Screen Test
Our sliding patio door is actually the main point of entry to our house, because the driveway and garage are behind us, on an alley. As such, the patio door has hosted no less than 4 bargain-brand screen doors since we moved here. They are crappy when new, and rage-inducing when old. Combined with Phillip's complete lack of mechanical nuance, it's a recipe for two escaped Scotty dogs and a house full of bugs.
Last September, Phillip won his annual summer-long fight with the screen door. He won by flinging it, frisbee-style, as far as it would go into the back yard. The thing had leapt from its track for the ten-millionth time and bent, decisively, in the middle of its sub-par frame. He turned to face me, breathing harder than was strictly necessary, and announced that we, as a family, were done with the screen door.
I calmly suggested that a family without air conditioning a might experience difficulty with that setup, and extracted a promise that we would acquire a new and improved screen door, Next Spring. It was almost Fall, after all, and I'm a girl who knows how to time my battles.
As the person most likely to notice when the weather is getting warmer (probably because I'm usually sitting under a pile of WOOL), I wasted no time once the season changed. I was on the phone to the Mobile Screen Door Installation Unit before you could say "Relative Humidity". I ordered up the beefiest, industrial-strength, hard-core, pet-and-husband-proof, kickass screen door they sell. I was so excited, I announced the forthcoming blessed event at dinner that night: "Guess what, family Huff," I said. "I've called the screen door people and we are getting the very best one they have, next Tuesday!" The crowd went wild.
The door was installed just as promised and it is, in a word, perfect. It swishes open at the touch of a finger. It lets in air. It keeps out bugs. Even the Scotties love it, preferring to nap in the doorway where they can smell all the outside smells.
Phillip came in that night. Through the new screen door. I said "Notice anything different?" He hates it when I ask that. He looks like a lobster that has smelled drawn butter. I can hear the gears grinding in his head. "Did she do something to her hair? Is this an anniversary? Are any walls not where they used to be?" He runs through the litany of hugely obvious things he has missed in the past, trying hard not to panic.
"Um...don't tell me," He opens the screen door, goes outside and spies the pot of herbs I planted three days ago. "OOooh! Basil! Looks great, sweetie." He comes back in through the partially open screen door, closes it behind him and asks, "Was that not it?" I smile serenely and call Lindsay in to watch. Dude truly has no idea, and I think I need a witness.
"Lindsay, Daddy's having trouble seeing what's new around here," I say. She collapses into a giggling fit. I join her, unable to stand it anymore. Phillip opens the new screen door again, closes it behind him, and wanders around outside, looking for what might be new or out of place. "Is it the flower pots over there? You emptied them out?" Lindsay and I are now immobilized by laughter and unable to respond. He opens the new screen door, comes in, closes it behind him and retreats to his favorite spot behind the laptop. "You people are just mean, you know that?"
Yeah, we know that.
I finally gave in and pointed out the new door, once my breathing had returned to normal. He had opened and closed it no less than 4 times, and never registered its existence. As if we hadn't chased after at-large Scottish terriers only last week. As if we haven't been squishing bugs like people in a tent for many, many days.
My husband is a very smart guy. He teaches other peoples children to be smart, too, every single day. He is aware of many, many things. I sometimes cannot tell what those things are. Some things just don't make it through the Phil-ter. It's like there's some sort of mesh device, keeping out all but the most pertinent information. Yeah, some type of ventilated surface, mounted on a track around his brain. Almost like a...
Never Mind.
Diversion
My family surprised me with this adorable mug for Mother's Day. His name's Herdy, and he might be our new best friend.
I'm careening toward a deadline this week. It's raining. It's Monday. All good reasons for a little diversion. You need one, too.
CLICK HERE to spend some time smiling with Herdy and friends.
Some Kind of Fluke
Today I'm knitting a hat which is supposed to resemble a sea creature. I have a swell drawing of the thing I'm trying to make. I learned when doing the drawings that just because I can imagine something doesn't mean I can draw it. Turns out that just because I can draw something doesn't mean I can knit it, either. Go figure.
Another lesson I'm getting: Sea creatures are not sweaters. I had no idea I was stuck in a rut, but it seems to have happened. I keep wanting to knit the same shapes I always do for garments: Bell-shaped sleeve cap, cylindrical body tube, rounded neck hole, etc. None of those pieces (which my body seems to want to knit no matter what my head is telling it) are going to yield a hat that looks like a critter. I have to turn off the autopilot and think. This must be really good for me, because it's kinda hard.
