BOODIE

I’ve been doin my thang …

/ MR / 16 Comments

Do you remember this ?

It was my last failure. I wanted to try making a cardigan from cuff to cuff; but I didn’t keep the edges straight, so I frogged it entirely.

This is how it’s (almost) currently looking, but that it now has a biiiiig cowl neck added, and I’ve run out of yarn for finishing the other sleeve. Must await ordered ball. This is a pattern I bought – the last:

This is the stitch, which I positively enjoyed doing: it’s called Closed V-stitch, in case anyone asks:

And here’s something I would be really happy with were it not for the horrible yarn. I ordered 8-ply from Oz Yarns, and what they sent me – indeed being the yarn on their lists that I ordered – was 10-ply and almost 12-ply. Bloody bulky.

So bulky is it that I couldn’t use my favourite stitch pattern for the sleeves as well as for the body  and had to change down to dc for the neckline in order to set up matching fabric. Why I’m happy with it is that I now have a template – as it were – to make another in real DK yarn.

Please note the side stripes, done so that I could crochet the sleeves in the round and not have to join the underneaths. I was tickled pink with how this worked; and it’ll look brilliant in a single colour !

Here’s a quick jumper done in that lovely stitch, using horrible Mandala (never never again !):

My cousin’s lady saw me wearing it and claimed she would like a colourful one with green as the main shade – hence the above sweater.

This one was made to get rid of the very nice to work with but over-loud yarn. I wear it with a pink under-thing; although it could be worn with any of those colours.

I haven’t added my off-white cardi. I should, as it’s part of this tranche of crochet. I’ll take a shot of it when Boodie gets up off my lap.

You see clearly that my lack of creativity as a designer makes me rely on the yarns and the stitches for variation …

The joy of being a cat’s mama

/ MR / 17 Comments

I’d made an appointment with the Lort Smith Animal Hospital to take Boodie to have his horrid claws clipped. This is so … so FRAUGHT an occupation that the last time we had such an appointment the clipping didn’t happen; as the vet – a large bloke – was unable to hold Boodie (and I am utterly useless: when he’s having anything done to him, his strength is astonishing). The next time he was there it was to have most of the rest of his teeth extracted; so of course they did it while he was under.

I bought a new cat-carrier: one with wheels and a pulling handle – or not – and had put it, open, on my crochet table in the loungeroom, ready …

I picked him up in the bedroom and he was immediately wary as I carried him out. Then he spotted the cat-carrier and went absolutely ballistic. Like, BALLISTIC !

I was trying to stuff him into the carrier and he was doing his insane starfish imitation – his very, very strong insane starfish imitation – and suddenly he’d twisted half around, knocking the carrier to the floor and inserting ONE SINGLE CLAW into the back of my right hand.

Dunno about you guys, but on the backs of my hands there are two very large veins that form a Y – the two hands matching fairly well – and you can make it out under that long horizontal wrinkle. Will you be astounded if I tell you that this single claw sank into the junction of the Y (on the other hand, I mean) …?!

Well, I screamed and swore very loudly indeed, flung him down and sat down on the couch to sob – largely with fear, although it was fairly sore. After a while of doing this I realised the inanity and stopped. My fears appeared to’ve been greatly over-dramatised because there wasn’t a shitload of blood. In fact, having blotted the hand with several tissues, I was able to make a cross of bandaids over the wound …

I spent the next 20 minutes cancelling the taxi (had to go down and pay the driver, as he’s been requested and had come out from the CBD) and Boodie’s appointment, this latter being much more difficult as the LSAH takes forever to answer the phone.

And then I realised there were blobs of blood popping through the bandaids – where they were in a double layer, as well …

I crossed the corridor and asked my neighbour Michelle to give me a hand with replacing the bandaids with something larger, of which I had a collection (no idea where they came from).  She came in most willingly and we started to remove the normal-sized bandaids … and then we stopped immediately. There was blood almost gushing from underneath – kind of dark blood. She said, in a matter-of-fact kind of tone, “I think you should go to a hospital” and I agreed fervently, but hadn’t the faintest idea of how this was to be done. Happily for me in my ancient hopelessness, Michelle – roughly young enough to be my daughter – has a functioning brain: she called for an Uber and off we went to The Alfred because it’s only a few blocks away.

