You've Reached Uncle Stashley's Knitting (and rarely but sometimes Crochet) Blog

In one sense, sure, of course my knitting is trying to kill me. I could be out playing lacrosse, raising my heart rate, but instead I'm sitting (in an extremely comfortable chair), moving my hands around slightly. Luckily I try to work hard to compensate (hello, Fitbit and Gold's Gym), but still, it's not the world's healthiest hobby. But lately, my knitting has taken a turn for the dark side. It's actively plotting against me, to the extent that any random collection of po

I was on a quest At Stitches West For yarn for a vest By Stephen West And another vest By Stephen West (that's not a jest, I'm a bit obsessed). Alpaca is best. Only one week after Madrona in Tacoma, I was in Santa Clara for Stitches West. Completely accidentally—my Great Aunt Olive had passed away, and her Celebration of Life coincided with the same weekend. And as she was a knitter herself, I knew she wouldn't mind if I acquired a three-day pass and made the most of the ci

I'm beginning with a sidebar, then getting on to the knitting. Ahem: Nobody reads Edward George Bulwer-Lytton anymore. Though popular in his day, he just doesn't hold up the way Dickens or Eliot do. In his commercial triumph The Last Days of Pompeii, the opening sentence alone is enough to put you off your feed: "'HO, Diomed, well met! Do you sup with Glaucus to-night?' said a young man of small stature, who wore his tunic in those loose and effeminate folds which proved hi

I'm recovering from a nasty bout of flu (is there any other kind?), and didn't get a chance to update you with the good news: Yes, I'm officially Master of the Universe: Sophie's Universe, to be specific. Last week I successfully completed Round 113, the final official round of this project. I haven't blocked it yet (I'll explain why later--it's not just laziness), but otherwise, here it is: I started this attractive monster last February, if I recall correctly. I'd walked