Bloody, buggering, pig-fucking hell.

I've gotta quit knitting while medicated and reading.

I've been knitting away on Pacific, and making halfway decent time.

Considering this is the first major stranded color project I've done since the Goober was a baby. Last Saturday (like, a week and two days ago), I noticed this:

See how it's three blue columns wide? Yeah.

It's supposed to be FOUR.

I put it down, and I walked away. For a week. I'd learned my lesson with that knife and the Bohus sweater, all those years ago. So I walked away, and I cast on something completely different, and I chilled out.

See? Totally chilled.

Then, this last Saturday (two days ago), I bit the bullet, ovaried up, and tore out five or six rows to fix the problem.

Then I put it back on the needles,

and knit it back up. (While I had it off the needles, I laid it out and measured it, and it looks like the gauge is right, so that's definitely something positive from this whole clusterfuck.)

KNITTERS: Do not try this with slippery fibers!!! I got away with the ripping out like this because the yarn is untreated wool and sticks to itself. If you tried this with silk (or maybe even superwash), you'd wind up with a pile of tangled yarn and starting over from scratch.

I was patting myself on the back. By last evening, I'd knit back up all the stuff I'd have to rip out, I'd remained calm, I had not gotten out any of the zillion knives we have laying around, and the day was saved. I went to establish a new pattern row, and then... there it was.

THERE IS AN ENTIRE DIAMOND MISSING. See it, upper right? NOT THERE.

Fixing it would mean tearing back everything I did this weekend and fixing the fix, AGAIN.

I walked away. Well, after screaming a little. But I walked away. And I slept on it. And this morning?

This morning, I woke up, and decided fuck this, I'll duplicate-stitch that motherfucker in there.

Honu,you fucker.

Okay. I know I said I wasn't going to do this. But this fucking cat.

My printer hasn't worked right for weeks. I've got it in my entertainment center in the living room, normally it's easy to load in paper and it spits out the front and it's all good. But no. Wasn't working. Tonight I finally dragged it out of the cabinet, and waaaaay down in the back of the damn thing, in the paper intake, so far I can't quite reach it with my skinny fingers, I found THIS:

It is a catnip mustache.

ETA: The printer works fine now.

The Oscars!

Or rather, the red carpet, because who gives a shit about awards, it's the CLOTHES, baybee.

I'm watching it on E! right now, which means the hosts are wanking about how awesome they are, or something. I've got the sound turned off.

Oh- they're running photos from Fashion Week and trying to guess who is wearing what. Well, it's vaguely more relevant than how much they like their own dresses, anyway. And at least, clothing.

Shit, just remembered the dentist tomorrow, and I hate dentists, and haven't filled out the new patient paperwork yet. Shit.

CLOTHES. LET US THINK OF CLOTHES AND NOT TEETH.

Blather blather. CLOTHES, DAMN IT. AND I DON'T MEAN RYAN SEACREST'S SUIT.

He's wearing Burberry. STILL DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!

Do they have BOUNCERS? It looks like they have bouncers.

I swear to Keith this one dude did speed right before coming on camera.

Six minutes gone and still no clothes. Fine. I am going to shut up 'til I actually see something, but imagine me over in the corner, swearing.

Wolfgang Puck is talking food. FINE IT'S NOT CLOTHES. Why do I turn this on early? I know better than this. S:DORTWE:ORTU:WEOTU:W

I bet beer would make this better.

I'm annoyed and haven't seen any clothes yet. That always bodes well.

They're doing a montage of Sandra Bullock's shoes. I can't even.

45 minutes into this and still not one single person other than the hosts sucking up.

Aha. Kristen Chenoworth in a gold dress that... is it supposed to fit that way? It's all... sitkcy upy in the front. She's having fun though, doing a runway walk with blown kisses. Haha. Trying to think of what that bodice looks like. Buck Rogers? Chrysler building, maybe. It's very Deco, for sure. And not sheer, hooray for that.

Oh my, Liza Minelli is not looking well. Though, how old is she? Wearing royal blue. With blue in her hair. I can respect that. (Just looked, she's 67.)

