Vicki Howell Signing

Mom, Cynthia, Erica and I (representing the available Minions) all trekked up to Full Thread Ahead to see Vicki Howell and her new line of yarns. We had dinner at a great sushi place up there, and then ambled over to the book-signing.

Now, keep in mind that Vicki's stuff isn't really my speed. I knit things that I consider "classic", and her stuff is just a little out there for me. I also don't like the linking of "punk" with "poorly constructed", or looking poorly constructed. Having said that, it's fairly obvious that I don't have her books.

I watch Knitty Gritty on Tivo, mostly for the guest hosts, and occasionally for the Knitsters. It was clear, from the first episode that I saw that I wasn't the targeted demographic, and Vicki confirmed that. That's cool, I found her more interesting in person than on-screen and incredibly personable.

Hollis is carrying the full line of her yarns, and there is one that I like (for the Swallowtail Shawl from the last IK), but not in a color that appeals for that project. I'm also sticking to le Budget for the time being- Andrew didn't work for two weeks, and I got tiny paychecks for two weeks. So, le Budget is being respected for future fun (like Stitches & Rhinebeck & the little Louet wheel).

(I'm dying to buy some Fleece Artist there, but Hollis has assured me that she will continue carrying both the sock and and Sea Silk, so I don't have to plunge us into debt right now and can wait. In theory.)

This weekend's temptations include TWO Super Bowl sales (GO BEARS!), one at Purlescence, where I will (maybe) pick up some of the new roving for Mom's Persian Carpet Yarn (doesn't feel like a carpet, but the colors are reminiscent of Persian Carpets). I'm torn between Cashmere & Merino or Cashmere & Silk. Maybe I'll do one ply of the mystery stuff, one ply of Cashmere & Merino and one ply of Cashmere & Silk. Maybe.

I'm going to do my best to be good at the FTA sale, but just for your personal information, I knitted both sweaters that I bought the yarn for at the same sale last year in UNDER a year. Boo-ya! I will be wearing the clean one on Sunday.

So, I say, bring on the temptation, and again, GO BEARS!


**Note to readers: There were photos taken at the signing, but they made Vicki look evil. Since she is not evil, they have been deleted for the purpose of fair and balanced representation.

I Have Forsaken My Roots

Yes, it's true. I can no longer be considered Persian, due to a request I made to Andrew.

See, we haven't exchanged gifts or gone out to dinner or anything for our two year wedding anniversary (which was January 8th, in case you are curious), partly because Andrew was discharged from the hospital on the fifth.

So, a week or two ago, I turn to him and say, "If you were planning on getting me jewelry for our anniversary, I would rather have the little folding Louet spinning wheel." You know, for the trip to Rhinebeck that I'm trying to work out.

So there. I have forsaken bling and all my Persian-ness by asking for a new toy in lieu of gems or shiny metal. Although, at 6.5 lbs, it's the right weight to be Persian style jewelry.**



**Note to readers: Not all Persian jewelry is ugly and bulky, only the things that my "relatives" (I have a theory/dream that my father was adopted) bring for me.

Request For Good Mojo

This is a request for good mojo!

It's been a rough year so far (especially the first two weeks) and I could really, really, really use some good mojo, thoughts, prayers- whatever you can do, I appreciate.

Why do I need the mojo? I'll post about it later. (If you've talked to me in person, you already know.) It's a good thing that would be AWESOME for me.

I am ready to absorb it, so send it on my way!

Thanks in advance.

PS. I still don't like spinning cotton, but I can do it now.

World Conquest- One Egg At A Time

I got a message on MySpace hitting me up for some Middle Eastern eggs. That's right. Ovum.

Completely ignoring the fact that donating eggs is an INCREDIBLY uncomfortable process- you earn every penny of that $6k with your suffering. They pump you full of hormones and at the end; you have to give yourself injections. This young woman claimed to have done it SIX TIMES.

I'm fairly certain that given a life-or-death option of either giving myself injections or dying, I would do it. But for fun? Forget it.

There is also the Genetic Material Issue. I have no qualms with donating stem cells to save a loved one, but just having my ovum out there? To be fertilized by a complete stranger? I'm a little uncomfortable with that, especially with people getting curious about their biological parents.

