Category: The Life of Lara

It’s all here. Adventures in extreme knitting, the house of poop, and suburban permaculture. You may also find rants about politics, ecology, humanitarianism, responsible living, toe floss, and other topics not covered here. Expect profanity and irreverence. You have been warned.

A plan

Pearl Beach after the New Years Day fires, 2006

Thomas’ funeral was today. Aunty Emily was distressed, but I hope that the service today brings her some peace. I met my second cousins for the first time, and heard more platitudes than I can usually handle before breakfast.

And on to the plan.

The weather is getting colder, and for a while I have been mulling over the idea of a mini knitters retreat. My family has a holiday house at Pearl Beach, and I can use the house for a weekend (thinking of the 12th + 13th of May). I can have about 3 people stay over, but it would be great to have a few daytime drop ins as well.

I’ll bring the Mah Jong set, and and we can talk to the kookaburras, go for bush walks, sit on the beach, or just drink endless cups of tea and chat.

Sound like your cup of tea? Leave a comment, or email me, and I’ll see if we can get a plan together.

DPN’s of the damned…

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Loving my new Knitpicks DPN’s.  Commiserated with Paisley Womble about her Terrible Incident&trade, but never thought that something like that could happen to me.

Until yesterday, driving to work with the Valentines Day sock on the passenger seat so I could get in a few stitches at the traffic lights, and I rounded a corner with a little too much enthusiasm. One needle went flying – and when I got to work, it couldn’t be found.

I drove around quite a bit yesterday, and could hear it slipping and sliding. Eventually, I located it in the map pocket of the passenger door. Wedged in the seam between the bit of plastic forming the pocket, and the bit of plastic lining the door. But it had slipped backwards, and there was a shiny half inch poking out cheekily.

I went to the chemist and bought needle point tweezers. No luck. I tried needle nosed pliers to no avail. I even found a heavy duty magnet and tried to coax the little sucker out if its hiding place, but no. It’s staying put.

As I see it, there are two options. Knit with one 2mm and four 2.25’s (after I see Sally one the weekend – I left the 2mm’s at hers last week). Or dismantle the work Magna.

Anyone have an owners manual?

And in Melon Shawl news, I have turned the corner. It looks like cat vomit (and I’ve seen far too much of that lately), but in blocking we trust.

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Aunty Emily

She rang me this afternoon in a bit of a panic, she was trying to find mum, and rang my phone number because it was listed under mums in her phone book. She didn’t know who I was, so I reminded her, and told her that mum is on holidays. She didn’t sound too good on the phone, so I offered to come over. She must have rung me six times in the time it took me to get there. A few times to try to convince me not to come (worried that the drive is too dangerous), once to ask me to get some corn on the cob for Cocky (which I couldn’t find for love nor money), once to ask me if I needed her to unlock the gate so I could park in the front yard (which she then forgot to do, so I parked around the corner outside the cemetery), and once more to tell me not to come.

I found out some interesting things. Apparently she now acknowledges that she used to model with Rita, that she went to parties, that she existed before she found the church. And apparently, she had musical talent. She had a lovely soprano voice, and took violin and piano lessons.

So there is musical talent in my family after all. It began and ended with Emily, but it is there.

Emily is coming to terms with the fact that she will have to leave her home, and live with her other son, Peter. There isn’t room for Cocky at Peter’s place, and she has asked me if I will take care of her. So sooner or later, we’ll be adding another member to the family.

The funeral is on Thursday.

Sometimes, people surprise you with good stuff…

Today, I heard a story of hope that made me cry. One person, who is trying to make a difference in the world, by doing the sort of thing we read about in the newspaper, but rarely consider doing ourselves. I hope to be able to share this story at a later date, but in the meantime, read this. Link from Obsidian Wings, via Jonathan Shaw, via Mary-Helen.

(am I taking the attribution thing a bit too far there?)

I have found my next cardi project

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From The Knitting Zone, via the Yarn Harlot.  She went to sock camp, and in her post about it, you will see this cardi in the wild, and you will understand why I must possess it.

Good weekend (apart from taking the parental units to the airport, for Burma, Take 2), knitting saturday (with bonus Emma!), dinner saturday night (more Emma), Brunch with knitters on sunday morning (extremely good hot chocolate, but the food was forgettable), more knitters on sunday arvo at the Courthouse, a knit in at Simone’s house, and then home to a whinging but affectionate feline.  He loves us more and more as the temperature drops….

And now the post I was planning for thursday night

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Kurt Vonnegut, dead at 84.  And despite being a smoker for most of those 84 years, it was a brain injury from a fall that finally did him in.

Another reason why the King Of Thailand is a top bloke and beloved by his people. 

I finally heard from my KTA pal today, which was a relief – I tried an alternate contact method, which seemed to do the trick.

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Yesterday brought exciting mail – some 15cm knitpicks DPN’s from Donyale, and the new Bendigo shade card.  No exciting new colours with appalling names, and nothing new and noteworthy at all, but just more of the same, good old, reliable Bendy.  Except that they seem to have dropped the black Harmony, which is a bummer – I was all inspired by Bex to make a cardi out of this stuff.  If you haven’t tried it, give it a go – 200 grams for $11, and if you can handle the poxy colours limited colour range, it is lovely to knit with.  A blend of cotton, wool ad lycra, it’s cool and lofty, sproingy and stretchy, and wonderful for kids clothes.  I’ve done a few EZ BSJ’s out of it and a couple of stroller blankies too.

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The picture at the top shows some progress on the melon lace knitted on border – I am getting the hang of the pattern, and speeding towards my first turn.  I’ve joined on the border incorrectly, but I like the look of it, so I’m not going back.

Rainbow socks

Laura has a pair of socks made with the Lornas Laces Rainbow colourway that I have been swatching to find the perfect pattern for. I don’t think this is it, but they are gorgeous.

And this link is for Emma. Scout Badges for Science. I want the MacGyver badge.

I’m still feeling vile and snotty, so I am going to spend most of today in bed with my knitting. And Oprah. I have to do a product demonstration at 10am (anyone wanna buy an ECG machine?), but then it’s back to bed.

What an asshole

You know how you’re supposed to deal with an awkward social situation? You know, keep calm, state your case rationally and clearly, and then politely request a change of subject?

Well, apparently, tonight I was incapable, and made a complete tit of myself in front of about 15 Sydney knitters – a lot of whom I have never met before. Unfortunately though, some of them know where I live.

So, if you were there, and you were wondering why I was such an arse, I can only apologise and explain that I’ve still got this damn headcold, and that I don’t handle death very well. Apparently I’m overly emotional and fragile right now, and I should have explained that instead of growling at people.

I know that my moral compass is wired differently to other peoples, and that makes it my responsibility to navigate my way around dangerous waters, not start lobbing dynamite when things get interesting.

Most people don’t realise that I’m really socially awkward. That I never had a real friend until I was almost in high school (thanks Andrew), and that I still feel like people are only nice to me out of pity. I know that I have some good points, but when I’m sick, and life gets tricky, and somebody pokes at a sore spot, I regress to that little kid that nobody wanted to sit next to at playlunch.

Crazy Aunt Purl wrote a great post today. About how she used to react to triggers, and how she is living without her old crutches, and how she misses them, and knows they may not be gone for good, but that she knows she can live without them.

Maybe I can learn something.