A dress for Hanna's baby

I was barely 22, just out of college and working in a newspaper bureau in Milford, Conn. I was so excited to be done with term papers and finals, so thrilled to have a reporting job in a bad economy. I took my first apartment sight-unseen, the attic of a red-brick office building near Yale, just one floor above a psychotherapy waiting room. The attic was boiling in the summer, freezing in the winter, and I couldn't fully stand up in parts of it. I slept on a mattress on the floor of a small crawl space. But it was mine, all mine.

For the first few months, I ignored the fact that I didn't know a soul in Connecticut. I would go to the gym, watch movies by myself at the York Square Cinema, wander around festivals on the numerous town greens in the area. And I attended every last Milford planning and zoning board meeting, which resulted in maybe three interesting articles.

I spent 12 weekends completely alone, not that I was counting.

Then Hanna was hired. She was 22 like me, just out of school like me, and didn't have a prayer -- I decided straight away that she was going to be my friend. Brash and tall and blonde, it's not a stretch to say she was kind of a miracle. Hanna got me out of my little attic apartment, introduced me to other young people, invited me to Thanksgiving with her family and saved me from a blind date so abysmal and disturbing that I blocked it out of my mind for several years.

We moved to a more normal apartment a few blocks away with access to a tar roof where we could drink Corona and sun ourselves. From our kitchen, with its chandelier straight out of a saloon, we could wave at our friends in the next building over. We ate dinner together most nights and sometimes did Tae Bo. (It was 1999, after all). And we walked to Anna Liffeys or Christopher Martins, where we are no longer welcome back. We had just one fight -- she didn't like that turned the water on and off while I did dishes.

Hanna is pregnant with her first baby, a little girl due on my birthday. She asked for something extremely girly and white, practicality be damned. So I made her this baby dress in Patons cotton from a Spiders yarn swap.



I'm not sure if you can see the waist gathering here, but it's kind of cute.


And I'm lying a little, since it's really crocheted by Carrie.



Hanna and a baby. This is going to take some getting used to.

They said it couldn't be done.

Actually, they said it shouldn't be done. By they, I'm referring to everyone I know. And by it, I'm talking about knitting shawls for my wedding attendants.

I know, I know. It's a lot of work, I'm going to resent it, I'll be stuck weaving in ends the night before my nuptials. But I'm still months away, and I really, really think I'd regret not giving my friends a handmade gift. It's been fun thinking about them as I knit and imagining them wearing the shawls as we take a few pictures beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. Maybe with a pretty brooch?

*(I should add that I have four attendants -- if this were a Southern wedding with 8 gals, I'd give earrings instead!)

And now for something completely different

A lot of babies are coming into the world, and therefore there's a lot of secret knitting in my world. And we all know that secret knitting is not good for blogging. All I'm at liberty to say is that several things are being knit on several pairs of needles with several skeins yarn.

So we'll discuss my second favorite topic: Leeks! I'm not sure where leeks have been all of my life, but now I'm smitten. So savory and delicious (as are most things coated in butter). I adore leeks so much that my mom bought me a special leek plate for Christmas. I think it's actually designed for asparagus, but whatever.

Besides just cooking them up with a few shallots, I've stumbled upon a few other leek recipes in recent weeks. I cooked a ludicrously rich Easter dinner that included Martha Stewart's scalloped potatoes with leeks. Oh, the gruyere!

We did not weigh ourselves the next day.

So this weekend, the leek-mania continued as we visited my family in Pennsylvania for a much-needed vacation. It was terribly relaxing, apart from my father's decision to empty the dishwasher at 7 a.m. and dump all of the utensils on the kitchen table.

Mom greeted us Sunday morning with a scrumptious cheddar and leek strata. I don't know the origins of this recipe, but it has multiplied all over the internet (with each incarnation misspelling the word "garlic.") But don't let the recipe's anonymity scare you off -- this strata was a winner. My dad thought it needed sausage, but I loved the taste and texture just fine.