Olivia Wilde in black and white. Could we please have some color? At least it looks like it fits. That's exciting.

Portia de Rossi looking classy in gold and white, is she still with Ellen? There for moral support? She's so lovely. Niam Kahn, it's freaking sheer. COULD WE LINE IT PLEASE? So over the sheer dresses. I don't wanna see your underoos. It's like a beach coverup and a bathing suit. Even when pretty, not high fashion. But, yes, she's there for Ellen and being cute.

Oh goodie, another montage. Which we've all seen before if we read Go Fug Yourself.

HOSTS. SHUT UP. MORE CLOTHING, LESS YOU.

Fuck a duck, more hosts blathering.

Still can't decide how I feel about boning as a design feature that you can see.

Amy Adams in... navy blue? Gucci, looks like it fits properly. I think . I could see it if the guys in tuxes would get out of the way.

Viola Davis in green, looking lovely. She says she chose it because it fit. Seriously, I am not making that up. Maybe she's on to something!

Someone in line, reading on her phone and hoiking up her strapless bodice. Bwahaha. It's like the band dance down there.

Someone with a square jaw and a whole lotta skirt... Idina Menzel. It's dark green, not black, pretty, but wow, that's a lot of skirt.

Kristen Bell, beaded dress, light gray? Lavender? Boring. Her body and bodice are moving independently of each other. Um.

"Beautiful neutrals" they're saying. BORING, I'm saying.

Seriously reconsidering this whole idea. It's nothing but commercials and hosts sucking up to each other.

Blah. Blah.

Blah.

Unless good clothes turn up soon, I'm deleting this whole idea and eating lasagna.

The fact that I have a migraine can't possibly have anything to do with the fact that I hate everything.

Woooooow, really badly fitted maroon dress in the background. Someone needs to explain to those folks in the background that they're on TV, 'cause, wow. Lots of vacant stares and bad posture and someone roaming free with her giant poufy skirt carried in a lump in front of her with both arms. CLASSY. (Yet really funny.)

Amy Adams! In Gucci! That fits. "I felt like I was one with the dress." Kinda minimalist, but pretty. I like the kinda-bodice-but-not effect. When something is minimalist like this, you need the right undergarments and a good fit. She's pulling it off.

Kurylenko (?) in red, looking like it was on the wrong end of that cat in Snoopy who slashes messages into his dog house.

Lupita Nyong'o, who has looked fantastic every time she stepped out in public. She's got some Grecian thing going on, light blue, with a little head band, and as always, looks fantastic. It's great with her coloring. HA! She's doing air kisses. Air kisses always crack me up. Unlike everyone else, this dress looks comfortable enough to sit around in for hours. Pretty AND smart. Which pretty much sums her up.

Anna Kendrick in black and red, at least there's some color. Oh, and a leg stuck out. I kinda like the detailing at the waist, though that's not the area most women want to draw attention to. At the least, it's not another same-same black dress.

RYAN SEACREST, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Laura Dern in a pink dress that her boobs are oozing out of. -sigh- Sometimes, the best a girl can do in these situations is to just shut up. But goddamn. This is why I bitch about fit so much.

Moving on!

GoodYear Blimp, advertising how they did all the undergarments tonight.

Julie Delpy. Can't decide if I like the dress or not. It reminds me of that black one Cher wore to the Oscars, but this one's over a slip-dress thing. It's pretty. Sparkles. Oh, let's call it a win.

Chrissy Teigen (?) in a really cute brown and pink strapless. She was the one hiking it up earlier. Pretty, though. Maybe, dare I say it, it needed fitting.

Naomi Watts, in a white dress that reminds me of the flocking on cheap stuffed animals. I'm sure this is my problem, and not hers. Cute necklace. I like the necklace.

Someone in a full-on formal kimono, with the obi and the works. And a microphone clipped to the back collar for historic accuracy. I'll try to find a photo.

June Squibb, looking fabulous in an emerald green beaded evening suit. Fabulous earrings, too.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt, looking twelve years old and adorkable, as always.

Calista Flockhart in white, with Harrison Ford who is sadly looking his age. Her hair looks like mine, and I've been calling myself "Ursula the Sea Witch", so there you have it.

