Rachael

Welp, this tank is pretty cool. It also reminds me that I need to hit the streets, for a walk and some yoga later. My arms! Oy. This is a headless picture since I haven’t had a shower and my eyes are having an allergy attack. You’ve seen my mug enough, anyhow. And this is the only shot where you couldn’t see my upper arms (YOU try taking a picture of yourself in a tank while avoiding those parts):

And THIS is what happens when I try to take mirror shots.

I really liked the Lion-Brand Microspun (color 144). I used about 4 skeins, perhaps a little less, and while it is splitty and a little finicky, it’s so SOFT. And inexpensive, to boot. Pattern is from the new Spring/Summer 2004 Vogue Knitting.

Now.

I have a friend who has done a LOT for me in my move. He’s a good guy, and a good friend, and he’s giving me a couch. So I’m gonna make him a sweater. Now that the tank is done, I can dive right in. I’m using Galway Highland Heather in a deep grey, and I want something simple but not boring. I’m thinking a 3×1 top-down raglan, but I’ll have to do some swatching experiments. I cannot believe I now both swatch and mattress stitch. I used to be so proud of the fact that I DIDN’T CARE. Now I do. Don’t tell.

Confession number one: Up until tonight, I had never used the mattress stitch for any seaming. I was a back-stitch girl. Kinda like a back-street boy, but way more geeky. (Hard to imagine.) I was terrified of mattress stitch, and thanks to the new Knitty article, I am now a deflowered mattress. Or something. MAN, is that stitch cool. The seam is, like, invisible! (Big duhs all around, I know, but I had no idea.)

Confession number two: I left an inch unseamed tonight. I’m a damn inch from being done with the new Vogue cover tank, and I just can’t do it. I’ve been up since ten am yesterday, and I just got off work. It’s almost six am now. I have a tub running and hot water on the boil for tea. Tomorrow I’ll have pictures. But that inch will remain undone until I wake.

I have a sneaking suspicion this baby’s gonna be TIGHT. I know tanks are supposed to be form-fitting, but yipes. I may not be legal in it. We’ll see.

Best call tonight – a guy in a wheelchair goes into a jewelry store and asks to see some rings, asking the price of each. When he is told one of them is $8000, he says “That’ll do.” Then he gets up out of the wheelchair, and runs away into the night. Dude was fast. AND we had to return the wheelchair to the right hospital.

I find that hilarious.

G’night.

(PS – Bay Area people, don’t forget Saturday’s meet-up! See below.)

Yeah, that knitting meet-up on Saturday? Well, Christina, the owner of Article Pract, emailed me and said anyone with our group on Saturday gets 15% off anything, excluding books. How cool is that? Now you HAVE to come, if you live anywhere in my time zone. And if you don’t, I’m sorry. I wish you could come, too! (I really do….)

Last minute, yes. But Bay Area bloggers (and, heck, knittin’ readers, too), you want to meet up this Saturday? JStrizzy, RedSilvia, and I are getting together for coffee/beer and snacks and maybe a little yarn shopping, and you’re more than welcome to come.

Details:
Saturday, April 10th
1pm
Temescal Cafe
4920 Telegraph,
just a few doors south of Article Pract, map HERE.

Do drop me a comment or email, though, so we know roughly how many chairs we should grab…..

Now that the business side is dealt with, let’s go straight to the whinging portion of the programme, yes? I told you I was in a window-shopping mood yesterday, right? I didn’t really mean it. What I meant was I was in a mood to BUY. I just didn’t want to say it. When I went to the antiques flea market, I wanted patio chairs. I wanted old trellises. I wanted old broken French doors to prop against the ivy and drape with outdoor lights.

What I found were things like this chair:

This was $65. Puh-leeze. I tried to look suave when told the prices, nodding, as if thinking “ahhh, of course the iron bedstead that’s rusted through is seven hundred dollars. I would have thought more!” Then I walked away from each seller, actually thinking, “Dude. He’s HIGH!”

