I started the second sock last night, and now my three-day weekend begins.
by FC5 2 Comments
Twenty years ago in September 1995, Sean and I started dating. Seven years later, we got married. Today marks our thirteenth year of being a married couple. Sean likes to joke that I could have used a pair of my own knitted socks on the night before the wedding. You know, because I was getting cold feet.
In other news, I knit the heel of the Green Print sock.
by FC5 3 Comments
I got it in my head that I wanted to make a felted bowl. So I looked through the yarn stash and picked out two skeins of wool that I thought would go well together. I tried knitting first and then decided that crocheting would produce a sturdier bowl. It didn’t take too long to finish a small bowl shape. I threw it in some hot water and soap, did some scrubbing and agitation by hand, and then tossed the wet bowl in the dryer with some socks and towels.
Unfortunately, the bowl did not turn out as well as I’d hoped. I think the lesson to be learned from this is that you have to use super bulky yarn and not two strands of medium weight yarn. And rather than some half-assed scrubbing, you’ve got to really rough it up in the felting process.
Ever since I took a fabric napkin sewing class back in November, Sean and I have completely stopped using paper napkins. Cotton napkins are so much more nicer. They’re not that complicated to make, either.
You wash, dry, press, and cut your fabric into 17″ by 17″ squares. Then you press the hems.
You mark the corners where you would miter them…
…sew and snip…
Press the mitered corners and tuck the hems under…
…sew the borders, and you’re done!
by FC5 4 Comments
Well, tomorrow is the Ventura Half Marathon. We’ll have to get up at 5 AM, and we’ll probably be starting the race around 6:45 AM. I will be asking myself why the hell am I doing this, especially around mile eight or nine or ten, when I’m hot and tired and sore, and the faster runners have already turned around at the halfway point and are making their way back. So think of me around 9 AM, Pacific Standard Time, and send good vibes so that I can get through those last three miles and make it to the finish line.
At 5:05 this afternoon, I was still at work, sitting at my desk and typing on the computer. I had planned to leave at 5:30, but the next thing I knew, the door to the office had opened and two of the 3rd watch correctional officers were coming in from the corridor.
“What are you still doing here?” one of them demanded. “It’s Friday. You’re five minutes late for happy hour.”
“Go home!” the other one ordered. “You need to have been gone. Go on, pack up and get out of here. I’m watching you.”
I knew these two officers well because I’d worked with them for several years now. They liked me, and I liked them. While neither of them were being jerks, they were both telling me what to do in a firm and authoritative manner that basically left no room for argument. I could see how they would be very effective in handling potentially dangerous inmates. Two uniformed officers giving me direct orders to call it a day, go home, and start my weekend? Who was I to argue?