Yes, Virginia, Male Knitters Do Exist!

As an incurable knitter and unrepentant fiber whore, I frequently take my knitting and less often my handspinning out in public. Restaurants, car rides, waiting in lines, it's all fair game. Naturally, knitting attracts a fair amount of attention from strangers. They usually have a story about how their mother/grandmother/girlfriend/some other female relation knits. I'm still amazed, however, at how often I hear some variation of "Men don't knit" from most of my male spectators (yes, most of the curious ones are male...go figure) and their utter disbelief when I politely inform them that "Yes, many men do knit". Knitting, whatever its unknown origins, was most likely invented by men and in the middle ages was strictly a men's profession with guilds controlling the art. Other manly knitters include shepherds and sailors who used knitting as a way to pass the time. Soldiers coming back from the battlefields of World War II were taught knitting as a form of physical therapy and a way to support the war effort. This effort is firmly documented in the dozens of Red Cross knitting patterns like my serviceman's sock pattern, previously documented. Despite this history, knitting is largely believed to be "women's work" or a "girly hobby." Admittedly, male knitters are still in the minority. I've never personally met one, but I'd like to! Actually, I have this daydream of meeting a tall, handsome volleyball player slash male knitter who plays guitar and sings Elvis. Yes, I know, it's asking for a lot, but a kitsune (or is that knitsune?) can dream.

Yarn Excursion Cancelled Due to Injury

Well, not precisely an injury, but a difficulty in walking without limping and severe pain. Six weeks to surgery and counting. Perhaps I can squeeze a yarn trip in this weekend with enough painkiller coursing through my bloodstream. I wonder if its really a good idea to buy fiber while intoxicated?

It's not a vacation but...

I'll take what I can get. I'll be on hiatus for a time in the middle of June due to much-needed surgery on my paws. In order to continue getting paid, I'll be working from home after the first week. Not a vacation precisely, but it's the closest thing I've gotten in the three years I've been at my current job. The lesson in this? Small companies=no vacation.

Abbreviated Yarn Excursion

I got to the LYS today after work, but with only five minutes to close which was just enough time to pick up the bare essentials for Project Argyle. Planning a do-over tomorrow for adequate browsing time although I may defect and purchase the yarn for my next project directly from the manufacturer. It's really a tough call. I can support my local yarn store and help keep it in business by purchasing/ordering from them or I can save a couple of bucks per ball by going with the manufacturer's website. My next project, after the intarsia knit scarf, was supposed to be a the "Lucy" felted handbag embellished with Elizabethan blackwork, but during the den transfer, the blackwork pattern went missing. So...this project is on hold until the pattern turns up. This left me in something of a quandary until I picked up the new issues of KnitSimple and Vogue Knitting. KnitSimple's current issue has a load of great summer patterns, including a striped cotton beach blanket (perfect for one of a kitsune's favorite summer activities- watching volleyball and lounging on the beach) and a really great tank top pattern. Both projects are relatively easy to knit and should be something I can complete while bed and housebound from surgery.

I'm not eavesdropping...

In general, I avoid interacting overmuch with people. I'm sure that some would think that I have a social anxiety disorder or some other rubbish. I've always assumed that if I mind my own business, I can't get into trouble. This being the case, I still can't help but occasionally pick up random bits and pieces from the world around me. Currently Friday evenings are a class night and the population of this class is....well, let's say diverse to be nice. In terms of age and lifestyle, I'm very much in the minority. One of my random bits plucked from the air was the following:

"I wouldn't call no black girl a bitch."