How awful would it be to meet your egg donor, only to find out that she did it for the money? Is there legal recourse the child could take to demand that you support it? Send it to college? Buy it a pony?

Then there is this side of it:

I'm not using my eggs. I will, eventually, but currently, they're in storage (if I understand my specific form of family planning correctly). I don't really need all of them, since we're only planning on having two. Why not help an infertile couple have a child that they obviously want fairly desperately.

Let's face it, deep down, we're all narcissists and most people want their OWN baby and taking a genetic material donation is one step away from forsaking your own lineage completely, genetically speaking.

When it comes to family, I truly believe that the people who raise your and love you are your parents, not the biological matter donors (whether through conventional means of donation or otherwise). Making a baby doesn't make you a parent, raising it does.

Then, my inner megalomaniac piped up and pointed out that there could be dozens of little Jasmins running around the world; more specifically, California.

Couldn't you just see it? Yarn shops pillaged, a global shortage of imported chocolates, and all that hair. Could the world handle that much hair?

The world may never know.

Mom’s 50th Birthday Extravaganza!

You only turn 50 once, and we celebrated my Mom's half-century mark with an excellent fiesta. Julie did a bulk of the cooking, and all of the food was incredible. There were margaritas, massages and music.

Oh, and lots of photos:

Julie and Linda cooking away in the kitchen:

The Minion Birthday Sombrero, worn first by Mom:

She obviously loves it:

Even moreso with a margarita in hand:

Of course, there was cake:

Oh yeah, there were also yellow birthday hats, modeled by the Sarah-saurus:

Happy 50th birthday, Mom!

Little Devil- Done!

As promised, here are the photos of Mom's Minion yarn. The colorway is Lisa Souza's "Little Devil":

Roving (true color):




Single (distorted color, crappy lighting):




Plied (true color):

When They’re Good, They’re Good. When They’re Bad, they Suck.

I have two spinning wheels. The first is an Ashford Traveler (which I bought when I was 14), and the newest addition to our little family is the Schacht.

The drive wheel on the Traveler is really warped. It's been warped since Day 1, but it has gotten worse with time. That's fine, I'm willing to pay to replace it myself. It has been ten years, which I agree is an unreasonable amount of time to wait to call and complain, but hey, it sat unused for five to seven years. My fault.

Colleen's wheel (Ashford Joy) is only 3 years old and had SEVERE manufacturer's defects. It has from the start; she spun obsessively for a few months after its' purchase, and then it sat unused for a couple of years. Ashford says that it's out of warranty. When I pointed out that this was not wear and tear, but a manufacturer issue that the dealer overlooked, Ashford said that it didn't matter. One year is one year.

The woman on the line suggested either taking it to Morgaine (at Carolina Homespun in San Francisco)- who is an hour away, or to John (at Village Spinning & Weaving in Solvang)- who is FOUR hours away, without traffic (hahahaha!). Oh yeah, and Colleen is going to eat the cost of repairs and replacement parts, even though it is a case of negligence on behalf of the dealer.

Compare that to my call with Schacht:

Me: "Hi Schacht. My wheel has a problem."

Schacht Switchboard: "Let me put you through to our spinning people."

* connect *

Suzanne: "Hi, this is Suzanne."

Me: "Hi, my wheel has an issue."

Suzanne: "Which one do you have? The matchless or the Reeves?"

Me: "The Matchless."

Suzanne: "What's the problem?"

Me: "You know, the housing, where the flyer unit goes? The ball bearing is all flipped around and no amount of lubrication or force could get it turned the right way, and it just won't work." [I thought I heard a stifled giggle, but hey, say "lubrication" to me on the phone and I'll laugh really loudly.]

Suzanne: "That's odd. We'll send out a new ball-bearing/housing today. Also, if it's not inconvenient for you, could you please mail us the old housing so we can figure out what is wrong? We will be happy to reimburse you for shipping."

???!!! My cup runneth over!

Does it get any better than this?

Andrew made the analogy of Target vs. Nordstrom customer service, and I think he may be right. So what have we learned?

My next wheel (if I buy a third) will very likely not be an Ashford, which is a pity for them, since I was considering replacing my Traveler with a Joy- because the only downside (which is also an upside, oddly enough) of the Schacht is that it is H-E-A-V-Y. There's also no way that I can take it as carry-on to Rhinebeck (which I am seriously considering attending and working out the pesky financial details).

