Susan's Chamber of Horrors!

Welcome to my house of horrors knitting studio. Pay no attention to the cobwebs hanging in the corners. Pretend they are laceweight. Then they are not so spooky, No?


Come closer so I can see your neck knitting fingers










Closer...










Closer...

I am your host, Count Alpac-ula. Do not be concerned about my fangs. They are there only to serve in aiding yarn detanglement. I would never bite a knitter. I leave that to poorly written pattern instructions and mistakenly figured gauge swatches.


Won't you join me in a glass of blood cherry goodness?

No? Well, perhaps we should start our tour. BWAA-HAA-HAAAAH!





This is my cousin Igor, distantly related on my ewe's side. He is an alpac-o-lantern.






And this innocent looking item appears on first sight to be a lovely bag of gray wool from Sirdar.

But little do you know! On nights of the full moon it is transformed into...

(lightning flash)


WERE-WOOL (You know, that horrible nasty stuff known as:

Acrylic (GASP!) "With wool" is not the same thing as real wool, people.


Hank-en-stein is around here somewhere...

What's that, Igor? You know I can't understand you with fuzz in your mouth.

Oh yes, the master mistress has already packed up or given away all skeins that qualify as such (the were-wool being a recently discovered beast.) Let's move along.

Do you kind people remember that wonderful B-grade horror classic, "The Blob?" You know, the one where the lob keeps growing and growing, swallowing up everything in its path?










I think it speaks for itself, don't you?

Do you miss your mummy?
We aim to please here at Susan's Chamber of Horrors. No, no. Don't feed the mummy. And, whatever you do, for God's sake, DON'T try to unwrap him. He ties himself up in knots once he's disturbed...


And we're walking...walking...


Watch your needles ladies and gentlemen. We will be passing close by the Frog Pond on our way to the next horror. I wouldn't want any of you to get lost. Not yet anyway...


Oh! A rare sighting. Please remain calm. Be quiet so as not to scare him off.

This boo-tiful ball is Dr. Jekyll. Kindly, good-natured, well, behaved...

But try to knit it into a scarf and it turns ugly on you. Every pattern disappears into the color and texture of the yarn itself, rendering it unrecognizable as the mild mannered Jekyll. No, this yarn becomes...

(scary music)

Mr. Hide Hyde in plain sight. This yarn has been resurrected over ten times (so far) Each time, he dies a timely death and heads for the frog pond, only to be rescued and recycled by Master Mistress. You'd think she would have learned by now, wouldn't you?

And now we come to the darkest place in our tour: the dungeon. Master Mistress calls it the WIP pile, but we have never seen a sweater come back alive. We call it...

(scary music)




THE SHELF OF THE LIVING DEAD!!!































This concludes our tour. I hope you have enjoyed your visit. Don't forget to tip the sock-check girl on your way out.



She is supporting an embarrassing number of several orphans at the moment.



Thank you for coming. Have a horror-ible Halloween.

Next time, I think I'll have you for dinner...

CELESTIAL

CELESTIAL

$5.00

SKILL LEVEL

Intermediate (some previous lace experience recommended)

FINISHED MEASUREMENTS (after blocking):

9 inches wide by 58” long

MATERIALS: 400 yds. light fingering / heavy laceweight yarn
165 size 6/0 seed & 52 med. beads for scarf
140 size 3mm cube & 28 lg. beads for end fringe (optional)

SUGGESTED YARNS

Blue Moon Fiber Arts Seduction

Briar Rose Fibers Sea Pearl

Dream in Color Smooshy

Brooks Farm Acero

Koigu Painter's Palette Fancy Merino

Oceanwind Knits Oceanwind Knits Merino

Handmaiden Fine Yarn Mini Maiden

Handmaiden Fine Yarn Sea Silk

Tilli Tomas Voile de la Mer

Malabrigo Yarn Lace

Blue Moon Fiber Arts Geisha

Vital stats:
60" x 10" blocked










Yarn: one skein Blue Moon Seduction fingering yarn in color: Carbon Dating








Pattern: Celestial (original pattern)









Time to knit: one week

Difficulty level: intermediate








Center section close up













Edging close up















End border close up








Beading close up

The One That Got Away

"The night is bitter,
The stars have lost their glitter;
The winds grow colder
And suddenly you're older -
And all because of the man that got away."
-Judy Garland

Every day I play a little game with myself. After I post, I subscribe to my own feed at Bloglines and see how many subscribers I have. A month or so ago I hit 25, which seemed like a benchmark of sorts. (Hey, when you're still wet behind the ears like I am, you take what you can get!)