Jared Leto is wearing a white tuxedo that doesn't fit, with red, and looks like Jesus. In a tuxedo.

Jesus. Jesus is at the Oscars tonight. Okay. Altering my reality as needed.

Some woman in the background (the background is the best part) is wearing a lovely aquamarine dress, that you can barely see through the cameras, microphones, and press passes. Oh, my.

There's another HOUR of this??

I see why the stars punk out on the red carpet and sneak in the back, whenever they can. Great googly-moogly.

Bennedict Cumberbutt in a black suit. I do not get why people flip out over him. He's a good actor, but so are a lot of others. Whatever, have a picture. Someone, with a staff badge, is bent over behind him, next to his bum...?

CLEAVAGE ON THE LEFT! Cleavage that is too old to be running around loose like that.

I desperately want to know who that is in the kimono. They're working, she has a mic, maybe Japanese press of some kind?

Kevin Spacey, blue tux.

DRESSES!! NEED GIRLY SPARKLY DRESSES! And a cup of tea. And a quart of morphine. And a straw.

Jessica Beil-Timberlake (!!) in silver. Really great jewelry, though. Emeralds and stuff.

Bette Midler. Red and white, a red lace over white. It kind of reminds me of the wallpaper in an expensive bordello. In a good way.

Sally Hawkins. Bad hair, badly fitted dress, and I don't think she knows how to walk in those shoes.

Kerry Washington, in taupe (darn it, with that skin, she could wear ANY color). Lavender? Is it lavender? It's strapless, and I can't imagine putting on that outfit for a bunch of hours when I was eight? nine? months pregnant. I get gaggy just thinking of it.

What in FUCK is it with sparkly neutrals? THAT DON'T GO WITH THEIR SKIN? And don't fit??!!??

Cate Blanchett!! Damn it, she's in beige too. Armani. Although it's nice and drapey and fits properly, but guh. Another take on Deitrich's nude dress. Which was amazing in the 30s, but can't we come up with something else?? She's working it, because she's Galadriel.

Commercial. Tea.

Matthew McConughay and his mom and wife. His wife is wearing this... pink... one-sided cape thing that should not work, but does. Maybe because the pink is fabulous against her skin.

Ryan Seacrest is being a dick.

Jennifer Lawrence tripped on the red carpet, I hope she's okay. Looks like she was laughing so that's good. She's wearing red Dior. She's got a contract with them, and they've been dressing her in some of the most fucked up stuff. Hopefully they came through for her tonight.

Eh. It doesn't suck, but I don't think the peplum is doing her any favors.


Charlize Theron in perfectly fitted black. I expect no less from her, she's a former model and KNOWS how to dress. I'm tired of black, but she's working it. Because it's Charlize Theron. You could put her in a flour sack and she'd rock it.

More hosts babbling. DON'T CARE. MORE CLOTHES, LESS YOU.

Julia Roberts in a black (snore) dress with a peplum. She's got the skinniest body I've ever seen, and this is making her look shapeless and pudgy.

Anne Hathaway. ALSO in black, with beads, at least. It fits. Kinda eh. Better than last year's pink, but eh. I dunno. Maybe I'm just sick of black.

Okay, they're still going on, I can't take any more. It's like a fricking funeral, with all that black.

That concludes this year's Oscars. Kind of a bummer. Maybe it's just me.

The squeaky wheel gets the, uh, molybdenum.

The husbeast has worked in "heavy fab" (fabrication of big stuff) lo these many years. Submarines, nuclear power plants, and now turbines and the like. At the moment, I've got two turbine blades on my kitchen counter. They failed inspection (making sure stuff won't break is ultimately his job), and he thought they were cool, so he brought them home. (Yes, we've also got bits of submarine laying around, I think those are in his desk.)

The rainbow lensflare is caused by stellite, which was laser-welded on to the edge of the blade for extra durability while spinning in... something. Don't remember what this one was for. Petrochemical? Chlorine? Steam? Well, anyway. Laying the groundwork so you know who I live with. Exotic is wherever you're not, so this is my normal.