Lacking any context for this stray declaration, my first thought was "So...you would call a white/asian/[insert color/ethnicity of your choice] girl a bitch?" Obviously, no human female deserves to be called a bitch with its current and accepted meaning. I won't deny that some women are bitches- at least in the sense of meaning "a difficult woman". But I wonder at the implied meaning of this student's statement. What makes it not okay to call a "black girl" a bitch but okay to apply that label to any girl of a different color/ethnicity? I'm sure that he didn't actually mean it in that way, and his statement was a product of a lack of precise thought and speech. At any rate, the conversation continued on that vein as the two gentlemen in question discussed the fact that a black girl would beat the sh*t out of them for saying that and the differences between girls of various ethnicities. At this point, I tuned out again in favor of my book, Map of Bones.

1...2...3...TKO

Actually, I don't think being pinned by a cat would be analogous to boxing, but I'm completely unfamiliar with wrestling terminology. Suffice to say, I spent a good portion of last Saturday pinned to the sofa by a 10 pound furball. Sounds pathetic, I know, but I swear he turns into feline dark matter, causing his human to be glued to him and his chosen sleeping spot by unknown gravitational forces. Plus, as illustrated, he has this way of getting positioned between the knees on the blanket so that it is very difficult to sit up and move him or stand up without squishing him.

Figgie naps on his adopted human while she watches Iron Chef


Figaro orders human to "Stop moving" when she tries to get up for a stretch.


Figaro shifts position and says "You're not going anywhere. I can wait here all day." He continues to wait patiently for his human to change her mind about getting up.

Ultimately, this scenario plays out for another five minutes with my legs pinned by the blanket until Figaro's cat mommy (my roommate) comes to my rescue. This happens often enough that we have a term for it-- De-catting.

Yarn Excursion!

Yarn brings out the Gollum in me. My precious, precious yarn. Or maybe a dragon sitting on a hoard of treasure and greedy for more is a better image. Either way, I'm headed out for another expedition. Will post pictures of the newest editions to my hoard.

Out of Yarn

Project Argyle is temporarily on hold until I can find the time to get to the LYS for more red alpaca. To fill the gap, I've started knitting on my WWII Red Cross sock pattern. Having never attempted socks (or circular knitting on double pointed needles for that matter, this should be an extremely interesting experience. Here's my progress so far:

Knitting Epiphanies

"Knitting along...singing a song...." When it suddenly dawned on me just how far I am from finishing the argyle scarf project. Presently, I've knitted approximately 11 pattern blocks or approximately 44.5". Each block is 28 rows long and 66 stitches wide (I doubled the original width); that's 20,328 handknitted stitches. The epiphany part starts when I realized that the ideal length for a scarf is height in inches minus 6-10 inches. On a 6'2 man this means a 66" in scarf give or take for personal preference. 2-4 days per block and another 11 blocks to go and my song changes to "Oh this is the knitted scarf that would not end. It just goes on and on my friends..."

Personal responsibility

I'd like to talk briefly about personal responsibility. Now, I know that as a nation and even as a species, humans are not exactly known for taking responsibility for themselves and their actions. Hence, our history of ostracizing and murdering wise men and women throughout history who have said that we should do so. Hence the reason for the word 'scapegoat'. Or for an example of a lack of personal responsibility that hits closer to my home, Situation Baby. Not withstanding the fact that I've caught the the wannabe Bradys in multiple lies since this one, they tried to tell our employer that "they never intended to get pregnant." This is pure, undiluted bullshit. Let's-Pretend-Mommy told me within weeks of starting her position in the company that they were going to start trying for a baby. When a monogamous (assumed disease-free) couple stops using contraceptives, there's only one way it will end. Pregnant. You can't tell me that they didn't know this so when they stopped taking precautions, they made the decision to get pregnant. Telling our employer that they didn't intend for it happen is a cop-out. It's a way to wriggle out of taking responsibility and the consequences of a very poor decision. Kind of like the Chimp-in-Chief using the weapons of mass destruction as an excuse to invade the 2nd largest oil reserve in the world. I think I might have respected him more if he'd just come out and said, "Well, you see, we have all these cool bombs and not enough oil and I just need to prove that my dick is bigger than Saddam's dick, so I'm going to start my own empire by taking over Iraq."