So I left, and went predictably to the place where I thought the real junk would be. The flea market. Okay. When did the flea market stop selling crap? Let me re-phrase — when did it stop selling people’s old crap and start selling all new made-in-China hecho-a-Mexico shit? There’s always been that row or two out of thirty that sold the cheap electronics and hair barrettes and cowboy boots and pirated CDs. But now that stuff took up twenty-eight rows and I barely found the row and a half of real people selling their real junk. By then I was so disgruntled that I left with nothing but a bag of dried mango. Oh, and this photo for Alison:

Not sold by weight, no, but there must have been at least ten of these booths peppering the flea market, all bras selling for either 3 or 4 for $10. Damn! Now there’s a deal. I give credit to my girl La Brainy for having the balls (breasts?) to actually buy some of ‘em. They scared me. I snapped the pic and ran.

A poor shopping day. But a good photo day. This one is for Lisa:

And after all that whining about never being able to entertain, I entertained six people at my house last night. One was a pop-in, three were a call-and-drop-by, two were planned, and all were lovely. At one point there was an overlap of five, and it was truly fabulous to hear the chatter and realize we really all COULD fit in my new apartment. Dinner party, here I come!

The girls brought over dinner in this basket. I was rather embarrassed how quickly it was appropriated.

Oh, and I did buy two things yesterday. A cute purse at Marshall’s, and this round container next to the lamp.

Who knows what it was originally meant for, but I’m using it for straight needles. I actually never use straights (stop it), so they’re merely decoration, but such good decoration, don’tcha think?

And I’ll leave you with one of my most prized possessions. Seriously. I love this so much. My Pope-in-a-Globe.

Thought you might like this:

Rogue is an alehouse in Northbeach, the Italian section of San Francisco. I took BART over yesterday and met Brooke and some pals for the SF Oyster and Beer festival. Celtic music in the park, what could be better? Well, the problem was that EVERYONE thought that. I managed to grope my way to a beer, never got an oyster, found my breathless friends at the entrance, and we escaped, leaving the masses to sit in the cold sun. We found, instead, a table at Rogue and sat and drank and watched all the Boston-Irish transplants drink a LOT at the bar.

Then I caught a ride back to the East Bay with a friend who was going to the same impromptu dinner party that I was, and we had one of those charmed evenings where everyone is funny and sweet and the food tastes great. I have to hand it to my friend Jenn for throwing together a dinner party like that. I’ve said for the last seven years I might have a dinner party someday, and now that I have the room, I’m too nervous to do it. Oh, I hate throwing parties. Love going to them. Hate hosting them. Jenn, however, decided yesterday that it was a good day to have friends over. She bought chicken and steak and made some sides, called some folks, and people came over. How hard is that?

I still don’t want to do it. Maybe when I have mine I’ll have it catered (like I can afford THAT).

I’m rambly today, ain’t I? I just feel so much BETTER (but I’m not overdoing it, I swear. I’m being very careful) and it feels so wonderful to have almost my old reserve of energy back again. It’s overcast and chilly today, but I think I’ll hie me off to the monthly Antiques Fair in Alameda, a huge high-priced garage sale. I need some wrought iron chairs for the backyard, and I just feel like looking at trinkets. I’ve got the need to window shop. You know? And tonight I’ve got the girls coming over for The L Word and I’ll work on the new Vogue tank with which I’m in LOVE. You know the one?

I’m doing it in some plain ole Lion Brand Microspun, and it’s working up nicely, I have to admit. I have the back done, and I just started the front.

Off to weekend!

https://rachaelherron.com/thought_you_mig/

The apparel in which to march on Washington, or garden. Both things are good things to do. Props to Maureen for making up the store. All proceeds go to NARAL and MoveOn.org.

Now I gotta go march into the City. I hear there’s beer and oysters and Celtic music over in Northbeach, and I’m so there.