Perhaps you didn’t know this about me, because why would you, but I make it rain. Not unlike Fat Joe (why yes, yes I did have to look up who does that song. What of it?).
But seriously. I started work this week, which means taking the train into the city, and when I do that, it rains. Every time. Last summer, I brought my rain coat and umbrella every day, even on days when there was no rain in the forecast and it was sunny outside, because I knew once whoever is in charge of the rain found out I was walking from the train station to my office, it would pour (perhaps you remember this post from way back when).
Really all I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for this bad weather we’ve been having.
My next point is unrelated: I started knitting a Citron. The knitters are all, “so what, everyone’s knit a Citron.” And the non-knitters are all, “so what?” The thing is, I never intended to knit one. Not because I didn’t like the pattern, because I have since Knitty released it. It’s just that EVERYONE knits them. Which is not to say I’m such a little hipster that I won’t partake in a mainstream pattern, because ew. I just got sick of hearing about how easy it was, and how fast it was, and what a perfect stashbuster it was.
Because naturally those are all horrible things.
But I had this skein of Cactus Rose Malabrigo Lace that’s just been kicking it in my stash for about a year and a half. I tried to knit an Estonian lace stole from it, but college is hard and I only got about two rows into it before I had to go read Edith Wharton. Not to mention that every time I go to the yarn store, I SOMEHOW end up with another skein of my favorite laceweight merino wool, which is why I happen to have a skein of it that I believe is called Surf that I bought because it looked too soft to leave behind (which is why I’ve never been to an animal shelter, coincidentally).
I have a really big secret project that I’m currently working on, and it’s a bitch to try to take on the train, or in the car, or to baseball games, plus I can’t knit it in front of people, given that it is a secret and all that. I needed a pattern that was small and easy, and that used up my Malabrigo Lace stash.
I think you know what happened from there.
Oh hey! I finished something else:
Pattern: Aeolian Shawl by Elizabeth Freeman, from Knitty, Spring 2009
Yarn: Malabrigo Lace in Apple Green
It’s no secret that Malabrigo Lace is my absolute favorite. When I bought this yarn in the spring, I was at the yarn store helping my friend pick out yarn so that I could teach her to knit (which never really panned out because neither of us had the time to sit down for long enough to accomplish anything). I had no intention of buying any (this is not a joke), and was doing good until I went to the cash register with her, and they had a basket of Malabrigo Lace sitting out on the counter. Which is just a good marketing tool.
The color is super bright. It kind of reminds me of a crossing guard, but in a good way. (That is a terrible description, so bad that I should probably drop out of college because I clearly don’t have the skills to be a writer.) You know what else I don’t have the skills for? Photography. Because the above picture certainly does not capture the crossing-guard-in-a-good-way-Apple-Green. This picture is the best one I have of the color, and even that is pretty bad:
As I mentioned in a previous post, I really hate uploading pictures. There’s no real reason for it, I just always seem to find better things to do. Like for this post, I got distracted by iPhoto while I was trying to upload the Aeolian pictures, and looked through every picture I have in my library. This distraction backfired, though, because it resulted in my finding several gems that I cannot help but share with you here. Like these beauties, where I was clearly trying to make “art”:
Wow. That’s hot.
Or this one, which I took last summer when I went to Cape Cod with some friends, and spied on one of them buying $4 pants from an bucket of them outside a store:
Not only am I bad at taking pictures, I’m also bad at being in pictures. My pathetic inability to be successfully photographed was formally diagnosed by a professional, namely the photographer who did my senior pictures, who told my mother, while I was changing into one of the three outfits he told me to bring, that I was “difficult to photograph”. That happened. Here is an example of me ruining a perfectly good family Christmas picture:
And then trying to redeem myself by being “gangster”:
As you can see, my gangster attempts were a success. No one’s going to mess with that.