ever play that game? If I had a gagillion dollars, what would I do?

Sometimes we start with the practical and altruistic stuff: College funds for the neice and nephews. An endowed scholarship. More “impactful” philanthropy. Sometimes, we’ll begin with time—for me that would mean writing in the mornings—no deadlines!—lunch with friends, yoga, and then home to make dinner. I would continue to cook, but all our meat would be organic—an impossible luxury now—and I’d have plenty of time for it, because the housekeeper would be doing the cleaning. Some afternoons, I’d volunteer; I’ve been wanting to help Russian immigrants study for citizenship. We’d take Spanish classes and learn to ballroom dance. I’d indulge in the occasional spa treatment and treat my friends to pedicures and facials. I’d hang at the LYS and knit. In the evenings, reading and knitting with Mitch and the cats. Dinners with loved ones. And occasional travel.

Sometimes we think really big. A house in the country with a separate writing/fiber studio, lightfilled and lined with maple cubbies and cabinets for books, yarn and beads. There’d be room for a spinning wheel, or two, a knitting machine and plenty of floor space for yoga practice. The house would have a big bathroom with a jetted tub and an ample dining room and kitchen. We’d refurbish a house that already existed so as not to develop raw land and it wouldn’t be huge—maybe solar powered?

Even if none of us ever win the Lotto, it’s helpful to dream, don’t you think? It can help cut away the clutter and keep one focused—and I can see, I have a lot of focusing to do.