If you give a Jasmin some knitting...

We play a game at our house, which is our own appropriation of "If you give a mouse a cookie", obviously, based on the children's book. We're big fans of Robot Chicken, and they did a (dark) parody, which we found utterly hilarious. (If you're not easily offended, you like spoofing of pop culture, and you think claymation is da bomb, Robot Chicken is for you.)

When we play the game, it starts with something innocuous, and gets blows totally out of proportion- usually in a completely plausible way.

So, I present to you, "If you give a Jasmin some knitting":

If you give a Jasmin some knitting, she'll want to buy some yarn.
If you take her to buy yarn, her mother will convince her to try spinning.
If her mother convinces her to try spinning, she'll buy a spinning wheel.
If she buys a spinning wheel, she'll want to go to a wool auction.
If she goes to a wool auction, she's going to want to buy some fleeces.
If she buys some fleeces, she's going to want to have those fleeces processed.
If she has her fleeces processed, she's going to want to listen to people talking about knitting and spinning in the meantime.
If she listens to podcasts, then she's going to want to do her own.
If she does her own, she'll convince her mother to be her co-host.
If her mother is her co-host, Gigi will convince Jasmin to start sewing.
If she starts sewing, she's going to want to sew sassy little dresses.
If she sews sassy little dresses, she's going to want to knit matching sweaters.
And you know what happens when you give a Jasmin some knitting.

(And yes, this means I will be sewing myself some dresses - yet *another* thing that Brenda Dayne has inspired me to do. Mom thanks you for bringing me to the dark side, Brenda.)

Mond(o), Jasmin Mond(o).

Sometimes, you need a montage. If you don't have a montage, you need to make your own. Give a knitter a montage, and you entertain her for a moment. Have a knitter make her own montage, and you've entertained her for a lifetime, I say.

So, in an Austin Powers-esque moment, I set up my camera on the tripod, got out the remote shutter, blasted Michael Bublé's "Feeling Good", and started shooting. The Mondo Cable Cardi moves well, even if I don't.

You can't help but groove along, swinging your hips and throwing your arms up in the air, at those "Big Spender"-esque hits.

I call this one "Not a Bond Girl", but I can dream. Take that, Charlie's Angels!

(Imagine this through the Bond classic Gun Barrel.)

Who needs Q when you have Rosemary, and her gorgeous shawl pins? (Don't ask what else it does- if she tells you, she'll have to kill you.)

This is how the song and the sweater both make me feel:

Now, to find the right song for the Seneca...

Ugg Haiku

Oh, ugly Ugg boots:
I love you, but you're not shoes.
So much like flip flops.

Horizontal cables are the new black

When last I posted, it was the coming out for my Mondo Cable Cardi. Since then, we've had the Olympics, and I am proud to say that not only did I come home (stay home?) with the gold, but my sweater is - predictably- the best thing I've ever knit.

(This reminds me of elementary school, where we would write, "Today is March 3rd, 2010. This is a sample of my very best handwriting.")

I know I said that about the Tangled Yoke cardigan, and probably every other sweater I've knit before that. But seriously, they keep getting better and better. Either that, or it's my inner magpie piping up.

In any case, I finished the knitting, and the finishing before closing ceremonies, and I was *so* excited about it that I put the Seneca on Venus (my bust/body double) immediately. Knitting a sweater is a labor of love, and regardless of the image in my head, sometimes the sweater doesn't work out, and it isn't until I put it on that I know for certain whether it is a total failure or success.

Technique, execution, and my beloved math are less powerful combined than the power of delusion. As someone who sees herself about six feet tall in her mind's eye, I'm keenly aware of this. I always have a moment, when I'm trying a finished sweater on for the first time, where I am ready to look in the mirror and see a Failure. It has happened, and those sweaters find new, loving homes. Not a big deal, especially now that the nieces have become teens, and are always willing to enhance their wardrobes.

You will understand my joy, when after buying the fleece, spinning, plying, and knitting this sweater, I put it on and it SANG on my body. The shaping follows my curves, the horizontal cables sit perfectly on my shoulders, and - even unblocked - every single time I passed a mirror (or reflective window), I preened like a peacock. Apparently, horizontal cables are the new black.

I'm doing my best to be Jasmin 2010, because what the Knitting Olympics remind me every time is that I *can* knit a sweater in two weeks - if I stick to it. Now, if only my inner magpie would pipe down and stop tempting me with new patterns...