Some Knitting, sadly nothing witty.

While this blog is called the Knitting Stagehand, there's not been a whole lot of knitting or stagehanding. Well, let's just say that I took care of a bit of that today, just for kicks.

These are for my Grandpa to keep his hands warm as he writes.



Pirate Mitts I made not too long ago now, only just blogged. My darling Pirate-In-Stripes hasn't seen these yet, and it's the only reason I've still got them.


And last but not least, my version of a slouchy hat. I love the idea of making a hat that is, ultimately, the perfect bad hair day hat. It slouches down the back of you head covering most of you hair while lending you an aura of bohemian, "I just got up and look gorgeous." I think it's still too short to actually slouch down in the back, so it's back to the knitting needles for these!

Ramble, ramble...

It's a slow quiet day here in Seattle. For the first time in what seems like a long time, we have sun again! There was snow all this last week, up and down the state accompanied by hail, and sporadic rain, it felt like the winter was trying to make up for a lack of snow. There's not a whole lot to write about as things are still really the same, but I'm inspired by sunlight and flower scented breezes-even if they are still quite cold.
There's a lot of sewing that is coming, knitting as always, and a couple of costumes have made an appearance. I'm working up a batch of project bags for a sidewalk sale in May, and designing a slouchy hat for some local, brick and mortar shops that are willing to carry my work! Yay! I'm wriggling like a small puppy with excitement at the prospect of seeing something I made in a shop window. Not that my etsy shop is any disappointment, it's just intangible and I'm a very tangible person- no pun intended. I need to touch things, see them in person. Perhaps that's why I love knitting and sewing, they are tangible, tactile, hands-on processes that produce something that will last for decades.
I'm just rambling for now, soon there will be pictures and more organized "rambling", for now, cheers! Enjoy the sun if you can!

Experiment : My Wardrobe

I've always dressed fairly creatively, I've just never recognized what I love to wear and how I want to wear it. As an artist, I like to think of your appearance as a bit of a calling card. It reflects the art you make, your style, your favourites. So this year, (and until it works itself out) I'm altering found pieces, making new pieces and sprucing up what I have until I'm satisfied with my wardrobe. I keep a folder I like to call Dress Ideas. Not ideas for dresses, but for how I dress myself. A lot of it drawn from Etsy, an image may have a certain feeling that I want to project, or part of a garment is exactly what I want to create. Now, don't misunderstand me, I under stand that the works are those of the artists, and I'm not out to mass copy them for my personal gain. I'm just drawing inspiration from their ideas. It doesn't hurt to look does it?
I draw heavily from gypsy-bohemian, steampunk, medieval, piratical, and fantasy. A little old combined with some new so it's on an edge, and you can't quite decide if it's antique or brand new.

Grey and Dismal

Today was grey and dismal in the Great Northwest. Rather difficult to stay happy all day, but somehow I managed until just now when I glanced at my ledger. Funny how money holds no meaning when you're young but when you get older it suddenly governs your entire existence. The day was grey and dismal, but for a splash of colour. This fascinator is from my former theatre company, and I'm wearing my orange sweater which wraps me in it's wooly goodness. Here's to staying warm and happy, friends.

It feels like I'm never going to college

It seems to me that I will never get to college before I'm 30? 25? Something like that. It's this, un-attainable dream that is quickly becoming shredded into limp, pale, wan tatters that tremble lifelessly in the cold wind of my mind. They were once vibrant- Maybe they've never been vibrant?
I've always known my parents wouldn't give me any assistance for my college education. They just can't. There's no fund saved up, there's no tiny thousand dollars stashed away for me and my college. It's just me. And my penny jar-which is empty, by the way-to forge the path to higher education.
I want it, however badly, it seems I don't want it badly enough to get a crappy job that pays jack-squat, save it all up, pursue a million scholarships and grants and put myself through. On my own. It just seems to, stupid? I must be too old? There's something there that hinders me. Something that binds me back into my cell-which I built myself- and locks me securely in.
I am twenty two. I feel too old to go to college. I feel to old to do anything teenagers are supposed to do after high school. Namely, go to college. You start at eighteen, finish at, twenty-one or twenty two. I should be done with college. I should be doing some crappy job that has nothing to do with what I studied and have a fucking college education. Yet, would I be happy then? Would the fact that I have a piece of paper that attests to my gain of a higher education make me happy?
I would be considered normal. I've never been considered normal. Perhaps that is what, beneath layers of human emotion and past, I truly want. To fit into the vast expanse of humanity and be another human. Not forever, but just for a little while. To be normal.
What is normal? The norm? It's going to school, to get a good education to get a job that will, in the end, kill you. That's normal. It's being tall and skinny with no glasses, perfect teeth, superficial friends, parents that have college savings for you, give you your first car, and straight blonde or brown hair. That's normal.
And it goes against everything that I am.
I am not normal, and for some strange reason, I cannot fully live with that. There's something-a lack of recognition-that leaves me uneasy in my day to day life. I have curly hair, glasses, I'm not particularly tall, in fact, I might be called short. I'm strong, a little stocky, and I have a passion for art. I'm not model gorgeous, but I'm not, by any means ugly. I'm pretty. A certain kind of pretty for a certain kind of guy that I will meet someday before I'm old and decrepit.
And because of this ab-normality. This lack of normality, normal-ness, I'm torn, destroyed, shredded, and believe I will never go to college.
My one priority now is to, (in these steps) get a job, to pay for car insurance, to get my driver's license, to get an apartment away from my house. To live on my own. Doing what? I don't know yet. This is another fantasy that is being slaughtered by reality. In the fantasy there's a cosy urban apartment (think Across The Universe) where I can paint the walls and have a cat. I work in the morning at a coffee shop. I have a fabulous rapport with the regulars, perhaps a couple of tattoos, purple hair, and a funky wardrobe. Then I go home for late lunch, maybe do a little crafting to support my Etsy business, and then it's off to the theatre for rehearsal, performance, artsy ness. That's my fantasy. Oh yeah, and I have a black ( or gunmetal grey) Volkswagen Golf that I drive around in. Maybe with the cat, whose name is Bunky. The black cat. That' giant one who looks a little fearsome as he soaks up the afternoon sunlight on the windowsill? That's Cicero. Or Lord Byron. Or maybe even Chaucer, but he'd have to be quite remarkable.
That's my dream. And here I shall leave it, for I can't bear to dip back into reality right now, the dream is too lovely, too sunny where reality is not. I'm going to soak up the sun. Just for little while.