Any suggestions on a more flight-friendly wheel?

Oh yeah, this is a knitting blog…

After all of these opinions and media reviews, I am glad to announce that this post harkens back to some of my more normally scheduled blogging about knitting/spinning.

The fates have been against me- or more specifically, my tools. I have a GORGEOUS umbrella swift that has a crank at the top for winding skeins (purchase HERE). It is more comfortable than a niddy-noddy, and definitely more fun to use.

Anyway, there is a little plastic doohickey housed in the part behind the screw, and that came out. That is a critical little doohickey- without it, the screw scratches up my beautiful cherry swift something fierce. I called and the manufacturer (buy one, they're great), and he described how to fix it and told me that he would send me more plastic doohickeys right quick.


After spinning class, I noticed that my Schacht housing was … off. By off I mean that the ball bearing was flipped backwards and no amount of fiddling would get the "front" (the round part with the hole for the housing the flyer unit) to face out. It. Is. Stuck.

I tried to un-stick it. Andrew tried to un-stick it. No amount of fiddling or lubrication would get it to yield. I took it to Sandi to try and un-stick. No success. The wheel won't work if the ball bearing is backwards.

Now, this would stymie a normal person. Me? No way. Seeing as I prefer double-drive to Scotch tension on my Schacht, I convinced Andrew to help me (temporarily) cannibalize Sandi's wheel for its' housing and use it on my own wheel until either (a) I get a new housing for my wheel, or resolution for the current housing issue or (b) Saturday before spinning class.

Not spinning, obviously, was not an option with a 2 ½ hour movie ahead of me. I finished plying Gendarme! and began spinning Do You Believe In Magic. Oh, yes, after spinning it, I certainly do. You could even say that I'm a Believer. (Insert dorky chortle here.)

If Crown Mountain had a color called "I'm a Believer" it would have to be golds and oranges (for no other reason than that they're my favorite colors and I said so). I would also buy ten tons of it and just roll around in it until it was spun. [Photos of rolling around in roving pending.]

Let me segue way for a moment and talk about the Crown Mountain roving. It is HEAVENLY. If you spin, get some. It will change your life. If you don't spin, order some and learn to spin. It is really that good.

It practically spins itself and makes my spinning look entirely better than it actually is. I have four or five bumps left to spin before I go into Crown Mountain withdrawal and I have to go my local dealer and demand a fix. It's not pretty when I start a'twichin. Fiber, I argue, is more addictive than both heroin and cigarettes combined only because it is socially acceptable and makes one prettier and happier by it's sheer presence.

Let's see what the Schacht people have to say…

Super-Spinning!

Okay, maybe my spinning isn't super- but it is certainly the right color for watching Superman Returns.

Lisa Souza's "Gendarme":

[Before]

[After- Navajo Plied]

Superman Returns is another of Brian Singer's brilliant adaptations of comic books.

First, the feel of the movie was perfect. He couldn't have picked a yummier (or more perfectly executed) Clark Kent/Superman than Brandon Routh.

The delightful Mr. Routh was so good as to swiftly turn me into a thirteen year-old girl again- except this time the giggling was coupled with an "Is it warm in here?" (Note: If you've ever been in my living room at night, you know it is arctic. He is really that good.)

I hope that he does audiobooks in the near future, because I could listen to him read the phone book. Seriously.

I loved the rest of the casting- with the exception of the girl who played Lois Lane- she felt like a Natalie Portman knockoff and looked FAR too young to have a five year-old child AND a Pulitzer prize.

Unless I've misjudged and I'm just really far behind in my own career as well as my reproducing-with-a-superhero window.

Image & Vision

I love watching Beauty & the Geek. I think it's a great show (and an even better concept for those of us with nerd fetishes), but this season there is one guy (Mario) who makes me want to cry every time he opens his mouth.

Mario is on the heavyset side and is shorter than his Amazonian counterpart. He listens to his partner, and won the challenge where he listened to the nude model while he was drawing her. Instead of just ogling her goodies, he was the Nice Guy and paid some attention to what she was saying.

The most recent challenge was the "make over" part of the show. This is easy when all of the people are about the same size, and for the most part the guys are pretty much the same size range. Except for Mario.