Since I had dilly dallied around too long, I couldn't run a contest for predicting the date I would hit 25. But I had grand plans for a post telling you 25 things you never wanted to know about sex me, but were afraid to ask. Somehow I never quite got around to it. Real life kept getting in the way.

Well, today I received my comeuppance. My readership went DOWN by one.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don't know what I did to cause someone to drop me like a hot potato, toss me out with the dishwater, cast me aside like yesterday's news, but I feel like a sock without a mate.

So, I get a second chance for a meaningless contest! Yay me!!! (Raise the roof)

Leave me a comment and let me know the day and hour upon which I will discover I have reached twenty-five again and I will send you a goodie box with twenty-five "somethings."

AHA! It's a MYSTERY prize.

25 knitting needles
25 skeins of sock yarn (you may think this is beyond the realm of reality but then, you haven't seen my stash!)
25 stitch markers
25 mateless socks (with the yarn to finish them)
25 rutabagas
25 cents
25 dollars
25 THOUSAND dollars (dream on...)

You get the drill.

And no fair signing up twice, if you already subscribe. That's cheating (or fudging finessing the stitch count, if you will.)

And I promise to stop obsessing about where we went wrong...

SIGH!

Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a bright sunny day
When [you read me] and called [me] sweetheart?
Do the [posts] in your [in-box] seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your [laptop] and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
-with apologies to Elvis

Blooming Idio(syncra)cy

Okay class, let's see how observant you are. Can anyone tell me what is different in my blogger profile as of today?

Hmm?

Look closely...

You might miss it...

Here's a hint: It's at the end.

That's right; I am now officially fifty-ONE years young.

Actually my birthday was back on September 26th but it sort of got lost in the juggernaut that was the Cherry Country shawl. In my haste to finish, I let the date go by...

But I promised you honesty, so I have updated the profile, in the true spirit of "truth in advertising."

Fifty-one years. Whew. I don't feel that old. Well, maybe my body does, but my spirit?

No way.

On the other hand, would I go back if I could?

No way.

I may not love my laugh lines, but I love the laughter that put them there.

I may not love the crinkles in the corner of my eye, but at least I turned my face to the sun enough times to get them.

I may not love the double chin that appears whenever I look down, but I love the hand and heart work that necessitates it.

I may not love the expanding waistline, but I love the warmth of soulful feasts prepared by loving hands, and shared with friends and family.

I may not love the hot flashes, but I love the feminine miracle of bringing life into this world that goes along with it.

I may not love the forgetfulness, but I love the rich memories that have shoved lesser thoughts aside, making more room for the sacred and the profound in my life.

I may not love the stiffness, but I love the way it has made me slow down and take notice of what I missed when I was younger.

I may miss the bloom occasionally, but the fruit that came out of it is worth more than all the flowers in the world.

So DON'T bloom where you are planted.

Bear fruit.

Lost and Found

This morning I ventured out to get the morning paper (Yes, I'm one of those dinosaurs who still likes to get her news in print rather than on the web), only to be greeted by Mother Nature's carpeting:










The overnight rains had succeeded in loosing the leaves from their slight tethers and sent them cascading down to turn a dull stretch of driveway into an M. C. Escher print...










Of course, to get this perspective you had to look closely at the scene. What appeared a carpet from far off, became a stunning collection of individuals when viewed up close and personal:










( I have sometimes considered whether my Autumn Glory pullover was brighter than any natural color.)


Guess not!







So, would a leaf rather be part of a magnificent display?

Or be recognized as a stunning individual?

(I know I'm pushing the metaphor here, but if yarn can talk to us, why not leaves?)

Let's switch gears.

Thursday afternoon I got an email from my writing partner Greg. The books were in from the publisher. Three years of hard work was finally paying off. I could pick them up at his office any time during regular business hours.

Cool!

