Cursed!

See? The door really is broken. And the fuzzy green blob continues to grow.

Argh. I am coming down with a cold, and it seems like nothing is working out easily. We still haven't found someone to sublet our heap, no one wants to adopt foster kitty Oliver, our phone line went wonky for a day, I have to pack, and my balcony door broke. The good news is that it was the exterior door, made even better because the door IS IN PIECES. I came home from Hot Fuzz to hear the door banging in the breeze, and looked out to see the frame hanging off it at some acute angle. Oh, and the best part? The glass for the window was completely gone, and peering over balcony showed me that it was three stories down, on the ground, in a multitude of shards.
My roommate came out, saw that the glass was missing, and asked if it was ok. No. No, it wasn't.
The good news is that the landlord is going to fix it soon. And he didn't seem that angry, although a little unconvinced that the wind had caused it. Well, it's his own damn fault for not installing the latch better, because that stupid door has always had problems. Plus, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs.

I hate this time of year, anyway, because everyone is packing up and shipping out for the summer. Sure, the weather is nicer but it gets so melancholic. I feel even worse this year because I'm missing that end of the year bliss you get when you've finished your final exam. That's right, I want to be writing exams. Please send help. At least more of my friends are beginning to stay in Montreal. I'm sure that number will only go up as the years go on, and I'll probably be staying next year myself to take some classes and maybe work a little. It's a little weird seeing all your friends slowly turn into adults, and realizing how close we all are to that time when all those adult actions are taken. Those years when it seems half your friends are getting married, getting real jobs, moving into houses and making payments on cars. And then what? Houses, sometime kids, divorces and bankruptcies. I don't want to be a child any more, but I'm not sure I'm ready to be an adult.

Well, the sweater calls to me.

The Top 5: Online Baking Recipes

I've recently been on a bit of a baking kick lately. I had the People's Liberated Knitting Front of McGill over for tea and British comedy on Saturday, and a potluck later that night, and so I had to bake something. My secret shame is that I love baking more than cooking anyway. My parents let me bake before I could cook, because I was a notoriously accident-prone child and if I was baking they could just pop it in the oven after I was finished. I remember standing on a kitchen chair, carefully measuring out ingredients with my parent's yellow table and teaspoons, then levelling them off with a butter knife. I've always made sure to level off all my measurements just as conscientiously, convinced that disaster would surely follow if I did not. I usually used the recipes my mom had copied out in cursive on index cards, or the food-splattered Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, but now I use the Internet. The recipes are easy to find, free, and if I drop an egg on it I can just print off another copy. Here are my top 5 favorites.

1. Alton Brown's The Chewy Cookie: Delicious chocolate chip cookies, with a little caramel bite. I make these every time I want to perk someone else up, and then scarf a few myself.
2. Orangette's Lemon Yogurt Cake: This has been making the blog rounds lately, and since she's had it up since 2004 that's definitely a testament. It's not a sweet cake, but it has an elegant simplicity and a refreshing lemony bite. It's also very easy to make. The batter is whipped up in one bowl without even needing beaters, and the glaze doesn't need to be boiled in a separate saucepan or anything. I've subbed olive oil in for the canola when I've been low and it's turned out fine, and I also recommend using Liberté's 2% yogurt if you're in Quebec.
3. Upside-Down Pear Cardamom Cake: There's a delicious blend of flavours here, with the simple cake lightly spiced with cardamom, and then topped off with Anjou pears softened during baking with a simple caramel. It doesn't take much more work than your average simple cake, and looks lovely on a simple white dish. The recipe gets a little shrill about the fresh cardamom, but you know what? I'm cheap, and I am lazy, and the McCormick's ground cardamom tastes just fine. That's a photo of a slice of leftover cake, which I'll shortly be enjoying for lunch.
4. Cakeman's Red Velvet Cake: Make sure to use the entire bottle of red food colouring for that unnatural red glow. The point with Red Velvet Cake is to make it look like it's fake! It should be at home next to a set of acrylic nails and a bottle of Aquanet. The cake tastes delicious too, and makes for some great cupcakes. I'm not one for cream cheese icing, so I usually ditch that for a simple white buttercream frosting.
5. Baker's Best One Bowl Brownies: Yes, it's a recipe from the back of a box. Yes, it looks a little pedestrian compared to the others here. But they are my favorite simple brownies, and I've been making them since I was a little kid. I lost the recipe I stole from home, but I found it online again! The official Baker's recipe seems to involve a microwave in some capacity, and has dropped the delicious, and very sweet, icing. Since my family was always microwave-less (my Dad was convinced we would all sprout tumors and die once one was brought into the house), and I love sweets this simply will not do. Here's the classic.

