Sneakpeek

Better, eh?

One person's junk...

A few weeks ago I had one of these "I cannot believe my luck" experiences. Rolf would disagree if asked now, but when I told him then that I found a perfect two-seater on sale for our living room and that it was Danish Modern Design and even drew a sketch how it looked he didn't want to go and check it out because we had the cold spell then and so he just said that I can buy it.

Which I did.

When we went to pick it up, I knew he hated it. He not only said so but his face told me all. I believe there are a lot of people out there who would agree, especially since the upholstery is your favourite 70's brown-orange-goldenyellow-mix (BTW, the fabric may be vintage, but it was put on only about a year ago and it goes so well together) and, truth to be told, a lot of us grew up with furniture like this so there might be some unhappy memory or some or other repressed anger which now is directed onto - let's face it - fabulous design. My sofa doesn't have one screw to hold it together, it's all done in wood. The lines are sleek, it's made of teak and hell, even if there's no famous designer name on it, I do love it.


Guess what. I am going to love it even more. Yesterday I went to Fabricville because I needed some ribbon and on a whim I looked at their upholstery fabric. I found the perfect one to replace the 70's mess and it's on sale for 40% off and then on top of this 40% more (the sales lady had to explain it, I didn't get it, they have confusing signs put up). Can you believe my luck?


Something Saturday

If you are anything like me then you are always on the lookout for the perfect storage solution for all things knitty. If it is unexpected - in form and function - then so much the better!

I found something sitting quite neglected on top of an armoire at my Mom's apartment. You know, one of these things you don't really want but you just cannot make yourself throw out, be it for sentimental reasons or just because "sometime I might need it".

Shortly before travelling to Germany I had acquired a lot of 15 sets of 12" double pointed needles on eBay (yes, dangerous territory, but they already have come in very handy) and they were one more thing just laying around because I didn't know where to put them. Not anymore.

Tadaa!!


It came with a wine bottle when my Mom got it. I guess I'd never buy it, but after having a good look and a go with the measuring tape (I had to put it into my suitcase, after all, so I better make sure of the fit) I decided this is the perfect storage for my new, very long dpn's.


As if it was made for them, no? (Again. I am thrilled.)

I think I have BADD*

*Blogger Attention Deficit Disorder

Every time I turn around a week has gone by. Honestly, no Time Machine necessary, time flies anyhow.

Today I knit a sock, a size 9 sock. That's not all I did, just mostly. It was knit on 3.75 mm needles and no pattern but plain stockinette stitch.

Otherwise there's this:

Something Saturday

This is for K. - who I am sure can appreciate it for what it is.


Penny is for scale.

Furthermore, as Jack O'Neill aptly states: "I got nothing."

In the Spirit of Project Spectrum

Oh yeah, I have been knitting. Actually, I have been knitting a lot. Mostly things for work. There are even grey, white and blue things.



This I started in honour of Project Spectrum. It's a merino/alpaca mixture, very soft and off white.



I knit a pair of socks for my brother with this Opal Bamboo yarn. I would have taken a picture but I couldn't find them.



A work project. Socks. Sometime to be found published.


Another work project. I do like the yarn. Very light and fluffy. It's a sweater.


More work. A lovely blue vest. (I only knit the ribs for neck and armhole, not the whole thing.)



Something Saturday

I know, it's Tuesday. But with all the knitting and not blogging I have to catch up somehow.

In 1993 I went to London on vacation. There was one of those Cartoonists making money of drawing silly pictures of people. There even were silly people who wanted a cartoon of themselves.


One of them would be me. The drawing hangs in my Mom's office and by the life of me I don't know why she keeps it. It's not particularly flattering, after all.

Pump it up

A few years ago the ever present Swedish furniture chain had something I found intriguingly ingenious. Especially when one is the only person drinking coffee in the house.




Just heat a little milk in a mug (I find 2% works best, it has the perfect ratio of protein vs. milk fat that makes great foam), put the foamer in and pump for about 15 to 20 seconds.



See? It totally works. Calisson is optional. (I wanted to add the more classy link to Aix-en-Provence tourism, but it wouldn't work.)



Are there other people out there who think that coffee tastes totally different when consumed with foamed milk? I certainly do!

Poetry - silent

My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, -yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddes go, -
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Shakespeare (Sonnet 130)

This cracks me up and at the same time I find it disturbingly reassuring.