The House That Death Built.

Some of my greatest stories come to me either in my sleep or in the fugue state on either end of it.  Such as this one from the other night….

A man, though just barely in age and experience, walked on his own down a dark road one night.  He had set out from his family’s humble home in order to build a life which would make his parents proud.  The previous winter, his father had passed from the flu and his mother of a broken heart, leaving the house to his elder sister and himself.  He had signed over his portion in exchange for support on his quest.  Days he had walked until he found a road which no one passed him on, and this night he would find a plot of land to claim as his own.  And on this night, he would be watched by a dark figure, hidden amongst the abandoned orchard and overgrown path of an old mansions grounds.

The next morning he woke, and set out into the trees to gather wood.  He fell three trees before the wind shifted and the fourth fell upon him.  He laid in pain for hours, calling uselessly for help, until the dark figured approached.  “I am Death, I am the Reaper.  I have come for you.  Take my hand so I that I may relieve you of all your burdens and weights, and whisk you away unto the afterlife.”

The man was taken aback, but not afraid.  He looked at Death and asked “Who gave you the right to decide that?  My weights and burdens are mine, for I choose them willingly.  If you want to deliver relief, remove this tree from atop me and mend my wounds.  I will gladly meet you later when I have accomplished what I have set out to do.”

“You are not the first to bargain with me, and you won’t be the last.  I am immutable and unstoppable.  You can come willingly or fight, but you will come with me,” Death replied, in a bored tone. He reached out his hand and waited patiently for the man to make his choice.

“I am not coming at all.  I instead challenge you to a game.  If you win, then you take me, if I win, then I am your master.  I believe that’s how the rules go, correct?”

Again bored, Death replied, “That is how they go.  What game do you wish to play?  Chess?  Poker? Hurling?  Maybe a round of caber tossing?  I have played them all, and won.  No one is my master, save for fate.”

The man replied, “Life.  I challenge you to live a life in which you win, you succeed, and in measure against mine, you are declared a winner.  You and I will judge, and fate will be our third.  Agreed?”

Intrigued, Death agreed.  He knew it was ridiculous, but he relished a new experience.   Death only experienced new things when mankind came up with new ways to kill each other and themselves.  He sat next to the man and discussed the rules with him at length.  If they had not been in a frozen moment, weeks would have passed.  The more they discussed, the less Death understood, and that terrified him.  He wanted to back out, but a forfeit is a loss, and he must not lose.  Finally, the man broached the subject of the tree again.

“So, we’ve discussed the rules and what one must do.  However, I am still under a tree.  Are you going to help me?”

“No, that would be helping you win.”

“But a man, for that is what you are to play as, who will only help others when it helps himself is a man who has lost at life, has lost something more important than life.”

Death nodded, and reluctantly removed the tree from his opponent.  He tended to his wounds, letting him heal in the froze moment before letting time continue.  The world around them resumed, and the man told death of his plans to build himself a farm.  Death laughed and pointed to the dilapidated mansion behind the trees and remarked, “That is where I will live, for it is already built and much larger than anything you can assemble.  I am ahead already!”

With that, Death tried to float through the woods.  He was horrified to find that he was now in possession of a human body and none of his powers.  He had dark black hair, and deep green eyes.  The skin on his body was as pale as his bones had been, but were markedly more squishy. His only attire were his robes, which he held around himself to keep out the early autumn’s chill.  Still assured of his impending victory, he rushed off to the dark mansion to live his life.

The man, however, continued his task, though much more carefully, and had fell half a dozen trees and made himself a lean-to by nightfall.  For the next 5 weeks, the man went about building himself a humble home, one room big, with the necessities.  Death laughed from his dark abode, striding around and the second of three floors.  He would have laughed from the third, but the roof had collapsed and rotted out the majority of the top floor.

The very next day after finishing the house, the man set about tilling the land for his crops.  Upon seeing this, Death came over and demanded to know what the man was doing.  “I am tilling the earth in order to grown crops.  I intend to become self sufficient, and eventually, have extra to barter and sell.  I will then buy some animals, and make myself a living off my land.”

