This lady is no slouch: I refer to Barbara Breitner, who has written a book called “Knitting on the Net”.
You could visit her (ugh !) Facebook site ifyou need to track it down. But on the other hand, you can just follow the link behind the image below to her website and find a really good list of knitting stitches. As, for instance,
There are dozens of ’em, all very clearly written up and described in terms of why you might want to use ’em.
I’ve been browsing for knitting stitches because of having stuffed up my WIP – a brioche lapghan, 99 stitches long. I add that last bit so’s you can see how goddam infuriating it is to’ve found a hideous error many rows back. And here to prove it —
Unfortunately, the wool is kinda speckley and doesn’t lend itself to photos. But in the lower one about two columns to the left of the edge of the ball of wool, the brioche column wanders off from left to right, so that it looks as if a rib of black has turned into a rib of white. SHITABRICK, but I don’t know how I do these things. Now you get why I apostrophize myself so violently …
And I’m running out of time to make something for a beloved friend’s birthday. :( :( :(
My life has suddenly and unexpectedly changed. Well, its framework has. Its setting, I suppose.
When I arrived down here in early 2016, I fairly soon discovered a lovely retirement village called Sirovilla. Yes, I did say ‘retirement’: in your 70s this isn’t a word (thinks: gosh ! – I suddenly recall all the posts I once made on words and their wickedness) that causes dismay – especially when you are without assets. I put my name down for the Highton one and struck it from my mind for the next roughly 5 years, such is the size of their waiting-list.
In the unit I’m now in, where I’ve been for 6 months, I stirred things up a bit by insisting that various repairs and replacements were done – the major one being putting down new carpet. Now, only days after the large expenditure so reluctantly made, I have tendered my notice. I suspect the owners would cheerfully strangle me if they could get their hands around my neck; and the agent isn’t the captain of my cheerleading team.
Back to Sirovilla. The woman who virtually runs both villages called me last Friday, out of the blue. She told me of a different organization (turns out she is good friends with its CEO) that has a vacancy and I should contact them. So I did; and so is everything new again. :)
This place will be my sixth address in Geelong; but there’s no more need to keep searching for the right place to call ‘home’: I’ve really found it. Not only tenure for the rest of my days, but absolute security in terms of whatever direction my health takes: the unit they’ve offered me is large, beautiful, has a garden, two safe areas for Lui to sit in the sun and blink, and is completely self-sufficient and private … I can’t think of anything that’s missing in it. BUT ! – were I to become less physically able, there’s a huge number of units for the semi-independent, and ditto for actual aged care – all for me to move into whenever I need|want. No, I do NOT want; but whose nose ? (One of Chic’s favourite philosophical statements, that.)
The sole photo of those I took when being shown ’round that’s of sufficient quality to let you see is this one:
Please take on board the fact that my current kitchen has ONE powerpoint, and far from enough cupboard space so that I’ve had to add a full-size set of shelves (for which there is only just enough room), and you will possibly grasp my enthusiasm for le kitchen. It has more power-points than I need and much more pantry|cupboard space than one greedy person will be able to use ! [grin]
At LAST I can stop this frenetic never-settling-down. I shall do so with joy.
Here you go – the project that turned me into a yarn fiend:
I’m a sucker for colours (the more, the merrier !); so this square from Love Crochet appeared to’ve been designed for me. I embarked upon it with enthusiasm, having discovered a gorgeous fully mercerised yarn from Crochet Australia that was once called Clever Country but is now otherwise named (thinks: what the devil is it ?!); which didn’t pall as I progressed !
That’s my problem, you see: I have not only age against me, but its concomitant of short attention span. Sighh … And so what I’m working on needs to be pretty damned rivettingly interesting if I’m to finish it.
But the time I’ve had in the last several days is not that which I’d wish on anyone else. Nope: while the end could possibly be said to justify the means, them means oughtn’t make such demands !
First, I had new carpet laid. Not easy, inasmuch as I was obliged to have my lovely removalist take away all the furniture from the lounge and the two bedrooms – prior to which I had to empty everything (of course). Stashed as much as possible in the bathroom/laundry (great preponderance of that coupling here in Geelong’s rented premises), and lugged the rest out onto the back … thingy. Not a verandah; not even a back room: a kind of cubby made by ‘building in’ one end of a rear yard. Happy was I that it’s there: dunno what I could possibly have done had it not been !
Anyway. It all had to be reversed at carpet-laying’s end – one bloke only, had to work his (_|_) off – and then I collapsed. Happily, M was there to help in several ways, or I would’ve done the collapsing sooner. Dramatically.
It IS nice but – the new carpet. :)
Then I spilled coffee on my laptop keyboard. Oh CHRIST ! – never done it before in my entire IT-related existence. The happy ending is this gorgeous new Acer ‘Aspire 5’, now the pride of my existence. But even though spending the entire arvo on it today, I’m nowhere near completing its setting-up with Favourites on the browser and software on the taskbar.
Then I lost my purse. Again. Only 5 months since the last time. Talk about screaming and tearing my hair … Had to stop my debit card – no choice, as the bloody things can simply be tapped and need no password/whatever. Need I say that about ten minutes after finalising the card’s stopping, I was phoned and told my purse was found …? – thought not.
