Sunday, December 14, 2008

Disclosure.

I have a bone to pick with the Harlot . While her blog is highly amusing, interesting and informative with respect to anything related to the fibre arts, I am going to have to take her to task regarding her cavalier attitude towards home renovations.

Now, I understand she lives in an ancient Toronto house, much as I do. She seems to have successfully undertaken several mammoth projects virtually on her own, with relatively little tooth gnashing, and the things that do happen are interesting and blog-worthy.

See, I think this is impossible. Where are the manic rantings of a woman who has been trying to fit something new into a house that has not a single 90 degree angle in it? That has multiple layers of wallpaper, usually still remaining only because they are a structural element of the house - certainly not for aesthetics. Where are the oddities unearthed like the second kitchen craftily concealed behind "that odd piece of paneling"?

I am not so lucky. I have spent the entire weekend trying to change a lock. (We shall not discuss the fact that I spent a previous weekend replacing one lock the insurance company deemed "too insecure" - comical to anyone who knows my ex's ability to close a door - with EXACTLY the same type of lock - and I had a billion keys cut.) A simple deadbolt. I've done it before. Piece of cake.

Except... it's impossible to drill a big hole over a smaller one without clamping another piece of wood on top first. Fine. PITA, but OK. But then the door hole kit I had previously didn't have the right size hole saw. Fine. Went and borrowed one from my neighbour. Turns out to be the same freaking size as the one I already have. Feh. OK, so I improvised (we shall not get into details due to the sloppy nature of my workmanship, but fuck it, it worked).

One day later, lock installed, just the deadbolt strike (?) to go. Nooooooooooooooooooo problem!

So my house is ancient. I think it's had the same lock for the past 60 years, but the wood has been... altered a bit. So when I come along to drill a 1" hole in the door jamb, there's basically nothing to drill into. I'm sure there's an easy way to do this that doesn't involve plastic wood, wood glue and the sawing of a thousand bits of wood to "fill" the 2"x 3" gap in my door jamb right where the strike is supposed to go, but please feel free NOT to point these out to me as I may have to make you eat the ten pounds of wood chips, shavings and scraps of shattered filler bits. Where were you two days ago? Keep in mind this is not a nice neat gap. It's a thousand steps from 1cm to 10 cm and every topographical variation in between. (Yeah, I mix my measurements shamelessly. Sue me.)

Anyway, the final fill piece snapping in two as I drove in the screws for the strike cover plate was the last straw. Another heavy application of wood glue and I threw up my hands and walked away. All I need to do now is put in the strike plate cover (again)(with bigger pilot holes) and I'm done. Piece o'cake.

Nothing entertaining, funny or interesting happened at all, but pity the first child who dares to throw their shoulder against that door.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Gratification

This is possibly the most gratifying Christmas present I've ever made:
I BAWLED all the way home. The tulipsocks are the nicest gift EVER! thank you SOOO SOO MUCH. I can't believe you gave them to ME!!!!! IM SO HAPPY. those are the bEst socks EVER - HANDMADE!

I could die.


I am slowly amassing a list of people for who I will and will not make things. Barb falls firmly in the first category. Merry Christmas.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Maybe I got ma mojo back...

Now that I'm one with the hood I can talk like a gangsta - yo. Word.

Ayway, Sylvi seems to be back. I tried again today. I boldly cast on with the 8mms, knit briskly for a couple of inches and then realized AGAIN I had neglected to slip the edge stitches. Sigh. Ripped back and started again. Then decided the gauge was too loose. Ripped back, and pulled the end out of my KP cable. Bugger. Perused the PPs selection of needles in a funk. Decided needle manufacturers were high. Thought in the interests of economy I would try the Chigoogy needles or whatever they're called. Bamboo, feh. But the cables were thinner than the Addis and the needle length was longer (what, does Addi think I like knitting on something resembling a short, fat crayon?) and the price is excellent.

Tried again. Actually, the needles are good. The cables could be better, but not impossible and at least they're thin. The bamboo actually works for me. Since I'm knitting on 6.5mms instead of something like a 7, I decided I have to do the entire gazillion miles of seed stitch continental. That should be interesting. It's not hard so much as awkward, and my hand hurts already, but we'll see how that goes.(Oh yeah, the black stitching is because I keep seaming up the stupid cuff the wrong way and it's too hard to pick out in red. I figure I can fix it later. Maybe. Maybe it will just be a nice accent detail.)

And look! It's christmas shopping! I vow to complete it this weekend, whether it kills me or not. The housework may suffer a bit though.
Now what on earth shall I buy myself? Whatever it is, I know it will be just what I wanted.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Word.

Wow. Sometimes things just take on a life of their own.

Like the slipper: take a mildly amusing giant sized slipper...Then stick it on someone's head - let's call her Barb - and give it to an underemployed person - let's call her Cathy - and the result....


Hi fucking larious.