The swimmer

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No! More! Winter! (Please…) I really can’t take it anymore. I am so tired of the cold, the ice, the snow. Especially after spring already showed up. We had sun, we had crocuses, we even had a bit of gardening going on. And now this again. Really?

Of course, from a knitting and crochet point of view, winter has its charms. Cozy projects, warm yarn, all of that. But still. I am seriously longing for daylight and warm weather. Aren’t you? So I decided to take matters into my own hands. If summer won’t come to me, I’ll just “crochet summer” instead.

And here is the result:

Any idea what this might be? It belongs to a gentleman in a blue bathing cap and matching speedo – a swimmer!

Over the years, some of the photos that used to be here got lost – thanks to a total blog crash, a stolen hard drive, and whatever else can possibly happen to images along the way. The same goes for the link to the pattern – it seems the instructions have disappeared from the web as well. If I happen to come across either of them again, I’ll be sure to add them back in. Thanks so much for your understanding.

He is very committed to his look. Very confident. Slightly round in the middle, and perhaps not blessed with the longest legs—but honestly, he owns it. I am quite pleased with how the swimmer turned out.

Especially after I finally managed the floating tire. That part nearly defeated me. I tried again and again. I almost gave up. And then—out of nowhere—it clicked. Like a bolt from the blue. Literally blue, because of the blue cap, of course 🙂

The trick was doing it from the outside toward the inside. Not in rounds like usual. More like an LP record playing, spiraling in toward the center. For anyone who never handled vinyl: yes, that kind of record. Once I figured that out, everything fell into place. The swimmer. The tire. The whole summer scene.

So here they are: the swimmer and his floating tire, fully ready for summer—even if summer is clearly not ready for us yet.

Looks like there are at least two of us now, patiently waiting for warmer days…

Bill, The Travelling Man

Veröffentlicht am von Carina4 Kommentare

It’s about time I introduce you to Bill, I guess. He was named after Bill Clinton, as he would (accidentally!) look like him when I made him – at least that’s what we thought.

Bill

Just for grins, I talked to J about Clinton the other day and our little conversation still makes me laugh:

Me: „so who is Bill Clinton?“

J (quick as a shot): „Isn’t that Hillary Clinton’s husband?“

Looks like we’re raising a feminist here 🙂

But back to the original topic: Bill gets to travel if we can’t (no money, no time, no vacation). He definitely prefers traveling with people, but envelopes work almost as good. So far, he always reached his destination as planned and – more important – he always came back. Where ever he goes he has his picture taken for J to see. J says looking at those pictures is almost as good as travelling himself.

After short trips to Hong Kong and Uruguay, New York and Poland, Bill went to Chicago lately. Of course, he had his picture taken next to „the bean“:

Bill and Bean

And he must have liked it, as, after coming back to Germany, he decided to go right back to the US. This time he would go west: out of all places, he chose Meeteetse, Wyoming (325 inhabitants) as his destination. Be that as it may, doing ranch work he stayed a lot longer than originally scheduled. (In case you wonder what they are doing in the picture: they were testing the cows to see which ones were pregnant).

Bill working cows

Upon coming home last week, bringing along his new cowboy hat and his own passport, he asked my boss to take him to Beijing. And much to my surprise, the boss – without batting an eye – put Bill in his pocket and off they went the next morning.

Now, here’s one of the pictures I got yesterday by email. Trust me – I was dumbstruck, when I saw it and sharing it with you is a must!

Bill and Chinese Police Officer

How on earth do you make a Chinese police officer hold a little crocheted doll (there is a string attached to his head, can you see it) and smile for the camera, especially if you don’t speak his language?! Bill will be back this weekend and I am very much looking forward to hear the story on Monday!

A lovely weekend to all of you out there 🙂

African Flowers

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When starting this project in January, I would crochet 5 flowers the day and the boy would arrange them on our living room table. The idea was to make a blanket from stash (of the same brand) but within a short time I ran out of white. As a matter of fact – the store is not around the corner, life keeps me busy, other projects were tempting – I still haven’t bought adequate supply … However, we needed the living room table and fortunately the boy agreed to remove the flowers if I would take a picture of his composition. (Supposedly, there is a system to it. I don’t see it though). Here is the picture:

Now, all the flowers are nicely piled in a shoebox (probably forever) and my only excuse is that even if I bought a skein of white I still don’t know which color to use to join them. Green? Brown?

Wool

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The other day, the kid went on a school outing. When I asked where they were going, he gave me a very detailed explanation: “some garden, or nature, or… stuff.” He also announced—very seriously—that he would bring me back a present.

Fast forward to the afternoon. He comes home, slightly mysterious, slightly proud, and very dirty. Then, with great ceremony, he slowly unzips his anorak, makes a funny little face, and carefully reveals… a tiny strand of wool. (And no, you really don’t want to know what his hands looked like at that point.)

Turns out they had been to a farm, where the kids got to try things like spinning wool. He later admitted that he wasn’t all that interested in the whole “sheep-clipping, fleece, spinning” process. But the idea of bringing home real wool—wool that he had made himself, no less—clearly won him over. And somehow, that little fuzzy string made it all the way home in his pocket.

spinning wool häkelmonster This morning, he checked back in with me. Very serious again.
“So… what are you going to make out of it?”
Pause. Thoughtful look.
“Do you think it might become a cardigan?”

Sewing machine

Veröffentlicht am von Carina1 Kommentar

Years ago, a colleague gave me his mother’s old sewing machine. Dusty, a little battered, and long hidden in his attic, it finally came my way the day I casually mentioned that having one would be nice. I can’t say I ever used it for anything “big” – I’ve always been more about fixing than creating.

Over the years, though, it became my go-to for patching the kid’s jeans. Zillions of patches. The machine was reliable, eager, humming along as it stitched whatever I needed – straight stitches, zig-zags, you name it. Sure, I occasionally broke a needle, but that was the extent of the drama. No serious breakdowns.

Still, we never really bonded. Maybe it was the weight – it’s a beast. Dragging it out of the basement, carrying it into the kitchen, setting it up on the table… I hated every step. So naturally, I procrastinated, letting the pile of jeans grow until, inevitably, the kid had nothing left to wear. By that time, of course, he’d grown, and all those freshly patched jeans were suddenly too short.

So why am I telling you this? Because today I finally decided it was time to find a new home for my 1950s Ideal Zick-Zack Deluxe. I listed it on eBay for free, hoping someone out there would convince me they’d be the perfect new owner. Within an hour or two, about 20 people responded.

My gut led me to Ritva – a young mother of two, devoted to needlework (at least that’s what she said). I loved her emails, the way she wrote, and I have to admit, I was curious about someone named Ritva. Isn’t that a beautiful name? I’d never heard it before.

To make a long story short: an hour ago, Ritva came by. She seemed to really adore the machine, its accessories, and even the suitcase it came with. It was love at first sight. And when she started praising all the advantages of an old machine over the newer “plastic” ones, I couldn’t help feeling a tiny pang of regret for letting it go.

Have a wonderful new life, Ideal Zick-Zack Deluxe, and thank you for being part of our family for the last 25 years. I promise I’ll think of you every time the kid rips his pants.