Primitive Stocking

Sinterklaas - Saint Nicolas has returned to Spain, and so it’s time for us to get ready for Christmas. The winter faeries are doing a good job of providing us with just the right sort of weather, because we have been knee deep in snow over here (well, ankle deep at the very least). And what better way to start Christmas celebrations than with hanging up a stocking? A self-made, hand-knit stocking that is.

Granted, it doesn’t look particularly christmasy, or very well made, but I figured that if I can call a slightly less than perfect cross stitched ornament ‘primitive’, then surely I can do the same with hand-knit items? Is there such a thing as primitive knitting?
Well, if there wasn't before, there certainly is now!

For the next month or so, I’m going to spend as little time at the computer as poss, so I would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and I’ll see you all in the New Year!

Yours reflectively,
Annemarie.

Sock you!

I will admit the Village of Hawk Run Hollow blog post was just something to keep the non-knitters among you believing that this is a stitchy blog, while, of course, it has steadily been morphing into a sock-knitter’s journal. This sock-knitting thing is not a fad, honeybuns, even though I wish it was. It guzzles up all of my time, it takes my attention away from stitching, raising a child, eating, sleeping, reading, personal hygiene, work (housework, and more importantly, regular work), and what have you. What I like about knitting socks, so far, is that I don’t have to use a chart or pattern to do it. I can just make a sock up as I go along, using information from all sorts of sources. Sometimes it doesn’t work and I have to rip it all back, – and here comes the worrying bit – it doesn’t even bother me. Now, in stitching, if you were to tell me to undo my work and start all over again, the frogged project would never see the light of day again. In knitting, I find this isn’t the case. Look at this wee sock:

Only yesterday, this was an over the knee stocking. Do I mind that it has been reduced to little more than an anklet? Not in the least. The first version wasn’t good enough, so I took out the needles (YIKES!), pulled at the thread (double YIKES!!) and undid everything except the foot and the heel. You see, I am a little delusional when it comes to my body shape, or, more accurately, the shape of my legs. I had read somewhere that a stocking in a 3x1 rib (that’s knit 3, purl 1) does not require any shaping (no increases or decreases along the calf). No shaping means no maths. Maths is for nerds, honeybuns, and I am no nerd. No siree Bobby. No maths for me.

So, no-shaping ribbed stockings were the very thing for me, I thought. Except, of course, I have the weirdest shaped pins in the history of ever. My feet are very slim, long and narrow. My ankles are slim, long and narrow too, but after that – above that, my legs become rather… oh, what’s the politically correct term? Shapely? Curvy? No. I think the correct term, politically uncorrect though it may be, is elephantine. So yesterday I realized that the lady who enthused about the no-shaping qualities of the ribbed stocking was either a) lying, or b) blessed with a rather more slender physique than me. I tried on the sock as I went along, but by the time I got to the top bit, where the cuff starts, I found that the sock was actually cutting off my blood stream. I wouldn’t have minded that, only it made the ribbing look all weird and unattractive.

So I ripped it all back. I’m starting over again, maths and all. And still I love the sock.

Pantoef sends warm purrs. And so does Pelle. As well as some warm snot and drool, because he's poorly.

Yours unraveledly,
Annemarie.

The Determinin' of Species

Hello, this is Annemarie de Vries, reporting from the Village of Hawk Run Hollow. I’ve been stationed here since… oh, 2006, 2007? Nothing ever happens here, really. It’s quiet and peaceful. Every now and then, once every few months or so, there’s a bit of a hubbub when one of the nine builders who still need to finish their work decide to get out of their lazy beds and do some bricklaying, hammering and cussing, but overall, this Village is about as sleepy as another famous Hollow you may have heard of.

During my time here at the Hollow, I have noticed a little discomfort, a little dis-ease, a little je ne sais quoi when it comes to the animals around here (if indeed they are animals). The beasts in Block 4, for instance, were cause for some discussion over at the inn the other day. I say they’re goats, all the others say they’re dogs. Perhaps they’re a mix? Goags. Doats. I’m pretty sure they’re goats, but whatever.

