Can I see some ID?

Identity is such an interesting concept. It's one of those uniquely human things we sit around pondering, or alternately worrying about--I highly doubt my cat lays about the house thinking, "This is so unlike me--who have I become??" Which isn't to say she doesn't have plenty of personality--she just doesn't sit around thinking about it. Maybe she just can't stay awake long enough.

For the last 13 years or so, I have been a Vegetarian. That's who I am, Kristen the Vegetarian. I'm also Kristen the Girl who Speaks Spanish, Kristen the Orioles Fan and Kristen the Writer, but the way vegetarianism has shaped my life leads me to associate more strongly with that moniker.

However, after some serious thought, I recently decided to start the Great Seafood Eating Experiment.

My vegetarianism has always been a burden on me, but I really started fretting about what a burden it is for the boy (who, incidentally, has stopped eating beef, pork and chicken, and now only eats seafood), and what a burden it might be for my future child(ren). Constantly checking restaurant menus in advance (almost impossible to do while traveling, and often fruitless because there's nothing vegetarian available anyway), trying to tactfully warn relatives and friends who invite us for meals, attempting to politely decline meaty foods without insulting them when they forget, frantically searching for vegetarian foods meat-eaters might be willing to eat when we invite them for meals . . . not to mention being frequently put on the spot to explain my choices, which I aim to do without disparaging the meal sitting in front of us. It all adds up to a giant pain the culo.

(Spanish lesson for the day: culo means ass; not "cool")

Which I am ok with for just me, but as I get older, I more fully realize that it often entails imposing my choice on those around me as well. (Not that my wonderful friends and family aren't willing to accommodate me!)

So I thought I might try to meet the boy halfway and add seafood to my diet. It will help me get more protein (important for baby time, whenever that is), most (not all, but most) seafood is wild caught rather than farmed (and farmed sea creatures are raised much more humanely than chicken, cows and pigs), and wild sea creatures are quite likely to be eaten by other predators.

These are the justifications I'm using anyway, they help me sleep a smidge better.

And thus far, the experiment is going well. Fish is fine--I missed tuna. Shrimp is . . . well, larger shrimp are too meaty, I need to start small (And I swear I can feel them swimming around inside my tummy--guilty conscience much?). Thing with tentacles are really just not for me. I don't know about crabs--as a Baltimore native, I dearly miss steamed crabs with Old Bay, but being boiled alive sounds pretty horrible. We'll see about that in June.

But what's more of a concern is the nagging feeling that I'm losing a part of my identity. That makes me a little bit sad. Or a lot bit, depending on my mood.

Fortunately, I have other things that make me ME. One of those is being a Knitter. I haven't been a Knitter nearly as long as a Vegetarian, but I've certainly embraced it. And I hope to find a new identity soon as a Designer. Sure, I only have one pattern, which I haven't even released yet, but something about having a creation that's my very own gives me an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I feel like I have the potential to become Someone, which I sadly don't feel much in my actual career.

Which is probably why I've already jumped the gun and created this:

Whaddya think?

Aruba, Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahamas . . . Guyana?

A little blogging break, as I spent last week in Guyana for work.

I know what you're thinking: where on earth is that?? And don't worry, you're not alone. I can't think of a single person I told I was going to Guyana that actually knew where it was.

Except for, presumably, the Guyanese. And I'm not so sure about that.

So to put your mind at ease, I will tell you: it's nowhere.

I mean, technically, it's on the northern coast of South America, between Venezuela and Suriname.

But really, it may as well be nowhere.

So on that note, a few travel tips from yours truly:

Places you should never, ever visit: Georgetown, Guyana.
Airlines you should never, ever fly: Liat
Jobs you should never, ever have: mine

Since I'm the contact person for Guyana on my team, I got to participate in a four-person site visit to the capital of Guyana, Georgetown, to try to figure out what the heck is going on with their ministries and why they routinely fail to participate in or contribute to our organization, when we're basically offering them free money and training every other week.

(Can I mention that Jamaica is also one of my contact countries, and yet, my boss has yet to send me there?)

It took 15 hours to get there (including a 6 hour layover in Trinidad--this trip was like a tour of the Caribbean, but all I saw were airports). And then we had 16 meetings in 4 days--a really relaxing journey.

(Can I also mention that our Executive Secretary used to be the U.S. ambassador to Guyana and could not stop giving us history lessons about the city--the same lessons, over and over?)


Georgetown is not--I repeat, NOT--a tourist destination. There is a nice, resort-type hotel there called the Pegasus (I didn't stay there because it cost nearly my entire per diem per night, and I enjoy eating), but there is absolutely, positively nothing to do. The big "thing" is walking on the sea wall that divides the city from the beach.

This is an interesting thing about Georgetown--it's on the coast, but the beaches are dirty and the water is muddy, so there's no beach-going, hence, no tourism.

There are also no sidewalks. Which makes for some interesting walking tours of the city. My life repeatedly flashed before my eyes, not only while walking, but also while being driven around.

Georgetown is home to one of the world's largest wooden churches. Which is interesting to look at for all of 5 seconds, and then you're done and wondering what you're going to do with your remaining 4 days in the country.