Death was confused, “Why do this when you can go an easier route and work for another?  I will get a job in the village and fix my house up.  Then  I will eat only the most luxurious foods and drink the most decadent liquids.  I will win this yet!”  With that, he ran off to the nearest village.  Weeks went by as he searched for employment, but he found some.  He used his first wages to buy a wardrobe, the next to eat, the next to his mansion, then repeated.

Soon, a year had passed.  The man had two successful crops, and a disappointing third.  For this winter, he was living off his stored foods.  He started offering his services and skills he had from making his life to others in exchange for food, furs, and future assistance.  Death continued to live life lavishly.  His mansion was complete, he was full every night, and he worked a shorter day than his opponent.  Eventually, a large blizzard hit. In the weeks before, the man had gathered food and wood, while Death had continued on as normal.  Late into the hours of the second week,  Death was out of stores.  He strapped on a cloak, and over that put in dark robes, and ventured to the man’s house.

When he knocked upon the door, the man let him in.  He fed him in silence, for Death glared about him with the anger of one with naught but wounded pride.  After he ate, he returned to his mansion in silence.  The next day, he refused himself the act of approaching the man again, choosing instead to hunt.  He tracked a hare, snared it, and brought it home.  Laughing, he ate only the finest part.  Smugly, he bundled up the organs and bones in the pelt, and gifted it to the man.  Dripping with sickly sweet contempt, he told the the man “Thank you for helping me.  I give you these things so we’re even.”  He left and soon the blizzard ended.

Years passed in this, or a similar, manner.  Eventually, the man had a large farm with dozens of animals.  He had food for himself and food to sell. He bartered for utilitarian clothing and quality tools.  He even found a woman to court.  Death mirrored the man’s successes in his field.  He climbed the ladder, soon becoming a vicious middle manager, pushing his underlings as hard as the man pushed himself.  His house had unused rooms in which he kept unused items.  Death kept himself in the highest of fashions.  He even afforded himself three servants.

One day, the man ran into Death in town as he was leaving his job.  The man greeted Death as an old friend, and Death regarded him as unworthy of his attention.  The did converse, however, and the man remarked on his love for another, and Death laughed, telling the man he could have any woman he so choose.  In fact,by the night’s end. Death would steal the man’s interest right out form under him.  The man did not take kindly to this, and warned Death off it.  The parted ways shortly thereafter.

The man returned to his farm for a bit, getting his affairs in order, bathing, and putting on clean clothes.  Death chose to buy a new suit and get professionally groomed in town.  He  hunted for and found the woman and approached her.  He immediately let her know of his intention to possess her, causing her to walk away from him without so much as a syllable uttered on her part.  Offended, he hounded her until the man arrived.  Then, throughout the night, he followed them and insulted the man, pursuing the woman after she was interested.  Eventually, the man had to strike Death, the first time Death had experienced such, in order to get him to leave.  The man laid Death out, and Death was offended.

Weeks later, Death married a woman he deemed to be superior to the woman the man had grown to love, for she appreciated Death’s status and finances.  He threw a lavish wedding and invited everyone in the village and surrounding lands.  The man and woman choose not to attend, instead taking the time to expand the house by three bedrooms and a dining room.  Later that year, the man and woman married in a quiet ceremony.  A year and a half later, the had the first of two children.

The game of life continued like much like this for the next few decades, until both Death and the man were elderly.  Death had his third trophy wife on his arm, and had disregarded any threat of the man winning long ago.  The man eventually cashed in his many favors and bought large lots of land, hiring locals and new arrivals to tend them.  Unbeknownst to Death, the man rivalled his wealth.  The didn’t speak anymore.  They hardly ever saw each other.  The man worked his long hours on his farm, and Death worked his hours, and made his underlings work longer hours, in the village.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Death lost it all.  He fell ill, for he didn’t take pride in his health, but in his lavishness.  He wasn’t able to continue to work, and his wife left with one of his employees.  He was fired, and ran out of money.  He soon sold all his things just to eat.  He forgot of the winter the man had helped him.  He instead focused all his hatred on his old foe.  Everything was the man’s fault, he decided.  He told himself that the woman was instead his true love, and the children should be his.  He spent his days as a miser, his house falling apart around him.