I’m absolutely stuffed. So much so that I cannot think of a single image to add to this post. I might, later … Something to do with WHINGEING, I fancy … AHA !!! – found it …
The husband is Chic: the mog is Captain Kirk, known simply as The Captain.
So what d’you think of the cardi I knitted for Chic (many years ago) ? – I thought it was pretty ace, myself. And without wishing to blow my own trumpet too loudly, so did he. :)
We were living down in Melbourne for a while, working on a film shoot (for which he was never paid, btw: the 2-man production team were total (_¤_)s and two-faced bastards). A short time before the shoot began, I finished this more than time-consuming knitting – Chic liked yarn no thicker than sport weight – and he wore it on every occasion that the temperature permitted.
Alas. The rented house had open-plan bedroom storage; just shelves to put everything on and no cupboards with doors. So one fine day much later on, one of our other cats was wandering about in cat-fashion and came across the woollies. Apparently the smell of this particular wool was irresistible: The Wooluf set in eating it !
And he did enough damage (although I doubt he actually ingested any) to render it irreparable. At least, it was for me: just the sight of the rips and tears and long lines of stitches dropped for roughly a thousand rows was enough to make me wave my hands in dismissal of the thought.
That’s called Sedge stitch . Looks good, I reckon. I started trying it out with the thickest yarn in my stash – something like DK – and pretty soon realized what I was making looked nothing like THAT.
Then I found another pattern using Sedge stitch, on the same site:
which provided a third version of it.
I thought: ‘Oh well, there you are, you halfwit: if you expect a stitch you like the look of to come out as in its picture, you have to use the same yarn weight. DUMMY !’
Yes: I am very often speaking thus to myself. Many, many people tell me that I’m too hard on myself; but as far as I’m concerned, anyone who does the moronic things I do deserves to be apostrophized in that kind of language. I have spoken. [grin]
So I’ve learned two things:
that my list of stitches sites cannot be judged on its own recognizances; and
that the first photo keeps reversing itself in my vision. Heaven knows why; but every other (or so) time I look at it, it seems to be in concave version !
This is a wrinkle for occasions of which I must be on the qui vive.
Here’s a crochet person who seems to have done pretty well with her blog … [gasp !]
It’s a lovely, calm kind of blog, in which she talks patterns and stitches, inter alia. I have a terrible weakness for collecting stitch patterns: check out my collection in Bookmarks … (You see my link to all her stitches there – three from the bottom: no room to list them all separately !)
Her name is Tiffany. Her daughter is a (younger) clone. They write of essential goodness, in amongst the crocheting text.
And yet I cannot loathe them: Tiffany’s skills are impressive, and the simple way she uses them to create lovely things is delightful.
If only my crocheting looked like that …!
But the bald fact is — I hold my crochet hook and use it like a single knitting needle. [blush]
I hold my yarn in my right hand.
I am awful.
You would despise me to see me working.
My Brisbane friend DMN, who comes down to visit every so often (is that friendly, or what ?!), once brought with her a medum-sized pot containing soil and a strange, long, green … thing. It was a bit like a three-cornered spear; and about 20 cm long (high ?). She handed it over and told me she’d also done one of these for herself to take home: she’d propagated them from her mum’s place, mid-way between Brisbane and Geelong in glorious Richmond, NSW.
So. I considered it. “What IS it ?” DMN had no idea of its name, but assured me that it was beautiful, once grown and flowering. Then we both set out to discover its identity, without immediate success: for my part, entering something like “long green 3-cornered stalk” into Doctor Google and checking out what he responded with just made me enraged. Happily for us both, another friend of mine here, the beautiful Barbara, came across one at an exhibition she attended (I think) and brought me a brochure. Epiphyllum. The hitherto unhelpful Doctor G came good: I was able to email DMN with his results, and she said, unhesitatingly, that it was the oxypetalum; for she could identify it from memories of her mother’s plant’s flowering.
DMN decided to call her plant Effie; M.R. called hers Phyllis. You observe that we are both somewhat lacking in imagination when it comes to botanical nomenclature (ahem !). Anyhoo, here they are; and I need no comments regarding whose photography is better, thank-you !
The moral of this story is: have gardening faith. Long green spears will prove amazingly fascinating, developing into sensational plants. :)
There are several things I’m really interested in other than crochet and knitting – or should I say, as well as C&K. These include gardening; at which I am embarrassingly bad, bugger it.
Since arriving in this town at the end of April 2016 I’ve lived in no less than five different units; and my current rental is the first one with garden in which I can expend my less than satisfying efforts. I buy seeds online, and have even bought a couple of seedlings there, too; but the best way of all to try to fill the smallish but actually not so tiny garden beds is to go with my friends M&L to various plant markets on weekends.
The one I like best is the Drysdale market on every third Sunday (not counting winter) – it has easily the best plant stall-holders.
But the trouble is: no matter with how many bags of seedlings I come away from such places, I never seem to be filling up the L-shaped garden that follows the line of this building. It is NOT FULL. It is SPARSE. In spite of my planting out things that are meant to spread, they don’t. At least: if they’re meaning to, they’re taking their bloody time about it. :\
M of M&L made me a wonderful planter on legs, back in my 3rd unit; because there was a back yard but no soil. I seem to be OK with that in terms of filling it up – it is, after all, a very finite space. I shall take some photos with my current phone (my younger sister donates her cast-offs, which is much appreciated) and you’ll see exactly what I mean …