Requiem for a Crochet Pattern Web site

As you know, I both knit and crochet. I do a lot of other things too, but these are my primary year-round hobbies. I am not fond of Ravelry for reasons I will not get into here, but I do have a list of other great Websites bookmarked, where I can look for inspiration and, often, free patterns.

In the course of trying to help a friend find a pattern for a pineapple motif for a bedspread or table cloth yesterday, I looked to one of my favorites, and found that the site was gone. Celt's Vintage Crochet was no more, and Celty left a scathing note behind. I personally was appalled at the reason for her taking down her site: that others were pirating the patterns she'd worked so hard to preserve and that she offered for free, and selling them. Yes, the Almighty Dollar has reared its ugly head again, and there is another casualty.

I don't blame her for being disgusted and frustrated. I don't blame her for taking down her site in the wake of this. I do wish that I'd managed to save out some of the patterns that she so lovingly provided, and this for purely selfish reasons as now I'll have to hunt for them in other places, and I don't consider that my odds are too high of locating many of them.

I think what disgusts me most is that, within our community of knitters and crocheters, we are not immune to selfishness and the kind of dishonesty that would allow someone to take another's work and claim it as their own.

And so, I raise my glass to Celty and Celt's Vintage Crochet. To Celty, for having the courage to take her site down and tell people why. And for Celt's Vintage Crochet, in memory of a good thing that was spoiled by too many bad apples.

Strange connections

Every time I hear the name JAY, I'm reminded of Jay and Silent Bob. I could not tell you why. I couldn't be counted among their myriad fans. In fact, the only movie of theirs I've ever seen is Dogma, which I found funny though a number of my friends found flat out blasphemous.

But seriously. Why do I connect the two? I should be more likely to think of my junior high crush, or a family friend. But no. I think of Jay and Silent Bob. Go figure?

So, thoughts? Weird connections you make? Inquiring minds want to know.

Merry Christmas!

Why it's become a taboo phrase in the past several years, I don't know. But I say it proudly, and frankly, don't think it can be said enough.

I celebrate Christmas, in all it's religious glory. I refuse to debate the finer points of the telephone effect on a 2000+ year old story, nor will I discuss, at this point, what Biblical scholars think are the confirmable points. For me, it is the birthday of Jesus Christ, a baby sleeping in a hay-filled feed trough in a poor stable somewhere in the ancient Middle East. I know, with all the ads and shopping and media coverage and such, many people think that Christmas begins the day after Thanksgiving and ends on December 25. In reality, begins tonight, and carries on through the Twelve Days of Christmas, to the Feast of the Epiphany, when, as the story goes, the Three Wise Men arrived to view the Savior of the World.

And so, I wish you peace. I wish you joy. I wish you love. I wish you happiness. I wish you all the blessings of the Christmas season.

I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Respect

My mother has a saying. Well, she has many, most of them which originated from her mother, and which get trotted out from time to time as the situation calls for them. Today, however, I'm talking about one in particular:

"Someday, you, too, will be old, and only in the way."

We use this one a lot. We use it when we're walking down the street — my mother at her best arthritic snail's pace while leaning on my arm for balance — and some pretentious yuppie type (or a herd of their equally pretentious and ill-mannered children) either huffs and blows and never considers uttering the words, "Excuse me" in an effort to get past us or nearly knocks us over trying to go around (and still doesn't say anything). We use it when I point out that she's telling the same story for the 14,000th time that day. We use it when people look at her funny for one reason or another, often because she can't hear very well and either she or the people she's speaking with are projecting rather loudly. But mostly, it's because someone is being rude and impatient while my mother is doing her best to walk, which can be a real challenge some days.

I often wonder whose way I will be in. And unless I turn out to be like the 100-year-old nursing home resident who was strangled by her 98-year-old room mate, I really can't see that I'll be bothering anyone much. (And I should hope I have enough visitors in the home to annoy someone. Just sayin'.)

(I also like the slightly different takes on this story available in the Boston Herald and the Daily Mail. Intriguing.)

