Resupply

I'm kind of surprised. Today, just for fun, I went through my Viola pattern and counted up the squares not marked off as knitted, and then compared that with the sidebar count, and lo! there was a discrepancy of only 2. I think that's pretty amazing, especially given that I usually update the scorecard with bleary eyes and foggy head just before I stumble off to bed of an evening. And the 2 questionable squares in the equation, I'm pretty sure, are partial ones awaiting resupply of the Papaya Heather yarn they need.

Lo! again!--a uniformed employee of the Federal Government has just delivered said yarn ball and a few others:

It bugged me to have to get just one more lousy ball of yarn in order to complete a few little ridges of garter stitch, until I realized that Papaya Heather is approximately the color of some shades of humanity, and the surplus could be handily turned into a Breast Hat or two. Bonus!

And then you can't just order one single ball of yarn from Knit Picks, can you?  I can't. So I settled on an i-cord edge finish for Viola and ordered a couple of Garnet Heather balls for the purpose. Oh, and a couple of other little things. Shiny! Shiny! Like a magpie loves tinfoil, I have to have me some glittery Stroll Glimmer. And Chroma! I've recently discovered the inspiring hat patterns of Deborah Tomasello. How about Versailles or Mazarin with those two Chroma colorways?

No secret that after finishing the 80 booties, I am filled with lust for a new portable project. What, oh, what will it be? [meanwhile the Heap of Malfunctioning Rubble smirks at me from various corners of my house.]

Onward!

OK, so it's time to get up off the 80 booties laurels and knit some more stuff! Remember the snow-dyed tortoiseshell kitty/bunny yarn that was getting made into a Mira's Cowl? I finished it, and here it is:

 The long...

And short of it.
Love this pattern. It's reversible; it shows off the yarn beautifully; it's easily adaptable to any length or yarn you want; it's super easy to knit; and the pattern's free on Ravelry. Couldn't ask for more.

Now that Mt. Bootie has been summitted, it's on to Viola, my other challenge. Two more blocks stitched up:

I may actually have this thing done in time to snuggle up in it when winter is at its dark and coldest!

80 Booties!

Here they are--80 baby booties for my daughter's 40 babies. No, she's not one-upping the octomom. She's a midwife in training that will have to deliver 40 babies to complete her clinical training. And there's a pair of booties for her to give to each one. You can read the saga of the booties here and subsequent posts, or you can click on the bootie tag below.

But, hey, first feast your eyes on their bootie beauty:

 Go ahead, click on the pic and blow it up bigger. Count 'em. They're all there. All 80. All 40 pairs. All unique, as each little person will be.

Every brand-new person landing safe in the world in a brand-new midwife's hands.

Booties in Retreat

 Through these portals pass the most wonderful knitters in the world!

See? The lace arrow points the way up the hill to the cabin where 8 knitters had a fabulous time knitting, drinking, eating, soaking in the hot tub, and laughing and laughing and laughing. It rained a lot, but who cares?

I reached a major landmark--the 40th and final pair of booties in the Big Mess o' Booties for my daughter's upcoming deliveries. Celebrated with an introduction to Screech, the Newfoundland rum made infamous by the Yarn Harlot. There's a quaint ceremony called the Screech-in, which involves reciting some doggerel and kissing a codfish (on the lips!). This is supposed to make one an honorary Newfoundlander. A Canadian friend recommends wearing a lot of chapstick for the fish kissing so that your lips don't taste of cod for hours afterward. Not having the required codfish, I Screeched-in the ultimate pair with a Screech and orange juice and left it at that.

By the way, in contrast to the sound of its name, Screech is an amazingly smooth rum when drunk neat. Not at all like its reputation from its early days. Long may your big jib draw!

And it didn't even rain all the time. There was a brief window in which the clouds broke apart to show what they'd been doing to the mountaintops: