soaping up with soap

Hello! I am still here!

I am fine, and ... nothing at all has happened, actually. What happened was that I had one of my momentary brainfreezes. I wrote this entire post, over a week ago, all about mittens (my new ones, which I love, and also the ones I made for my mothers-in-law for Christmas, which were the Super Secret Christmas Knitting), with a healthy defense of why I knit for myself. But then I didn't post it, because it turned out that I had forgotten to upload photographs of said Christmas mittens, and then I kept forgetting to upload them even when I was at home, and then I did upload them but I felt bad about the post, because by then the defensive-feeling about selfish knitting had left (it had been prompted by a passing comment from a friend), and I thought maybe I was just being too stentorian about it all — but I didn't want to rewrite it, either, and I couldn't write anything new without summarily tossing the post aside, so I just sat on the whole thing and felt very guilty not posting (while not doing anything about it). I think I was just kind of hoping that it would miraculously go away or something.

Anyway! So now we are going to pretend that post had just never existed to begin with, so we can move on.

Last Saturday, Pd played a bonspiel (a curling tournament) at the club, and came in first in his position! (You sign up individually, and then get placed on different teams, and in the end the people with the most points in each position win. Pierre played second, which will make sense to curlers and to no one else.) It was the Soapspiel, so this was his prize:


A Rubbermaid box full of soap-like things. The bright yellow handle near the bottom is attached to a giant tub of laundry detergent — one of those 4-litre bottles, I think. And next to it (which you can't see), is an equal measure of fabric softener. (I kept staring at it, and Pd kept telling me that it was fabric softener. I know that, but I was trying to figure out how or why one would use it. I actually never have. The entire concept perplexes me. Why would I want my clothes softened? I feel like I may be missing some essential point here.) There was also shampoo and conditioner, and some truly scary cleaning chemicals like Chlorox.

And there was also the smallest, cutest little bottle of hand sanitizer I have ever seen; it's practically single-use. I took a picture with a LEGO minifig for a size comparison:


Isn't that adorable? I don't even use hand sanitizer, but I'm tempted to carry it around, just because it's so cute. (I know. I am sad.) And yes, that is totally your second clue as to what my big birthday LEGO project is. (I didn't mention that it was LEGO, but I thought it was obvious from the last clue.) The whole kit is done, actually; we just haven't had time to diorama it. You can see a little bit of it in the background.

Meanwhile, the mittens have somehow snuck their way onto this post:


I finished them about a week and a half ago, and they're fabulous (and also looking significantly grubbier now). The stranding on the inside makes them fairly warm: they're not as cozy as my sheepskin ones, but they're not as bulky either, so that's fair. I've been wearing them every day.


They're not bad for my first colour-stranding project; I didn't make the floats long enough in some places and so sometimes the fabric gets kind of wonky. But I think I learned a lot, and you don't really notice when you're wearing them.

Details:
La Joie du Printemps mittens, by Heather Desserud. Knitted with Spud & Chloë Fine, in "popcorn" and "lizard," with 2mm needles.

a new year, a new hobby

It's not very auspicious, is it, to start off the new year by leaving my blog untended for more than a week — however, there it is. My only defense is that the first week back to work after 10 days of faffing off were rather stunning (in the literal sense). We have had two large parties since then — a New Year's Day Recovery party (which was exactly as it sounds), and a birthday party for me (er — ditto). I am now partied out, and so are the cats.

I was going to do a Christmas post, but the holidays seem like a lifetime ago. And really it wasn't terribly interesting — fun, but quiet. I also turned 30 last week, which sort of superceded the whole holiday thing (I mean. My birthday happens after Christmas every year, inevitably, but usually it gets overshadowed by the glitz. This year was different, because 30 is special — or so I was told. I am still waiting for my tiara).

The most cogent things about turning 30 is that I don't actually feel any different than I did two weeks ago, and that I now have a new pet project, thanks to my brother-in-law. I'll give you a clue:


Lots of points if you can figure out which specific kit it is. (There are indications, in that photo.) It has now entirely replaced the garter stitch blanket in my consciousness, which probably bodes ill for getting said blanket done any time in this new decade.

ensconced

Still at the farm right now — reading my new Christmas books, doing my (not-so-new) Christmas knitting, and playing with my in-laws' new-to-me kitten.


More later, when I return to my normal life.

happy Christmas!

All of the Christmas knitting is done, all of the Christmas gifts are wrapped; we are packed and ready to go.


Well, almost. I should probably leave work, first.

The plan is Ottawa tonight and tomorrow, the farm after that, and we shall return to Toronto sometime just before the new year. I shall be working on my log cabin blanket (it's coming along ... slowly), and this:


Colour-stranded mittens for me (they are Hedda Knits' Joie du Printemps mittens; the name is slightly ironic considering the season, but I suppose it gives me hope. The yarn is Spud & Chloë Fine.) I'm actually much further along than this, and I'm very pleased and excited by how well it's going (and I'm really hoping I didn't just jinx it).

So, a very merry Christmas to you, if you celebrate it, and a very happy solstice and well-earned long weekend to you, if you don't. Whichever it is, I hope your holidays are filled with lovely friends, excellent food, and wine good enough to accompany both.

killer gingerbread, take III

Oof. Today Pd woke up with a possible pinched nerve in his back, George-the-car turned out to have a flat tire, I was late for work, and it was cold, cold cold. It wasn't a bad day, exactly, but it dragged. A lot. I'm not looking terribly forward to Christmas but I am impatient for the vacation that comes after. To me, the best part about Christmas is how everything sort of stops for two weeks — work slows down (as everyone is on vacation), normal activities like team sports suspend for the season, and everybody is just that extra bit friendlier. (Well, almost everyone. Sworn nemeses get bitchier.)

I also like the gifts. It's not the trend to say so, in these austere times, but I like getting prezzies. I like seeing what other people think I might like, or discovering things I never knew existed. Those are my criteria for choosing gifts for other people. I don't care for the consumption part of it, but being forced to think deeply about other people, and showing that you care — even if, sometimes, it is with consumer goods — that can't be all bad, can it?

Anyway. To the gingerbread houses!

In line with my habit of overpreparing, if somewhat preposterously, for everything, we went to Bulk Barn and bought extra candy for the kits. I subsequently divided them into five roughly equal boxes:


Offhand, they had mint chocolate chips, red and green "Christmas" Smarties, jelly beans, Reese's pieces, sugar-free jujubes, Licorice All Sorts, and miniature candy canes. The black boxes are take-out containers from Spring Rolls. (The glass one is because we didn't have enough — we'd gotten rid of our old containers in the move, and I had forgotten to stockpile them through the year.) I was — as always — a little bit worried about whether or not we had enough candy. To give you an idea of how utterly naïve that was ... I still have about 80% of the candy sitting in my house. (One box wasn't used at all, and I consolidated all of the others.)

First up: the children's house (one of two, but I didn't get a picture of the other before it was given away, with gratitude, to one of the parents). Pd and I are of the age now where our friends have toddlers, and this year they were old enough to participate (with adult supervision, of course):


Adult supervision turned out to have been necessary, because when our friends are in parent-mode, they read instructions. When left to their own devices, they ... well. Don't.

When they say that the icing must set for 10 minutes, they're not joking around
Or, they revert to frat boys (and girls).



Meanwhile, a friend of ours chose a smaller canvas:


He later flattened and moulded a piece of caramel into a vest/cardigan (which I regret we did not get a picture of, but by the time I realised we had missed it, the snowman had started melting). It found an appropriate home as the guardian of the requisite "perfect" house:


Sadly, I only contributed very little this year — I was too busy in the kitchen, and then in the drink. (Let's be honest, here.) But I think they did an excellent job without me. I especially like the marshmallow "smoke."

Of course, all parties have a morning after, and this is what we faced on ours:


It's not as bad as it looks, although getting frosting off the extra-long dining table is exactly as bad as it sounds.