lectrix_lecti: (This is just a light post)
I seem to recall slaving away for months the last time I knit a jumper (for me, 1987), but now I've spent about four telly-watching nights working on the husband's jumper, and I'm almost half done.

Goodness gracious me!

So I'm planning to knit a dress. For me. In a lovely alpaca-and-silk yarn. Stay tuned to watch me have nervous breakdowns galore when I find out that knitting with a semi-thin thread is quite another matter than the thick wool thread of the husband's jumper.

Must remember to get needles for the crocheted jumper I planned for myself, too. And ask S if she wants a scarf. I go mad if I don't have some nice and quick and easy crocheting I can pick up now and then to break up the monotony of knitting.

< meta > Maybe I should disallow comments on these entries. I've seen knitting and crocheting blogs, and I suspect that only massive airheads want to comment on an entry dedicated to such things. < /meta >


Aug. 29th, 2006 11:42 am
lectrix_lecti: (Spirited away)
There's a really angry man outside, who's been swearing non-stop for about ten minutes. If he didn't repeat himself so much, I would have been impressed. As it is, "FUCK FUCK WHORE FUCK" *kicks garbage can* "WHORE FUCK WHORE" is just boring and mildly annoying.


More and more, I'm regretting that we didn't just quietly get married and never ever told anybody. I fear that a supermassive family get-together is being planned by my in-laws.

Now, the husband-to-be has a nice, small, manageable family. I don't, and I suspect they're not factoring in my various ex-sisters-in-law, nephews, nieces and even great-nephew. They did ask how many siblings I have, who in themselves almost outnumber my boyfriend's entire family, but as far as I know, they didn't inquire about other people who count as my family.

But I really, really need to push those thoughts away. It's their production, not mine. We're spending our wedding day doing nice, quiet things on our own just the way we like it, and if we have to endure a great big family thingamajig when we get back, fine. We don't have to do any planning, and we get to spend the big day itself in a way that suits us.


I don't suppose anybody finds crocheting interesting. That's really too bad.

I seem to have developed an addiction to making these floppy girly scarves. A got her soft green one, the first I made, and was very impressed (but she's rubbish at any craft and is very easily impressed when somebody makes something with their own hands). Have finished L's vivid green one, started a black one for myself and bought grey yarn for mum's (she was none too subtle when she saw L's, dropping very blatant hints about how nice and soft and warm and unusual it was).


I finally got around to fixing the embroidery I accidentally ripped loose on my wedding dress, and was floored when I realised that the sequins on it aren't sequins at all - they're tiny discs of mother-of-pearl. Goes to show how much attention I paid to it... But it's lovely. I think I need to take some close-ups and treat everyone to the pretty details. I bet you can't wait.


It must be such fun to be insane enough to believe you are Otherkin.
lectrix_lecti: (Feet on moon)
Why is it that you can hunt through an entire big city for a pair of reasonably acceptable shoes, then the moment you set foot in a sad little boring town with only a couple of shoe shops, you find shoes that are not only reasonably acceptable but actually bloody perfect?

It's happened before. I really must learn that when it comes to dress shoes, Oslo won't do. London won't do. Milan won't do. Only a tiny shop in my horrible hometown sells high quality, comfortable, beautiful dress shoes, at prices that would make any puffed-up Italian designer weep.

You may deduce that I survived the weekend with the family. I enjoyed myself, even. Mum seemed happy with her belated birthday celebration and with the presents and all.

Pardon me while I take another step towards turning this journal into a crocheting atrocity: I forgot to buy the needle I was supposed to switch to on the infamous scarf before leaving Oslo, and haven't been able to do anything with it since Friday, as it's impossible to get a number 10 needle in my sorry little hometown. Shoes, yes, crocheting needles, nah nah nah. Bugger.

Why are no yarn-and-needles shops here open on Sundays?

ETA: Does nobody read titles, or is it that nobody gets the reference?
lectrix_lecti: (Terminal Beach - Ballard)
I've got quite a bit of lovely thick soft green alpacka yarn left from a couple of shawls, so I thought I'd try this scarf:

It's incredibly simple to make, and it looks good, and alpacka is about the only thing I can bear having near my neck.

There's no way I'm going to make that awful head band. Head bands are ugly per se and should be banned.

If this turns into a goddamn crocheting journal, someone please put me out of my misery.

Furthermore, for the very first time in my life, I had morning coffee instead of my morning tea. What's the world coming to, eh.

I lust for coffee these days. I crave it. The Calabria blend I accidentally bought recently has taken over my mind and my body (and dashes of good ol' Longevity sweetened condensed milk are not helping).

Fancy that, I've always been a rather reluctant coffee drinker, but now I need that Calabria.

I'm turning into Fortune. Now someone must put me out of my misery.

July 2009

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