Since last we spoke...

I've been busy.

We tackled the next round of renovations: knocked out some walls, rebuilt some other walls, and added a bathroom to the upstairs. (Yes, we got some professional help for this part.)

I married two of my best friends from high school. (Yes, i get a huge kick out of the fact that "marry" is both a monotransitive and a ditransitive verb. As in, "The Oregon constitution won't even let me marry The Lady, but I married two people this weekend!"*)


I spent a lovely weekend at my friend Lara's parents' place on the North Umpqua River. (Yes, Lara's dog Gypsy looks just like Bailey. But with one blue eye!)

I also fell even more in love with our friend Vaden, a little fellow with a temperament as sweet as his vocabulary is enormous. How many 2.5 year olds do you know who say "Stella, you should turn around, the water behind you is so pretty. Can we go down to the river's edge?" THE RIVER'S EDGE. This boy kills me dead.

Then I came home and felted my beautiful yarn. Ugh.

Just to twist the knife a little harder, the unfelted parts look like this:

Still nice and shuzzy, and a really amazing shade of coppery brown. Note to self, and anyone else who might be embarking on their virgin dyeing excursion: Use a pot large enough to stir the yarn freely, or else some parts of the water will get significantly hotter than others. Also, don't make your first attempt with yarn you really love.

It's not actually quite as bad as that first picture makes it appear -- I might still knit up a swatch and see what it looks like. Nevertheless, I feel very very stupid and disappointed.

On a happier note, Fifi is finished (actually finished, as of this writing, not missing a wee bit of sleeve as in the picture). Full FO report to come next week when I get modeled shots from the birthday girl (my mama).


* Uh, actually those are both monotransitive... but you get my drift.

Flakery.

We had a visit last week from an old friend who had never seen the Pacific Northwest, so of course we showed him the sights, which is an excellent excuse to see them again, ourselves.

We witnessed the beauty of our lovely state:

Photo credit on this one goes to The Lady.

We witnessed the pooches trying to save their favorite person from what they believed was certain death:


We witnessed a grown man being pushed around a Seattle city block in a pink Powerwheels Jeep, by another man (also full grown) singing Prince's "Kiss". He's learning the lyrics in this shot:

Which I hope you will take as sufficient evidence that no one involved was remotely sober, including the photographer. Said photographer, however, managed to fall into bed afterwards and knit a full repeat on the Baudelaires, which should itself be taken as sufficient evidence that this pattern is way easier than it looks. Possibly the highest beauty-to-difficulty ratio yet, narrowly beating out the Child's First Socks.

Back in Portland, however, I have evidence only of the fact that I am a terrific flake:

Endpaper, missing only a thumb, Baudelaire, waiting patiently to be bound off, aaaand... Rusted Root, cast on yesterday. I wonder if the ladies of the liberation front will allow me into their ranks with only 99% of a sock?