Why I’m Not Reading My Art History Text:

Sit down for this, it may come as an earth-shattering surprise to you–I’m stressed out about my job. I know, I know–unless you’re a Buddhist monk or a…nope, that’s all I can think of–unless you’re a Buddhist monk, you’re probably stressed about your job. However, I’m interested in sharing the myriad reasons for my particular brand of job-related stress. I’m well aware this is supposed to be a blog detailing my creative endeavors, but humor me here.

1. I’m not at all appreciated. I’ve been working in the same office for well over a year now; I know the menial work I do inside and out, yet I’m still just as dispensable as the day I started.

2. I have to fill a forty-hour-a-week schedule with 6 or 7 hour shifts, sometimes shorter. Clearly, this leads to my having to work at least 6 days a week EVERY SINGLE FREAKING WEEK. Sometimes I work 7 days a week. Sometimes I want to destroy the entire world.

3. At the beginning of this semester, there was a glimmer of hope about an end to all this ridiculous madness. (At this point, I should clarify that my boyfriend and I work in the same office, which may seem crazy, but a) our office is crazy, and b) Adam and I are sooooo laid back that we’re almost never in each other’s hair anyway, but I digress.) Adam and I were both offered identical promotions, which would have made us supervisors. Perks of this position include:
–8-hour shifts, which are almost never cut short due to lack of work (which happens frequently to office minions like myself)
–a 3 dollar raise
–NOT HAVING TO BE ON THE FREAKING PHONE
Anyway, I’m sure you have some inkling of where I’m going with this. Two months later, Adam has been trained and officially promoted, and as far as I can tell, my promotion is being categorically forgotten about. Don’t start crying feminism, as I’m wont to do; the office is managed by a woman and three out of six current supervisors are women as well. The truth of the matter is the field I’m working in–survey research–is extremely fickle. An unproductive week can turn the whole office into an war zone, or in my case, turn an expected promotion into the semester from hell.

To further complicate the nature of this unfortunate beast, my office manager is nearly incapable of delivering bad news of any kind, which is why at this point, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m even being denied this promotion. The supervisors are holding a meeting later this week to talk office drama discuss some issues, and undoubtedly this will come up. If something productive comes out of said meeting, perhaps I’ll FINALLY get promoted and this will all seem like embarrassing whining. Here’s hoping.

Oh right, knitting:
Baroness Beret, knit on family vaca this summer, with Knitpicks Comfy, in “cashew.”

On that note, time to go get covered with charcoal. There is truly nothing like drawing a pile of bananas to melt away life’s silly little problems.

Many Happy Returns

Several factors have converged to encourage my return to the blogosphere, not least of which is the new computer I recently bought, whose very arrival I am now anxiously awaiting. Ah, sweet portability, coupled with the mountains of yuppie-cred I will collect every time that little white apple sends a beam of hipness through some poorly-lit cafe.

Also a monumental contributor to my renewed interest in fiber-documentation:  this year’s trip to Rhinebeck. Unlike last year–when I dragged my poor unsuspecting boyfriend along–this year I took the WEBS bus. I mean absolutely no insult to my dear, sweet boy when I say I had a mush lovelier time surrounded by other people who share my personal brand of insanity.

Once again, the festival was completely overwhelming. Sheep everywhere (this year’s featured breed was romney*), knitters everywhere, and golly-gee-whiz, was there a lot of beautiful wool to be had. Because I feel that any Rhinebeck update without pictures is worthless, I will share my haul. I will warn any unsuspecting viewers that my camera, bad apartment lighting, and shoddily constructed “lightbox” all conspired to help create (literally) the worst photos ever taken. Please don’t mock me. When I regain the motivation to go outside for pictures, the blog fodder will improve, I promise. In any case, without further ado, I present fiber pr0n:

(That last one is a fabulous prize gleaned from the annals of the WEBS bus. If only all my public transit experiences were so lucrative…)

I also managed, in spite of my all-encompassing shyness, to meet a lovely fellow fiber fetishist, who spent the day ogling fluff with me. Thanks for being awesome, Nina!

On the home front, I’m only working on one project right now (!!!), a make-it-up-as-I-go, top-down raglan sweater. I’m projecting an end date of around mid-November, as I really only have time to knit at work (I know, I can hear the knives being sharpened, but trust me, my job is not worth the ability to knit while doing it, so there’s no need to lash out in envy), so until then, I offer you this bad macro shot:

More later. Now that I have the ability to internet in class, expect frequent updates. Don’t judge me.

*Something they don’t mention in the Wiki: Romneys totally have fleece on their ballsacks. Imagine the possibilities.

Cora Rose: Official Worst Blogger Ever

And I haven’t even surfaced for a meaty update, simply a promise for one. Finals are over; post-finals celebrations are over, and as soon as all this holiday madness is over, I will seriously, seriously update the blog. Cross my heart and all that.

Dish-pan Hands, and Other Occupational Hazards

This is how I hold yarn and needle while knitting:

Pretty standard; English-style with working yarn wrapped around my pinky and maneuvered  with my index finger. Nothing to see here, or so I had been thinking for the two years or so I’ve been knitting in this fashion. (I won’t photograph the monkey-grip I was using prior to this set-up, but trust me, it was ugly. Not to mention slow.) Anyhow, about a week ago, after a marathon session with my needles, I noticed my right index finger had a rather angry mark on, um, itself. This is what it looked like then… 

…and now:

I’m guessing it’s the dry weather, as it is most definitely not the Lamb’s Pride Superwash (quite lovely, by the way!). In any case, I have finally injured myself while knitting. Amazing that it hasn’t already happened, actually. I’m not the most graceful person I’ve met, by any means. In any case, I hope I get a seriously burly callous from this.

Crafty Ruminations

In one of our frequent car-ride-long philosophical discussions, Adam (the sweet boyfriend I call my own) and I were discussing the active and inactive periods of creativity we both seem to go through periodically. He is a musician, and I obviously have various fiber-related artistic endeavors, but the both of us, as well as a lot of other artists we know, seem to go through periods of high production, followed by lulls in our creative lives.  The two-person consensus we eventually came to was that creativity happens most frequently when it is restrained in some way–in our cases, by having absolutely no time in which to create. I think I have achieved more output in this crazy, hectic semester than I have in the entire past year, when I was living with my parents and had far less homework. It actually seems quite natural when you think about it; passion being born out some sort of tension or adverse conditions. For example, don’t people always fall in love with other people who, for whatever reason, seem unsuitable for them? Don’t we always want what we cannot have? Isn’ t the grass always greener on the other side? Aren’t I good at rambling?

 Life is funny sometimes.

Wherein Cora Apologizes for Falling off the BlogWagon.

So I found this poor, neglected blog update on my thumbdrive, and though it best to post it here on my shiny new wordpress blog. The file was dated November 11, so I would imagine that was when I wrote it, but one can never be too sure.

I’m trying to be a diligent blogger, really, I am. It’s just that I have so many other pressing activities going on at the same time—for example; school is kicking my proverbial arse this semester. Not in the context of difficulty, because all the classes I’m taking right now are introductory-level. Fall has simply been chock-full of major life events.

In order:

1. I moved into a new apartment with my boyfriend, after having lived at home for the past two years, after having had a horrific, messy breakup with my ex-boyfriend (Did that make sense? Yeah, not to me, either). This was strange on two levels: First being that I am no longer used to sharing housework with so few people. I used to live with four other people—now I live with two. This may not seem like a huge difference, but trust me, it is. Second: It would be a VAST understatement to say that my last cohabitating relationship left a bad taste in my mouth. Now, I love Adam very much, and even though I know, through my razor-sharp powers of logic, that my last relationship failed because of reasons other than the sharing of living space, it is still slightly frightening to be moving in with a boyfriend again. So far, so good, though. I would even go so far as to say it has been incredibly lovely.

 

2. My grandfather passed away in September, the first of my close family to do so. He was, at one point, very close to me, and had been sick for a very long time, so his death did not come as a surprise, but his funeral (in the typical style of family gatherings on my mother’s side) was a time for remembering his life, and all the good times, and what have you. Now generally, I think this is exactly the way to go when orchestrating a memorial service. However, I sort of skipped out on the last three or so years of my grandfather’s life. I had never had anyone close to me fall ill, and I did not know how to deal with it, so in typical Cora-style, I avoided that which made me nervous. So in conclusion, the entire ordeal left me feeling like a huge jerk. This, coupled with the fact that I had not spent much time mourning for my grandfather while he was alive, meant that the full force of his death hit me all at once, sort of like a pile of bricks, if you will.

 

3. I haven’t technically started a new job, but I’m back at a job I was laid off from last winter. The job isn’t particularly stressful, but I’m a very nervous person as a rule, so any new (or newish) job makes me a bit anxious for the first few months.

 

4. The father of a friend of mine also passed away a couple weeks ago, after a year-long battle with cancer. Obviously very sad, and made worse by the fact that his illness could have possibly been alleviated—or even avoided altogether—with simple health insurance that should have been provided by the VA. Not surprisingly, he was denied benefits on some silly technicality, and then buried military-style; a neatly folded flag gifted to his widow like some perverse souvenir of corruption.

 

But I digress. This is a craftblog, am I right? In that vein, let’s get to the crafting, and/or yarn porn!

So I dragged my sweet, fiber-compassionate boyfriend with me to Rhinebeck, and WOW. I was not prepared. I managed to curb my spending relative to my starving student budget ($50, if anyone’s counting), and came away with some lovely hand-painted merino/mohair roving (no pictures, I devoured it too quickly), which became:

 

my first navajo-plied yarn (w00t!), which, in turn, became:

 

Urchin, by Ysolda, size large—sort of.

Knit in my own handspun (Bulky to, er, bulkier weight. Let’s just say I’m still working on evenness.)

 

Mods: Due to my general unwillingness to swatch and the…creative nature of the yarn, I ended up casting on the recommended number of stitches for a size large, and then worrying I would run out of yarn until I realized the beret was large enough to go around my head with only seven wedges, and slouchy enough to satiate my need for hats that hide the teeniness of my head. I even had enough yarn left over to crochet up a couple jaunty flowers!

Notes: Once again, I LOVE YSOLDA. That’s pretty much all I have to say, except to note that this was my first Navajo-plied yarn, and I think it’s pretty damned good.

I also nabbed some un-dyed tussah silk roving, and this:

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL YARN IN THE WORLD. Seriously. Srsly. I’ve heard people say things like this, and I thought they were just rationalizing, but this yarn SPOKE to me, as can be clearly seen in this photograph:

It called my name. If I were a dude, I would have had an enormous erection over this yarn. I totally didn’t even care that it was $26 for 250-ish yards. I have no idea what I’ll do with it—maybe use it to swaddle my firstborn.

For anyone following the Great Socktoberfest Saga of 2007, I finished my socks…last night. Somehow “Sockvemberfest” just doesn’t have the same ring, but I do quite like them, so I suppose there’s no harm done.

No too much to say here. They’re Jaywalkers, they fit, they’re not very stretchy. ONline SuperSocke Holiday colorways rule.

!!!!!!!!!!!

RHINEBECK TOMORROOOWWWWWW

I will most definitely spam the blog with copious amounts of pictures. Stay tuned.