Eventually, he decided the man must die, so this game would stop.  He snuck to the farm one night, intent and murdering the man.  He was happy to kill, for he missed it.  He startled the man’s sheep, causing the man to come check on them.  He attacked him from behind, and the moment froze.  Both Death and the man stood, now facing each other, as fate sat passively off to the side.  In this moment, Death knew that he lost.  He railed against it, citing his achievements and all that he had once owned, blaming the man for all his ill will.  Fate held up a hand and silenced him, turning to the man.

The man spoke.  “I knew I would win the moment I asked for the game, old friend.  For you, you have no humanity.  You weren’t raised or taught.  You fought against empathy when I asked for it.  And because of that, you had only the ambition to win, not to succeed or learn or love.  Not even to live.”

“I cheated, because I knew the deck would be stacked in my favor from day one.  And I don’t regret it.  Because I have lived a great happy life, and left my children more than what was left for me.  I loved my fullest, and improved the lives of those around me.  I stood up for my beliefs.  I had no need for humility or piousness, for I was a good man regardless. I saved your life, though I knew you hated me, and granted you mercy on more than one occasion.  I cheated, yes, but because I worked smarter and harder than you.  I did not violate any rules. But I am glad for your company, for I used you a yardstick to measure my work.  If you worked 8 hours, I would work 16.  The silent competition guided me until love took the reigns.”

“However, know this,  I hated you as you hate me.  You dared to try to take my life from me before it was lived, as you took my parents from me in a single winter.  And I wanted you to suffer that which we, us mere mortals, have to.  And that was the sweetest part.  Because you choose to not only suffer, but to miss the point entirely.  you had to experiences, only possessions.  You had no joy, only addictions.  No love, only trophies.  Go ahead with your duties now.  Resume your calling as the Reaper, knowing that that it’s only a rare few that were at any point more miserable that you are right now.  I have brought upon the world a justice none thought could ever exist, and for that alone, I win at life.”

Fate nodded, then turned to Death.  Death struck out angrily at the man, only to see himself as he was so long ago, a skeleton in a dark cloak, clutching a scythe.  He swung it angrily at the man, but it bounced off.  Fate had bestowed Death his true identity, but he had given the man a new identity as well.  The man now represented Hope.  To his family, he has passed quietly in the night, falling asleep watching over his hearth and home after checking on the sheep.  But he stayed with them.  Hope never truly leaves a person it has touched, not even in Death.  For Hope is clever, devious, relentless, without rival, and hard to beat. It had no use for anything other than what one needs it for.

Death quickly forgot of his emotions from that game.  Because, after everything, Death relieves one of their burdens and weights.  Even those of Death itself.

————-

This was a weird one to have rattling around in my head.  It occurred in land in which technology had existed long ago, but humanity had left it behind.  There just wasn’t a point of telling you that in the story.  This land is ruled over by many deities and their many, various servants.  Death was one of many Reapers, and the man became one of many Hopes.  And he was able to spend the afterlife with his family as well.

Hope you guys enjoyed that.  I have a couple other posts I’m working on, as well as the ever present previously mentioned projects.  Some of those should appear in the next few days, provided nothing derails them.

Have a good time waiting on me,

GL

Costs.

I’m really good at only posting when I have something to say, which is another way of saying that I don’t always have something important to say.  In that vein, I’ve let a few things build up so I can have a fairly long post whilst working out this storyline for the gargoyle and other things.

 

The costs of writing a knitting pattern by one’s self, putting together a Kickstarter proposal, and then. theoretically, making the the book is a surprising amount.  Initially, I figured I’d only spend a couple hundred dollars on it, because hey, this is the 1900’s and that’s just a good round number.  Then I actually thought about it, and I have to find a publisher to put out a book from an unknown, untested author, an editor, buy yarn, get a photographer (side note- wouldn’t it be great if we could just download skills?), models, locations, and actually make the pieces.  Then the fringe costs, like the Netflix and redbox to keep me entertained, the xenergy and foods to keep me functional, and the bills paid in the meantimes.  All together, that’s significantly more than the 200 old timey dollars.  Thankfully, if I get a book funded, I can try to work out yarn support, in which I would either trade yarn for publicity (which is how it’s done) or pay them with later funds from my sales (which is how I thought it was done.)  Also, I can work other jobs whilst having dreams and pursuing them.