The thing is, this reporter isn’t the only one who’s confused about the odd-looking animals. See the look in that cow’s eyes? I don’t know about you, good reader, but I think that is quite an interior monologue going on behind those crazed eyes:
What the moo type of creature is accosting me now? I don't know. It sure as hay ain’t no cow and it certainly ain’t human, so what is it? WHAT? It’s not canine (I think), it’s not feline (I think), it can’t be chevaline... equiuine... well, it’s not a horse, either. The tail’s too long for a rabbit, too thin for a squirrel, too curly-uppy for a rat... We don’t have monkeys over here at Farmer C. L. Odhopper’s Dairy (although admittedly Mrs. O. has a whiff of squirrel monkey about her. Squirrel monkey, squirrel monkey. Could it be...?) And just what is the creature handing me? Is it an acorn? A peanut? Chocolate? Liquorice? Cheese? WHAT? I implore you, HRH stitchers of the world, to put my mind at ease and tell me what sort of animal has weaseled its way into this here Block with moo.

Thank you, Cow. I’m sure one of these days someone will come up with the solution to this riddle, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if this creature turned out to be that bloody goat from Block 4 again.

Now back to Annemarie the stitcher and good riddance, Annemarie the reporter.

So, this is what I do when I stitch. Trying to get inside the minds of the objects/animals/people appearing on my linen. I know. There’s a reason why I live in a small house in the middle of a forest, away from society. Anyway, to those of you who saw the above pictures and immediately hoofed it to their Hawk Run Hollow wall because they can’t remember having seen a cow in the Village of Hawk Run Hollow before, let me explain what happened: the block that I’m stitching is actually Block 10 of the Houses of Hawk Run Hollow. I love both pieces enormously, but really, there is not a chance in this whole wide world that I will ever stitch both of them, so I thought I’d mix them up. There is one other block that I intend to replace, but let’s just see if I can finish this one before we discuss the other one, shall we?

Apart from trying to get inside a cow’s mind, I’ve been knitting, too. A new, lovely, warm, long pair of socks that I’m naming Briar Rabbit Socks, but please don’t get me started on that story now. It’ll do my head in.

Yours befuddledly,
Annemarie.

Birthday Blessings

Please weep with me as I tell you that the planned birthday celebrations all came to naught, due to me collapsing into an exhausted heap on the sofa. This happens every fortnight on the weekends Pelle spends with the ex, so I should have known better than to whet your stitchy appetites with my plans, but there you go.

But! I did finish my socks (of which later) and I did spend a lovely day with Harmien on Thursday. Harmien’s 40th was earlier this year, but for some reason, I never got around to giving her the birthday pressies I had made for her. Until now, that is. I’m pleased with them, and I hope she is, too.

Stacy Nash’s Let’s Play in the Dirt (do NOT google this. I beg you).

The linen was originally of a virginal white, but I dyed it with my special Christmas blend of nutmeg, cinnamon, juniper berries, ground ginger and cloves and coffee, baked in the microwave (as I am, alas, oven-less). I filled the pincushion with birch chips, cinnamon and juniper berries. Yum.

The basket is just a regular bread basket that I use as a sewing basket all the time. Seriously, I carry it around with me everywhere, so I hope Harmien will find a use for it as well.

For my birthday, Harmien stitched this sweet, gorgeous sampler by Silver Creek Samplers, called Sweet Friendship:

The frame, she told me, is a family heirloom, and it is a thing of beauty. I don’t know what I did to deserve all of this, but I’m very, very happy with it. Dank je wel, lieve Harmien! As I said, the socks are done. In the end, I decided to not call them Chateau Chit or Chateau Chic socks, but, since I finished them on my birthday, and since my birthday is the second of November and since November 2nd is All Soul’s Day, I call them All Soul’s Socks (or Allersokken in Dutch).

Ta-da, I’m sure you will agree.

Harmien and I have been entangled in this never-ending SAL of the Village of Hawk Run Hollow. Every time we visit each other (which is rarely, thanks to me failing miserably at any form of time management), we work on the Village. This time, the inspiration to continue is quite strong and I’m still working on it, so maybe next time there will be another picture or two of some things stitchy. There will definitely be talk of another sock, No surprise there.

I hope you all have a fabulous week filled with stitching and sewing and quilting and knitting and whatever else you enjoy doing.

Yours stitchingly,
Annemarie.

