My unfortunate eldest sister

Whispering Gums reminded me in a comment, totally unintentionally, of something vile I did to J, my most respectable and quite brilliant sister (there were once 5 of us, but now we are only 3).

The comment was regarding my completing a crocheted lapghan for J – the one in two shades of grey NO NOT FIFTY !!!! – that I posted about here. A serious bit of work, of which I am proud.

However, the vile thing was this:

Heh heh …

It is in fact quite a good FO: the pattern got a bit tricky as the size increased, inasmuch as the number of 8s and 3s and whathaveyou meant I had to concentrate, or frog rows and rows. (Actually, I did that a fair bit. Grrrrrrrrr …) But the COLOURS, my dears ! – simply frightful !   :)

Trouble was that the American Yarn online shop in Melbourne had almost run out of this pertickler type/weight/etc., so I was limited to this or one that was grave-coloured – you know, greens and greys and blacks and stuff.

I did tell Jocie,up there in her Paris flat, that it was meant for her to put ’round her shoulders in the Parisian winter – only for interior use. Besides, I added, as she would need to be wearing sunglasses as well, it might as well be spring (even were she not starry-eyed and discontented …).

But I somehow think she’s never put it on. Pity.

‘Tis done ! (and dusted)

Whoever thought I had the staying power ? – pas moi !

But I listened to several audiobooks with Lui snoring between my knees on the recliner chair, and it is actually finished: 6 balls of Scheepjes Colour Crafter @ 300m each. Nearly two kilometres !!!

I shall post this off to my eldest sister – unhappily, just as Paris is warming up. Never mind: she can stash it away in some nice-smelling drawer, ready to be brought out as soon as the weather turns cold-ish. It’s not a heavy lapghan, but soft and beautifully warm – I know, I tried it. 140 no-foundation-row hdc, it was; and I am madly happy to say that this stitch allows for absolutely surety of correctly reaching the end of each row, as well as being a single row pattern. Usually when I crochet a largeish whatever I have to rissole it because it’s become wider and wider or maybe  narrower and narrower and THEN wider and wider. [grin]

Crunch stitch is a very good one for blankets: it would be perfect for a baby blanket or rug. That would have to be for someone else, as I do not take frightfully well to babies, nor they to me (I sometimes wonder if it may have something to do with their wondering if I am a much larger version of themselves …).

Well, there you go. Next project is that sublime motif blanket designed by the Scottish Italian. I have all the yarn now. But deciding on which colour goes with which … well, that’s another story.

An early project

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.

I know, I know: wottanidiot !   :}

At least I did finish this one.

 

Here’s something I finished !

A husband cardigan (and his favourite mog)

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.

So much for this finished object …