Speaking of other jobs, here’s another cost.  Two actually.  First, as a matter of backstory, have we all seen Live Free or Die Hard?  Specifically the seen in which Justin Long’s character is talking to John Maclain (The real xmas figure) about why he’s saving the country.  It comes down to the fact that John is able to, therefore he must.  Now, you may have recently heard of the Prescott 15, the wilderness firefighters who died fighting a fire in Yarnell.  Some of those men were younger than me.  It kind of struck me, you know?  These men died doing something I could be doing, something I could be doing to make the world better.  Between that and my grandmother recently dying, I’ve decided to attend firefighting school.  So, there’s that.

In regards to my grandmother, I miss her.  She died pretty… unhappy about her condition.  And really, besides missing her, all I feel is anger.  Rage in fact.  And I realized that Rage is what I feel when I grieve.  I’ve lost religion because I’ve lost people and I’m not ok with it.  So, in an attempt to be a grown up with real adult functions, I’m turning some sweaters from my grandmother’s closet into a blanket for my mother.  I will work through all my feelings in tight, angry stitches and tedious, methodically unraveling.  Later I will post about that journey, with pictures.

 

Ok guys, I’ll talk to you later.  Possibly about my freakish sunflowers.

You ever get that nervous feeling in your needles?

Good Morning Everyone!

 

This was going to be a story post, however I am redoing the outline for the story in order to make it something I continue on into the far future.  I think that’d be something pretty unique for knitting blog to do.  I’ll probably have to work in a knitter at some point though.  Maybe.

 

You know what’s intimidating? Working for yourself.  Right now I’m (meekly) trying to ask indie dyers for yarn support, but I don’t really know how to do it in a manner that isn’t offensive or ridiculous.  Because if there’s anything I’ve learned about the words that come from my mouth, it’s that they aren’t well received.  So, in order to relax, I’m finally finishing up Bootcut Sweater/ Eleanor.  I have most of the cone of the last yarn my grandmother ever gave me in it, so it’s something I plan on wearing whenever possible.

But that’s just an aside.  Does anyone know of any indie dyers willing to work with an unpublished designer who is planning a big book as his premiere item? (Another aside, I will include the pattern three of you won in the book and still get the pattern to you, as well as another from the book as an apology for the world falling apart around me)  If you know of any, I’d super appreciate it if you could direct me towards them.   Because, as it is, my kickstarter goal will be about 15 grand.  Because I have some giant patterns.

Like an Entrelac comforter for a California king sized bed.  Or a union suit based off of an elder god. Minimalist shoes. Thigh highs.  And then there’s the price of a photographer.  I’m actually going to index the patterns, and have a section in which one can see the patterns together in outfits.  So this is going to be a thick book.  Which I hope will be successful.

Anyway, next post should feature the story.  I’m going to have longer bits for the story, and it’ll probably advance slower.  Just FYI.

A little bit about the meantime.

Good morning, because by the time I finish this, it will be tomorrow.

First off, the results of the poll were evenly split between 15 and 25 patterns per book.  I, however, have about 30 patterns already in mind, so I’ll just hover around there.  Now it’s just down to concept sketches and making a Kickstarter for it.  Anyone have any ideas for cool, in theme, prizes?  If so, go ahead and let me know.  I’ll announce my ideas in a later post.

So, lately, I’ve taken up running, and I’m TRYING to get into bodyweight exercises, but the running is really where I’ve done well. I started a Couch to 5k last summer, and in February I ran Tough Mudder.  Then, about two weeks afterward, I twisted my ankle on a simple jog, then did it again about a month later.  As a result, I’ve been taking it easy on it, and now I’m ready to run again, but I don’t have headphones to fit with the phone I’m using right now, due to my regular phone having an epic break in it.  I really do miss running, and I really need to get back into it, but between the mentioned issues and the Arizona heat, it’s really difficult.  Which is sad.  Perhaps I should bite the bullet and find a way to join a gym.

