Mad Scientist, much?

Okay. So this morning, I really wanted to dye some yarn, but the rules of the house are simple. No dyeing inside. Granted, a lot of this would have gone smoothly since I dye yarn all the time inside, but as I sell more, my mother seems to have caught on that I'm dyeing inside.

So, for a while, I've been set on dyeing some yarn. I usually do it in the AM, depending on the process used. So, this morning, I woke up to the beautiful sunny day shown around here.

The only issue is is that while its wonderful looking...its 27 degrees. I'm soo cold right now. The fact that I'm dyeing makes wearing pants silly, though all my fingers are red. and it looks like I'm bleeding too.

Anyway, I decided screw it, lets go outside and dye. However, there is no dye area out there!

So I made one.

Taking out my big blue bowl of dyeing and my white basket filled with mason jars (Little house on the Prairie? ), I braved the cold in my gym shorts, barefeet and hoodie.

Let the comedy begin.

First off, its windy as hell and the tarps are too big. So, like any sane person (snorts with laughter) I decided to go ahead and lay out the finest materials. I'm not afraid of admitting that I'm a poor broke college kid, and in that, I'm using whatever I have around my house to dye yarn. The dream one day is to have a studio of my own, but for now?

The yard.

Plastic bags.

Anyway, that stuff aside, I did all the prep inside. I mixed the dyes, and prepped the yarn in a salt bath because of the dye. I've still got some more work to do, but I'm on break.

It's windy, it's cold, and I ran out of mason jars and cute baskets. So... I upped my game to include the big blue bowl, and two coffee cups! These worked great for holding dye and for dispensing it. I've found a great use for all of the travel mugs I get but never use. Take that!

From there on, I mainly focused on the fact that it was cold. Really cold. In fact, I wasn't sure what to do. I

had real food cooking inside, a microwave going in the shed outside, and of course, it can only get better with more comic relief characters, intrigued by the four wheeler we have out back. Not only is it not for sale, they asked right when the microwave dinged.

In the shed.

The look on their faces was worth it, but hey, they were the one asking about a four wheeler from a girl, in the middle of her yard, covered in dye that resembled blood. Really think about who the crazy one is.

From then on, the temp raised a whole two degrees, though my time was spent going back and

forth from outside to in, until I discovered something amazing.

My yarn is frozen.

Not a little frozen, this thing is solid.

All in all, its a productive day of freezing my butt off and making more yarn, but I enjoyed it.

I'll post all the finished photos later, after they defrost in the shower.

Nocturne

Here's a poem I've been hiding for a while. It's been submitted to a literary review, and I hope it gets in!

Nocturne

I once dreamt I was flying,

Far above the everyday,

But like Icarus I had fallen

After I had lost my way.

I woke up in a country

I had never seen before,

And then I started walking,

And I wound up at your door.

You looked so surprised,

For I did not say a word,

Yet as you looked at me,

An entire story could be heard.

My wings were rather battered,

My clothes had all been torn,

My hair had become tangled,

And my face was looking worn.

You carried me into your house,

Despite my heavy, feathered wings,

And as you lay me down to rest,

I got to hear you sing.

Your Song! Your Song! Your Song!

Oh how it woke my heart,

I hated to hear it ending,

I feared this from the start.

Your eyes, your voice, your face, your hands,

All healed my weary bones,

And yet I never wished to heal-

I did not want to be alone.

The day that I could fly again,

I never journeyed far,

I orbited around your house,

You were my only star.

I stared at you from up on high,

Your warm gaze pierced my heart,

And then I felt a lightness,

As my wings started to fall apart.

I ran to you across the field,

Returned back to your door,

And with a smile and a laugh,

You asked me to leave no more.

Knitpocolypse, Part 1

Day One, Evening

The fire crackled in the background, as the group sat around the large pit, talking and laughing and joking. Gavin smiled, and walked around the group, recording each one on his brand new camera. He eventually made it to his destination, sitting a bit away from the others. She was wrapped in a blanket she had made, and she was laughing at the others antics. He approached her, still smiling. She looked up, smiling through another bite of her s’mores.

“Hey Sophia, I have to ask you something,” he said.

His stomach was resting in a tight, nervous knot, because out of all the staff, Sophia was the prettiest, as well as the most interesting. Well, at least she was to him.

“What’s up, Gavin?” she asked, looking through the lens.

Her eyes flickered over the edge to his eyes, a deep, startling blue. He grinned, lifting the camera higher to him, forcing her to look in the lens.

“Are you ready for the first yarn retreat to begin?” he asked.

She laughed, patting the seat next to her, and looking into the fire. At first, they had all thought this small action weird, but had come to realize that when Sophia was nervous, or was thinking, she had a tendency to look elsewhere. She sighed.

“Did I tell you what I got today? That all the knitters, crocheters, everyone is getting welcome bags?” she asked. “They let us all have one, you remember.”

“No, you didn‘t say. What you’d get, anyway?”

“Quivot. It’s a really expensive fiber. Like, ridiculously expensive. I got Four Ounces of it. I haven’t even touched it before today. Do you know how much four ounces of quivot is worth?” she asked. “It’s worth about twenty-five dollars an ounce. I got 100 dollars in Quivot. It’s unreal!”

“They’re going all out. I don’t even know how to knit, and they gave me a bag. It’s full of specialty hand painted and hand spun yarns.”

“Wow. How many?”

“Eight skeins, a set of glass needles, and a free class.”

‘What?”

“Yup, I signed up for the first week of your cable class, by the way.”

“You.. You don’t even know how to knit!” Sophia said, laughing.

“Teach me?” he asked.

“Sure. I will. You just let me take some of that yarn off your hands,” she said laughing.