Given the background, then, we can all understand that I get a tad nervous when the hubbo sits in the chair next to my spinning wheel, in the evening, sipping beer and watching it.

It squeaks. I'd say all, or nearly all, spinning wheels squeak. Any of them with metal-on-metal joints, at least. And the rest probably make creaking noises. This, well, it offends the husbeast's sensibilities. Given his work history and everything. There are times he has stomped upstairs from the man cave, grabbed a pencil (graphite 'lead' is an excellent lubricant), held it against the squeaky part until it shut up, and gone back to his cave without a word.

A few weeks ago, he appeared with this.

It's essentially molybdenum spray paint. Tape off all the metal-on-metal bits, he said, and we'd paint them. No more squeaks, it'd be great.

As we know, our foremothers back to the middle ages always resorted to space age elements to lube our spinning wheels.

What the hell, I figured. Worth a laugh at least, and old meets new always cracks me up.

We sprayed it (not in the living room), let it dry, I put it all back together, and lo, there was SILENCE.

No squeaking. It was glorious.

It lasted about half an hour. The paint rubbed off, and we were back to the usual.

Wait until payday, the husbeast said. This sounded vaguely like a threat to me, but the whole thing was cracking me up (molybdenum spray paint, seriously).

Payday arrived, and the husbeast showed up with this

and a Q-tip.

As I spun, he carefully dabbed a bit on the appropriate parts.

Silence again.

This time it lasted. It's been about a week, I plyed 600 yards of silk-merino blend, switched bobbins around, started on another project, and...

Silence.

It's quite lovely.

Silence isn't golden. It's a matte dark grey. With lube.

(The magical potion is DuraLube engine treatment, available at any auto supply store for about $20. A bottle will last you the rest of your life, just using it on your wheel. Maybe go in on a bottle with other spinners?)

I married a madman.

Works for me.

Odds and ends. And odds.

I suppose, first of all, since it's consumed my life and is the reason I haven't blogged, well, here's what's going on.

I never know how much is overshare, but fuckit, it's my blog, right?

I'm changing pain doctors. Sort of voluntarily, and sort of against my will. My GP (who is awesome) and I started looking for a specialist back in January because HE THE DOCTOR was unhappy with my pain treatment. (When I'm in pain, my blood pressure goes up. When I have pain flares, I have sustained high BP. We agree that the absolute last thing this whole problem needs is a stroke on top of it.) Being reasonable, I didn't wanna burn any bridges or anything. I was trying to keep it mellow. Then last Friday, my neuro freaked out on me, and that's done, so let us all pray to Keith and Buddha's eight tiny reindeer that the guys I'm seeing at the end of March will be viable replacements, because otherwise, I got nothin'. In the mean time, I'm gonna feel like shit.

Because that never happens.

So far I have not sworn like a sailor. That is a significant victory.

On Valentine's day, I took my gift money and bought enough yarn for a sweater. Scarves and shawls are all very well, but I've got enough now, and I really would like some garments.

This is Pacific, from Marianne Isager (who is one of my all time favorites). I've been wanting to go back to stranded color now that the Goober is old enough to understand "BE QUIET, I'M COUNTING!". But something with a super-short color repeat would be smart. This was the choice. It'd been on my bucket list for ages, so hey!

I'm still spinning.

Finally finished the ridiculously stupid merino-silk spin. Don't know the yardage yet, but this picture? This is the PLYED VERSION. That's three ply yarn there, not a single. Seriously, what in fuck was I thinking?

The husbeast got tired of my squeaking spinning wheel, and got very... husbeastie about it. I think that needs to be its own post. But the last two weeks have involved molybdenum and specialized high-tech engine treatments. It doesn't squeak any more.

Goob's got another germ. With luck, I won't catch this one. Finally got my flu shot.

Hub and I are both trying to figure out when the hell she got so big.

Motorola or Spring just updated my phone and it's going crazy. Fuckers.

Husbeast reports I drove 2,983 miles last year. Which is about what my mother put on her car in a week, so I'm amused. I'm exempt from emissions. Makes me wanna fart.