Buttoned-Up and Slowed Down

Blah. I've been getting less sleep than usual, and today was just one of those unfortunate days when everything looks and feels gross. Not even the unusually nice weather could perk me up, so I stayed in and watched An American Tail.

Anyway, my stash diet goes like my food diets. I go on one, and then I want to eat, or knit, everything I see. Kim Chi cabbage and Swedish meatballs, Starmore sweaters and Cookie A socks. Thankfully, my current lack of funds is restricting my stash accumulation, especially since I saw the perfect colour of Elsebeth Lavold Silky Tweed at Effiloché. A rust base, with flecks of gold and deep fuchsia, perfect for a rustic-looking raglan or a simple cardigan with dark wood buttons. The few days of wear I got out of the 1.50$ cardigan before winter gave way to... summer showed me what I was missing out on with my "No Cardi" rule, and now that's all I want to knit. Particularly since I found a button source by accident the other day, while walking home from Jean Talon Market. I was sure that there was a button store some place on the Plateau/Mile End area- it just seemed like the right place. And there is! It's on the corner of St. Hubert and Gilford, and I believe it's called Ric-Rac or something like that. And when I call it a button store, I mean it- it's not a fabric store with a dusty wall of buttons at the back. It sells buttons, ribbons and trim, and that's it. I'll have to go there next year.
After finishing my cardigan, I worked on the Koigu baby blanket a little more, to the point where it's about two feet each way. Then, I lost one of my balls of the blue green mix. I blame Oliver. The solid purple disappeared for a few days a few weeks ago, and reappeared in the middle of the living room carpet, looking as if someone had tried to unravel it. Someone with sharp pointy claws. And pretty green eyes. If and when I finish the other ball, I'll try and get it finished by the end of the month. Until that happens, though, I'm working on a little experiment: seeing what happens when you combine the most gorgeous yarn in the world, Fleece Artist Kid Silk in a rich green colour that shades into chartreuse, with my complete ignorance of how to knit a sweater from the top down. So far, I've made it to the armholes. Things look good, so far. I have a small, scratching feeling in the back of my mind that the neck is too small, but I'll try it on again and see. It goes over my head with ease, for now, but will it when I pick up the ribbing for the neck? Oh well. I can always try and knit it in pieces again. It can make friends with Poppy in the frog pond.
However, not even the loveliest of yarn can hold my attention for long, and already I'm thinking of what I'll knit next, both from stash yarn and the forbidden world of new yarn. First up, something from the Manos Cardigan I'm currently frogging. Oh, it was a beautiful cardigan, knit in Bramble with contrast striping at the cuffs and edging with Loden, but hubris (and laziness!) brought me down. It was all seamed, and then my mom pointed out that one of the sleeves was wonky. Frustrated, I took scissors to it, cutting into the back instead of into the yarn that held the seam together. Now, I don't know whether to use the long ends for a vest, or some sort of cropped number, and then the rest for something small and felted, or the whole damn thing for a cat bed. For the foster cat who will probably soon leave me. Whatever, frog first, knit later. Then, I'll break out the Minnesota Cascade 220 (Shade 2426) for an effeminate Shaw from Rowan 41. Do something with the poor, abandoned Flora of many years ago, and rip and re-knit Poppy. And then? Guelph stash over the summer, baby, where there's some Manos and a lot of tweed waiting for me. And, when I've finally machate-d my way through, I can finally think of buying new yarn. And, I have to say, I'm liking the fair isle. I want a challenge. I want this.
Dale of Norway #13809
But on the other hand, simple sweaters in solid or tweedy yarns have also become suddenly appealing. I want tunics with split-necks in tweed, or cabled vests in grey, and I want to find the perfect, solid deep red for the perfect sweater. Speaking of simple patterns, I've managed to look past the hairsprayed wonders of the models for Penny Straker to see that she has some pretty cute designs, like Cuttyhunk here, once you get over that it's modeled by Tom Selleck-lite in criminally tight pants:
... because I think it would be nice just to throw this on on a cool, lazy day. Or maybe it's my secret shawl collar fixation talking. Well, the Fleece Artist calls me, with a dropped stitch.