“Deal,” he said, laughing.

Like that would have mattered. He had already carefully wrapped the yarn and needles up, and put them in a box. They were for her. He had no use of them- they were far too fancy for his tastes, and he was a graphic designer. She was a knitter, who was in love with color and life. She was a true bohemian.

“So, how do you feel, then?” He asked, quieter this time.

“Nervous,” she admitted. “I’m nervous. This is Northern Yarn Retreats. The gift bags are expensive, the beds are all made and nice, the lodge is clean, and the fire pits are ready. We’re an expensive resort with a five star chef… and I am just Sophia Lorraine. How am I too compete with this? What if I’m not good enough?” She asked.

She turned her eyes on him, those dark green emeralds that sparked with life. He smiled at her, and set down the camera.

“You, Sophia, are good enough. You are always good enough.”

If only I had an Enemy bigger than my Apathy....

So,

perhaps because yesterday was amazing, I have no desire to do anything today. I'm not even kidding.

First off, hanging out with a friend in the morning was fun. It always is. We joked about Barbara and Torso teddy, went to the mall, and then, we went elsewhere, to meet this man.

In case you don't know who he is, his name's Mark Nizer, and yes, he's a world famous juggler.

I got to catch a sold out show, and of course, hung around to meet him after the show.

His nickname is Juggle Boy, and I introduced myself as "The Knitted Juggler"

He asked the important question of course, after that. It's the question that every famous person who's ever taken a moment to speak to me asks.

"Do you knit and juggle at the same time?"

Sadly, the answer is still no. I do not have the ability to do this. However, he was the first person to offer a solution, so, as soon as I buy some pingpong balls, I'll start attempting the art of ping pong juggling with my mouth.

You know, the thing that all juggler's warn people not to try at home.

So, either it's a vote of confidence or a death sentence.

We also talked about the International Juggler's Association, something I wasn't planning on. Then, I realized how mind bendingly tired his life is, as he asked what state we're in. So, now I know that Salem has one, and so does Buffalo! It was great talking to him, and it was fun. It's always fun to meet a pro, you know?

Then, I got to hang out again after with friends. We played at the Arcade, and I got some compliments on my sweater, previously finished that morning, on the way to town.

Gotta love compliments on hard work, lol.

So, after two of us gambled like small children for tickets, and two of them almost died at DDR, we all hung out.

And for the first time in a long time, I was invited to hang at a house, as a friend.

It was kind of great, and at the same time bittersweet. I declined, and hung out in the comparable quiet of the coffee shop in the mall, with a new friend.

Maybe yesterday, I day I used to hate, makes today so hard to do. I had such fun from waking to sleeping, that I can't go back to blah, to doing homework today.

Where are you, my bohemia?

February

Okay, okay. I haven't been around a lot lately, and I'm sorry for that.

So... want a recap? No?

Well, then. I guess I should just tell you a story.

Once upon a time, my friend and I were driving to school. Without any real reason, this man went all road rage on us, and who the hat knows why.

It was Valentine's Day, and she wasn't too thrilled about this man. To be honest, I wasn't either, but I was already not digging the day. So, we're dealing with his rudeness, and her upcoming retaliation, when for some odd reason, I said "Wait- we don't know what he's gone through. For all we know, he's got , like, a headless teddy bear in the car with him, cause his girl left him yesterday."

Thus, The Tales of Torso Teddy were born.

I'll be starting writing this soon, and will find a place to host the story for free- it will be either short stories or a novella about Torso Teddy, forever called "BARBARA" the name monogrammed across his chest. Since his name's Walter.

So, there's torso teddy. There's other things in the works too, and some decisions coming up that I need to make sooner rather than later. Like, much sooner.

Hey, look. It's January.

Ah, January.

Its the beginning of the year where I start to buckle down on projects I've promised I'll do.

So, I'm picking up some new stuff and some old stuff. Are you ready? We might as well start with what's open and near me right now.

Just so you know, you should listen to a Mumford and Sons song while you read this. I love this band soo much! I'm sure that Fool's Love will be written to it.

But we're not writing Fool's love this month.

Okay, on the page is Remembrance. I have to admit, I'm having a hard time getting it started. Phoenix is battling through editing write now, while Mountain is on the Back burner this week. I'm also still diligently working on friend's christmas present. Part 1 is done and ready to go, and I hope I understand enough of her awesome world in Canada to get the story a bit right.

And...that's the writing front. Besides the fact that I have no inspiration and haven't seen my muse in a while, Its getting through.

so, how bout that knitting?

Well, in the knitting, I'm working on finishing a blanket for a friend's family. Doc, you will be missed, but don't worry. We're all still thinking of you and yours. I miss you. That's why I'm making a blanket for your family.

I hope to have this done by the 20th, and am quite glad that I'm a fast knitter.

On another knitting front, there's something about the world's longest scarf.

Well....that's about all I have time to talk about. Stay warm, stay safe. Always be blessed.

You know, maybe I'll remember to do something like talk about 2012: The PLAN

Till then...

KJ

Why's the Muse Gone??

Okay, my muse is known for not being to kind. I know that its very ambitious, and that little voice in your head that tells you when things are bad ideas or impossible or dangerous is missing. I think the muse may be holding it hostage.

Anyway, I'm listening to the Beatles, and trying to entice it to come home. I mean, I thought I'd enjoy a break. I could clean the house, get some knitting done, and get my energy back. I could cook food.

Stupid muse.

I miss you.

I guess I'm not me unless I'm planning these huge things. So, hopefully, she'll wander home soon. At least, I hope she will.

I need to get writing original stuff, but for now, here we come, fan fictions.