So Friday, armed with a map from Map Quest, I went in search of his new digs, which I had yet to visit since the move back in July. I knew the area, so I didn't bother with driving directions.

Mistake.

Big mistake

Big, huge, honkin' mistake.

Turns out the directions to get to his office should be, "Head straight to Carmel Drive and take a right on CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE Ave."

Road construction. Closed intersection. No problem, I'll go around.

More road construction. Another closed intersection. I could see it, but I couldn't (all together now...)

GET THERE FROM HERE!

I went back the way I had just come and went looking for the other end of the road Greg's office was on. Smokey Row - shouldn't be too hard to find, right?

Wrong.

Smokey Row doesn't connect with Range Line Rd. But Eighth Ave. does, and Eighth Ave. TURNS INTO Smokey Row. GOSH! Everyone knows that!

Fifteen minutes later, I finally found his office, walked inside, took one look at the book propped up on the reception desk and squealed with delight, "It's here!"

Receptionist looked up with a wry expression and said, "You must be Susan."

(How did she know? Doesn't EVERYONE squeal with delight when they see our book?)

I retired to my car with the box of books and sat with one in my hand. Three years. Endless meetings. Innumerable revisions. Constant prayer.










One book. One small book.










With my name on it.

I bowed my head and said, "Thank you God, for helping me to find my way."

You see, I have been much more lost in my life than I was that rainy Autumn afternoon. I have taken detours that wound over some very rough terrain. Too many pit stops to count. Sometimes scenic overlooks were in short supply. And many times I just plain ran out of gas.

But I kept on going. Even when I had to get out and push.

Because I wasn't alone. Others helped me. They put their shoulders into it and helped me out of the muck and into a bright new day.

So I thank God for the opportunity to, perhaps, apply my shoulder to the task at hand and help someone else get unstuck.

I am happy to be "with Susan Pandorf" rather than "by Susan Pandorf, all by her lonesome."










I do not have to be the brightest leaf in the pile. I am content to be part of the carpet, which God sends down to us, to clothe the world in splendor on this rainy Autumn day.

Dark Star

Dark star, I see you in the morning.
Dark star, a' sleeping next to me...
Dark star, let the memory of the evening
Be the first thing that you think of
When you open up your smile and see me, dark star.
-Crosby, Stills, & Nash

Let's pause a moment in our busy lives for a trip to the ...

(ominous music - shrieking violins - HEY! It worked for Hitchcock...)

DARK SIDE!!!

After all, it IS almost Halloween.

(Cue the lightning flash)

Like most of my projects, it began with a little nag...

(No, not my teenager young adult. He's a Big nag. Six foot, one, to be precise)

You see, I wear a lot of charcoal gray in the winter months. I love the way it sets off my red hair, the way it quietly asserts itself. It's not drop dead sophisticated, like black, nor earthy like brown. It's just nicely subdued, forever chic, and always polished.

So I was contemplating what I wanted to wear to Writer's Colloquium at Earlham School of Religion (my alma mater) next weekend, when I see all my old classmates for the first time as a published writer (The book is HERE! More tomorrow...) I fell back upon my old standard - charcoal gray. But I was thinking, "You know? That gray flannel jacket would look so much better with a spiffy scarf to set it off!

(As opposed to a crappy scarf, of course.)

And, if it was one of my own design, so much the better. I could bask in the adulation of the masses (or at the very least the envy of my friends) as they realize just what a multi-talented individual I am.

Note: I realize how egotistical this all sounds, but let's remember this IS a reunion of sorts. And everybody wants to look like they're ten years younger, twenty pounds lighter, and thirty percent smarter good for that!

I went to my stash to see what I could dig up, and lo and behold, I spied this skein of Seduction from Blue Moon Fiber Arts, which I adopted acquired at Stitches in August. Maybe this skein of humble sock yarn aimed higher than my ankles. Maybe, it wanted to be a scarf when it grows knits up.

It was very businesslike with its shades of charcoal, silver, amethyst, and beige. I immediately began pondering how to beat that out of it. I mean, everything needs to play, right?

So I started thinking, "Lace" of course. What could be more feminine, less conservative than that?

There ensued two days of swatching...