Portrait of an Artist - I

Some of my costumes. I've built a few, altered many, and collected more.

Art and Crafting...

Yesterday my brothers and I went out looking for inspiration. It was found at Pacific Iron. Big Guy is working to get a forge together in the basement, so we are constantly on the lookout for small metal pieces, findings, and wire for jewelry for his makings. I'm dying to buy a couple of these Oxyacetylene Torches for lightsaber handles. It will probably be inspiration for something Steampunk from Big Guy.


I love being around homeschoolers. I've graduated, but my two younger brothers are still in school. While I'm graduated, I've never lost the love of learning that is at the basis of all good homeschooling. You learn something new and amazing every day through being homeschooled. I love it.

Now this lovely piece of crap...this is driving me crazy.

This is the product of my love/hate affair with sewing machines. Rather, just this one in particular. First the tension was off, my brother fixed that. Then the bobbin thread wouldn't pick up, so it's been languishing until the weekend when I hope to persuade my mother to give it what for so I can sew again! It's amazing how much you miss something when you actually can't use it. I keep thinking about all these sewing projects I could be doing, yet I can't do anything about them until the machine gets fixed!
Now, don't get me wrong, I am a very independent girl who has no problem getting her hands messy and fixing something herself. I just don't have a manual to tell me how to put the darned thing back together once I've taken it apart.



So I sit at my little writing desk, blogging to the void about my broken sewing machine while the feeble January sunlight sparkles through the glasses of odds and ends on my windowsill. *sigh* I think I'll go troll the internet for a manual for the sewing machine.

Etsy Update!

I've been photographing my stock and updating my little Etsy shop all day. Quite fun when you look back upon the progress that you've made(9 items to 19).

The Shop is here

Some previews to tantalize your senses, right here!


A Bolero for Tonks









Lots of jewelry, but also some things I've had for a bit but been unsure as to if I really want to sell them or not. Fun being crafty with my jewelry shoots and learning how to get decent close up photos with a point and shoot digital camera. Ah for lack of a SLR! Someday.

Cheers All! And a Happy New Year!

December 20th

My baby brother is eighteen and I can't believe it. It seems like only yesterday he was shorter than me. Now he's on the brink of manhood. The next few years will, I believe, shape the adult he is fast becoming. The jump, leap from eighteen to let's say, twenty or twenty-one is mind boggling when you look back on it. On how much you actually change. Granted there are other, more significant leaps, but this is the one that has impacted me the most.



I admit that I wait with baited breath to see what he's going to come up with next. My brother is an inventor, and innovator, a steampunk, a bookworm, a lion, a gentleman and a gentle man. He's kind, strong, brave, insightful, quiet, loving, and warm. I treasure his hugs, his moments of mischief, and there are many of those, his smiles, laughter, and jokes.



Eighteen years ago I wanted to name him Tigerlilly. I was four at the time and my favorite film was Mary Martin's Peter Pan, can you blame me? I hope not too much. I remember lying awake at my aunt's house, snuggled into my sleeping bag, when the phone rang. I had a baby brother. I was taken down to the hospital in the snow to meet him, this tiny squirmy red bundle of baby brother. We've had our spats, arguments, and fights, it's all part of being siblings. There will be more in the future, that's human nature. The really special thing about our relationship is how much we love each other. Our bond is so strong, it's a little surprising at times, and other times I'm so glad it's there. Cultivated when we were young, and nurtured as we grow older, may it last for years to come.



Well world, here's my Big Little Brother. Watch out. He's an amazing artist who will surprise you with his humor, embrace you with his love, and watch you with his insight. Oh, yeah, and he's probably inventing something on the side that's likely to blow up, or careen madly around the house, so do watch your step.
I love you Big Guy!