Name that Sock

Wow. Okay. I think I will give up stitching and convert to knit-ism. You don’t seem to mind, judging from all the sweet comments you left on my previous post. Thank you. You’re all lovely.

Next week, on November 2nd to be precise, I will be turning 20.

(Remember: 40 is the new 30 is the new 20?)…

No, dang it, no more fairy tales: I WILL BE 40. Middle aged. I will be a dried-up old prune. And I think I will enjoy it immensely. Although it will be my first birthday without my Papa calling me early in the morning and singing Lang zal ze leven for me, which will make it a very difficult day indeed, I’m planning a weekend of festivities only my fellow stitchers will understand. Yup, you’ve guessed it: I’m going to lock myself in my cozy little cabin (Pelle is with the ex this weekend), finish a pair of socks and possibly certainly start a new pair; I’m going to drink gallons of coffee and green apple tea and probably a drop or two or three of red wine, and I’m going to start a new… sampler! Yes, that will be my birthday gift to me. A new sampler. This one, to be precise:

I’m sure the non-sock-knitters (aka the toastiness-deprived) among you will be relieved to learn of this plan. Although, you know, I have NO business starting a new sampler with all of my UFO drawers overflowing, but who cares. I’m nearly 40, I can do what I want.

Now, a couple of things about these socks:

1) I’m using one ball Scheepjes Invicta Colour, striping it with itself by knitting from both ends of the ball, as I’ve seen done on Ravelry.com. It’s not a lot of fun to knit with this yarn, because I think it came straight from the sheep (you know, after it’d been on a visit to the Lamb to the Dyer Salon) without coming across a spinning contraption of any kind. The stripes weren’t working for me, either. I mean, in a ball of dark purple, dark red, bright green, bright blue and bright orange, how did the dark red and the purple cross each other, leaving the more cheerful colours entirely out of the equation?
2) Stripes are surprisingly difficult to do well when knitting. Hence the supreme wonkiness of the first sock. The second sock looks a lot better.
3) I now need stripey socks in every imaginable colourway - and every unimaginable one, as well - or I shall never be happy again.
4) This colourway is yummy, I’m sure you’ll agree, and it’s called Grape Arbour. As I was knitting along (well, plodding, really), I was thinking of possible sock names to go with the name of the yarn, the look of the sock and the experience of the knitting. At first, I tended towards Chateau Chit, because of the crappiness of the entire thing, but now that I’ve started the second sock and it’s starting to all turn out exactly as I wanted it, I’m leaning towards naming this pair Chateau Chic. What think you, honeybuns?

Alrighty, off to discipline my unruly cat before he unravels my SIP... Pantoooooooooooooooef!!!!!!

Yours still thirty-somethingly,
Annemarie.

Victory is Complete

You’re a right bunch of gloaters, aren’t you? "Ooooh, Annemarie, your first sock looks gorrrrgeous. Really. Congratulations to YOU, you fabulous Sock Conqueror. But DO you realise you need two socks to make a pair? Well, why don’t you come back after you’ve finished that one - the second Sock - and THEN let’s see if you’ve still got such a smug attitude vis-à-vis sock-knitting."

Needless to say I do.
And do.And do.And do.My very first pair, which I’ve christened my Toadstool Socks. (Toadstool, because this allows me to pretend that they look deliciously autumnal, when in fact they just look hideously poisonous). The yarn was sold without a wrapper (there’s a surprise) so I can’t tell you who the manufacturer is.

In between knitting socks, I’ve also done some cross-stitch-stash-acquiring (for those of you worried that I’ve completely forgotten my reason for being on the WWW in the first place)

And yes. Some knitting-stash-acquiring, too, at the Craft Fair in Rotterdam.

I will leave you to guess which part of my stash will first fall victim to my crafting needs.

Yours, again, very smugly,
Annemarie.

Victory

Ta-da. Ta-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

The reason I wanted to learn to knit was that I could knit socks for moi and for everybody in my family and friendly circle. Instead, I chose to knit scarves, cowls and some more scarves and cowls and a blankie or two, because surely, surely, knitting socks would be too difficult. I don’t know why, but I thought handknitted socks were the enemy that had to be fought tooth and nail.
So it was with not a little trepidation that I started my research into Sock-knitting territory. I read patterns, watched videos, read books, looked at pictures, I pondered and studied and thought and philosophised. And then I chose my weapons of destruction. In the form of kebab skewers. Not a good idea. I soon discarded said skewers and replaced them with two circular needles, following the advice of seasoned warrior Cat Bordhi, whereupon my enemy the Sock went very quiet indeed.