I've been looking at photos (thanks, Internet!) to try and immerse myself in the architecture of creatures. It's helping, a bit, but my real problem is figuring out where increases and decreases go to make natural-looking animal shapes. It's not intuitive. And getting it wrong means lots of frogging. This must be really good for me, because it's kinda hard.
Also, nature loves symmetry, so I have to do lots of things in matched pairs. Which is fine, except it means that I have to write down each step with extremely painstaking precision in order to repeat (and possibly reverse) it for the other side of whatever thing I making. And if it's wrong, I tear out that page and start all over again. There is almost as much paper on the floor as there is yarn, which is saying something.
But don't worry; I'm doing my best to figure it all out so you don't have to. By which I mean, when you pick up my new book and decide to knit a hat that looks like a sea creature, I want it to be as fun and easy for you as possible, with all the tricks already sorted out. This must be really good for me, because it's kinda hard.
Lucky Cat
Surprising me (gobsmacked, actually, but I tried to be cool) Lindsay picked up her knitting again. She's been doing other things for a while, like acting in plays and playing the bass guitar, so I didn't expect her to get back to knitting any time soon. But there it is: Smallies live to surprise us.
She needed cat ears, and right away. "How do I knit triangles, Mom?" I drew her a chart. "Can you take me to get a headband, Mom?" I got the car keys. "Think I could cover the headband, Mom?" I told her how to work knitted cord. Didn't even have to show her - just told her verbally and off she went. My kid can knit! What a Mother's Day present! She doesn't even know she gave it to me.
We felted them and put them together. "Do you think we could make a pattern for these, to give away? Other knitters need lucky cat ears, too." Yes we can. CLICK HERE to get your free Lucky Cat pattern.
Lucky Knitters. Lucky Mom. Prosperity and Joy for all. Happy Mother's Day!
Garden Variety
Surprising nobody at all, I'll say this: Blocking is really important. As important as knitting. To get the thing you wanted to get, knitting is only half the job. All the rest is finishing, wetting, drying, shaping. And also surprising no one, I'll admit that I can get kind of Zealous about getting the blocking right. I've been known to block, re-block, and even three-block a project until it looks like the picture I had in my head at the beginning. Or it just falls to pieces (sorry, polymide blend vest - you never really had a chance with me). And if I think there is a solid shape or surface in the known universe that will improve the look of my knitting by being forced into/under it, then that shape or surface better surrender to its intended purpose. I'm looking at you, tupperware bowls of every size.
It is into this world of relentless "improvement" that I brought a hat. A felted hat, as it happened. And try though I might, I couldn't find the right base to stretch it over for blocking. Sometime between attempts 3 and 4 it finally dawned on me that what I needed was just a plain old flower pot. Slope-sided, plastic if possible, and cheap, if you please. How hard could that be? I descended on the garden department of my neighborhood variety store with the confidence of Goldilocks. There were hundreds of flower pots. One HAD to be just right.
I proceeded to try my (wet - did I mention?) hat onto various sizes and shapes of pots. This one was too flimsy. That one too ridg-y. This one is too small. This one is a little tight, but might be good...It went on like that for, um, let's say, 50 pots or so. Longer than one would think a thing like this would take. Longer than I wanted, but I had come this far, and I wasn't settling for a sub-par pot this late in the game.
And then I noticed that the CCTV cameras were trained on me. And I cracked up. Like in church, when you know you should not be laughing, but that only makes it worse. I'm all alone in the garden aisle, surrounded by 50 flowerpots that I have been trying a hat on for over half an hour. I imagined the security team, calling each other to the monitors, gnawing stale donuts and asking each other if I was really dangerous, or just squirrelly as all hell. I'm sure my barely-stifled fits of laughter were not helping. "She's going for the terra cotta now. Honestly, Bob, should we call for backup?"
Which is about the time I realized that the now nearly-dry felt hat was lodged irretrievably onto an almost-too-big flowerpot. I was standing in the garden aisle, helplessly tugging at a wool felt hat that refused to come loose from its flowerpot, no longer able to stifle my maniacal peals of laughter.
Convinced that my imagined Security Team were closing in, I checked the bottom of the pot, still visible under the hat brim. Saved. The UPC tag was there. I put back all the pots (you're welcome, Security Team of My Imagination), and made my way to the self check-out at the front of the store. Unwilling to explain myself to a cashier, I scanned my hat/pot combo, paid, and stuck it under my arm.
