Knitting – it’s radical, man.

OYes, yes, I know – my lingo is slightly behind the times. What exactly did you expect from someone who prefers musical selections from old dead British crooners a la Rat Pack?

However, I’m prepared to be wowed by new concepts, particularly when I’m in a bit of a knitting funk. So, I was very glad to come across some web pages yesterday with some fresh knitting ideas.

First, how about some radical lace?

This is a photo taken at an art show in New York back in early 2007 – the work is by Cal Lane. I wish I’d thought of that, frankly.

It reminds me of some of the art knitting in this book that I had bought some time back:

And no, they don’t mean this kind of New Wave:

Tainted looooove… doo doo… tainted loooove…

Sigh.

But I digress…(and hey, at least it’s not the Rat Pack!)

It all seems a bit closer to this, actually:

And, after all, what’s a little madness between friends?

Now I want to start working on some fancy lace creations, such as this one by Anne Wilson…

In my virtual travels, I also came across some funky knit “graffiti” type stuff by a group called Knitted Landscape. How about a tulip in the snow, for example?

Or, perhaps you prefer the idea of a day on the beach?

Now I’m full of ideas all of a sudden. So many, that I’m not quite sure what to do.

Ah – eureka! Given some of my obsessions, it should have been quite obvious, no?

A knitted rubber duckie! Although, is it truly a “rubber duckie” if it’s knitted??? Hmm….

Well, why not? I just found a website called Unifly Rubber Yarn Products!!!

I guess it’s official… the possibilities are, in fact, endless.

Sigh.

So, if you could knit any object you wanted, what would it be? Tell me… come on… don’t be shy!

Happy Friday!

duckie invasion?!

My beleaguered mother, no doubt shaking her head about my wee obsession with rubber duckies, very kindly sent me the following scan the other day…

 

 

Although I couldn’t help but think that this image was cute cute cute, on some level I’ve since been quite perturbed about the abuse of the humble rubber duckie by the advertising industry.

I mean, the rubber duckie is not just a plaything for our use and abuse, you know.  It is an extraordinarily hardy and brave species. 

These are some rubber duckies and other plastic toys which crossed the Pacific Ocean from China and ended up all the way in New England, 11 years after falling off a container ship.  They were apparently quite the speed demons, travelling at double the rate that the water in the North Pacific moves.  They washed up back in 2003 and a reward was offered for a specific duckie which had gone completely white from its trials and tribulations at sea. 

I’m not sure the reward was ever collected.  But you can read about their journey here, if you’d like.

And, I mean, really – could you cross the Pacific without a raft? Think about it.

But not only is the humble rubber duckie brave, s/he is selfless and giving, working tirelessly for charity.

S/he is also athletic, by the way (far more so than I!):

 Rubber duckies, as you know if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, are capable of forming strong loving relationships:

Yet they continue to be used and abused by Evil Corporations such as Adidas to sell products and make rich fat men even richer and fatter!!!

 It all makes me want to weep, really.  Plus, it makes me afraid.  It is only a matter of time before the rubber duckies stage a revolution and take over… just last night I had a nightmare about this.  Click on this link to see it in full colour.

Scary, eh?

Well, we have the power to stop this abuse of the Rubber Duckie and the ensuing rebellion, revolution and takeover which will lead to the end of life as we know it.  Education, I feel, is key.  To learn more about the honourable rubber duckie, you can click here.

And next time you see a cute little ad featuring a rubber duckie, please spare a thought to the abuse and degradation that led to the ad, and boycott the product… would you?

(Yippee!  Another excuse not to have to shave my legs!!! Huzzah!!)

Happy Thursday!

stampeding into shamelessness

I’m well and truly off the wagon now, folks. Yup. Yesterday, I made yet another trip to one of the local Houses of Worship – on the pretext that I needed one of these:

For some reason I keep losing these. This is probably my fourth this year. I’m sure that one of these days I’m going to bump accidentally into a secret portal in my apartment and be faced with a whole pile of single socks, good wooden coat hangers (as opposed to crap wire ones from the dry cleaners’) and knitting needle measuring ruler thingies, all pointing and laughing at me.

So, of course I decided today that I was in huge need for one of these $3 thingamabobs. But did I go back to Romni, which is just down the street from my workplace? Hell, no.

Why not? Well, I felt the need to take a 25 minute walk (each way) in 30C/150C with the humidex (don’t know what that is in Fahrenheit, but “damn hot” will about cover it), that’s why.

It certainly wasn’t because Lettuce Knit (quite a hike away from my office, in the Kensington Market) is the only yarn shop in the city that carried Blue Moon Fiber Arts yarn. No sirree Bob. Nope.

OK – so now you know the truth. I am a big fat liar.

But, really, how could I resist!

Oh – and while I was there I had to pick up a lonely little skein of Bobby Blue (as in “No Sirree Bob”, I guess!) Malabrigo laceweight as well:

But I don’t feel so bad about this – because Amy told me: “Malabrigo doesn’t count”. I’m a very gullible person, and I do hope that she has not led me down the garden path toward bankruptcy….

What makes me feel a bit better about all of this is that I’m apparently not the only one who’s getting up to hijinks this week, apparently – and mine are far cheaper than some. You see, this week the Calgary Stampede is taking place. Now, I’ve never been to Calgary but if you have ever lived in Canada and watched any news programme during the month of July, you’ll know all about this WestFest, where all the oil millionaires/billionaires, politicians and other high rollers turn up to watch some rodeo and eat some high-priced beef.

Now, according to CTV News the other evening, that’s not all these guys do. They actually had a segment on the late news discussing how some of these guys also come to gamble and pick up women. They even quoted a pro female saying it was by far the most lucrative week of the year.

I think they did, anyway. You see, I cannot find this story anywhere on their website – I do remember seeing it though, if only because it really really hurts to spit Vex alcopop out your nose when you start laughing with your mouth full. JJ confirms that this was on.

But instead, all I could find on the CTV website was this: Calgary drops suits for Stetsons during Stampede.

More like “drops trou”, no?!

I mean, really – let’s face it, these prime ministers must get up to all sorts of nonsense when they’re on the road – and especially when they get to dress up in cowboy drag. Why else would Pierre Trudeau have been showing his stuff there, for example?

Now, as for Jean Chretien, I’m not so sure:

Now, I must say that I really like his wife’s cowboy boots – in fact, I want them. But what was up with those puddlejumper jeans, Jean?!? Did the Prime Minsterial budget not extend to a pair of jeans that actually fit, or did you spend it all on the 10 gallon hat?!?

And then there’s always my favourite, the Right Honourable Stephen Harper, our current fearless leader who allows Geo. Bush to address him as though they’re hanging out on a street corner somewhere (I mean, really. “Yo, Harper“??? WTF???? When he pulled this stunt a few years back with Tony Blair, the British were reportedly offended. And, to my view, the British were right.) and simply giggles and blushes smiles. I’m not so sure, however, that it’s wild women he’s after…

I mean, first he poses for this cheesecake photo back in 2005:

Is that lipstick he’s wearing?!? I mean, really. Doesn’t he look as though he just stepped off the cover of a Village People LP?

So, then he hid I was not able to find any photos of Harper at the Stampede in 2006 – but this is what he turned up in in 2007:

So, what’s up with the pink shirt?? Well, apparently he said it was to show support for fundraising efforts for breast cancer. Well, that’s heartwarming and all, Steve – but if you really cared about people who suffer from breast cancer (or cancer of any kind, for that matter), you wouldn’t be doing your bit to destroy universal health care as we know it. But I’m ranting digressing now.

Suffice it to say that, sported by an arch-convervative like Harper, the colour pink speaks volumes. But this year, his image consultants have he’s decided to go butch:

Now, I haven’t been in a women’s bar for a while now – but the last time I went to one, this was pretty much the uniform.

So, Steve, I’ll be waiting with baited breath to see what cute little outfit you come up with for next year’s Stampede! How about something like this, for example?

Fetching, isn’t it?

Happy Wednesday!

the litany of the wiseguy

WARNING/ATTENTION/ACHTUNG/EKTIMISI: The post you are about to read contains references to drugs, addiction and other generalised bad behaviour. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

I have a deep dark confession to make. One of the reasons I find it difficult to knit of late is that I have become readdicted to one of the darkest forms of music ever: the rembetika (Greek blues – and believe me, the Greeks are experts at being blue. It’s a national condition for us – even here in the diaspora – it’s inborn and we can’t really do anything about it. Combine that with extreme fatalism and I’m surprised the Greek race has actually managed to last this long without indulging in mass cultural suicide. But I digress…)

I blame the Eurocup, actually. This passion for evil music reignited in me when I attended at the Danforth to watch the game where the $#*(@$&(@#* Greeks got themselves put out of the Cup. As it happened, the place we were watching the game was right next door to Greek City Video. I had promised myself I wouldn’t go there (Mom – stop laughing NOW!!!)… but on the first smoke break (I guess I could also blame the ubiquitous “smoke outside” by-laws or, for that matter, the tobacco companies which keep me addicted to the demon weed…) wandered in and spent … oh, slightly more than the average PayDay haul’s worth of yarn.

Amongst the booty – one of my favourite ever movies:

Yes, yes, I know – you’ve never heard of it. And, for that matter, I don’t really know why it is one of my favourite movies. It is very, very depressing – about a Greek rembetiko (blues) singer who basically gets treated like a whore, becomes drug addicted then dies, over the course of 30 years. Every Greek movie ever made, by the way, is either “I want to slit my wrists now I’ve watched this” morbid or along the lines of a really bad “Carry On” comedy – if “Carry On” had featured horny priests. But anyway…

Another terrific score was this new CD by George Dalaras, the hottest Greek singer going:

The title of the CD is “Songs about Drugs” in English… and features primarily Rembetiko music again. It was recorded at a concert in Greece in 2007 which was held someplace that looks like this:

This is Dalaras himself… I’m only posting this photo for my mother, as she thinks he’s cute! (And here’s a video for you as well, Mom! And another one.  And if you want more, just search “tragoudia me ousies” on YouTube…Don’t say I never gave you anything!!)

So, why am I going on about this “Rembetiko” stuff, you might well ask?? Well, it’s bad boy music from the 1920s in Greece. SERIOUSLY bad boy music. Rappers had nothing on these guys and the few women that they allowed into the circle). People got arrested for playing and listening to this music. If you’re really, really bored, there is a great explanatory newspaper story from the Guardian here.

(At around the same time in Greece, by the way, the fashion for these “manges” or “spivs” (or, for want of a better word in US/Canadian English, wiseguys) was to wear very pointy shoes with toes extending four inches out from the real toes on their feet. The cops went around at the time with machetes and would just chop off the toes of the shoes. If they happened to hit the real toes in the process, too bad.)

But why were the rembetiko musicians and the characters they attracted treated so badly? A sampling of the song titles from the Dalaras CD should give you a clue:

– Alcohol and Nicotine
– The Castaway Cigarette
– Rumba of the Drug Dealer
– Clink Clink Go The Glasses
– Hashish
– I’m an Addict
– Heroin and Hash
– In the Basement
– The Tobacconist
– Five Spivs
– Bring Drugs So I Can Get High
– Ouzo and Hashish
– I’m a Flirt
– Why I Smoke Cocaine
– I’m a Cocaine Addict

Well, now finally I understand why this guy always looks so damned happy:

…while his wife and daughter slave away at home:

But seriously, what is not to like about this music?!? Perhaps I was just deprived as a child. The Greece painted through this music is certainly not the Greece I was raised to think ever existed, let me tell you. I mean, the one little rebellion I tried in high school – wearing head to toe black – resulted in my father’s telling me “Black is for Funerals” and grounding me for a year or so.

Plus, my (very lovely and extremely youthful looking) mother used to refer to this stuff as “migraine music”. To an extent, she had a point… especially when I hauled home the authentic 1920s recorded versions which featured singers coughing their heads off on tape (there’s a lot of tar in that hash, you know!!), whiny Greek bagpipes and violins which sounded like two cats in the backyard – um, well, you know.

However, they sure seemed to have a lot of fun!!!

So, now I’ve decided I’m going to quit my day job – finally – and resuscitate the Greek blues in Canada. First, all I need to do is learn how to play this:

Now, I don’t want to tell you just how long I’ve had this in my possession… it’s a bit embarrassing. But, I will learn.

Also, the renewed interest in the Greek Blues, plus another addiction to the fabulous music of Cape Breton, has led me to dust off the old keyboard and start practicing again:

So, doubtless I will very, very soon catch the eye of some impresario who likes cocaine music, and will be appearing very soon at a major concert venue near you.

Stay tuned… and in the meantime, a happy Thursday!

the many solitudes


Canada, apparently, is a cultural mosaic – unlike the United States which is a melting pot.

(Oh, an aside – fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. It’s going to be a long ride today.)

Or so we were always told in public school… and I never really thought this through until the other day when I decided that I should make my dear friend Robert a special mosaic for Canada Day. He, unlike me, is very patriotic and so is having a Canada Day party to mark the official birthday of our country (in 1867 – I know that much at least).

So, I went searching for the provenance of the term “cultural mosaic”. Here’s what I found, courtesy of the ever-insightful Wikipedia:

The first use of the term mosaic to refer to Canadian society was by John Murray Gibbon, in his 1938 book Canadian Mosaic. Gibbon clearly disapproved of the American melting-pot concept. He saw the melting pot as a process by which immigrants and their descendants were encouraged to cut off ties with their countries and cultures of origin so as to assimilate into the American way of life.

Hmm. This, although interesting to me, did not much help me with planning my mosaic. So, I hit the forest for inspiration, like so many Canadians before me:

…and came up with this:

Unfortunately, the only colour of glass that is lacking in my brobdignanian stash (and if you think my yarn stash is over the top, people, you should see my stash of stained glass!) is… you guessed it, green.

So, I had to make do with another colour:

The glass there is actually pink, by the way. I still really don’t know how to operate this camera.

I started by mapping out the leaf shape on a handy dandy glass frame that I scored from the unofficial dumping station behind my apartment building a couple of years ago:

I then – much like the Fathers of Confederation, I suppose –

(If you’ve visited here before today, you may well recognise Sir John Eh?… he’s the one with his head in the middle of the biggest window. I do get a kick out of how painters through the ages have found very similar ways to point out the important guy in the scene..

…but, as ever, I digress.)

Where was I again? Oh yes. Anyway, much like the Fathers of Confederation, I pieced together a symbol of an emerging country, and ended up with this:

(I will pause officially here to note that I actually tried to consult with Sir John Eh? about this but apparently he had started the Canada Day celebrations a bit earrrrly …

…but as JJ reminds me, Sir John Eh was actually from Glesga Scotland.)

So, I decided it was all guid, and progressed apace. In so doing, let me tell you that I injured myself.

This is partly because, when starting the mosaic, I realised that I had left the top of my trusted tile adhesive and when I went to use it, I was faced with a concrete glue pile. So, having no time to spare, I had to whip out the glue gun, and became careless:

Let it be known that I do suffer for my art. I am a proud Canajan in this regard, but our schizophrenic cultural identity as Canajans (that is, half Brit, half Murcan) leads me to adopt the British part and suffer in (virtual) silence. By the way, Robert, eventual recipient of the mosaic, does not use the internet and so will not be reading this post. So, let’s just keep this our little secret (at least, until he sees me tomorrow and says “Hey girl, what’s up with all those cuts and burns on your hands?!?!?!).

Anyway, despite my mortal wounds, I carried on –

(I include this photo, although it’s rather blurry, because I thought that the headline that was inadvertently captured on the underlying newspaper was spookily Canadian. And, by the way, I would welcome any other Canadians, if you feel otherwise, to post a comment or Email me and tell me so – and why. I won’t bore you with my theories at present).

And, eventually, I ended up with a microcosm of what it must have looked like here when they were building all these vast railways and roadways…

Voila!

Now, it’s time for me to confess something. In working on this “cultural mosaic”, I felt for the first time in years a real love for my country. I have been disillusioned of late, really. Champagne socialist angst, perhaps – although I do realise I live in a wonderful country, bit by bit our standard of living is being eroded, and I have seen big changes in my adult lifetime.

(I’ll note as an aside that to me it is frustrating (although interesting) that Michael Moore, for example, has decided to sell a message about the United States by painting my city and country as a gun-free paradise where everyone leaves their doors and cars unlocked and can just attend at hospital and get whatever treatment they want, without cost. That may have been the case twenty years ago, but it is not today. Sorry, Michiganer (Michiganite? Michigonian? friends. I know that Mike has done a great power of guid – but I’m an unhappy Canajan with his portrayal of the situation here and I’ve written a strong E-mail or two!)

