Amy March's Slippers - Day One

Good afternoon everyone! Today is the first day of the Amy March Slippers Knitalong, with your kind and attentive hosts, Bethro and Challoner. I know some people jumped the gun and did their slippers early - and test knitting is always constructive, so good for you.

As for me, things have been busy around here the last 24 hours, so I don't know how quickly I'll get these done, but I have begun precisely on schedule.

I had to buy some chunky weight yarn for these slippers, as it's a weight I don't normally keep in the stash. I was in MichaeI's last week and got these.

The Shetland Chunky is the colour I prefer, but I thought the weight wouldn't be quite right...since I wanted to make more than one pair anyway, I picked up the Wool-Ease. It's got a lower wool content than I normally like but it takes all kinds to make up a stash...or something.

Anyway, I cast on today with my beloved magic loop method, using Meg Swansen's Turkish cast on. I think. I'm never sure what the difference is between the Turkish and the figure 8 cast on.

And here I am modelling the first twelve rounds against the backdrop of my Messy Tuesday post. This is what happens when a puppy prances into the house and you immediately discover the fifteen or twenty things you thought were up high enough but weren't. (And when you have tea twice and forget to put both pots away, and pin out your Cap Shawl and forget to put the pins away, and....and....and....)

More tomorrow.

Ain't it something?

Piper, meet Everybody.





Everybody, meet Piper.




Charlotte is his favourite person so far.


Taking a sniff and a nibble of every thing in my yard proved to be an exhausting feat.


You'll be seeing a lot of him, I expect.

I'll be back tomorrow...right now the old cross-trainers are calling me and I need to go get my heartrate up for a bit.

In Which I Show Fondness for My Readers.

I've been meaning to post a progress picture of the Cap Shawl for ages, but the whole process made me tired just thinking about it. You slip all the stitches on as many needles as necessary, being really, really careful not to drop any of them, and you pin the whole works out, take a picture, and slip the stitches all back on to your needle. It takes ages.

And you see, my darlings, how much I love you - I did it.

I used five long circulars for this, and didn't get the entire thing done, which is why you only see a photo of about 45% of the outside edge. The rest is all bunched up on one needle at the bottom of the frame.

I am on row 107 of about 170, which is deceptive because the rows get longer and longer as you go. Then there is the knitted-on border, which will take tons of yarn and FOREVER to do. A more accurate idea of my progress would be to say, I have used up almost one of the three required balls of yarn.

Pretty, though, isn't it?

And tomorrow, precious poppets, is Puppy Pick-up Day. Pictures forthcoming!

Specifically speaking....

The days, they do go by. Here it is Messy Tuesday again, and I almost forgot to chronicle my slatternly ways.

I realised, when reading over last week's post, that you could probably put together a documentary just using the material from my Messy Tuesday posts. What I mean by that is, I am giving way too much detail.

I present to you the new, streamlined Messy Tuesday post.

Here's the mess:

it's my coffee table. This has been here for at least six weeks. It's an old mess - a comfortable mess. The kind of mess that thumps its tail on the hearthrug when you get home. I'm rather fond of it.

And here's what I did instead of cleaning it up:

which got me these,

which were delicious.

It will, indeed.

Erudite Mondays at HalfSoled Boots

Volume 2, Number 4

Time Will Darken It

William Maxwell

I saw this book on the sidebar of January One, quite a while ago, and thought it looked interesting. This is because I routinely judge books by their covers.


I asked at the local bookshop about the title, and was told that they could try to get it in, but they probably would not succeed. I said "Don't bother, then, since I don't even know if I want to read it". Sadly, their customer service was too good and a few months later the phone rang: hey presto! they had it. The book was waiting for me to pick it up.


The problem with this particular store is that they have a "restocking charge" for special orders that are not wanted after all. I stood in the shop, turning the paperback over and over in my hand, repeatedly glancing at the $23 price tag, trying to decide whether to submit to the restocking charge, try to get out of it by shifting blame onto them for ordering it, or suck it up and take the chance on the unknown book, by an unknown author. After five minutes or so my mother, exasperated, grabbed the book and threw it on the counter, cast me a fulminating glance, and bought it for me.


(Thanks Mum!)


The story is set in small-town Illinois, 1912, and is primarily concerned with events in and around a small family during one year. It's a novel of characters, really - the plot events are only secondary to the central conflicts. I like this kind of book very much. It's so very interesting to witness and dissect humanity in all its pathos.


The beginning is quite promising. The opening scene is one between husband and wife, behind their closed bedroom door shortly before an extended family party. Their conversation is intimate, but uneasy. I found myself taking sides right away. This was strange - usually it takes me a few chapters to get to know characters, to understand their motivations and to care about their fate. Time Will Darken It hooked me in right at the start.