It completely defeats the purpose of reinforcing that they are worthwhile, attractive and great people if you stick someone in a store where nothing fits them. All of the other guys had more options, and Mario ended up looking (and dressing) like John Belushi. (Or Jim. I don't remember which one Andrew said, but they're brothers, and I feel safe in saying "Eh, close enough.")

I've been lucky enough not to have real weight problems. Yes, I was underweight for a very long time, until I met Andrew. When I met Andrew I gained 40 pounds over the first three months of our relationship. (That is only about 10 pounds heavier than I am now.)

I liked how I looked (except for the crazy stretch marks from gaining weight so quickly- which are gone now), but it felt incredibly bad not being able to wear my regular clothes. I had to (essentially) buy a whole new wardrobe, which was fun- but not what I wanted to do.

I can say with a fair amount of certainty that everyone has had that "Oh, shit" moment where they realize that they can't zip or button their jeans. It just doesn't feel good, no matter how happy you are with the weight gain. (For me, the worst part of this was realizing that I only had sweats that would cover my butt until I bought some new jeans.)

I've never had body image issues (I know what I look like, and I like what I look like), but I try to be sensitive to other's body image issues, because I know that being confident is really the key to being an attractive person. (Good looks help, too, but confidence tricks people into not noticing.) How can you be confident if you walk into a store and there is nothing that fits you? This is a problem that the producers should have thought about and planned better.

Oh yeah, better planning. Can I say how pissed I am that it became Blondes vs Brunettes? Nevermind the fact that the brunettes were playing the "game" the way it is intended- getting to know their partners better, and that idiot Nadia told Andrea (one of the brunettes) that she was cooler because she wasn't "inside playing chess like a geek".

Hello?! That's the point of the game! To learn and grow! I have to say that I don't feel like any of the blondes are making the same kind of effort to get to know their partners as in past seasons. I think part of this is because of the sleeping arrangement (separate beds this season, shared beds in previous seasons). The guys are trying to learn and grow, but in the mansion they face EXACTLY the same problem with women that they have in the outside world.

I think Nadia's crack should have gotten her ejected from the game, but hey, I'm not Ashton Kutcher. I really fell like there needs to be some sort of correction/direction on the part of the appropriate people to get the female players back on track.

The other action that I took issue with was the assault on Scooter by the Anna Nicole looking girl and Ceci. (For anybody who hasn't seen it, the two women cornered him and tried to pressure him into engaging in non-consensual sexual activity. He politely tried to resist their advances, claiming that the camera in the room made him uncomfortable. One of the girls went to cover the camera, unsuccessfully, and fell on the floor. The noise brought other people into the room, which is when Scooter basically ran away, shaking.)

My issue is that the girls thought that this was funny, and it was portrayed as funny rather than assault. If you were to switch the genders of the people involved, there would be a lawsuit. However, because the assault was on a man, it isn't taken seriously and the girls weren't reprimanded.

Pfft.

Pirates of the Caribbean II- A Review

Before I start my review of this movie, keep in mind that I found the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie to be quite good- I even bought it on DVD.

The sequel is full of suck. This is not a quality film, this should be on the Sci-Fi channel on Saturday. The only things that are keeping PotC2 from being a "B" movie are the A-list actors, and the incredible special effects.

(By "incredible special effects", I am specifically referring to Davy Jones and the Kraken. The crewmen on the Flying Dutchman are all obviously CG.)

I know it's an incredibly popular movie; Kiera Knightly hooks all the boys/men, Orlando Bloom hooks the teenage girls, and Johnny Depp hooks all of their mothers. These three together could read the phone book or teach advanced Calculus on camera and it would be a box office smash. There would also be a sudden jump in math scores for teen girls.

[Note to all idea stealers: I swear, if I see an advanced calculus movie come out with big-screen hotties, I'm coming after you. Criminal Minds got away with stealing my idea for an ethnic linguist, and if she makes hot love to Dr. Reid, I'm going after them, too.]

The first hour of the movie is exposition. Urinetown, the Musical makes it abundantly clear that too much exposition can kill a show. So can a bad title. So, believe me when I say this; the play on words with "Dead Man's Chest" made me roll my eyes so hard that I was afraid that the momentum would make them pop out of my skull and roll across the floor.