And to close this up, I’ll impart on you a bit of business knowledge I’ve learned this past year onto you.  If you’re a custom artist, always go through the bit about your rules and make sure everything is clear.  I had a item ordered, glossed over my rules because they are a family friend, and gave a list of features I was thinking about.  Everything was ok’d and agreed upon, until it was delivered.  It’s not their fault they didn’t like it, but it is my fault I’ve broken so many of my rules in regards to redoing and not charging enough to make it actually worth the time I put into it.  Good news though, the recipient likes it.  And that’s about a quarter of the things I care about when I’m doing a project.  Maybe a fifth.  Top ten at least.  Anyway, I will not be doing discounted custom work for that particular client anymore, and I’m going to take the time to type up a statement and get it read and signed before I agree to anything anymore.

That last story entry again.

I am reposting the last entry in order to get everyone, including myself, caught up/ reminded of where we’re at.

 

This room, guys.  It had dozens of shelves, some as high as 20 feet tall.  The shelves were as eclectic as the books filling them.  As I walked around, utterly enthralled,  I saw titles in a hundred languages.  The titles I could read dealt with subjects from Anthropology, to theoretical economic implications of Zoltron.  I flipped through various books in languages I couldn’t read, and they had wonderful diagrams.  Diagrams that would look amazing on the wall of an sort of building.  As I reached for my phone to get a picture of a particularly fantastic one, I relaized I had left my phone behind.  Which, in turn, reminded me that I wasn’t chilling in an awesome room.  I remembered that I was, in fact, running for my life.

I rushed back to the door, and hey, there’s no knob.  The door didn’t open from the inside.  And that’s super frightening.  This wasn’t a bedroom, it was a prison.  A really comfy and pretty one, but a prison without windows or a bathroom.  So, naturally, I trapped myself inside it.   And yet, I was drawn back to the books.  I did a kind of emotional shrug, and went back to the shelves.  I browsed for a bit, to find the most interesting English book.  When I found it, I pulled it, sat on the bed, and read.

I read deeply.  I had always done that.  My entire life, I was able to fall deeply into anything with pages.  Before I learned to read, I flip through art and architecture books.  I’d wistfully admire the brushstrokes and brick facades.  Eventually, I learned to read.  Everything.  Pamphlets, catalogs, books, magazines, and comics.  Textbooks, I didn’t do homework, but I’d read the whole damn thing.

Then suddenly, I heard the screech of tires.  And I was 17 again.  And everyone around me was covered in blood.  Why was I at prom again?

AAAAAANNNNNNDDDD Back!

Greetings again!

I kind of fell off the face of the earth there for a bit (8 months, holy balls.) and I’m going to try to not do that again.  Seriously, I’ve got this nifty daily schedule of things I should be doing and everything. It’s in a notebook made of elephant poop, that my amazing wife got me for xmas.  Along with a collection of the works of H.P. Lovecraft.  Both of which are very much boons to my existence.  Which, is something everyone needs, at some point.

In the meantime, I would just like to take time to mention that I am working on a few projects, defined as a electronics charger, a game app for android, and writing more in the early hours of the morning.  In addition to the free pattern I owe three of you.  Honestly, my funds have gone to bills instead of a editor to make sure that one can, you know, read my instructions.  Also, I’m working, slowly, through a whole site redesign.  I’m thinking a pattern library, a page of pictures of things I’ve made as well as things other have made with my patterns, and a blog page, which I plan/hope to update three times a week like a functional online persona.

In that line, I would like to ask you, my few precious readers, what is a good number of patterns for a book, all by one designer/ author.  And I’m going to use one of the new shiny tools purchasing a domain name though wordpress has got me to do so.

As you can see, I may be overreaching with a few of those numbers.  I’d have to recruit test knitters or something.  Anyway, the reason I ask is because I think I’m going to try to get a collection out via Kickstarter and self publishing.  I believe that’s a good way to both see the demand for the kind of patterns I make, and to get my name on peoples lips.  In a way that isn’t negative.