But then, I’ve had to get off my leftie high horse and think about what being a Canadian actually means to me. And so I had to give some thought to why I ended up a Canadian in the first place… because of people like my mother’s father who came here at 14, shipped off from Greece to send money home to his family, and made a good life and prospered. And my mother’s grandparents, who came here similarly and did well.

And then, on the way to work today I saw this freebie magazine which I usually ignore

And then I had to remember how moved I was to be at Pier 21 in Halifax and see a photo of the boat that my father travelled here on for a new life:

So, it was very, very good to have the reminder that people came here for a better life and had it… as a result of which, I get to be a lawyer here with a decent pay and get to whine and rant on my blog about the state of the politics in my country, without censure. And, by the way, I can also afford to live next to a beautiful forest where I can go and stroll and steal a maple leaf to inform my artistic endeavours, such as they are.

And then I had to think about the “cultural mosaic” bit from the writer I quoted at the outset – and it finally makes sense to me. I get to live here, speak and write and read Greek, cook Greek, live with a scottish guy, have him and everyone else respect my heritage and also my lifestyle choices. And still be considered a “Canadian”. This is truly a gift.

So, I must make a deep dark confession – I am, indeed, a proud Canadian. I think that my mosaic for Robert reflects the shifting contours and the uncertainty of this nation. And I’m very happy that Robert is hosting this party, and was so excited about buying Canada Day decorations, which made me think I should make him a special Canada Day present, etc. etc. etc.)

(JJ, himself a new Canadian who loves Canada more than I do, said that the piece reminded him of the Magic Eye contests in the paper… you know the ones, if you cross your eyes you see the true image? The true image of this piece is the maple leaf).

As it happens, to me the mosaic looks abstract – I had originally thought to make the background a blatant contrast colour, then went against this. And I’m happy with this choice (although JJ is not) – I believe it better represents Canada as a place where change and adaptability… and progress…are always possible. I’m calling it “Many Solitudes”.

Happy Canada Day! Off now to cook the stuff I’m bringing to the party and make sure the beer is chilling…

tips on surviving meetings, etc.

Well, the types of meetings I must go to these days, I can’t be seen to be taking knitting/crafts, alas. Some people (not my immediate coworkers, I will hasten to add) have decided that it does not look like I’m paying attention, despite the fact that I’ve told them time and again (and again, and again) that needlecrafts help to focus my attention in meetings. 

So, instead, I take this:

This, people, is one of the most brilliant tools I’ve seen for getting through two and three hour meetings and looking like you are actually doing work.  Meanwhile, you are reading jokes, doodling with suggestions and generally having fun. 

My genius partner JJ bought me this at the airport when leaving for London in December, saying “This wuid be a grrrreat thing for all those meetins ye have to go tae, right?”.  His less genius partner agreed, and even took it back to the office in January – only to lose it in a pile of paperwork until quite recently.  But recently, it emerged, and has provided great hilarity. 

(Now, I really must confess… I wanted to bring my copy of Wreck This Journal to the ubiquitous meetings.  

However, I thought that even in the relatively laid-back work environment I enjoy, people might look askance at my ripping/pouring coffee on/stomping on a book during a meeting – particularly since they are all legal researchers for a living, and consequently love books.  But this begs the question, while on this topic – Holly [who put me onto this book in the first place], what’s up with your own copy??)

Anyway, if you need something to pass the time during work meetings and you can’t knit/crochet/otherwise craft/scheme there, pick up a copy of the Procrastinator Doodle Pad.  You won’t regret it, I promise.  

Now, although I suspect this is not the case for most of my regular readers, I, however luddite, am aware that there is a work-meeting-acceptable device already on the market.  I think it’s called a “Blackberry”.  Anyway, whatever it is called, Brouhaha, the Voice of Wisdom, is here to tell you all: 

Just because you’re diddling with an electronic device under the table, people still know what you’re doing – you are checking your Email, talking with your girl/boyfriend, wife/husband, etc.  Don’t pretend you’re actually doing work. If you were actually doing work, you wouldn’t be in this meeting.  And, by the way, there is no way you are so important that the person who sent you that urgent E-mail can’t wait another hour for a response.

(The following will only apply for those who are over 31 years of age.  Please correct me if I’m wrong about this, by the way.  I’m turning 38 shortly and for some reason this is bothering me.)  Surely you are old enough to remember the days where there wasn’t even any voicemail and people had to take down messages on paper slips.  Forget about the computer age.  Just give yourself some time to focus and relax and hark back to a time where others didn’t expect an immediate response the minute they pressed “send” on their message. Meditate upon a time that there was no “send” button at all. 

I do realise that the above message was rather hypocritical given that I am communicating it to you on… a blog!  However, relative luddite that I am, I still believe that we should use technology rather than technology using us.  I’m also a firm proponent of the idea that, when killing time in boring meetings, it should be kept non-tech.  So, pick up a pen and paper instead and doodle.  And, just in case you thought you were saving the environment by not doodling… it’s possible, for example, to doodle on newspaper.  

When I become dictator, by the way, I will authorize all sorts of activities to be done globally during meetings, including knitting and crafts.   (And, on that topic, I will promise an actual knitting related post on Monday 30 June… really.  I still do knit.  Honestly.)

Why, you may ask, will I not just ban meetings altogether when I become dictator? Well, I’ve thought about it… and the fact is that I believe as humans, we need to meet.  And talk.  And be bored. It’s part of the human condition and partly, I’m sure, what has led you to this blog. 

Thus spake Brouhaha. 

Wishing you all a great Friday and weekend.  And, to those who may have other reasons to celebrate this particular weekend, happy Pride!

Oh, and a PS – I do hope Spain wins the Eurocup.  The Greeks and Turks having been eliminated, this is the last dark and swarthy team I can cheer for (I would say “root for” but my Australian friends would snigger and tee-hee, and JJ would then get upset). 


Viva Espana!

 

 

 

summer clothing!

Well, today it is officially summer (although you wouldn’t know it from the weather here – 15C or 59F – my part of Canada is not usually this cold at this time.  We’ve all shucked off our outerwear saying “summer is coming” and we are all freezing as a result).

Anyway, I went out shopping for clothes to celebrate!  

This is the outfit I wore today to work… I’m modelling it on Aphrodite because she was jealous and wanting attention and because, in actual fact, the clothes look better on her than on me. 

I love this skirt.  So did half of my coworkers, who tried to tear it off me.  The best part: the skirt cost only $10 and the blouse $5.  And new, at that!  

The funny part is that the blouse has a statement on the label saying “no child labour involved”.  Which, I guess, means that they’re only paying the adults crap wages.  But, being a champagne socialist, I can’t really worry about that. 

There are even little mirrors in the skirt.  I tried to take a photo but after several attempts was defied.  This was the best photo I could get:

So, today I went back on a quest to buy more $10 skirts. Alas, the shop wasn’t open. However, I did score this at Brava vintage shop:

This is my new wizard Merlin coat. Given that the weather gods insist on it being cool here, I will be wearing it tomorrow together with some black leggings.  There may well be some photos as tomorrow there will be a big huge party of the Tenant Advocates… 

Just check out the detail on this, though:

 

Again, my camera doesn’t really do it any justice. It is shiny and fabulous in real life, and at least one of my coworkers tried to seize it out of my hands saying “Those colours look better on me than on you.”

And, she’s right. Having said that, this excuse didn’t work when she tried a grab for my April Showers either:

If you want to see me in my full splendour, you’ll have to come up to Toronto… but in the interval I wish you all a fabulous weekend… and do go shopping for some cheap summer wear. You won’t regret it.

a little heresy to start your day…

Before I begin: I’ve been advised that the people who read me through Bloglines got dumped with 10 or so of my posts in the last several hours.  Just remember – you can’t have too much of a guid thing.  I’m resisting the ever-so-Canajan temptation to apologise, but it’s difficult.  Sorry about that.

Well, it’s Wednesday and thus the middle of my working week – high time to promote a little controversy on the blog, I should think.

So, here’s my statement for today:

Forget lace knitting!! 

(ducking to avoid virtual missives thrown by Clarabelle and Soo, lace goddesses extraordinaire.  Sorry, ladies.  In reality, I’m just upset because I can’t churn out the lovely shawls that you both seem to produce in a couple of days!).

But seriously, why such a heretic and loaded statement?  Because I have a new book of time-honoured crafting techniques in my hot little hands which should provide hours – nay, months! – of excitement: Kitschy Crafts.

(Apologies if I have featured this book before – I really can’t remember but I suspect I must have as I’ve already had it out of the library once before! Oh well, it won’t be the first time I’ve rambled on ad nauseam about any given topic!)

I’m already planning to make a chip bowl out of an old Zorba the Greek LP:

Well, maybe I won’t use it as a chip bowl… after all, the chips come in a perfectly good bag and all – very handy for snacking.   But get this, people are actually selling these!

Clearly I’ve missed my calling. 

I also have to find a rock grinder to deal with my seashore haul from NS and a few dozen amethysts I rescued from a dead candle.  Being an ignoramus, I don’t begin to know where to look – any ideas from anyone in the GTA? (because, being a further ignoramus, I don’t dare buy one on-line in case I end up with the wrong thing).

And then, I intend to make myself a fancy hat like this one:

That would be the hat to the left, in case you were wondering.  This hat was one of surely dozens of similar – ahem – import worn at the first day of racing at Royal Ascot yesterday.  I would just love to wear one in the subway here one day soon.

Well, back to finding more photos of ludicrous hats from the Royal Ascot race meeting the grind, I guess.  Summer socialising has been impeding my progress on the Seascape, but it will get done eventually.

Learning to smell the coffee rather than guzzling it, laughing and then snorting it all out my nose,

Kristina

 

do idle hands make the devil’s work?

I’m not sure about that, but they do make for some fun reading sometimes!

Yesterday while … oh, never mind… I came across this website with perhaps the perfect title: The Idler.

Who couldn’t love a magazine with the following mission statement?

The Idler is a bi-annual, book-shaped magazine that campaigns against the work ethic….

The intention of the magazine is to return dignity to the art of loafing, to make idling into something to aspire towards rather than reject.

Sign me up!  It seems that I may just finally have found my people.  My true people.  The loafers, layabouts, idlers, etc. etc.

So if you’re in the mood to laze around and surf the net, check it out.  I recommend in particular the mini-essays on crap jobs for a wee chuckle.

And – here’s the poster that’s going up on my office door, with a few modifications:

What’s that?  You insist on keeping me busy?  Well, here’s another craft for you all to take up:

Come on – you know you want a fancy macrame swing coat!!!  Wouldn’t these be ultra-fabulous with the Swarovski crystal yarn? (Thanks to Jay for the photo!)

Well, I must confess I’m feeling rather pedestrian these days, actually.  So, I’ve resorted to starting work on the Seascape pattern from the latest Knitty magazine.

I’m using that fabulous blueberry seasilk I got in Nova Scotia.  So far, so guid.

Happy loafing Tuesday!

 

How to feel like you’ve just dropped LSD at 9:45 a.m.*

*Disclaimer: Not that I’ve ever actually dropped LSD, of course. That would have been an illegal activity, and thus something I most certainly do not condone. Just some poetic licence here, folks. Really. I mean it.

Easy! (and cheap, and not as bad for you as the real thing, either). Just take a look at the Photo Exhibit at the Globe and Mail website on any given day.

I think you’ll get what I mean when you have a look at some of today’s offerings:

What?!?!?!?

(Here’s the caption from the Globe: “Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama’s work, called Dots Obsession: Infinity Mirrored Room is on exhibit at the contemporary art centre Le Spot in Le Havre, France, as part of the Arts Le Havre 2008 contemporary art biennial.”)

This, on the other hand, is a Dutch football supporter at the Eurocup. Nuff said.

And these? Well:

Maybe not too ersatz LSD-head of me, but these make me very, very glad that I was not of age during the 70s. Apologies to anyone who actually had a pair of these at the time.

And finally, this just frightened me, frankly:

Was I wrong?

Really, I should just stick to looking at knitting stuff from now on.

Hmm.

Then again…

Well, I think I’d best tune out, drop out, etc. now. I’m really, really starting to fear for my sanity!

Happy Thursday!