Back at home, and considerably calmer, I was able to remove the pot from the hat. And it is now blocked Just Right.
Goldilocks would have been a good knitter, I bet.
Camera Obscura
I'm in the hotel ballroom at Yarnover in Minneapolis. It's at the end of the opening celebration dinner and Stephanie Pearl McPhee has just finished her talk, to the usual thunderous applause. Knitters and teachers are getting up from tables and beginning to mingle, excited about the classes and market which begin in the morning.
From across the room somebody calls my name. I turn to see a student of mine from last year, hastily excusing herself around people and furniture. She's clearing the obstacles to cross the room, just to get to me. I'm awash in the wave of joy that comes when this happens: Somebody is excited that I'm here. Has she brought a finished piece of knitting to show me, inspired by my teaching? Maybe she's coming to tell me she'll be in my class again in the morning. Perhaps she'll ask how it feels to be on a roster of teachers including the likes of Franklin Habit, Stephanie Pearl McPhee, and Steven West. I grin and wait for her to clear the last banquet table between us.
I open my arms to hug her as she exclaims "I'm so glad to see you!" Before I can respond, she adds "I need somebody to get a picture of me with the Yarn Harlot!"
I smile and take her outstretched camera. Just one more service I provide.
Stick it in a Drawer
If you have one, that is. My new desk didn't yet, so I made some. Pleased with myself? Little bit.
I built plywood boxes to fit the lower cubbies in my desk. The nice man at my home improvement center did the long cuts on a 4 x 8 sheet of 1/2" plywood for me so I could fit it in my car. Then I made the short cuts at home using my miter saw. I put each one together with glue and nails, which I sunk with a nail set and covered with putty. After sanding, I applied two coats of white satin paint.
To add the graphics, I printed out the words and numbers from my computer, then traced them onto the drawer fronts using graphite paper (thanks for the tip, Aunt Sally - I think graphite paper may change my life!). Then I painted them on by hand with shiny black craft paint. I added drawer pulls (aren't they cute? I can put labels in them, too. Think it'll look dumb if they all say "YARN"?), and glued some long strips of craft felt to the bottoms so they slide easily.
And I even had enough plywood scraps left over to make this:
The file label is a little metal picture frame. I removed the easel back and drilled holes on each side so I could screw it down.
The ribbon goes through two holes I drilled in the back, and it hangs from a simple coat hook (just like my glasses, on the right - which I can now find!).
All that's left is to add a couple of shelves to divide the upper cubbies for small items, and my Ikea Hack will be complete. The details:
Materials
1 1/2 " x 4' x 8' plywood sheet
4 Drawer pulls
1 sheet craft felt
wood glue
1" ring shank panel nails
sandpaper (I used 80, then 220 grit in my palm sander)
white satin finish interior latex paint
black shiny finish craft paint
graphite tracing paper
Cut list (done at home improvement center - go when they're' not busy)
6 13" x 4'
1 12" x 4'
Cut list (done by me)
8 13" x 13" fronts & backs
8 13" x 14" sides
4 12" x 14" bottoms
And the little wall file was put together with scraps, which I didn't even bother measuring. The side panels have straight backs, with fronts angled at 15ยบ. It ended up about 12" wide and 9" high. I hit it with a couple of coats of black spray paint and hung it from a ribbon. Done and Done.
Knitters can do anything, right?
Here's the Windup
And what might be happening here, you ask? Why only the ball-winding preparations for my fabulous "Knitting Behind the Wheel" class, which I'm teaching on Sunday! All the students receive a kit containing 13 colors of yarn, a fun pattern to use them with, and their very own color wheel. In addition to how to use a color wheel (and why you might want to), students in this class learn how to work an applied knitted cord and make a Dorset button, too. 
I'm also teaching "Stranded in Your Hat", an introduction to stranded colorwork knitting, and "Eeek! Steeks!", where we learn three ways to cut open knitting. There are spaces remaining in all three classes, so if you are close enough to take a beautiful drive 45 minutes east of Portland, come and play with us in Hood River.
The Columbia Gorge Fiber Festival is celebrating its third year, and guess who's coming to dinner? None other than the fabulous Carson Demers, Knitwear Designer, Fiber Arts Ergonomics Specialist, and personal BFF: There are spaces available in his classes, too, so there is no reason to resist - join us!
