High-temperature knitting bee

Simone, Stacie, and Alayne braved the heat, the additional lack of air conditioning, and the yet-additional-on-top-of-that fact that I’d had my oven on for rosemary shortbread (fresh-picked rosemary from the herb garden) to come over and roll in some wool today. Those are Simone’s shapely gams at the north; Stacie in the east, Alayne in the south, and there you have my peasant-shaped flippers in the west. Simone said that her outdoor thermometer read 124° (it’s in the sun); I’m certain the actual temp hit 100°.


What would Stacie do? That is the question I ask myself when faced with a gnarly lace problem like a bad stitch count. Yesterday I had the opportunity to ask in person. Answer? If you just can’t figure it out, fudge it. Turns out that’s what Alayne does, too. And so, permission granted! Jesus and Mr. T (above) look on approvingly.


Who knew that the Moth smelt soooo good? Stacie is taking a wee break from hers while I catch up. I’m halfway through the fir cone section; should be done in another week.


And in thrifting news, this wonderful score, a Hable-like vintage curtain too short for a window, but just right for a skirt. And that will bring me to 13 skirts. Not up there with Soulemama (and more power to her, because hers, like mine, are mostly thrifted), but I might have to let an old one go after I make this addition to the wardrobe.

I skimmed Nina Garcia’s Little Black Book of Style this weekend (from the library), and I didn't find much of note in it, but I was inspired by this Andrée Putman quote: “I love America and I love American women, but there is one thing that deeply shocks me: American closets. I cannot believe that one can dress well when you have so much.” Now, if there’s anything un-American about me, it’s probably my closet; still, this women has my attention. Stay tuned as I ponder this topic more, much more, before actual deaccessioning begins.