I toddled merrily along until I reached a notoriously dangerous area in this hostile land: the region of Heel, Heel Flap, Heel Turning and Gusset Territory. Again, with the help of the brave soldiers who went there before me and who put up videos on the internet to guide novices like me, it turned out that the enemy was actually a bit of a lazy bastard, not even bothering to make an appearance. Honestly, I never saw him! I conquered Gusset Territory with no problem at all...

Well. Until I came to the last picking up part of the Gusset, because there the helpful videos just... stopped. There were videos for soldiers carrying kebab skewers and there were videos for those who use one long circular needle (probably for strangulation purposes), but knitters who came armed with two circs were left in the freezing cold. I was left to improvise, and I’m proud to say that I made it through, leaving a few scars here and there, but nothing that won’t fade with time.

In the end, as I said, the Sock turned out to be not much of an enemy at all. It was more my fear of the Sock that made me think he was the enemy than that he really was after my blood. But, if I may be allowed to wax political here, that is so often the way.
Actually, it was friendly fire that nearly killed me in the end. By the time I had to cast off (not weave in but actually cast off), I became reckless, because the weapons you need to finish off a Sock are these:

Now, those I can work with. Or so I thought. It took me two bloody hours to cast off ten stitches. Of course I could blame my YouTube instructor, who told her pupils to use a “ridiculously long thread”, and when I’m told to use a ridiculously long thread, I tend to use a ridiculously long thread. Only, when knitters say a “ridiculously long thread” they don’t really mean a “ridiculously long thread”, they mean “roughly the length of the thread you use for cross stitch”, which, as we all know, isn’t “ridiculously long” at all. Anyway, I used a ridiculously long thread and it knotted and twisted and tangled, and ohhh. Never mind. I won.

Next up: same territory, different weapons. And an enemy that wasn’t.

Yours smugly,
Annemarie.

You soxy thing

Wow. Inspiration to write is about 0.003 percent. Which is a bummer, especially considering that writing is what I do to make money. And yes, translating (especially novels) is writing, in case you were wondering if you missed anything. A couple of months ago, my erstwhile hairdresser asked me if a translator is required to re-write the whole text from A to Z in the target language. He thought I just pressed a button on my computer and the computer did all the work and I was just there to oversee things, or something. I was a bit miffed, actually. Translating is hard work. You know. If you have inspiration. Which I don’t.
Obviously.
Okay.
Next subject.

In my last, stitchy pics you were promised and stitchy pics you shall get. And a knitty one, too :o)
Remember Isabella Johnston? Well, Isabella the Red Cow Sampler is finished and framed and photographed in a most unflattering way, but this was the best I could do:

Whoopee! When I got this back from the framer’s, I spent a good half hour drooling over her. While I was standing there in a pool of saliva, two thoughts crossed my mind. The first was that I will only ever be truly happy when every inch of wall space in my house is filled with samplers like these, and the second thought was that I !%$^?*?&#!!@:o(( forgot to finish the leaf of the rose in the right hand corner! Thankfully, I happen to think that this adds all the more charm to the piece, so I don’t worry about it. Much.

After admiring Isabella for a while and after wiping the floor, I picked up Needleprint’s Sarah Harris and spent some time with her.

But you know what? My knitting keeps calling. I’ve never had it so bad before, and all because, eventually, all this knitting will hopefully lead to me having an enormous stash of hand-knitted socks. That’s my motive for doing any craft at all: I want the finished product and in order to get my greedy hands on it, I have to make it myself (or spend cartloads of money on other people’s work, but me being a humble translator, and an uninspired one at that, that’s not going to happen). And so I am very happy and proud to present my very first sock-to-be:

Whether you’re a beginner or and advancer; whether you’re senile, or inebriated or intoxicated or otherwise feeble in the head, there is absolutely NO excuse for this sock yarn, unless you’re knitting socks with a view to giving them to someone you really dislike. This yarn is hideous. My theory is that once I’ve managed two socks in this yarn, any other pair of socks will be a doddle to knit (note my optimism here. I’m still thinking I can finish this sock – which of course still needs a heel flap, a heel turn, a foot and a little pouchy thing to encase five toes). If I succeed, I fully intend to wear them with pride (inside my home where, thankfully, no-one requires me to be sexy. And for those of you wondering if knitted socks can be sexy at all, I would suggest you take a look at these babies:

Designed by one Cookie A. of Knitty.com fame. I think these are très sexy, in a Jane Austen-y, Brontësquely sort of way. I don’t know what that says about me, but there you go.)

