*resurfaces*

It’s been so long, I hardly remember how this blogging thing works! Or how Blogger works, which is perhapes more worrying. So if I disappear before this post is done, you'll know why...

I won’t bore you with an account of what I’ve been doing these last three months - I really couldn’t tell you what I did yesterday, let alone three weeks or moths ago, and besides, who cares, really? It’s the stitching that counts!

Ah yes, stitching... hmmm... well, precious little has happened on that front. Really, incredibly little. Two lengths of thread on this, at most:

Bea Pot. Still lovely after all those years.

Now that I’ve satisfied you lot with some stitchy porn (still pretending to blog about stitching, as you see), here’s what other members of my family have been doing while I was busy doing... whatever it was I was doing. Remember this guy? Isn’t he sweet? And big??

Here’s one of the fur balls.

Ooooh, I suddenly remembered what I did during my absence! I put together a brand new Ikea bed for moi and moi alone! Well, and for the cats and the child, of course :o)

And I made a very kitschy hooky blanky for me

And a very fiddly girly princessy blanky for my niece Eline

I never want to crochet a corkscrew border again. Not ever.

Not a very long post, but I just thought I’d dip my toe into bloggy waters again. You know. To see if anyone will bite :o)

Yours having trouble rememberingly,
Annemarie

The blanket and the sock

Remember a while ago I showed you a blanket I was working on for Pelle’s birthday? You didn’t think I would make it, did you? Well... I did!!! The first time ever, in Pelle’s 7 years on this earth, that his mother actually managed to finish a birthday gift, let alone finish it on time for the actual day.
The hooky term for a happy dance is, I believe, a Ta-daah moment (or something to that effect), so I’m very happy, proud and pleased to be able to show you Pelle’s blanket:

I know I’m biased, but I love it.

I really do.

I really, really love it.
And so does Pelle. Over the weeks, he’s watched it grow, he told me which colours to use where, he knows there are 79 stripes (well, 79 coloured stripes. There are actually 79 x 2 stripes, two rows for every colour, but I’m too stupid to... oh hang on... that’s 158 stripes, isn’t it? Not so stupid after all.), and he adores his blanket. Takes it everywhere whenever he spends a night at the daycare centre. As I said, 79 stripes, 13 colours of Annell Malmédy and 1 Rowan Felted Tweed (the red). Four rows of double crochet along the border, finished with a simple yet effective crab stitch. I love it.

And now for something I’m not so pleased with. The second of the 8 socks. The knitting is going swimmingly, but, but... sigh...
I asked Pelle’s four teachers what their favourite colours were. For someone who does so little knitting, I have an embarrassingly huge pile of sock yarn in the back of my closet, so I was sure I could find something in there for everyone. Turns out 3of the 4 teachers have the same favourite colour.

And it’s purple.

Now I have nothing against purple. I really don’t. I just wouldn’t dream of wearing it, let alone knit a whole pair of socks with anything even remotely resembling purple. Thus, there was no purple in my sock yarn stash. I went in search of some purple sock yarn, and found a couple of very yummy skeins of Katia Olé. Knit up one sock in pinky-purply very yummy berry yarny. Then, in order to try and prevent Second Sock Syndrom from striking me mid-knit, I started a sock for another pair, with a very lovely purple and green, heathery coloured yarn. Well, that’s what it looked like on the skein anyway. Knitted up, it looks more like something that was dredged up out of a puddle of raw sewage.

I asked Harmien for advice and her answer was just what I expected: she loves it. Now, either she says that because she loves me and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, or she has appalling taste. What do you think? Do I continue with this thing and even make a second one, or do I dump it in the nearest bin? Help me, darlings, and don’t you dare spare my feelings. Regarding the sock, that is. I don’t want any negative comments about my blanket. Pelle’s blanket. Sorry, Pelle’s blanket...

Yours curled up under a striped blanky even though it is rather hot outside and even hotter inside and the promise of Fall was only just a promise and now I’m a little sad-ly,
Annemarie.