Fiber Follies

And Risky adores the almost-dry Pi!  Naturally, she must maul it first.

Considerable thought went into just how to form the now felted Pi.  A brilliant solution:  I covered one small round stand with plastic and a curtain to protect it, then shaped and stretched the Pi over its top.  Pi's bottom was rumply so I flattened it with another stand.  It spent much of the day on the kitchen table.

  No one, not even me, is let to separate the Risky from her newly claimed Kitty Pi, although I'd really like to felt it.

Nope.  Not Boston's everlasting highway project.

The septic.  Having managed to get through the last week leading to Easter, I was set for a return to work and a little knitting time.  Nuh-uh, wasn't happening.  The toilets erupted.  That  is one disgusting event.  What do I do when the toilets erupt?  Entirely useless actions, of course, in vain hope they'll solve the problem.  Plunge away! 

Plunging of course made the goop from one bowl come up in the other.  After several minutes forcing water from toilet to toilet I gave up to ring the big guns.

Which means either dig out the septic or pay a fortune to have it dug.  Armed myself with a shovel and set to work.  It took hours, but the weather was sunny and almost warm, the birds sang and the dog enjoyed sniffing round the stinky thing.  Of course after the septic company departed I'm left filling the hole again.  I ache. 

The Husband has a way with words.

Creating them, that is. Somehow he's always bolluxing words, yet in a way that creates new, sensible, usable words.

Like-

bulbulous-bulbous, presumably in a really fat way

clumbersome-a mix of clumsy and cumbersome. Probably concerning a bulbulous subject.

…was last night, and it went well. We attracted one infectiously cheery youthful lady, who'd seen the flyer stuck to the coffee shop window. She's new in town and thought this a nice way to meet a few people and to hone her already fine knitting skills. She's worked several baby blankets, this one being her latest. Isn't it pretty? I love the pearly sheen to the yarn.

Precious Child cast on a mitten, and finished it before everyone departed. How 'bout that? Wish I could knit so quickly. Only thing is, it's her second try, and she's still not happy. The first she knit to "Men's" size specs. It was large enough to carry the week's groceries, with room left for a yarn spree. Last night's effort was knit to "Child's" size, and it's large enough, and then some, for her husband's very long hands. She calls it the Evil Mitten of Doom.

G. is one of my favourite people in the whole wide world. He came by with the stuffed kitty he's crocheting for his new grandson. All we saw was its head. Which is most excellently done.

And I really took a liking to one young lady, a photographer in real life. Her knitting instruction was sadly lacking, so she simply figured things out on her own. I never saw anyone cast on so prettily-it was like watching ballet. She also knits back & forth-without turning her work. What an enviable skill!

The first meeting of SSK! approaches.

M., coffee shop owner and our host, has thus far refused to take up the sticks.  We've tried to convince him that there's nothing odd about men knitting.

Today he set the challenge.

We fill the coffee shop to capacity-a mere 90 or so people, and he will learn to knit.  

Of course, more people there means more to see his public humiliation.   

Help us.