Well, I know it will be hard for you to get through the next couple of days, wondering if I will manage to finish this sock, or, failing that, my translation. I will be back as soon as I have anything newsworthy to share!

Yours soxily,
Annemarie.

Of space shuttles, rivers in Africa and socks

Ze cowl is finished:

A Noble Cowl; free from Ravelry. The shawl pin is an Ikea pencil. Ahh, the versatility of Ikea ware is endless... The cowl itself is about a third shorter than it's supposed to be, because I was getting overconfident thanks to all the encouraging comments you left on my previous post and I made a booboo, so I thought 'sod it, this cowl is finished', and it was. It is.

You kindly agreed that I can now knit, but there is no way I can call myself a knitter. I'm never relaxed when I knit. Seriously, I sit there clutching those needles as if they're the steering wheel of a space shuttle about to be shot into orbit. (Or, you know, the space shuttle equivalent of a steering wheel. I don't know what they use to navigate those things.)

So, not a knitter, me. That's actually why I prefer knitting to stitching right now, beacuse I have to concentrate so hard on knitting I forget everything else. Something to do with coping mechanisms and rivers in Africa, no doubt.

This, my dear readers, is a new cowl. It's huge, it's acrylic (!) and therefore cheap and non-scratchy, and I won't have any use for it unless I move to Siberia. What do you think? I added the purply pink lilacy colour for a little zing and pizazz, but I'm not sure if it's not a little too zingily pink.

I don't know why, but I have the feeling this is a seriously weird post. Just in case you made it this far, I have a stitchy finish to share as well. It's a gift for a very lovely lady who doesn't read my blog.

Next time, I promise a more stitchy post in the form of a framed (!) finish(!!).

I'm off to clutch my needles now,

Yours nobly,
Annemarie.

Short

Hoping to keep this short, as I have about 5 months of work to catch up on. If only life didn't offer so many distractions...

...like this one. Actually, this one distracts me about 20 hours of ever day, and still I can't bring myself to take him to the vivisectionist's. He has fallen into the habit of crawling into my discarded clothes and getting stuck there. He also treats me to his very special Concerto Pantufo in D (very) sharp at the most inconvenient times. Oh, and he uses my curtains as climbing ropes to reach higher and doubtlessly more interesting places.

Never mind, though, because I have the Blue Lady to keep me calm...ish.

The colours of the first picture are far more accurate, by the way. And just because I can hardly fathom the size of this lady myself, I always take a 'Look-at-how-HUGE-this-piece-is-I-can't-believe-I'm-still-working-on-it-and-not-getting-sick-of-it-AT-ALL' picture. Wanna see it?

There's another something going on here that is... Well. I really don't want to jinx anything, because this is PAST its early stages and it could all still go horribly wrong, but... ahem...

What do you think? Does this mean I can actually maybe, perhaps, possibly - shhhh - knit?
Whilst making this cowl/neckwarmer, I've also become extremely proficient in the surrealist art of TINKing (for all you non-knitters out there, that's knit-ese for frogging). Come on, that's not a craft, that's ART - to create nothing out of something. The thing is, I still don't know how to un-knit, so when I make a mistake, I just pull it all out and start from scratch. There must be an easier way, but hey, this is what I do best, so if - as the Americans among you say - it ain't broke, why fix it?

Well, I've done another excellent job of buggering up my workday. If only I could get paid to do this every day, I'd be SO rich.

Thanks for your continued support and comments, honeybuns. If it weren't for you... well.
I'd be working.

Yours distractedly,
Annemarie.

Sweet

How do you like them dahlias?