I've heard that in the country's interior, which is jungle, you can do adventure things like zip lining and hiking, and there's a pretty waterfall, but I didn't have time for any of that. Maybe it's fun, I don't know.

What I do know is Georgetown is not fun. It's dirty. It's rainy. The rain causes instant flooding because the city is actually below sea level (why do humans do this??). It's hot. It's incredibly humid. The food is terrible (although if you like chicken, you're in luck). It's terribly underdeveloped. It's depressing.

(Oh, on the outskirts of the city, there are stray donkeys. Stray. Donkeys. Really amusing to watch, but sad to think about.)

So, needless to say, I was eager to get the heck out of there by the time our mission was complete. And so of course, that didn't happen. Instead, Liat cancelled my flight to Barbados.

I showed up at the airport, giddy smile on my face, ready to hop on that plane and get home to my kitties and my boy. I marched up to the counter with my itinerary in hand and presented it with naive confidence. And the guy looked at it, looked at me, and said, "that flight's cancelled."

And smiled.

Like that's a hilarious circumstance I'll really get a kick out of.

When actually, I just wanted to kick him.

And it got better.

Why was the flight cancelled? "Not enough people, it's not profitable."

So, you've screwed my entire flight schedule for your bottom line?

"Oh, I mean, there's a maintenance problem."

Uh huh.

So, I waited around the dingy airport for four hours until they shipped me to Barbados on the afternoon flight, and I spent the evening alone (I was the only one on the team that was supposed to take that flight---thanks, boss, for making a last minute decision about my participation, so I was stuck with the worst flights imaginable) in a depressing airport hotel. I made it onto the first flight to Miami in the morning (Liat didn't rebook any of my flights; they helpfully just put me on standby), and then spent Saturday wandering from gate to gate at the Miami airport trying to get on a flight to DC.

But I finally, finally made it.

(Incidentally, Barbados looked gorgeous. I would love to go back there under better circumstances.)

And what do I have to show for my trip? A half-finished shawl, which isn't too shabby. Getting my knitting needles through airport security on every flight almost felt like an accomplishment.

But I'm really, really hoping I don't have to do any traveling any time soon.

A very belated Valentine

Sometimes I make bad decisions.

For example, the time I decided to make homemade butternut squash gnocchi. I don't think there was a single solitary millimeter of space in my kitchen not covered in flour. I must've used an entire bag of flour, not to mention the arduous task of hacking open the squash, and in the end, it tasted pretty much like regular gnocchi.

Or the time in 7th grade when I read that combing mayonnaise through your hair was a great way to add shine. It's also a great way to gunk up your hair with oily egg muck that takes four tries to shampoo out. Looking back, I'm supremely lucky my parents didn't make me go to school with mayonnaise on my head to teach me a lesson.

In Knitting Land, a make all sorts of bad decisions, one of which is Setting Deadlines. It starts out innocently enough--"Oh, it'd be great to have this sweater finished to wear to Stitches"--but it's an instant jinx. Completely unpredictable, absurd knitting disasters will occur, one after the other, guaranteeing that the sweater won't be finished for Stitches, or possibly ever. If I'd just kept my mouth shut, the sweater would probably knit itself in my sleep.

In February, I made this mistake. I thought it would be just smashing to have a Puff-Sleeved Feminine Cardigan to wear for Valentine's Day. It's short-sleeved and knit in DK weight, and I figured it couldn't possibly take too long to knit. So I got started.

And I was right, for a change, it knit up quickly, and I was moving along at a good pace, right on target for V-Day. (Was I a bit too smug about my astonishing progress? Perhaps.)

The only thing was . . . "Hmmmm, I seem to be going through this yarn rather quickly. But I knit a gauge swatch, and I got gauge, and I'm using the exact kind and quantity of yarn called for in the pattern, so, I must be imagining things. Except . . . well, I'm down to my last ball and, um, there's an awful lot left to do. Let's see what the Ravelry populous had to say about this sweater. I mean, it won't fix anything, and it probably would've been smart to check on before I bought the yarn and started the sweater, but at least I'll know."

Sure enough, the vast majority of the knitters who made this sweater reported that it took much more yarn than the pattern called for.

Of course.

And it only got worse. I bought the yarn for this sweater years ago. Dye lot loooooong gone.

I got a headache imagining having to rip out my whole sweater and start over with new yarn, and sent myself to bed early. Then I woke up and raged against Stephanie Japel and the entire Knitting Establishment. How dare they publish such fradulent information?!?

And then I went back to Ravelry, and threw myself a pity party in one of the forums.

This was actually the most effective thing I did. The previously-mentioned Stephanie, who will from this day forward be referred to as My Hero Stephanie, stumbled upon my whining, and promptly produced 2 balls of Knit Picks Merino Style in Hollyberry, dye lot 40515. It was like magic. Possibly dark magic, but I was in no position to judge. 

(For the record, I can vouch that Stephanie is a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. Or so she would have us believe.)

(And props as well to the Postal Service for actually getting the yarn to me--that would've been a sad, but unsurprising addition to the story, yarn lost in the mail!)