Wednesday, I believe I’ll write more on that gargoyle story, because I was told that it needs to come back as well.   Between now and then, do any of you have suggestions for the site redesign, or would you like to volunteer for one of my projects?  Let me know!  Or just, you know, give me comments so I don’t run out of interesting things to say!

Little mistakes…

I’m right at the beginning of two custom projects, one due by the first severely cold weather, and the other by xmas.  And, funnily enough, I made a small mistake on each of them that ground them both to a halt.  I mislabeled my measurements for one, and totally miscounted all my stitches in a row, which resulted in it being needing to be completely frogged on the other.  It felt a bit like hitting a brick wall, you know?  I’m sitting here, in my comfy knitting spot, surrounded by pure alpaca and pure bamboo, and I can only work one, but from the beginning.  Not a lot of people understand the frustration of that.  Which is weird  because who likes having to rip apart a whole project and starting over?  But, it’s really the same people who think I’ll knit them things for free and that knitting and writing is beneath them.  I really should stop interacting with individuals like that.

To change the pace a bit, I’m really happy it’s October.  It begins the three months with my favorite holidays (free candy, lots of cooking and eating, lots of cooking, eating, and presents)  and cold weather is right around the corner.  Indeed, Colorado already has snowfall.  However, I’ve found that now that I’m a “grown up” I’ve stop thinking about my costume and decorations for Halloween in August.  That wouldn’t be a terrible thing, but I really don’t get around to considering any of that seriously until the week of, which is marked by my birthday.  So, on top of my birthday not being super exciting (they really never were, I’ve recently discovered) I start to stress about my complete lack of preparation for the first of my favorite holidays.  I end up being miserable for the week and saving everything until the day of.  I pull it off, because I’m great under fire, but it’s not as fun.  This year, I’m going to start thinking about things now.

So, for my costume, I have no idea what to do.  I’d like to knit a Cthulhu union suit, but I don’t have time for that and my custom orders.  So, that’s going on my list of things I want for myself.  A Cthunion suit.  Genuine R’lyian merino wool.  For those cold, mad, cultist nights.  That doesn’t solve my costume for this year though.  River is going to be a tiny little dragon (bonus, the top will work a jacket until she outgrows it, or the cold weather ends for this winter) and Case won’t decide on anything.  Actually, he won’t even speak of it.   He spends all his time either playing on his computer(which is better than mine) or pretending to be any number of fictional characters.  My wife wants to do a theme, but all we have so far is dragon, and I don’t want to be a night.  Maybe we should be medieval monsters.  I could be a troll.   Any ideas?

Speaking of Halloween, you know what show would have great Halloween episodes?  Doctor Who.  some of the scariest modern monsters have originated from that series, and we don’t get to be severely creeped out because no one else celebrates Halloween.  Step it up, rest of the world.   I gots me some jeebies that need to be heebied.

Winners, and

Congrats to Christina, Olivia, and Linda for being those chosen by my dice to win my completed the pattern!   It’s a quick knit, and a handy bag.  I’ll contact you each via your info separately.   And, as for the name of the pattern, My Gravity Bag got more votes than the other two combined.    So, I’ll soon be releasing the pattern for “My Gravity Bag,” stay tuned.

Yesterday, when I woke up, my brain started freaking out before I was really able to form whole thoughts.  SO, for a moment there, I bolted upright and looked around, and when I finally figured out why, it was because I had assumed that Sunday was Tuesday, and I had missed doing this update.  Obviously, I was wrong.  I’m actually just impressed that my subconscious is so worried about me being punctual.  For years(read high school,)  I was only worried about being on time if being late meant I didn’t get things.  And now I’m worrying about being timely in my sleep.  Odd progression.

So, I’m working on another bag, which is one of my projects for myself, and I’ve charted out a nice looking celtic knot cable pattern.  This is maybe my fourth cable project, and the first I’ve designed myself.  So, of course, it’s more complicated than anything I’ve tried before.  However, I’m going to look cool with this mounted on my hip, full of knitting and books and knives.  It just hit me that I carry around some weird things.

