D. O. N. E.

Presenting Ishbel the Third. I think this might be the prettiest of the Ishbel trio, but we won't know for sure until next year when my friends and I gather in Los Angeles and show them off. Meantime, this white Ishbel will wing to Australia, and the Blue Skies Ishbel will journey to Kansas, with my love and friendship for the recipients.

I thought I would easily finish this Friday afternoon during open knitting at Nana's, but I stupidly miscounted my chart progression and suddenly realized I had a whole 'nother chart to knit. As lace knitters know, those last rows are always killers because they take a billionty times longer than you think they will. And I had 8 more than planned. Do the math, and this took eight billionty times longer to finish than I thought it would. And there went my fond and foolish plan to finish it Friday afternoon. Good thing I like knitting, eh.

So after the horrendous storm killed Chicago for a few hours, and after it was safe to drive home from Nana's (dodging tree branches and cursing broken traffic signals the whole way), I came back here, popped a Poirot video into the DVD player, and watched it almost twice through as I finished the shawl.

Which brings me to a question. Do any of you watch these Poirot movies? What do we think of them? This is my first exposure, and I'm ambivalent. It was fun -- the look of the series is beautiful, the acting was good, and it moved quickly enough on the first watching to slide right over all my objections at the leaps in logic. But on the second watching, I started analyzing the script -- a dangerous occupation -- and found myself calling out, "Objection!" to every bit of hearsay or other bad evidence. (Proving once again, you can take the litigator out of the courtroom, but you can never really take the courtroom out of the litigator. I haven't tried a case in 9 years, but I tried the crap out of that movie.)

That might be a personal problem. What do you all think? Thumbs up or down on Poirot?

Three's a Charm. Or So They Keep Telling Me.

The first time I knit Ishbel, I was a bit annoyed by the pattern directions and convinced it was actually a much easier knit than its behavior indicated. The second time I knit Ishbel, the pattern made sense and the process felt fast and light and lovely. And now, the third time...




















I'm more than a little bored. Don't get me wrong -- the yarn is lovely (Dream in Color Smooshy), and the pattern and yarn play very well together. And the recipient will be happy to get it when it's finally shipped off to her. Certainly, there's joy for me in knowing she truly wants this. But really, the Ishbel thrill is gone. This isn't a pattern anyone needs to knit three times. I'll be happy when it's done so I can get back to the sleeves for St. Brigid, which are about a quarter done now.

And I also look forward to knitting my new lovelies.



















On the left, Handmaiden Sea Silk for a Montego Bay shawl (purchased from Broad Ripple Knits in Indianapolis, a lovely new shop within walking distance of my favorite Indian restaurant, which provides further evidence to prove my theory that God loves me and wants me to eat curry and buy yarn).

On the right, a Zauerball from the same shop, which must be knit into a shawl because any socks would be fraternal, and we can't have that. (Chrissy, can I get an amen, sister?)

In the middle, a pair of Ella Rae Lace Merino skeins, which for some reason insist on photographing red when they're actually a fuschia/purple blend. I bought these at Nana's Knitting shop during the first week of her store-closing sale. (cry) (sniffle)

I've also bought a stack of patterns and a few sets of Addis, but I've been holding off on buying much yarn. For one thing, I'm in total denial that the store is actually closing. Yes, I've known about it for a long time, and in theory anyway I've had ample time to wrap my head around the giant hole Tricia's departure will create.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

And really, I don't. Not one bit. I was in the shop three times last week, and each time, there were more empty cubbies and more sad faces. The vultures are definitely picking the bones clean over there -- and more power to them, because every knitter loves a bargain. God knows I do, and plan to spend a little more before it's all gone.

But that still doesn't mean I like it.

In fact, I hate it. I hate that the back table, my refuge and my solace for the past several years, will be moved to Cory's house where I'll probably never see it again. I hate that the friends I've made there over the years will likely scatter, only to be seen at intervals or on ravelry instead of at our weekly knit-ins. But mostly, I hate that I won't have a friendly place for instant yarn therapy.

You know what I mean. You're knitters, too. You know what it's like to have a knitting place filled with people you're always happy to see. You know what it's like when that pressure builds and you absolutely must, no excuses, no delay, play with wool until calm is restored. You know that the smell of wool and the touch of cashmere can change your mood, and the clicking of the needles can change your life.

Trish and I will always be friends -- God knows, I have to keep her close just so I can be sure she doesn't try to run off with my boyfriend Henry Cavill from the Tudors. That greedy hussy. We all know she'll skip off with him if I turn my back for a second, so yes, I plan to keep a permanent eye on her.

But the shop. I hate losing the shop.
(sob)