[Note to readers: The only other time this was an issue was when I was listening to "Girlfriend in a Coma" in the car. Sooooo preachy. But Robert Sean Leonard read it, and I have a thing for him/his voice, so this was forgivable.]

Another serious weakness of the movie was the incredible implausibility of EVERYTHING. Yes, I know it's a movie. Yes, I get suspension of disbelief. There is only so far that this incredibly unimaginative woman can stretch the limits of plausibility, though.

Oh yeah, and on what planet does Kiera Knightly look or sound like an adolescent boy? Again, with the implausibility.

The worst part of the whole train wreck that is PotC2 is the incredible over-acting. It couldn't have been any more overdone if it had been a melodrama instead of a family-friendly action flick.

I am caught in a quandary. Did I love it or did I hate it? I mean, certainly, when I love movies like Frankenfish and Shark Attack 3: Megaladon, I should love PotC2 as well. I think my issue is that I was expecting an awesome movie (like the first one), and was blindsided with a B movie.

In all honesty, I think if Johnny Depp just dressed up as Jack Sparrow and walked around in every movie, it would be a huge success. PotC2 is all about Jack strutting about and being all drunk and pirate-y.

Oh yeah, and Kiera bugs me in a big way.

Conspiracy Theory 546432157- Battlestar Galactica

Last night I was flipping through the Tivo and noticed that there were four episodes of Battlestar Galactica. My first thought was "I should watch those."

Why? I'm not a Battlestar Galactica fan. I couldn't really get into it.

Oh yeah, maybe the difference is that I had an AWESOME dream a while back about making out with Apollo. Somehow, the show has new appeal.

Which leads to Jasmin's Conspiracy Theory 546432157: Battlestar Galactica used the naked Apollo/Starbuck scene to hook people who aren't into the show. I mean, who can resist those man creases?

Practice Makes Better

Notice how I didn't say "Practice makes perfect"? It's true, but I don't see my spinning as anything even remotely close to perfect. Enthusiastic, yes. Perfect? Not so much.

In the last few months since Andrew fixed my wheel and I rediscovered my love of spinning, I noticed that there were quite a few steps that improved my spinning.

The first was oiling my wheel. Oil is important to put in your car, and oiling your wheel makes it spin oh-so-much easier.

Fiber choice was second - my current favorite to spin is Superwash Merino, and I have some Blue Faced Leicester that is waiting to be spun, and some random stuff here and there.

Third was that grueling process of spinning until the yarn was more even. After that, it was realizing that 3-ply yarns look more like "real yarn" than 2-ply yarns. (Take a look at the archives, RESPECT was my first 3-ply, and everything has been 3-ply since. Before that, it's nice enough, but not as cool by comparison.)

The 3-ply revelation isn't mine; Judith Mackenzie taught it in a class that I had the privilege of sitting in on, but I wasn't sure my yarn was thin enough to do a 3-ply until I plied "Crazy Love" and it turned out laceweight.

(The reason for doing 3-ply yarns is because it makes a rounder yarn. It really does.)

This yarn may find a new home, since laceweight is really too thin for socks (which is what I had intended it for). Or maybe I'll make a crazy shawl out of it. Who knows?

I also found that the Schacht was not only easier to spin on than my Traveler, but a better made piece of equipment in general. I love my Schacht, and seeing two of them in my living room gives me a huge thrill. (I know one is Sandi's, but it still graces my living room.)

The downside of the Schacht? Freaking expensive bobbins. Ashford bobbins are like $8, Schacht bobbins are like $32. But, in their defense, the Schacht bobbins hold a little more than twice as much spinning. (The Ashford ones can comfortably hold about 2 oz, where the Schacht does 6 oz with room to spare.)

It's really incredible how a little bit of practice can reflect so much improvement.

When it Rains…

I was in a car accident on Thursday, January 11th. I have whiplash, but I'm okay.

Morocco Mole, however, is at the body shop, being fixed for the next three weeks.

Things I have learned:

I like my car. I don't like my rental car. Mention of the rental car makes me whine and kick in a tantrum-like fashion.

I don't like repeating myself, and every time I speak with the insurance people, I have to restate everything I have said. I should have recorded it the first time and just played it back for them, to save my breath.