This one's for all of you, for being such a great support during the last couple of weeks and months. Thank you for all your comments, your e-mails and your cards, for your prayers and good vibes and positive thoughts and other things you may have done or sent to make life a little more bearable for me. I would have thanked you before if my computer hadn't been so kind as to crash on me - and I'm saying that without the slightest hint of sarcasm. Sometimes you just need to get yourself away from extraneous interferences, but it's not always easy to distract yourself from them - unless they crash and you are left with nothing better to do than to support your family, to think, reminisce and... stitch! Or failing that, picking up finished pieces from the framer's:

Silver Creek 's Dandy Dreams. Isn't it sweet?
And what about this one:

M Designs' Sampler Girls. Pelle was so taken with this one that he claimed it for himself :o) I was incredibly flattered and also a little touched that my six year old is so involved with my stitchy stuff. How sweet is that?

Speaking of sweet, one of the two girls among you who have been the best friend and the biggest support to me (for more than a few years, I might add), is Barbara. Barbara always manages to bring a smile to my face (and sometimes, admittedly, a sentimental tear to my eye) by sending me little cards and tokens and trifles from her (way too) faraway part of the world. A few weeks ago, she surpised me with this sweetest of ornaments:

This one as ME written all over it in big neon letters (well, not quite, as you can see). I don't know how Barbara managed to get the smell of all the woods in Maine into this lovely wee pillow, but she did it. Thank you, Barbara. You will never know how much this means to me.

I have been stitching up a storm, but I don't want to bore you too long with my presence here, so I will save progress pics for another day. It's good to be back though, so I hope to see you around here soon!

Yours gratefully,

Annemarie.

Cor de Vries
17-4-1942
24-8-2010

Woe is me

I'm writing this while Pelle and I would imagine a good many other people in my part of the world are thusly engaged:

You see, I'm ill. Without going into too much gory detail, my entire upper half is cramped up due to stress. And here I was, thinking I was coping pretty well with everything that's going on. Whilst lying in bed earlier this evening, wishing for it to just go away, I made a mental list of all the things I'm going to do to better my life and never have to suffer this again. SO:
-I'm never going to eat again
-I'm never going to drink coffee again

and (perhaps more realistically) (I think)
-In the mornings, when I've dropped Pelle off at the bus, I will go for a 30 minute walk, just to get this '30-minute excercise' thing out of the way first thing
-I'm only going to eat healthy foods from now on. Not that I eat unhealthily, but perhaps I could do without the crisps and the Ben & Jerry's and the gluten and the cookies and the liquorice... okay. Excuse me for a bit...

Blegh. Ugh. Okay. I'm back.

Anyway, what I really came to tell you is that (and this really is a bad side-effect of stress-related yuckiness) I cannot stitch. Isabella Johnson, or as I like to call it, The Red Cow Sampler, is verrrrry nearly finished. Not even a days' work, but it's taking me forever. Behold (and excuse the bad quality of the picture. It is, after all, three in the morning):

See? Just a bit of the border, the cow needs filling in, and a little rose in the right hand corner, and that's it! I hope signing it before finishing it (over-one, so there is no way I will ever frog it) wasn't too premature :o) (Oh, I've just noticed: that's Pantoef's pantoufle at the top of the picture. He was completely flummoxed at being woken up in the middle of the night and demanded a mention in this post).

On a more serious note: you can probaby guess what's causing all this stress. My father is now very ill and in and out of the hospital all the time, and we're all deeply, deeply concerned. Frankly, I'm so pre-occupied that blogging and blog-reading and e-mailing is something I do only sporadically now, but I do appreciate you all stopping by my little neck of the blogosphere!

Yours sleeplessly,
Annemarie.

Holy cow!

Did I fool you? Did you think I came here today to show you my finished cow? Nope, a finished cow isn't what I'm holy cowing about. Actually, today's post should have been called holy pony, because since my last, I've started and finished and finish-finished the fantabulous Emma and Her Pony Sewing Roll by Stacy Nash (and yes, a sewing machine was involved in the putting together of this sewing roll!)

This was stitched on 28 count raw unbleached linen with the recommended DMC threads. There's a wee pocket there to hold the scissors, or any other orts and ends that need tucking away.

Is it wrong to be so sinfully happy with something you've made yourself? Well, I shall meditate upon this matter in my yoga class today.

I hope you craft something today that makes you bubble inside!

Yours meditatingly,
Annemarie.