Stitch Culture

In March next year, my husband will be celebrating his 30th birthday. That same day the two of us will take Marcus to our local church to be christened. He will have three godparents: Judith, the ubergoddess of knitting; Jonathan, a reprobate Terry Pratchett fan I've known since high school and despaired of ever since; and Chantal.

I've known Chantal for a while now. My ex-boyfriend and she were at uni together, and he recommended that she visit the wool store I used to work at. I remember a very enthusiastic yarn-ho who freely admitted that she had spent an entire summer indoors playing World of Warcraft. We agreed that knitting was a slightly healthier pursuit (My comment that the brilliance of knitting was it could be performed outdoors was met with "So can Warcraft - that's what wireless is for!").

Chantal once told my ex-boyfriend that if we ever broke up, she was keeping me instead of him. I loved her displaced loyalty at the time; then it of course became true. She embraced Felix as the other half of me, and a man who understands the importance of letting me knit at all times, including at the movies. Her own partner, Paul, gained the reputation as a wonderful man the day he went to a closing down sale in Hawthorn and bought up most of the remaining Rowan yarn stock. He doles it out whenever Chantal deems him to have done something wrong or annoying - a really good idea, I think.

Anyway, this long rambling post has a reason. Chantal has opened her own online store: Stitch Culture. I hereby state that I am incredibly biased and want everyone to shop there. New items will be added every week (Chantal is currently working a full time job and studying for her MBA while she opened the store - mad, I tells ya), and there's a wish list for the unsubtle out there (Hey family! My birthday is next week! Go and look at my list, will ya?). The success of this store couldn't happen to a sweeter, nicer, more thoughtful person than our dear Chantal.

Stitch Culture.

Go forth and purchase. Except for the Madelinetosh sock yarn. That's all mine.

No, I really do knit stuff. Honestly...

This is a blog for knitting. I created this blog solely to talk about my knitting, and how it affects both myself personally and also my life. However...














Seriously, how cute is my son?

(We'll return to knitting next time, I swear)

Finished Objects 2009 - #20

The return of the finished object, hurrah!

Turns out that the vomited on baby jacket could in fact be saved for one reason only - centre-pull balls. That's right. The vomit was on the outside, the nice clean unbiled yarn on the centre. Trust me, the jacket was soaked in eucalyptus wool wash for about half an hour as well!

This is the 5 Hour Baby Sweater, Boy Version and it's a super fast knit (obviously). Not five hours, of course, but what do you expect with a newborn floating around? I omitted buttonholes because I just wanted something I could quickly wrap around him if the wind picks up or something like that.


















I would have dressed Marcus in the jacket but considering it's currently 32C and it seemed a tad cruel.

A sad swag

My mum has had the unhappy job of cleaning out my nana's unit, and sorting out all of her things. My nana, bless her, was a packrat, a trait my mother swears she didn't inherit, but trust me - she did. Ask my sisters!

Nana kept everything. EVERYTHING. My Uncle Greg's First Form report card turned up. The newspaper clipping detailing my calisthenics group success at Ballarat in 1983 turned up (no, you're not seeing that picture anytime soon). Cards from my grandparents 50th anniversary were found, along with close to 100 un-used Christmas cards.

My mum dropped by with a pile of things for me, including my Celtic Hearts Shawl that I gave Nana for her birthday this year. My pile included many many photos of me over the years, including one from my birth, Nana's bible and baptism order of service, doilies, tablecloths and tea towels (the really nice Irish linen ones she never used). Oh, and all this.















So many sock needles! I also love the old Aero 8's (4mm), made back when they used actual steel so a stiff knitter like myself couldn't bend them (I can snap bamboo sock needles. It's a tragedy). The sock pattern book is adorable, but the thing I love most is my nana's First Prize certificate from the Mirboo North Annual Show. She was so proud of her red socks winning, and I plan to keep it safe along with my two from the Royal Melbourne Show.