This brings me back to my point, though. And I do have one. It is the lack of respect for the elderly that grows worse in the United States on a daily basis. Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange is a chilling depiction of youth in charge, their desires running essentially unchecked in spite of the efforts of a few. A little of "the old ultra-violence" was all the entertainment Alex DeLarge and his Droogs needed on any given evening. Youth, in their eyes, is more important than anything. How close do we come to this kind of id-riddled behavior now, where personal responsibility is not enforced? Where a parenting philosophy of "Don't tell the child no, you'll stunt his/her creative growth" is now growing into its hormonal teens and on into what should be a responsible adulthood? Where educational philosophy of equality and no one failing and "I'm OK, you're OK" takes the place of genuine accomplishment? Where it is common practice for older workers to be laid off or forced into early retirement, to be replaced by those younger and perceived to be smarter, hipper, more adaptable? Even reports of pending and proposed health care reforms will lead to lack of care for the elderly.

Makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to get old enough to be in anyone's way.

(Note: I will do something about health care later. I'm finding way too much information to use at this time.)

Tea Cozies (or Cosies, if you prefer)

I have the perfect tea cosy.

It came from Harrod's several years ago, when they first went live with their Web site. It's quilted, it fits both my big and my small tea pot, and it will keep the tea drinkably hot for as long as 4 hours, depending on how much tea is in the pot.

The problem is, it's beginning to fall apart. The seams are coming undone, and the inside is terribly stained from years of daily use. The further problem is that I can not seem to find another one like it. There are all sorts of tea cosys available, but either they are not quite the right size, not the right thickness, or fancier than I want. I've even got some patterns for them, such as the Kureyon Kozy on Knitty, and a whole book of Wild Tea Cosies, which I like a lot but have not had a chance to explore making. I'm also learning to quilt, and since I sew by hand, something small like a tea cosy might be a perfect starter project for me.

The final problem is that I'm unsure what to do.

So, the quest continues. Do I attempt to find the time and resources to make one? Do I keep looking and hope the right one will appear? Do I just bite the bullet and buy one that will do for now? Or do I go back to my tried and true method of keeping the pot warm, which I used for years before I got a tea cosy: sitting it on one thick, old dish towel, and wrapping it up in another?

Decisions, decisions....

Knitting Decisions

Well, sort of.

I did something very rare. I ordered a knitting book sight-unseen. Normally, I see a knitting or crochet book that looks intriguing, I either borrow it from a friend or get it from the library and take a good look at it. Not this time, though. I saw the book, I bought it.

Now, apparently it's been out for a while, but then again we all know I live under a rock so I don't necessarily see these things. The book, you ask? Cheryl Oberle's Knitted Jackets: 20 Designs from Classic to Contemporary. Why did I buy it sight unseen? Because I have her two other books and LOVE them both.

Well, when it arrived, I did a little happy dance of joy around the house, then proceeded to take it everywhere for the next 48 hours and look at it. I read the introduction, looked at the pictures, pondered the yarn sources, and finally decided on something I really wanted to make.

Sort of.

I narrowed it down to two patterns: Edo, and Little Edo. Yes, they are very similar. One is longer and more lacy in appearance, the other is standard jacket length, and I see no sign of the laciness in the pictures. So, I went to my LYS, from which I had a rather hefty sum in credit slips that were burning a hole in my day planner, and got enough yarn for the larger one, figuring that I could use the same for the smaller.

Now to decide.

Vanity, thy name is...

I got my hair trimmed yesterday. I have very curly, extremely thick hair, and I do not like to fuss or spend much time on it. Thus, I have two ways to wear it: very short, or long. At the moment, it is the former, and as it grows like weeds given too much Miracle Gro, it does best if I get a trim about every three weeks.

Here's the issue: I do not like my hair cut.

Here's the BIGGER issue: the rest of the world seems to LOVE it!

Everyone I know waxes poetic about how cute it looks. My mother, my friends, my colleagues, my neighbors. Even the butchers at my local market and the waiters at my local favorite restaurant have commented on how good it looks. Random people I have never seen before have come up to me on the street, in the mall, in Target, at the library, and commented on it. Granted, it is extremely easy-care, which I like a lot, but it poofs on the top and I don't like that. Reminds me of a bouffant or a beehive (not quite that high, but you get the idea). It's a fussy look that isn't my style.

I've encountered this before. I've had hair cuts that I did not like, or worn clothing that I thought made me look (quite literally) like a blimp, and people go on about how good I look. So, here's my question (it's a three-parter):

1. Am I really so incapable of seeing what looks good on me that I prefer things which actually do not?
2. Are they lying to me, and I'm really correct?
3. Are my expectations impractical and improbable, and what I really want is something that can not be achieved, and so while the result isn't exactly what I wanted, it really does look good and I'm just too pouty to notice?

Inquiring minds want to know.