That was somewhere around 3:30; and I managed to persuade Michelle to leave me and go home somewhere around 6:00 but was myself home again only at 9:30. During these six hours I had bled over various areas of The Alfred’s emergency section and myself,

was re-bandaged, had my hand X-rayed in case of any bits of claw-casing’s remaining in the wound (anyone whose household contains a cat will understand this possibility when recalling cats’ claws’ castoffs so often found), was given a tetanus shot and then, as the bleeding had triumphantly regained its momentum,

re-bandaged again. All seemed well; they allowed me to go home by taxi.

I was welcomed home by a totally unaffected Boodster, who fell over sideways as is his wont upon seeing me so that I can rub his beautiful tummy. Then I ate a DELICIOUS warmed meal from my current (and forever, I hope and trust) supplier called Perfect Portion Meals, drank much mineral water and sat down for a few moments before going to bed.

Uh-oh …

It had started AGAIN. Sighh … I returned to where I’d tipped all the bandages and large bandaid thingies onto the table and started to apply them. I must’ve used about 7 or 8, sticking them madly all over the bandage and encasing/enclosing the gore. THEN I went grumpily to bed.

During the night I got up to have a wee, but as ever didn’t turn on any lights. Thank all the gods …

In the morning I awoke to find myself in an abattoir.    😦

This time I organized myself, as I was no longer in a state of fear and confusion. A pair of ambo drivers turned up without too much delay; but in the meantime I’d been kept talking, on and off, in a most pleasant manner, but a young woman who’d answered the Ambulance section phone when I dialled triple zero. Eventually she decided I could be left on my own; but about ten minutes later I was called by someone else, who carried on with the care. It’s impressive !    🙂

And back we went to The Alfred, where I was attended to by a young woman who had a secret solution, apparently: it’s a kind of soft bandage that you cut to fit a wound and press on it for a while as it works its magic – and that’s its being impregnated with something that causes the blood to congeal ! Then you cover it was one of the soft sticky plasticky bandages and a compression bandage over the hand and wrist, and Bob’s yer uncle !

I feel sure there must be a moral to this tale; but I’m not nearly as witty as someone like Hilaire Belloc –

so I can only think it has to do with remembering cats change their minds about things. Whereas Boodz was once perfectly amenable to going into a carrier, he ain’t any more.

B stands for Blood. It also stands for Boodz.
Remember that the latter makes the former ooze.

Sorry about that … [grin]

Back to my roots

/ MR / 21 Comments

No, not these roots that are white(ish) once again —

(and look ! – I’m showing you my shellacked nails, that actually needed to be filed right down so as to be same height as my fingers coz otherwise I couldn’t do anything !) but my … ahhh … occupational roots.

Which is to say, I think I remember starting up my blog again, however many years ago it was, with the intention of devoting it to crochet. Possibly knitting as well, back then; but I don’t do that any more on account of hand arthritis. Well, I MEAN ! – just look at those ancient hands … Sighh … But also grrrrrrrrrr ! owing to the fucking blood-thinners I am told I must take, which make all veins stick out like dogs’ balls. Stringer taught me that one: blame him. [grin]

ANYWAY … Here’s what I’m rabbiting on about:

I was seized suddenly with a desire to make a cardi from one cuff to the other. I know I’ve seen several of these designs on YouTube, but if you think I could find a single one for reference, you’re wrong.  So I had to work out the number for meself. Simple, eh ?

Nup. Far from. For a start, the cuff circumference has to be set by drawing an imaginary straight line up from the ‘edge’ of my somewhat gigantic hips as I see in the mirror, straight-on, which is because they are my widest point (scarcely surprisingly !) and the width of the front and back panels is reflected in that measurement. This means that the length of the sleeves is going to be measured from that same imaginary line to the cuff, not from the point of the shoulder. And you should try getting that point without anyone to hold the tape-measure !!!

Once that’s done there are all the other sums to be worked out, but they’re all just a matter of logic.

Here’s a better shot:

and you don’t need to have it explained why … but there’s my constant companion, the Boodster, shedding fur and being curious.