If you tell the advice nurse at Kaiser that you will die of old age before your GP calls you back, your GP finds time immediately and provides stellar care, despite the fact that she could give a rat's patootie about your health before that point.

More interesting posts to follow, with less tragedy.

Minionish spinning

I am crazy. Everyone knows this. As part of my craziness, I decided to spin 4 oz. of superwash merino for each of the Minions in their favorite color/s. I got the fiber the week before Christmas (I think), but definitely after the Holiday Extravaganza.

I would like to say now, that I completed all but one of them by December 31st, or as I would like to call it, the day before Andrew was hospitalized. Mom's is now 1/3 done, and I'm plowing through the last of it. Five of the six were delivered on January 6th, which is the 12th day of Christmas- meaning I technically got it done in time.

All the colorways are below, and were ordered from Lisa Souza Knitwear & Designs. They were a good value and were incredibly wonderful to spin with.

Here they are, in order of completion:

Berry Poppins (Cynthia)

Earth Birth (Colleen)




Slate (Ursula)





Sky Drama (Julie)

(Navajo Plied)


Garnet (Erica)

More later, since I haven't finished Mom's "Little Devil" quite yet!

Jasmin’s 2006 Holiday Extravaganza

I like to organize shindigs. I'm an organizer and a list-maker, and I like to par-tay! I invited a handful of Minions my annual Holiday Extravaganza. So, here was my day:

6:45- Alarm goes off after about 5 ½ hours of sleep. Wish for a swift and immediate death. Immediately regret both the department party and the annual in-law dinner the day/night before.
6:55- Get in the shower. Panic that the party will suck, vow to never throw another party.
7:15- Get out of the shower. Get dressed.
7:20- Notice that Linda and Mom are wearing makeup. I blow-dry my hair so that I don't look like a wet rat.
7:30- 8:30- Run around the house trying to get stuff together, get a hold of late people, tell Katie to meet us at Starbucks.
9:00 – Assure the dogs that we are coming home, go to Starbucks.
9:15- 10:30- Gift exchange.

[Lots of excellent gifts were given, and mine was the best.

I got this:

(It had chocolate in it... but not for long!)

and this:

and best of all, these:

that go with this:

I hope Colleen draws me EVERY year. Muah ah ah!

10:30- 11:15: Drive to Carolina Homespun.
11:15- Park, walk to 755 Lisbon St. Knock on the door.
11:17- Katie points out that the address is 455 Lisbon St.
11:18- Decide to walk the three blocks to Carolina Homespun.
11:25- Mom has an asthma attack from walking uphill in freezing cold wind.

Here is the view from the top of the hill:

11:26- I feel guilty, and walk the rest of the way with her, making sure she doesn't die. Simultaneously feel like a dumbass for not thinking that walking in SF would be more challenging than in SJ.
11:30- Arrive at Carolina Homespun.
11:30- 1:00 PM- Shop. Cynthia bought a wheel, and I got a SCHACHT!
1:00- 1:45- Drive home, eat lunch
3:00- Decompress, nap.
4:45- Light the Hanukah candles. Erica sings.
5:00- Donna arrives. There are massages and Christmas music.
11:00 PM- Party is over.
11:00- 12:30- Cleanup, go to bed.

2 years

Today marks our two year wedding anniversary.

With the craziness of Andrew's current appendix-less ness, we weren't really prepared, so I'll blog about what we choose to do to celebrate once we've had a chance.

Andrew (update!)

Andrew was released from the hospital on Friday, January 5th. He is recovering slowly but steadily and is eating normal food again. His battle wounds appear to be healing well.

Thank you to everyone for your well wishes and concern, I will be posting about the holidays (and the hospital adventure) very soon.

Andrew

To my readers;

Andrew has been in the hospital since January 1st. He had appendicitis, and his appendix was necrotic inside of him when they went in to retrieve it (so, essentially, he had a gangrenous organ inside of him).

They performed a laproscopic procedure, so he has three tiny incisions instead of a giant one.

He is being held until he's doing better, but until then I will only be posting brief updates. I will pass any well wishes his way.

Once he is home, I have loads of posts that are nearly ready to go.

Hoping your New Year is going better than ours,

Jasmin