Zig-a-zig-ah

When I was back in California last fall, I bought an old chevron stitch throw in a flea market. It was so quintessentially Seventies Americana that I just had to make space in my luggage and haul it back to Taipei with me. It seems like everyone who had a crochet hook in the 1970s felt compelled to make one of these. Here are a few examples I found on Etsy. If you want to make your own chevron stitch throw, check out this vintage pattern. I thought about crafting my own, but I'm not sure if I want to spend all that time working with acrylic yarn -- these throws have to be acrylic, otherwise they aren't authentically scratchy! Click on each photo for a link back to the Etsy listing.

Socks of nostalgia for my husband

The 10 days or so have not been very style-oriented ones for me, as you can probably tell by my lack of outfit posts. I had a doctor's appointment to check up on a chronic condition I have and got so wound up over it that I couldn't think of anything else. Fortunately, it turned out okay, but then Taipei's weather decided to become incredibly insolent, with temperatures zig-zagging all over the place and the rain and sun duking it out for dominance. On the chilly days, I've just pulled on the comfiest things I have (mostly polo dresses from American Apparel, leggings and various sweater coats). On the warm days, I've worn the same few sundresses I've owned for the past couple of years, which reminds me... I need to buy more summer clothes! Oh, I hate shopping for summer clothes. But that's another post.

When I was stressed out about my doctor's appointment, I started knitting in a frenzy. I finished a pair of socks that I'd started two years ago (my excuse is that I fell out of love with the yarn midway through the first sock). When those were done, I pulled out this ball of Zitron Trekking XXL from my stash:

I call it my nostalgic sock yarn because I bought it three years ago from Downtown Yarns in New York City, my favorite yarn shop when I was still living in the States. Casting it on reminds me of the trips I used to make there, ostensibly just to take a peek and fondle some fiber, though I more often than not returned home with at least a skein of Koigu or a ball of handpainted laceweight yarn tucked guiltily in my purse. If I had known how intensely one little skein could bring me back to a place I miss... I'd have bought even more yarn! As I knit, I thought of the trips I took to Alphabet City (where Downtown Yarns is located), strolling through the East Village on my way and then sometimes wandering into the Lower East Side to window shop or gorge myself at Economy Candy (I once bought and ate so much halvah that I can no longer stand the stuff!). At that point, Ron and I were in a long distance relationship (we spent 18 months on opposite sides of the planet), so I had plenty of time to walk around by myself on weekends. It wasn't easy being apart, but I can't say that I didn't enjoy my solitary rambles through the city.

My husband's favorite color is orange, which I'm usually not very fond of. For some reason, I really, really dislike transparent orange things. I remember looking up at some stained glass with glowing orange diamonds inset into the design when I was about seven years old and just wanting to dry heave. Yes, I know, that is totally weird. My husband, on the other hand, loves flaming orange things. As a compromise, I found this tweedy yarn and I actually love working with it. If Ron ever wants a neon orange sweater/scarf/socks, however, he'll just have to learn how to knit himself!

I'm working on getting my dressing-up mojo back. Over the past few days of knitting, it occurred to me that styling an outfit is very much like starting a craft project. You have to think of the textures, colors, materials and (if it's something for yourself) whether or not it will suit you and how the final product will make you feel when you wear it or see it.

The Felting of Frankengeorge

Last month, I decided to achieve my lifelong (okay, four months long) dream of felting my cat... as in, needle felting a miniature version of him. Hands Tailung, a cool Japanese department store, had felt sculpture kits, including one for a ginger-spotted cat. I figured all I needed to do was make a few modifications.

The weird thing about the kit was that even though the original Japanese instructions only took up two pages, the Chinese instructions had NINE sheets. They were only printed on one side of each page and every other (double-spaced)
sentence basically said "refer to diagram in Japanese instructions." Talk about inefficiency!

The kit came with wool and two beady glass eyes (I bought a new pair because the included eyes were just a little too beady). To this pile, I added my special ingredient -- our cat's very own fur!

This tuft is the result of several vigorous brushings and is almost an exact match for the ginger-colored wool in the kit.

This is my first felted sculpture (aside from a watermelon-shaped pincushion I made once), so it came out a little lumpy looking. But I like to think I did a good job of capturing Taroko George's crazy essence!

Taroko George was certainly fascinated by Frankengeorge. I think the fact that Frankengeorge smelled like a mixture of wool, my hands and his own fur really confused/intrigued my cat. The two had to be separated after Taroko George tried to gnaw Frankengeorge's head off.

If any of you decide to try needle felt sculpting, I strongly recommend that you buy a protective leather glove. It's a pill spending US$15 to US$20 for one, but it sure beats being stabbed by little barbed needles (ouch!).