Snaps to Veronik Avery, Boo To the World at Large

I finished sewing on the buttons, weaving in the ends, and putting on the cardigan yesterday. And I'm in love. My secret shame has been that, ever since my first sweater turned out, I had been cursed to never knit a garment that fit. Many sweaters got close, but there was always something wrong, even if it wasn't as dramatic as the Pin-Up Queen debacle. Like Poppy, which will soon be put to the knitting project graveyard to later be resurrected as something hopefully useful. But this sweater fits! It fits just the way I want it to! And it's cute, and flattering, and everyone is suitably impressed and surprised when they find out that I made it myself. Even though I screwed up a few of your design elements, Ms. Avery, you managed to come up with one fine sweater.
And on to darker matters. What is there to write about the tragedy at Virginia Tech that hasn't been written, or recorded, or photographed already? It's a tragedy for all these brilliant, loved people who lost their lives, and a tragedy for their families. It's also a tragedy for society, that a place where you're supposed to be safe, even coddled in an intellectual community, can be destroyed so easily. And it's chilling to think how precarious our lives are, and how they rest so terribly on the secret life of other people. I went out to a party last night, and had a good time, but before I went to bed I couldn't help but think, in spite of the wine I drank, of all the tricks of chance that separated me from the victims. And maybe the chill in my room wasn't from the weather last night.

The Button Band Players

This big blob of brown heather will hopefully be a finished cardigan soon. Just knitting up the button band, and then I'm off in search of buttons. Cute buttons. Buttons that will push this sweater into the category of AWESOME. These holy buttons will hopefully detract from the following things I would correct if I could go back in time and start again:

1. Jimmy with the patterning on the sleeve after adjusting its length, so that the patterning continues across the shoulders, as it does in the pattern picture
2. Read the tutorial on V.A.'s blog so that my interpretation of the lace decreases and increases is a little less free-form
3. Shorten the sleeves by yet another inch. I have tiny, stunted, vestigial arms, my friends.

Go buttons!

Weird...

Remember that Monarch Knitting book I found in the used book store? Well, I was looking through a list of upcoming knitting books at Amazon, and what do I find: they're re-printing it. And it's supposedly "hard to find". Moments of knitting coincidence like this frighten me.

Also, Véronik Avery's book is scheduled for release in September. I'm really looking forward to this one- I can't think of a dud Avery design. Annie Modesitt has a book coming out too, a little earlier in August. I have mixed feelings about Ms. Modesitt- sometimes her designs can be innovative and lovely, and other times they are... not so much. I'm still recovering from the baby onesie she design in the latest Vogue, which kind of reminded me of a Tyrolean flour sack. But then there's this corset top, which is gorgeous. Although I may be wary of her, after an ill-advised attempt at the Pin-Up Queen sweater from Stitch and Bitch. It was my fault, really, and I doomed it from the start. To be flattering on my figure, the pattern would have required a few alterations. Alterations that I didn't have the skills at the time to figure out. I did a stubbornly half-assed job on my swatching, a bad idea for Classic Elite Lush, which blooms prodigiously with wear and blocking. Actually, the yarn choice, while certainly luscious, was a bad choice for the garment I had in mind. I wanted a sweater I could just pull on and trot off to school in, one that would be flattering any day of the week. Instead, I ended up wearing a wee fuzz factory, one that sent puffs of fiber skywards with every moment, and matted with anything more than gentle use. Eventually, I conceded defeat, and hid it in the closet. I've been slowly frogging it over the last year, for a better purpose. And maybe Ms. Modesitts pattern will find a purpose too- with a better yarn.
One that doesn't cause a sneezing fit.

It's The Cardi That Never Ends...

Can't blog. Seaming.

Photogitron

Tuesday, I decided that I could only hide out in my room playing Online Boggle for so long. For one thing, I was starting to imagine possible Boggle grids in my head. Then coming up with fantasy grids, grids that would allow me to spell seven letter words with ease, or specially themed grids. I had to admit that I was clearly going nutty, and decided to head out with my camera to the Oratoire St-Joseph, as decided by my roommate's boyfriend. Unfortunately, by the time I decided to leave I couldn't find my lens cap. I was not leaving unless I got some pictures from the whole thing, so I took even more pictures of Oliver in between ransacking my room for the tiny little plastic thing. So, not only had I become a Boggle-playing crazy cat lady, but I had become a well-documented Boggle-playing crazy cat lady. Whatever, Oliver is crazy photogenic. Thankfully, I found it eventually, and headed out. For those of you non-Montrealais, the Oratoire was built in honour of Blessed André Besette, at the foot of Mont Royal. It has the largest copper dome beside St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, and it looms above the surrounding Cote des Neige neighbourhood. Pilgrims crawl up its (many, many) steps hoping to be cured of their afflictions, and there's a special chapel lighted by votives and watched by the crutches of those who have been healed. I need to take the tour guide's words for the last bit, because being a non-Catholic I chickened out of actually going in, preferring instead to photograph exteriors and such. I always feel weird being in religious places or events, particularly when I'm not a member of the faith. So, some other time I'll have to drag my Catholic roommate down as my guide. I got some decent, if dull shots of the place. It still feels like winter here, with all the snow we've been getting, so I'm getting a little sick of everything having that grey, muted patina of winter.

My next goal was to get a decent shot of the big cross on Mt. Royal. Here's where things started to go embarrassingly wrong. It's important to remember that, as its name implies, it's a GIANT METAL CROSS ON A HILL. Because, I could not find that big iron cross on a hill. There are signs, with arrows, on the paths that will supposedly direct you to that big cross. I followed the signs. The first one even had distances- 0.8 km, it said. "Well, a bit of a trek," I said, but nothing extreme. Why, I walk that far from my apartment to McGill each day." So I walked. And walked. Avoided joggers. Avoided power walkers. Was nearly trampled by a gang of people pretending to cross country ski with poles but without skis, but I continued walking. I followed the signs, and I followed the arrows, until another sign had a distance marking on it: 1.7 km. Why? Where did I go so terribly wrong? I should have let the faux skiers get me. The cross is visible from St. Urbain, and yet I could not find it. Please send help, and perhaps a compass. However, the day was not a complete write-off. I saw a fox on the hill who came pretty close to me, although none of the other walkers looked as impressed. I'm guessing that foxes are probably like pigeons on that mountain- chummy and used to humans. Here's Rabies Fred the fox, next to his favourite beer.

And then I went to see Grindhouse, since I was damned tired and it was late. I'm the odd person who likes Robert Rodriguez better than Quentin Tarantino. I think Rodriguez does what he does with a little more verve- I never feel dull after watching Desperado or From Dusk 'Til Dawn. I do have to admit, if only grudgingly, that Tarantino has had a profound influence on film, particularly American film, since the early nineties. But so much of that influence is confined to things I'm a little sick of in movies. Crime dialogue that's too clever by half, crime dialogue about pop culture, and shots of people's damn feet, for example. Which is why I ended up liking Planet Terror a lot more than Death Proof, and not just because I'm a zombie freak. Planet Terror is zippy, and has Rose McGowan with a gun leg. Death Proof has some amazing stunt work, and Kurt Russell is well-used, but any part not involving cars is rather dull. Still, three hours of fun, particularly the fake trailers. Please make either Hobo With a Shotgun or Machete real movies, film powers that be. I love Danny Trejo.

And, one of my good friends got herself a boyfriend and is being all cute. It's so nice when good things happen to good people, isn't it? Hopefully there's some of her magic left to spread around.

Dear Montreal Weather:

You can kiss my ass.
Yours,
Protagitron
P.S. By tomorrow, it should be all over but the blocking for the $1.50 cardi. Hooray!

Knitting Night in Canada

The Dollar and a Half Cardigan slowly grinds to a close. Once I finish this cabled cardi front, there's just the finishing left to do. I'll try and finish in a timely manner, instead of neglecting the unseamed, unblocked bits as I usually do. The pattern has the sides reversed (if made up according to the directions, the cabled front would go on the other side than in the picture), but I just knitted it as is. It doesn't really matter to me whether it looks like the picture, or whether the cable goes on the right or left side. I did wing the decreases in lace pattern, though. I'm pretty sure it's not the right thing to do, so I won't reprint what I did here, but trust that it looks fine. I also knitted this in wool instead of a linen yarn. Briggs and Little Regal in Brown Heather to be exact. I love knitting with this stuff- the tweedy flecks and heathery mix of colours, its honest wool hand, and the idea that it's a very Canadian yarn. Yes, there's a lot of vegetable matter, but I just pick most of it out as I go along, figuring whatever I don't adds character. I knitted it a size smaller than what I usually knit, since all of my knitted sweaters turn out larger than I usually want them to be. I figure if it comes out too small after blocking, I'll just give it to my roommate. Or cry, as I burn it and my Poppy on my balcony.


And here's a baby blanket, made in (Canadian- I spy a theme) Koigu following the Mason-Dixon log cabin directions. One of my dearest friends/mentors back home (frientors?) is pregnant with her second child. Since her first is one of the sweetest kids ever, I know she does good work. And since I couldn't knit when he was born, I decided this one must have something knitted that is more than my usual baby hat. Then I realized that I had no money left for yarn. Which turned out alright, since I did have a stash of Koigu. The purple semi-solid and the red and purple mix were supposed to be a modular scarf, but I didn't know how to pick up stitches the right way for reversible modularity, so it looked kind of stupid. The one with purples and greens was bought on clearance online. After it came in the mail, I realized it was on clearance because it was pretty much spun of the mid-nineties essence. Together I think they work, and since she's all artistic and such I'm sure she won't mind putting all that purple on a baby boy. What do you think- garish? Too gendered?