(You knew there was a good reason you didn't hear from me towards the end of last week, didn't you? You didn't think I pulled another disappearing act, did you? Hmm?)

After much trial and error (trust me, you don't want to know how much froggin' went on) I settled on a star motif for the central portion of the scarf. Hence the name, "Dark Star."

Then I had to fiddle with the gauge, and figure out whether I had enough yarn (color - Carbon Dating - is not available at this time)

And then I had an earth-shattering revelation idea.

Beads!

Cool!

Now that would really give the yarn me something to play with!

So, Friday, off I went to the bead store (serious fun, people!)

After much waffling (so many beads and only one scarf !) I picked some gorgeous glass beads for the piece.

The camera doesn't really capture their fire and their gorgeous color. Sigh.







Back home over the weekend to play work extremely hard ...

Here it is one quarter of the way done:



(I know because my handy-dandy digital scale tells me so and the repeats line up perfectly. YAY!)





Unimpressive, right?


How about now?

It's hard to see in this picture, but there is a sparkly bead at the center of each star in the center portion as well as the larger beads lining up like little soldiers on each end...







Picture of a little soldier:












And three more:



Oooooh! Pretty...

(Would I lie?)






Finished piece will also sport a beaded fringe on each end, just for additional subversiveness fun. Pattern should be available sometime next week, just in time for the holiday rush.

So I am a quarter of the way to the most un-businesslike charcoal gray scarf in my immediate recall!

(Which limits it to fairly recent memory - another sigh. Peri-menopause is hell. folks!)

Now I ask you: Is that just not the most fun one knitter should be allowed to have in a weekend?

Serious fun. What an oxymoron...

Autumn Candy

My sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.
-Robert Frost

Twenty Questions

(minus eighteen)

!

Random digression (or revelation by typo, take your pick):
If you shift when trying to type the number one, you get an exclamation point. How appropriate. If I was number one, I'd be excited too!

Let's try this again...

1. Do you find my current text color hard to read? I don't have any problems with it, but I got an email from someone who does. Is this easier?

2. What should I submit to Yarnival next month? Unsolicited advice or snarky humor?

3. What does faith want to be when it grows up?

Oops! That's twenty minus seventeen. Disregard.

And now, for those Halloween pooh-pooh-ers that doubt such scary things exist...

Incontrovertible proof that crop circles are real.












Okay, incontrovertible proof that crop rectangles are real.

Picky, picky, picky!!!!

Hubby is reseeding the lawn. This summer's drought killed off too much green. Hopefully, by next spring when we finally get the house on the market, the crop rectangles will be a distant memory.

And the ultimate scare?????

Incontrovertible proof that there are only 77 shopping knitting days until Christmas











One DAY's worth of catalog mail!!! One day, people!

Who will buy? (Not me. I knit for a living giving.)

Now stop reading me, and go over to Sweet Sue's to check out this month's Yarnival (Way to go, Amy! WOOT! WOOT!)

Go on...

I'm not going anywhere...

Not even Michigan...

I'll still be here when you get back...

I promise.

Creativity Ain't Always Pretty

In the beginning, there was darkness all around.









The dark side of creativity









And God brought forth light from the darkness









If we're lucky...









I'm waiting...









Still waiting...









Any time now...









BUGGER!

If you want something done right, sometimes you just have to do it yourself.

Tired of spinning my needles on Sedona (yes, I know, I AM making progress, albeit slow)I cast on for Autumn Glory yesterday.

I had three hanks of Autumn-y goodness
(otherwise known as Briar Rose Sonoma)




and the view I had driving back from Michigan last week with the trees, now delineated by the emerging fall color, stacking up in staggered rows, just like a lace pattern.


(Not my picture folks. Truth in advertising.)

And out of darkness, came light...


Lace, when rendered in a chunky yarn and a large repeat, takes on a whole new perspective.

Vitals: chunky boat neck pullover, skims body, hip length, 3/4 sleeve. Rib repeats at raglan neckline and top of sleeves.



See the trunks in the ribbing design?





(Sorry for the slight blur. I design. I don't shoot well.)


And the little trees?






It'll look better once it's blocked.

Time to go bring light out of darkness, order out of chaos.

God helps she who helps herself...