Ultimately, however, the problem is this: how do you teach, let alone enforce, personal responsibility. I got mine from my parents and extended family first, but my religion was what taught me the most. When you're part of a group of spiritual paths whose basis is, on some level, doing what you want if it doesn't hurt anyone, it becomes more difficult not to think out the consequences of your actions. Now don't you wish everyone did that?"

Trippin on Kitty Hooch

Yes, I finally have something better than pictures. I took this hilarious little video before the holidays. The lady at the natural pet food store always picks a winner for treats and toys that Figgie will love. This one was the result of some organic, whole-plant catnip aptly named "Kitty Hooch"

Cinnabomb Confessions

Maybe the smell wafting lazily from Cinnabon store gets you while you're walking through the mall or perhaps you wake up one grey morning, as I did, craving the warm, gooey sweetness of a cinnamon bun. I suppose that after 4 straight days of dreary weather and a lot of stress, it was almost preordained that I would cheat on my diet. My usual cheats are pizza or french fries, but this weekend, it was an 1100 calorie caramel pecan cinnabomb followed by an 800 calorie regular cinnabomb the next morning. Well, actually to be fair, I only had half of the caramel-pecan bun. The other half went to my roomie, but either way, my weekend was one giant sugar orgy followed by frequent naps. I don't know if anyone else had had this experience, but eating, especially sweets, makes me sleepy; overpoweringly so. I've learned to avoid certain trigger foods during the workweek that might have me snoozing on my desk. Consquently, meals are usually pretty diet friendly Monday thru Friday. When the weekend hits, all bets are off. Weekends and right before bed are usually when the cravings hit. Any dieter will tell you that cravings are bad, but they usually go away after 20-30 minutes. Not so, at least not in my case. Part of the reason I can't get the weight off is monster obsessive cravings for all things starchy, sugary, and in general really terrible for your health. I wish I knew of some vitamin or natural supplement that would cure these cravings.

Knitting Updates and Cat Pics

Forthcoming, I promise. Shot some great pics this weekend. Project Argyle is coming along. Had to frog six rows just today, but I think I can set an estimated finish date of the end of April. *fingers crossed*

Spring Break.. Huzzah?

No, I'm sorry to disappoint, but this will not be a "Kitsunes Gone Wild!" blog entry. As an adult re-entry college student with a full time job and Feline Overlord to support, spring break doesn't mean the same to me as it might to a 19-year old kid on their way to Lauderdale, Palm Springs, or Vegas. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to be on a plane to Hedonism in Jamaica to spend a week getting stoned, drunk, and laid--you know, the kind of vacation that you need a vacation to recover from. The reality is that with the exception of the stolen Friday off today, I will stuck at my desk in an office that I share with the incompetent customer service rep slash father-to-be while the mother-to-be gets a free 30 day vacation compliments of her doctor. Simply put, I will be spending my spring break in much the same way I've spent everyday since the end of January- overworked, stressed out, tired, frustrated, and angry. But at least I won't have to worry about whether or not I'll be able to go to the one remaining class out of the three I registered for in December. What happened to the others you may ask? Dropped. The first one fell victim to simple poor description on the college's part or possibly inattention on my part; maybe both. You'd think that a class listed as "Online" would not require a weekly class meeting on campus, in the middle of the day no less. The second class fell victim to the wannabe-Cleavers at work. Missed too many classes and fell too far behind in the work because I was too busy stamping out the fires sparked by "Situation Baby" which on my meaner days is now being referred to as "those stupid fucking incompetent children." If I sound bitter and/or angry, it's because I am. Sorry, but sometimes you just have to spew or risk a nervous breakdown. I'm hoping this will be therapeutic since I'm about three inches from having said breakdown. Fast forward to next year and maybe I will get that spring break that I wanted. It could happen....
Next blog, I promise something a little more positive. Cat pictures and knitting updates!