Tales from the Shoebox.

…because non-sequitors from seven-year-olds make the best blog post subject lines. Anywho, here I am, on the flipside of the Evil Nasty Awful Virus of DOOM(tm). Not sure what made me ill, but starting Thursday morning & continuing until last night, I was dizzy every time I sat or stood, Friday was wrought with gastrointestinal consequenses of the worst kind, and I seriously thought my head would explode if it kept pounding like that. Mom came up for the morning to help out with Boogermonkey, because a seven-month-old can’t understand “honey you can’t climb on Mama today, she’s going to poo her pants again if you keep crawling on her stomach.” Moral of the story: I feel much better now, thanks, but you’re getting pictures of Black Sheep over a week late.You’re also getting pictures of the booger & a new FO!

So booger decided one day (26 June, to be exact) that sitting on the floor Just.Wasn’t.Good.Enough. I was sitting at the computer when I heard Llamaface say, “Jen, are you watching this?” Of course I wasn’t, but I turned and saw this: Which has become this: and this: and we are all in Very Big Trouble. He’ll be walking soon, I know it.

In more dramatic news, Thursday was wrought with a near-miss of disaster. I had to be at work at 9:00 (though the schedule at work said 9:30); 8:50 rolls around & Mom’s not here yet. I call, to see what time she left (she lives about 30 minutes away, without construction delays), and OH she’s still in bed. Shit. Call work, tell them I’ll be late, bring Booger upstairs to the neighbors who have a daughter 2 months younger than him, they agree (happily, the nutsos) to watch him until Mom arrives. As a thank you, I broke out the Lamb’s Pride Superwash & my library copy of Nicky Epstein’s Knitting over the Edge and started on the “butterfly bowtie” motif. Thought it would be a nice headband, decided to keep going & made it a hat*.

Here is “Flutterby,” modeled on a willing canteloupe.

and a close-up of the butterfly motif, which is also a much better representation of the lavender of the yarn but still not pale enough (it’s really a gorgeous pastel)

And finally, Black Sheep. No pictures of product or livestock this time (go to last year’s gallery for that), but I met up with knitbloggers! And bought stuff!

Here we have (blogless) Nicholette from Vancouver taking a picture of us:

here’s the group of us – DenefromTexas, Tammy, Chrissy, me, and the very corner of Booger’s stroller. On the table are DenefromTexas’s Trek along with Me socks, Tammy’s socks (were you working 2 at a time?) and Chrissy’s sock**.

And here’s the haul: Spin it!, a learn-to-spin book (duh); 4 oz. of pink Romney roving from Elemental Affects***; 4 oz. of ballerina-pink soy silk from Hand Jive Knits; Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks that Rock medium weight in the Fred Flintstone colorway; BMFA Twisted (100% merino) in the Scaponia colorway for Addie; 4 oz. of merino/silk roving from Dawn’s Custom Carding, which I plan to ply with the soy silk once I’m good enough on the drop spindle (pictured, also from DCC); and merino top, 4 oz. each in peaches & cream, ruby, and pink from Pacific Wool and Fiber.

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*For those in the know: if I use a stitch motif from a book, am I allowed to sell a pattern I make using that motif? I mean, of course I’d give credit, probably in some form like “I first saw this butterfly motif in Nicky Epstein’s Knitting over the Edge and knew it would make the perfect brim for a little girl’s hat.” But is that good enough? Am I allowed to give the pattern away? Am I allowed to do anything with it at all other than use it for my own nefarious purposes?**I think I’m the only knitter in existence who’s been going as long as I have (nearly four years, self-taught) who has yet to dive into sock knitting. I’m working on a pair for Little Brother and the prospect of needing to rip back to before the heel turn (they’re toe-up socks) because the foot is TWO FUCKING INCHES too short is pissing me off a bit. Maybe I’ll pick it up in the wait-time for my knitpicks order because lord knows it’ll take about three years for them to ship my shit.

***She’s the one who used the verb instead of the noun, not me.