Here is a picture of the beautiful Hood River, Oregon, for those too far away to see it in person (make a plan for next year!). 
The other wonderful teachers at the festival are HERE, and their classes are to die for. Oh, and the marketplace includes the likes of Dicentra Designs, Sincere Sheep, Abstract Fiber, and many more! And if all that weren't enough, Saturday is my birthday, so all my students will get to watch me turn 39 again. What more could you possibly wish for? See you there!
A Little More Acreage
Our 1200 sq. ft. house is shared by 4 people, 2 Scottish Terriers, 2 cats and more yarn than may be strictly necessary. My "office" is an 8' x 20" scrap of real estate I commandeered from the front hallway. I'm not complaining, mind you - I've managed nicely in this little area for four years, producing two books, an indeterminate number of knitwear patterns, and more blog posts than I know.
I've always loved my workspace, because it's the first one I ever had all to myself. Creating my very own desk at home validated my identity as an author and a knitter, long before I was able to escape my loathsome day job. Now that I've changed careers, having a physical space to "report" to each day really helps keep my work on track.
But one day a few months ago, I looked around and realized that while my desk was 4' wide, I had piles of stuff in baskets and boxes on either side of it that were occupying 8' of space. Worse than that, I have never been able to have a book or a sketchpad in use at the same time as my computer, because there just wasn't enough desktop.
Having begun my third knitting book, I decided it was time to make the leap and replace my desk. And while I was at it, I got a real-live office chair, too.
I visited Ikea to score a couple of shelving units. Then a dear friend let me cajole him into taking me to the home-improvement center, where we snagged some lumber that was WAY too long to fit in my Honda Civic Hybrid (thank you, Commodore - we whose cars are short salute you).
Once home, the Smallies and I went to work assembling the new Ikea pieces.
Then I spent all of the next day waiting for various coats of paint and varnish to dry, and decorating the austere Ikea shelves with pretty wood moulding. I attached it with glue and finish nails. Since I knew it would always be against the wall, I only trimmed out the front 3 sides, but it would be easy to do all 4 if the desk were visible from both sides. I also added some little L-brackets to secure the wood top to the lower units.
Once that was done, I just dropped the newly-stained and varnished top into place and secured it from underneath, with screws through the L-brackets. And then the fun part: I moved in!
Can you believe how much storage there is now? It actually occupies less of the hallway than my former arrangement, because the desk is 4" narrower. And the sexy new office chair (yes, those are bungees!) actually tucks under the desk, which is something I could never quite manage with the old setup. It's a very big deal to walk past the desk without an extra detour around my chair sticking out.
Here's a closer look at the top moulding:
While I just love the value and quality of Ikea pieces, they are usually way too modern-looking for my taste. Warming up the plain lines of the shelf units with trim and a stained top really helps it fit my aesthetic.
And now I am luxuriating in the vast spaciousness of my 8' desktop. I still need to figure out some bins and dividers for the cubbyholes underneath, but things here at my desk are greatly improved by the newly added added wiggle room.
For those who are wondering, all the pieces for the desk, plus finishes and hardware cost just under $200. I couldn't find a 8' desk at any price for comparison, but I'm pretty sure this one's a bargain.
It's getting Weird(er) in Here
My publisher chose three of my zaniest hat designs as contenders for the cover of the new book. Because the cover shoot happens before the rest of the project photos, I'm working on the three cover contestants first. Of course, I can't tell you anything about them yet, but I couldn't resist giving you this sneak peek. HA HA - get it? "Peek"? It's like they follow me, wherever I go...
When I was a child, my mom worked as a theatrical costume designer. Which meant that I could never tell what strangeness would be overtaking our dining room (where all the magic happened) next.
One time I brought some friends home after school. We found the dining room table completely covered by nothing less than a two-man fur camel suit. Unable to resist, a couple of us climbed inside, only to discover that Mom had rigged the mouth of the camel to open and close with a lever mechanism she hid in its long neck. The camel could actually sing along with the rest of the chorus, on stage. It had sparkly white teeth and long eyelashes, too. My friends told everybody at school that I had the coolest mom in the world, and they were right.
So it brought me no end of joy when my Smallies came home from school to discover the weirdness I've been making in our living room. They argued over who would get to try it on first, and begged me to be allowed to wear it to school. Then they invited the neighbor kids in to see it.
I'm so happy my apple fell close to Mom's tree. I hope my kids grow up to embrace the weird, too. So far, I like their odds.