It looks unbalanced, but that’s one of the many failings of my detested phone, the Oppo somethingorother: not possible to get a shot wherein an object isn’t stretched in at least one dimension. I assure you(se) that both horizontal edges are … horizontal.

Having discovered a second yarn I LOVE working with – the first being Lion Brand Mandala Ombre – which is Fiddlesticks Superb 8 Prints (no idea what the solid colour yarns are like), the next one will be a jumper, with ribbing added afterwards. The challenge there will be the neck-hole, and how to make a roll-neck. Much studying of others’ patterns, I hope !

So much BLOOD ! :\

/ MR / 31 Comments

The other night the fire alarms went off AGAIN – it was just over a week since the last time,

I knew it would be a false alarm, but one has to do the right thing (I suppose). So I sighed heavily, switched off the split system, opened the door to the balcony, turned off the Breville Barista Express (on which I had just made a coffee !), and went into the bedroom to fetch the Boodsta and put him into his carry-basket.

For reasons of which I had and still have ZERO understanding, he decided he was terrified. I will admit that the doleful yelling of “EMERGENCY ! – evacuate NOW !!” was not conducive to rest as it went on and on and on; but we’d done this several times when we were living in Maribyrnong, and just last week, and he’d had no problems at all. So ..?

Whose nose ?, as Stringer liked so much to ask.    😀

I realised immediately that Boodie was distinctly lacking in cooperation, and had to struggle with him right away. The little bugger’s claws came into their own, and as he was absolutely determined not to be put into the soft carrier, they made contact with my right hand. I shouted an imprecation and re-doubled my efforts.

No dice. He escaped and rushed out onto the balcony, from whence he simply walked along the railing into the next unit’s balcony and thumbed his moggy nose at me.

I gave up. Went around to the lifts – yes, wicked me ! I knew it was another false alarm and so couldn’t be bothered going down the concrete stairs – and it was only when I pressed the button that I saw the gore. I see-ed the bleed !! [grin]

In fact I’d bled all down the corridor, and there was a smallish pool of it on the lift floor. My hand was wonderfully dramatic with blood trailing excitingly all down my fingers and dripping off ! When I emerged onto the footpath outside the front door there were gasps of horror. “OMG ! – have you got a big wound ?” – followed by disbelief when I showed what Boodie had done: one small claw-hole !

The firies had already turned up – quiet Saturday arvo – and one of them was delegated to attend to me and my cascading blug, which he did with admirable speed and efficiency. But I was obliged, after we’d all been let back in, to get some paper towels and my Koh spray and clean up after meself.

Blood thinners, of course. I’d forgotten I’m taking ’em. They turned an otherwise boring event into a delightfully awful one.

Boodie on the wander

/ MR / 11 Comments

Looks like a little angel. Is actually a very small monster .. Well, OK, not that bad; but he was making my life a misery with wanting to escape. And then he found out how. Did my best to prevent it, but couldn’t block up the escape route. For a while I was intending to spend a painful amount of money on having a professional bit of cat-fencing-in done (which would’ve brought his cost, so far, to over $2,000, what with the vet fees); but before that came about, the solution did !

After yet another escape, I simply gave up. I opened the front door and went about whatever I was doing at the time. Boodie was back in an hour or two; rushed about excitedly and went out again. Came back in half an hour. Repeated the activity, and returned in about ten minutes. From then on I didn’t bother about anything: I knew that there was nothing to bother about.

Last night for the first time he went out into the dark before I’d gone to bed. I decided not to panic when he didn’t return for half an hour, and shut everything down, including myself; but I left my bedside light on.

At some stage he leaped onto my stomach from the ground – fairly likely to wake me up – and settled down to sleep. At some other stage he went out again. When he woke me up this-morning, the dent in the duvet told me he’d been asleep there for a good long while.

Made my teeny adorable cat happy. Stopped myself from being driven mad. Saved almost $700.

Yes, I do know cats are not meant to be outside at night for fear of their eating the local wildlife; but there isn’t any around here – except one very large goanna, which would in all likelihood eat Boodie in any confrontation – but he is not a confrontational moggy – and this is a very singular environment. I like it so much, here at MACS; and now I like it even more.