Anyone else out there a leek fan? Any recipes to share with me?

Loop at last

This little number has been finished for weeks, and I've been consistently wearing her near and far. (And by far, I mean Queens.) But I've been distracted by trips from friends, a visit from my mom, sundry gubernatorial sex scandals and "The Wire" finale. (I may never forgive David Simon for what he did to my Dukie!)

Anyway, here is the Loop Shawl (ravelry) from "Sensual Knits", though I know it's not much of a loop or much of a shawl at this point.

thanks for the photo, jess!

I just enjoyed this stitch pattern so much that I didn't want to stop, graft the stitches and make it a circular shawl. Plus, I wanted a bright scarf that would provide a much-needed pop of color on top of my wide assortment of gray and black coats. But really, I found the pattern addictive.




I felt like the stitches really popped in this yarn, Shelridge Farm Soft Touch in cardinal. But I totally need a better way to block shawls! My blocking board seems like a postage stamp by comparison.

I know it's been well documented elsewhere, but the Spiders really brought it for Katy's babywarming. Oh, the mimosas!

And here is Katy, along with bouncing baby Peter, admiring the progressive log cabin we made for them. Yeah, I think that's the kind of reaction we were hoping for.

28thirty(something)

The official photographer is back in town, so here is 28thirty in her natural environs.


Now, you'll note that my funnel neck is less wide and funnel-y than the original. Perhaps this is because I used Cascade 220 heathers instead of the recommended Peace Fleece Worsted. I also had to re-block and shrink the neck because it was wide enough to fit around Roger Clemens' neck on the first go.

But while the neck isn't as stiff and stylish as the original, it is now flexible enough for me to subtly obscure my face, much like Secret Squirrel.

You'll also note that I lengthened the body. I just felt like a cropped jacket chops up my torso too much and is less versatile, but you do lose a little of the pattern's panache when you go full-length.



As I wrote before, I absolutely loved working on the arms of this one. They practically knit themselves and, at the risk of sounding haughty, they turned out super cute. And I certainly hope they don't resemble the Michelin Man's arm.

Here is the buttoned-down version, since this can be a terribly toasty sweater.


All in all, I really like how this one turned out. I always have good luck with Zephyr's patterns and would give this another thumb's up. I also think my life has been devoid of purple for far too long.

Photog missing

Since the official photographer of Every Word's a Purl is away on business AGAIN, I can't show you my finished 28thirty. Not yet anyway.

His absence has a few other notable implications:

I'm indulging in the original Pride and Prejudice, followed by Project Runway.

I made myself a dinner involving only vegetables and tofu. And despite my plans to have it for dinner the rest of the week, I succeeded in putting most of it away m'self.

I am leaving half empty cups of coffee all over the house.

I just realized that my yoga pants have been on backwards for a few hours.

I almost forgot about the eclipse, until someone texted me. Now this power ballad is stuck in my head.

So, basically, I'm a slug. How does your behavior change when your significant other hits the road?

Nothing up my sleeve

Presto!


It's a nearly finished 28Thirty. Such purply goodness. Have you ever really loved knitting something, like to the point that you kind of don't want it to end? That's how I've felt with this one. I just adore the purl rows breaking up the wide expanse of stockinette. My only fear is that it will have the same effect on my arms as horizontal stripes, making me look like I'm carrying around corrugated metal tubing. Let's hope not!

And here she is, nearly finished up and lounging in the only spot where I get any natural light.



But I finished tonight, and 28Thirty is blocking away. This despite the fact that I lost out on prime knitting time during jury duty last week. I was hoping to get several uninterrupted hours, but instead I had to perform my stinking civic duty and sit inside a court room for the bulk of the day. Not only did I question the attorneys' decision to quiz prospective jurors in front of other prospective jurors, but it was also total dullsville. (With the exception of the fact that I think Lionel Ritchie was sitting a few rows in front of me! Truly! I wanted to walk up to him and say, "Hello!") Not surprisingly, I got cut loose.