Did I Say Cher?

I meant Miss Ross.

If you take a look at my project list in the sidebar, you'll note that the Skully Sweater I started during the winter is getting frogged. I've learned a great deal about knitting since I revved up the needles again last October, and one of them is that a baggy sweater knit with bulky yarn and featuring a garter stitch border is not going to do my fireplug body any favors.

I've never frogged anything quite this big before. And although I did check my helpful little library (Montse Stanley, Maggie Righetti, St. Elizabeth of the Schoolhouse, Debbie Stoller, Mary Thomas, and Persons Unnamed at Vogue) I didn't find much information about frogging. Except that sometimes, you have to do it. Just pull, they suggest, and watch your sweater melt.

So I started ripping back, and it took about four inches for things to get weird.

I made the sweater, obediently following the pattern, using Lamb's Pride bulky. And I find myself (I think) up against the universal truth that mohair - even part mohair - sticks together like a group of Tri-Delts at a Hell's Angels rally.

@$%!

What you would have seen yesterday sprawled on my couch, and would this morning see sprawled on the floor where I threw it, is a giant tangled heap of kinky yarn that looks exactly like Diana's hair in the above photo. At a glance, you'd think she was chilling out at my place, watching The Pallisers and drinking Yoohoo, and forgot to take her wig along when she left.

C says it looks more like I gave King Kong a bikini wax.*

I haven't quite given up yet. This yarn wasn't out of the bargain bin and I do have something else in mind for it, if I can get it unraveled. I want to make myself the Prime Rib Sweater from Zimmerman's The Opinionated Knitter, though mine will be shorter to suit my shape (unlike the model in the book, I have an ass).

Back to Jack

Last night I checked the mail and discovered that those nice people in Canada sent me the bag of joints I ordered, the ones for Jack the Teddy Bear.

(If you got here via google because you're looking to buy medical marijuana from Canada, I apologize.)

I admit to fear and trepidation as I contemplate the sewing and stuffing and assembly. I must also figure out how I'll make it up to C if, after all this, the thing turns out looking like hell.

*He keeps forgetting that I'm the funny one, he's the pretty one. Me, funny. Him, pretty. Not so hard to remember, is it?