The book is strongly visual. It seems to me that writers of that era (this one was published in 1948) spent a lot of attention, time and words on the scene: I often notice that when reading a novel from the mid-20th century, I'm left with a strong sensory impression. When you're reading Time Will Darken It, you can see the prairie grass, feel the shimmering heat, hear the step on the stairs. If I ever found myself in whichever midwest town inspired Draperville, I should recognise it right away.


From the first few chapters, I thought I was reading a certain book. Then, with the turn of one particular page, I found that I was reading a different one entirely. It's like when you are on the lake in August, just off the beach where women are chatting and children playing, lying on an air mattress with your fingers trailing in the water. Eyes are closed against the sun, sand drying on your knees, the breeze drifts you along in an endless moment of warmth. All of a sudden you come back to yourself, realise the voices have faded away and the wind has picked up. You open your eyes to find you've drifted all the way out past the bay and now you're right over the deep, black, cool water and you've maybe got an unpleasant swim ahead of you.



I like sudden plunges into shocking cold. I like feet of clay that eventually crumble. I like the fly in the ointment, the twist in the tale.



And I think I'm going to be ordering some more William Maxwell books.

Because if you mean what I think you mean, my uncles are going to bitch-slap you.

Mr Half Soled Boots and I were watching Big Brother 9 a few nights ago. One of the houseguests, a Texan, is the last one left of the house's two obligatory gay guys. After behaving like an arrogant and duplicitous asshat for the last several weeks, then bursting into "crocodile tears" in a last desperate bid for votes, he finally got evicted. Once out of the house, he turned on the smarm full blast to charm the show's host, Julie Chen. He did the double-hand-handshake, flashed his too-white teeth and repeated the annoying and pervasive (and usually false) phrase, "it's all good".

Mr HSB snorted in disgust and remarked, "They're all arrogant like that."

I glanced at him and said suspiciously, "Who are 'all like that'?"

He shook his head, reached for another handful of popcorn, and said disdainfully, "Texans."

Status Quo

"That’s the biggest mess the world has seen!!!”
Mom yelled at me quite loud.
But it’s a new world’s record so you’d think that she’d be proud.

-Gregory K


(copied with implicit permission from here)




Ah, yes. Once again it is Messy Tuesday. I was so disorganised today I almost forgot to post about the disarray. Which, really, is a sign of undoubted success.

Let's start with something nice and light. One might call it an aperitif of disorder.

Toys are kind of a gimme for Messy Tuesday, if you're a household with kids. In this picture I particularly like how the Amy Morris doll is peering up at me like I've just caught her with her hand in the till. Actually her hand is in the lemonade stand. But you'll also note the roll of Christmas wrap, which really ought to be moved. I'll think about that while I show you this:




This is Mr HalfSoledBoots' side of the bed. I like the composition of this photo because a lot of different aspects of our lives are represented. You see the Bible there, in the black case - Religion. You see the blood pressure monitor and the empty Kleenex box - Health. There is the Usborne "Big Book of Picture Puzzles" - Family, and also Education. You see in the upper-left the upside-down witch hat belonging to Emily's Hallowe'en costume - Philosophy. Then there are the urban planning periodicals - Career. Lastly you have a little scrap of quilting fabric wrapped in a promotional band - Hobbies - and a pair of bobby pins - Personal Care.

(Admiring applause?)

I have saved the most desperate mess for last. You will probably think it's no big deal, but here is my craft corner:



I call this a Desperate Mess because of that wicker basket you see there. It's huge. It's about 40 centimeters deep, maybe 50 wide, and probably about 80 long. And it's packed so full that its density is probably distorting the gravitational pull of earth. I briefly thought about doing some calculation on the bulk density of X number of knitting projects in Y amount of space, but stopped when I began to bleed from the ears. Suffice it to say there is a lot of yarn there - the appearance of the topmost layer is deceptive - something like the placid surface of a cauldron pool under which some lethal and seething monster lies dormant.

Interestingly, I have been looking for my headphones for two days and it's only just now that I notice they're on top of the wicker white dwarf.

In the face of the mess - albeit contained - that the wicker basket represents, those sloppy-looking plastic bags, and the cardboard box in which my Starmore kit arrived and in which it still languishes, are laughable.

I showed you mine - now you show me yours.

Addendum:
Meme item number 6: I took first-year Astronomy in university. I got an A- in the course, and an A+ in the lab. It turns out Physics, like a lot of other things, is just about being careful and printing neatly. (Luckily I didn't take it long enough to explore more deeply and find out I am wrong, and stupid.)