I cut myself the other day.  Just a small nick, but it’s right where my yarn goes over my index finger to keep tension.  I’ll admit, I despise using band aids, but I had to to keep from bloodying up my yarn.  My son had my back though.  I ended up with this:

A little blurier than I like, but you get the idea.

That is the Dark Knight punching tension into my yarn.  That’s how knitting should work all of the time.

Out Of Nowhere

It’s pretty obvious that most things in life happen out of nowhere.  Not a lot of people get warning that x is going to happen, that y won’t happen, or whatever.  When I signed up to work at the Renaissance Festival seven years ago, I didn’t I’d meet my wife my first weekend and crush on her for years before I’d ask her out.  I have no idea how this blog got 210 followers, because the last time I looked, it was closer to 8.  It may have been less than that.

So, what do we do when we get fired from out dream job twice, have a new kid, lose a best friend,  and save a life?  Mostly, I just do more exercising  knitting, and reading.  I’m not doing school this semester, largely because I really don’t want to go to school for something that will make me miserable,  and I’m working less than part time, yet more than not at all.    Therefore, I have a lot of free time, which I’m probably not using as well as I should.  I’ve started a garden, which takes a bit of my focus and free time, but not really enough to make me feel productive.  So, by this time next week, I’ll have a pattern written up and ready to submit it to a technical editor.

And, here’s my out of nowhere idea.  I’m going to let my numerous followers vote on what to name it.  It’s a bag with a gravity based strap/closure system.   I will give you three options, and just go ahead and comment with your vote.  Bonus feature- If you include your name, I’ll draw three of you at random (using my rpg dice) on this coming Monday, September 24th, at 9 pm, then I will announce the winners so they can get in touch with me on Tuesday, September 25th.  As for the prize,  I’ll send you three the pattern for free, once it’s finished. Completely free,  in a nice envelope or email, and completely up to each of you whether or not you enter.   Sound good?

The choices-  The Quick Break Bag: The Original Be Awesome Bag:  My Gravity Bag.   Again, comment with your vote.  Include your name to enter to win the pattern for free when I finish it up.  I’m looking forward to (hopefully) hearing from you guys.

My New Year Long (But Not New Years) Goals.

Alight, I know it’s WAY too late to make resolutions for the new year, and that I have some that I have no idea  what are, but I’ve decided that two new goals should help me out in my knitting career.

1. Create twelve items for myself in between/out of patterns I’ll be publishing so I can wear advertisements for my awesomeness.  I currently have zero items that I’ve made that I can wear, and that obviously detracts from my person to person marketing.  I’m going to cheat a bit and include the steering wheel and stick shift covers I made for my car, but I’m only going to count those as one item.

The items I’ll be making for myself are:

(x) Hexagon steering wheel and shifter cover.

(_) Fighter pilot Hoodie

(_) Cotton running vest

(_) Wool running vest

(_) Entrelac tam/beret/beanie of some sort out of this wonderful hand spun angora I have

(_) Hip mounted bag

(_) Long arm fingerless gloves.

(_) This in cotton, for the lighter times of the year.

(_) Projects 9-12

 

2.  My second goal is to publish 12 patterns, whether on other sites or in a book collection, by the end of 2013.  I’m giving myself a little bit more time, so I can do some huge projects, as well as smaller easier things.  Considering I currently have less than one patterns published, this will significantly expand the body of my work.  The projects I currently have planned above will be four of my published items, so That’s a third of my goal planned, and I also have two planned custom items that I’ll be making up, so that brings it up to half.  And I actually have three other items with patterns almost to a selling point.  This just got super easy, super quickly.  Go me.

In other news, I’m currently training to run a 5K, then I’ll be doing a program to train me for a 10K immediately after I finish that.  I’d really like to be able to run long distance.  I used to do track way back in elementary school, and I really love the feeling of a good run.  And last night, I started the 100 push ups program.  I’ll be adding different exercises/programs every three weeks or so, until I get a good routine.  Which I guess is a goal as well, but it’s really just something I’m doing without thinking too much about.

Ok, I actually have to go get ready to run.  So, you guys have a good whatever time period you’re comfortable having.

GL