While I couldn't finish the sweater for Valentine's Day, I did manage to finish it before the end of the month, check it out:

wow, I'm super pale! translucent!

Pattern: Puff-sleeved Feminine Cardigan
Yarn: Knit Picks Merino Style, Hollyberry, 6.5 skeins
Needles: US 4 and 6
Size: 34"
Rav link

No mods, though I may have made it a bit longer if I hadn't been running out of yarn. Aside from the yarn quantity drama, the pattern was otherwise quite simple and straightforward. Minimal seaming under the arms, otherwise seamless. And it's a great fit.

So, how much extra yarn did I end up needing? Almost 1.5 skeins! That's an extra 175 yards, give or take.

The good news is, I absolutely adore this sweater, so it was all worth it.

Wow, this has become a long post. Maybe I should've skipped the mayonnaise story. Ah well.

Anyone interested in a few more photos and details about my first (of many, I hope) design can see my Ravelry project page here.

::peek::

Test knitting has commenced!

The blahs

It's so hard to post during these gray, cold wintery months. In addition to the general malaise that affects nearly everyone and makes me personally want to hibernate until May, the lighting is lousy, so I can't take decent photos of anything I'm knitting.

And I have been knitting. In fact, I've finished a whole sweater (albeit, short-sleeved). (Which was saved by the previously blogged-about Stephanie--but more on that next post.) And my First Design is nearly complete, I'll be looking for test knitters soon. I'm even plugging away at more socks. But alas, no photos.

The weather actually tricked me a smidge. Last Friday it was 70 degrees. SEVENTY DEGREES! We ate lunch in the park, enjoy a few beers out on the balcony, it was almost like summer. But then, it was cruelly yanked away, and on Tuesday, we got sleet and freezing rain, followed by 3 inches of snow. It's almost worse that way--you get the tiniest glimmer of hope, and then it's immediately buried under sleet and slush. I know you're on your way, Spring, please hurry up.

So, since I have no knitting photos, here are photos of stray cats and dogs I came across in Santiago. No, I didn't bring any home with me. But almost.

To E or Not to E

Yet another day has passed with no one commenting on my stunning plethora of headgear. I'm starting to think people here just don't pay attention.

(Or maybe they're part of some kind of revolting underground anti-hat organization.)


But I will soldier on to fulfill my mission to display an absurd and somewhat inappropriate number of handknit hats to the masses this winter!


::Uplifting music::


Here's the latest member of my hat parade:




Pattern: Autumn Vines Beret from NeverNotKnitting, Alana Dakos
Yarn: Madelinetosh Pashmina (squeee!) in Saffron, about half the skein
Mods: None, though I left off the little bobblette at the top, and just used a regular cast-on because I'm an incredibly lazy knitter.
Verdict: Love! Gorgeous pattern, fast knit, warm hat. What's to complain about?

Oh, you know what? Now that I think of it, I had to knit row 13 like 3 times. There's nothing wrong with the chart, I'm just astoundingly dense. I know my right from my left, I swear, but when I see references to "right" and "left" in knitting patterns, I go into panic mode and all spatial concepts immediately fly out my ear. True story.

And in case anyone was wondering what steps I've taken to address the previously blogged about (over)abundance of Palette yarn, Stephanie, who shares her awesomeness over at They Call Me Yarn, has talked me into tackling these Camilla mittens. Pretty, huh? So far I've done just the first cuff and 5 rounds of the pattern, but they're looking quite gorgeous, if I do say so myself. I bought this Amazing Doohickey over at Knitpicks, and I can't say enough good things about it. My tension is even, and no puckering--a miracle for only $1.19. I'm giddy thinking about how it will speed up my abyssmal progress on the Deep V Argyle Vest.

(p.s. I spent several minutes pondering whether or not doohickey has an E in it. Then I looked it up. I really go the extra mile for my blogging, don't I?)

This little piggy . . .

Lately, I've been having dreams about babies. First, I had a dream that I needed to have a tonsilectomy and birth a baby the same day. So they knocked me out for the first procedure, and left me unconscious for the birth, so I woke up not knowing what kind of baby I had. It ended up being a girl, but it didn't much matter, because shortly thereafter, it turned into a cat.


Last night, my baby was growing at a ridiculous rate. Only a few days old and she was talking, and then after a year, she was around 6-years-old. Then she had to be studied for being an obvious freak of nature, and she wasn't too happy about it, so she organized a riot at the freak-of-nature camp.


Thoughts? Yeah, I don't know either.


I don't really have a segway from that rambling into my knitting, so let's just jump in. First, I'd like to introduce a new member of the menagerie, Percival:

Percival was super quick to knit, just using some scrap yarn. I used worsted because that's what I had on hand, but any weight will do, it just depends on how big or small you want your piggy to be. I think this one took all of 45 minutes.

As far as useful knitting, I've finished yet another hat (I wonder if people are secretly amazed at my extensive hat wardrobe. Probably not.) Here's a little preview, until I can get some good photos of me actually wearing the hat:

And I'm really working hard on a design! My scarf design is on the backburner, but this new one is moving along quickly, and I have high hopes. Stay tuned!