Thanksgiving...with Miss Jones

There was much feasting, turkey, cranberry sauce, black olives and dill pickles. Pumpkin pie and apple pie buried in freshly whipped cream. Sunlight and laughter, family and good times.


Cousins came to visit. Actually there's only one who visited me, but we're all cousins, so it really doesn't matter. It was rather quiet without the three older boys, and we didn't manage (or really even try) to finish off ALL the apple cider in the house, but the pear wine was excellent. Crazy hats ensued.


My father's father came too, and it was very good to see him. It's been too long since I saw him last. Here he debates with my uncle over video cameras, batteries, or something to that effect


Then on Friday there was another Thanksgiving with my mother's parents. They don't get out much anymore (largely due to my gramma's declining memory) so we brought Thanksgiving to them.


The boys learn the fine art of making whipped cream with my anxious mother hovering at the sidelines. They're both fine cooks who periodically whip up magnificent batches of biscuits and homemade bread. Me, I'm the pie crust queen, sauce maker extrodinaire, oh yes, I do killer cookies now and again.



The dining room decked out in silver and fine china and crystal.


And lastly this darling lady who is a constant part of our lives. Almost 87, my Gramma has Altzheimer's and dementia. This part of her life could be viewed as a tragic event because yes, there is huge loss of memories, stories that should be passed on to future generations, knowledge that will be lost forever, but if we looked at it that way, we'd never find the joy and beauty in anything now would we? Joy and beauty in loosing your mind? Yes. This lady used to be critical, scathing in her remarks which made is very difficult to love her as a Gramma. We tried, and were polite, but sought the solace of the backyard leaving our parents to defend us. Now this lady is the sweetest little slip of a thing on the planet. She's ranges mentally from about 6 years old to 11 or 12. You don't have to tell her the stove is hot, don't touch, but you do have to remind her to wipe her nose or finish her supper. She's constantly singing now-a-days, today's song was "Tea for Two". Little lyrics are quoted often repetitively, but if you know the song, she'll belt it right along with you. "Jukebox Saturday Night" and "Do You Know Miss Jones?" are also part of the repertoire. As a child who grew up in the generation of the Backstreet Boys, N'Synch, and The Spice Girls, I welcome the new-to-me-but-familiar-to-her songs. It's part of her past and in the future I'll think of dancing with her to them as I listen, to her faltering alto half singing, half humming to tunes along with me. And I'll miss her. For now, I'm soaking it all up. The pretty with the ugly. Keeping the memories of this precious lady tucked deep in a special corner of my heart.

FO: Tonk's Bolero

I know the pictures are crappy, and beg your forgiveness and understanding. :0)



There isn't really a pattern for this,just lots of vague notes. I really need to get better ones. Heh.


I made this especially for my Halloween costume, but I'm not sure I'd ever wear it again, I don't know yet. I'm thinking of posting it on my etsy, so if you're interested, let me know!



I'm now in a play due to some other people quitting (blech!) so I find myself with copious amounts of lines to memorize! Whee!

Ravelry!

MAH! I'm in, and it's super cool. I didn't have to wait too long, but then I don't really remember when I signed up. :0) He hee. Exciting!
My profile

Coffee Cup Cozy Tutorial - Part One

NOTE: this is a pattern in progress, and there may (or may not) be things missing, please bear with me on this! ;o)

Cut four pattern pieces (measurements coming!) 2 inside and 2 outside.


Sew 2 insides together, and 2 outsides together on the vertical.


Insides and outsides sewn.


Now sew one vertical seam with ins& outs facing each other, and "wrong side" of fabric facing you.


Sew along the long top (horizontal line) and the shorter bottom, leaving one vertical edge open.


More to come! Sorry to leave it unfinished, but I still haven't figured out the best way to get the batting inside without being awfully frustrating.
Cheers!

Fall Makings...

It's a quiet rainy sort of day, and I've been working on several neckwarmers for my etsy as well as an Advent Fair or Christmas Bazaar. I'm looking forward to that with great delight simply because it will be my debut as a crafter selling my wares in public.
It rained all day, beginning with dark clouds rolling in last night and not letting up until recently. A peaceful, simple day that makes me want to curl up by warm fire, with a cat and a good book.

Fall is coming...

...and it makes me want to knit. These neckwarmers will be for sale soon! The pink and black are a custom order, but you get the gist of what they can look like, eh? The multi has two siblings in the same colours, plus two others in more muted and rich autumnal colours.

I love fall. It is, without one doubt, my favourite time of year. Perhaps it's because I was born in the fall? Perhaps it is because it's just so rich with my favourite colours? Perhaps it is because I won't melt when I stand in the sun? Something along those lines. Here in the Northwest it rains a lot, but the wind, and the sun. I cannot find words to express my sheer ardor for Fall. The air is heady with the smell of the earth, so recently wetted with rain. The trees turn out their most marvellous colours before succumbing to the long sleep of winter. It's fall! Time to knit some sweaters!