Right. Nothing happening here. Much. Tomorrow I will report on my spinning wheel, the husbeast being crazy (again), and the space age.

Fractal spinning.

[The doctor quest has begun and I've been sitting here fuming over an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon last Thursday. I'll blog it when I can do more than spew profanity. Y'know how if all you have is a hammer, every problem is a nail? NEVER GO TO A SURGEON IF YOU DON'T WANT CUT OPEN. AAARGH FUCKING HELL A:OEWIG:OEIT]

Right.

Because my buddy W wants to know how to spin a copy of a Crazy Zauberball. (Hereafter referred to as a Zooberball, 'cause she got drunk one night and it was fucking hilarious.) Ultimately, what we're talking about, here, is fractal spinning. The term refers more to how colors are managed than any real mechanical method of spinning; you could do this worsted, or woolen, as heavy or as thin as you wanted the yarn. The usual version will give you a two-ply at the end.

Knitty has an article on fractal spinning, here. Why don't you go read that. I'll wait.

What you're doing is, one ply with a long color repeat, and one ply with a short color repeat. You get something like this when it's knit up:

As you can see, there are long, wide stripes, with color variation within them. That's the long color repeat making the wide stripe, and the short color repeat making the variations. You get the same thing with a Zooberball:

See how it's essentially orange and blue stripes, but there are color shifts within them? Yes. That.

There are two ways to do this. The True Fractal, and the Half-Assed Fractal. Discussion below. (I went through my archives, and I have almost no pictures of a fractal in progress. Sorry. It was the Great Phone Catastrophe of 2013. I'll probably do another post with more detail when I spin a fractal next, and can take pictures.)

TRUE FRACTAL.

This is more a math thing than a required fiber technique, but whatever, I know I've got geeks reading. Let's say R=red, B=blue, and Y=yellow for the diagramming. You'd have one ply, of long color repeats, that'd go RRRBBBYYYRRRBBBYYY and another ply of short color repeats, exactly copying the sequence in the long ply, RBYRBYRBYRBYRBY. When you ply them together, you get perfect reflection between the long and short.

To accomplish this, you get your usual multi-colored, dyed top. Split it in half, as best you can, lengthwise. This will give you two super-long snakes of fiber, with exactly the same color repeats. Spin one as-is, that's your long color repeat.

New bobbin, for the next ply.

Take the other long snake, this is your second, short repeat ply. Split it lengthwise like you did before, but this time, separate it into as many long snakes as you can. (Or have the patience for.) Then spin them, one after the other, joining ends, for your short color repeat.

Then ply them together. Viola. You will have some of one of the plys left over. Nature of this method. Annoys me too, that's why I developed the...

HALF-ASSED FRACTAL.

Which doesn't leave any leftover plys laying around all wasteful. This is my version, with less mathematical perfection and less fuss. I'm sure I'm not the only one doing it, but I don't know anyone else, personally, who uses this method.

Start with your dyed top, like before. Instead of splitting it in half lengthwise, split it in half horizontally. (If it's eight feet long, pull it apart into two four-foot lengths.) Just open it up, fold it in half, and pull it apart. It doesn't have to be rocket science; the whole idea of this is less fuss.

For your long repeat ply, spin the big fat snake of top as is. You'll probably need to pre-draft it out a bit, discussion of my method can be found here for the curious. When you're done with the long ply, ON THE SAME BOBBIN, join in the short color repeats.

For the short repeat ply, pull the top apart lengthwise, making as many smaller snakes as possible. If you get shorter bits pulled off, just spin 'em in. The color repeats are meant to be random, anyway. Join the short repeats onto the ply of long repeats, and just keep spinning on the same bobbin. You want one long ply, half long repeat and half short repeat.

When you're done, wind the singles off into a center-pull ball. The easiest way to do this is to just bust out your ball winder and get to town.

If you want, you can wind it by hand or on a nostepinne, but the vital bit is to make sure you can easily get to both ends of the ball. Then, yes, ply it that way. Put the end from the inside of the ball and the end from the outside of the ball, and away you go.

This method takes a bit of practice but, again, is not rocket science. I'll do another post about plying from both ends of a ball, once I can re-take some pictures. But in the meantime, a quick Google turned up this, which isn't bad.

This method will give you a yarn that has the long and short color repeats in it, but not the exact repeats like a true fractal spinning method. I prefer the random, myself.

Also, my method only uses one bobbin, a true fractal requires three, or plying from two ply balls.

So there you go.

Go make your Zooberballs.

Right, that's done, then.

Every time there is a major move, there is some what-the-everloving-fuck? moment. Sometimes it comes early on, and you can quit worrying about it. Sometimes it lurks, breeding in the closet, for years, waiting for horrified discovery.

The first time we moved (Virginia to Hawaii), the movers packed our plane tickets, shoes, car keys, and wallets. Even though they'd  been told, many times, to leave everything in That Corner alone.

I've heard stories of movers packing live cats, kitchen garbage, and lunch. (ME: "What's the weirdest thing you've heard packed by accident on a move?" HUB: "Well... it's all relative. I swear they take pride in the weirdest, nastiest shit packed up in a military move.") Also dirty kitty litter. Husbeast has been ranting on this topic. He wants to put claymores under their cars and say they were mis-packed.

You get the idea.

Our next move (Hawaii to South Carolina, further in culture than miles), the mover packed the butter dish. Like, butter, dish, knife, and all. And canned goods. It did wonders for our weight limit.

We once found live geckos, on an Aiea to Honolulu move. Thankfully they'd only been packed a couple days.

When we packed up the house  in South Carolina, we put most of it in storage, if you'll recall. I knew that wasn't going to end well. Besides the mold cultures in my refrigerator, and the fabric full of bugs, THE SCRATCH ON MY DINING TABLE, there was this lurking feel that, well, it wasn't over yet.

Last week, I wanted the carafe I use for hot tea. Vacuum flask, basically, like they use in restaurants. I knew I'd unpacked it, at one point. I poked around, and there it was in the back of the hall closet. I'd just clean it up a bit, and tea ahoy.

Then I opened it.

WHOEVER PACKED THE CARAFE IN SOUTH CAROLINA HAD NOT CHECKED TO SEE IF IT WAS EMPTY FIRST. A year in storage, another... two? Threeish? years in my hall closet. It was... originally... tea. It had turned into brown slime that smelled like furniture polish.

After several rounds of vinegar, bleach, and soap, it seems I have salvaged the carafe. At the least, it doesn't smell any longer, and it's been through enough chemicals I figure any germs left will mutate me into Wolverine before they kill me.

Right. Hopefully that's our last what the everloving fuck.

Hopefully.

Pictures!

Because I am still recovering from the influenza I got right after Christmas. (No. I did not get a flu shot. Yes, that was really fucking stupid of me. Yes, I intend to get one next year.)

I've been trying to spin a couple hours a day, both for physical therapy purposes, and because I wanna finish this project and move on to another one.

The hubbo got me spinning wheel parts, a jumbo flyer, and my in-laws got me some extra bobbins. For my birthday last year. I should get pics and do a blog post about that. Husbeast ordered the parts from my LYS, which is an Ashford dealer. He knows the manager there. When she wrote out the order, she put his name on it. After the third or fourth staff person who asked "Who is Mr. Husbeast?" she wrote "Mr. Samurai Knitter" across the top. Which I am still giggling about, as well as using the spinning wheel parts.

Speaking of my birthday. The husbeast knows it's a rough time for me, so he went overboard this year. I also got this.

It's a Girl Genius poster I've had here waiting to be framed, for at least a year. He did that. It's now hanging on my kitchen wall. I love how it's sort of Art Nouveau, and yet still fits my decor.

Right. Digging back through pics on my phone... uh, it snowed today?

There was a layer of ice/freezing rain that hit first, then snow on top. There was a snow day at school, kid was less thrilled than usual. She's had this germ too, so she was ready to get out of the house. Ah well, there's always tomorrow.

Uh. Another Batkus? Yay?

I got nothin'. Gonna go make a hot toddy.

If you're still well, and haven't had a flu shot yet, think about it. This year's version is particularly hideous. Just sayin'.