Start as you mean to go on - commences de la façon dont tu veux continuer.

C'est quelque chose que j'ai toujours fait depuis que je suis relativement adulte, comme une superstition : je commençais l'année en étudiant, par exemple, quand j'étais à la fac, pour que l'année commence sous de bons auspices sur ce plan. En 2007, j'ai appris ce proverbe anglais qui résume bien ce mode de pensée, dans un excellent et émouvant épisode de Cast-on : Start as you mean to go on, commence comme tu veux continuer. 
 C'est pourquoi d'ici peu je vais me retirer avec mon tricot et mon smartphone pour prendre des notes sur un potentiel podcast...pour commencer 2015 comme je veux le continuer. Ce sont les rares choses sur lesquelles j'ai du pouvoir et qui me font du bien. Alors j'ai beau être obsédée par la possibilité de la mort de mes proches et fonctionner avec mes trois Xanax quotidiens depuis quelques jours, je vais commencer comme ceci et continuer petit pas à petit pas.

Since I was a young adult, I had this custom, like a superstition, if you will : as for an example, all the years I spent at university were started studying, in order for them to go on auspiciously. Then in 2007 I learnt about this english proverb in a great and very moving episode of Cast-on: Start as you mean to go on.
That's why in a few minutes I will settle with my knitting and my smartphone in case I have an idea for a potential future podcast...in order to start 2015 as I mean for it to go on. These are some of the rare things that are in my control and that make me happy.I may well have been obsessed about the possible death of my relatives and functioned on a daily dose of three Xanaxes for a few days, I will start like this and go on, little step by little step.

The year of the sweater - l'année du chandail

Si je dois faire une rétrospective de cette année, c'est le nombre de grosses pièces que j'ai tricotées ou le plus souvent crochetées qui prévaut. Quand je suis tombée malade début 2008, j'ai arrêté de faire des ouvrages, je faisais juste des échantillons vite défaits pour recommencer, afin d'avoir quelque chose de concret et réel sur quoi me focaliser. J'ai encore fait des choses par la suite, mais petites et vites faites parce que je n'avais pas la capacité d'attention nécessaire (spéciale dédicace à l'Abilify...efficace par ailleurs mais boudiou les effets secondaires). Puis vint 2010 et ma grosse prise de poids, aucun de mes anciens pulls et cardis ne m'allaient plus. Il m'a fallu attendre 2014 pour y remédier :

If I consider this year, what is really obvious to me as a trend is the number of big pieces I've knitted or, more often, crocheted. When I fell sick in the beginning of 2008, I almost stopped alltogether making projects, what I mostly did was swatches that were immediately unraveled to get crocheted again, to give me something concrete and real to focus on. After a phase of this I started again doing projects, but small ones and immediate gratification because I lacked the attention span to make something bigger (Hello, Abilify...you're effective but still secondary effects galore). Then came 2010 and my putting on a lot of weight. Nothing I had previously knitted fitted me anymore. I still waited till 2014 to fix that :

Je pense que c'est un signe évident de progrès : j'ai commencé à aller au CMP et donc bénéficie de soins plus réguliers que jamais, j'ai postulé pour un ESAT, j'ai même pu faire du dessin pendant quelques mois. Je me suis inscrite dans une association de fanas d'ouvrages de fil. Bon , je n'y vais pas à chaque réunion car parfois c'est vraiment trop de bruit et de personnes, mais c'est un progrès sur le plan social.

I think it's an obvious sign I'm recovering. I started to go to a CMP (free mental health dispensary) so now I beneficiate from more regular care than ever, I asked to join an ESAT (workshop for disabled workers, it's a first step toward more autonomy, as I fully intend to branch out from there and work in the real wide word one day), I even took drawing for a few months and joined a fiber fanatics association. Well, I don't go to every meeting because sometimes it's too much noise and people, but it still is a progress, socially speaking.

Donc oui, 2014 a été l'année du chandail et c'est bien comme ça même si ça a été dur parfois; le progrès, ça peut être terrifiant, c'est un saut dans l'inconnu.

So yeah, 2014 was the year of the sweater, and all was well, even if it certainly felt difficult sometimes; progress can be scary, as it is a leap into terra incognita.

I've got mail again! - Encore du courrier!

Cette fois-ci c'est Ddidit de Ravelry qui m'a écrit, en réaction au post Caterpillar. La carte s'explique alors d'elle-même.

This time it's from Ddidit from Ravelry, after my Caterpillar post. Hence this beautiful card :

Thank you so much. You took the time to make it for me, I'm so touched. And it almost arrived on New Year's Eve :)

Talking in your ears - parler dans le creux de votre oreille

J'adore les podcasts depuis que je suis tombée il y a neuf ans sur Cast-on, malheureusement défunt depuis deux mois; ça a d'abord été un intérêt utilitaire : écouter de l'anglais oral et améliorer ma compréhension. Mais depuis que j'ai mon smartphone c'est devenu un vrai rituel pour m'endormir, comme une petite fille à qui on raconte une histoire. Je n'écoute pas beaucoup de podcasts différents d'ailleurs, car je suis si bien bercée qu'il me faut plusieurs écoutes pour les terminer sans m'endormir.

Ça fait un moment que je pense à enregistrer un podcast mais ce qui m'a retenue, c'est le manque de moyens. Mais aujourd'hui j'ai écouté Une Vie Toute Simple qui est enregistré sur tablette, et ça m'a l'air plus que correct. D'autre podcasts, comme celui de la Commuter Knitter qui enregistre en voiture, avec les problèmes de son que cela comporte, m'ont décomplexée. J'ai envie de me lancer avec ma tablette ou mon smartphone. Le seul problème non résolu étant l'hébergement.

Et c'est là que j'ai besoin de vous : que verriez-vous comme rubriques dans un podcast qui parlera surtout tricot et crochet, avec un peu de lectures? Je verrais plus une capsule de temps en temps qu'une émission régulière. Quelles sont les rubriques, les techniques d'arts du fil, les sujets que vous voudriez voir aborder?
Merci :)

(except this mistress' voice is very high-pitched; might be not pretty to listen to)

I have loved podcasts since the day I stumbled upon the late Cast-On. First it was purely utilitarian : I wanted to listen to an english (well, american) voice in order to improve my oral comprehension. But then I got my smatphone and then my listening was elevated to bedtime ritual, just like you would read a story to a little girl. I don't listen to a lot of different podcasts, as a matter of fact, because I fall asleep so I need to listen to them several times to listen to them in their entirety.

I've been wanting for quite some time to record one myself but I thought I didn't have the proper hardware. But today I listened to Une Vie Toute Simple, which is recorded on a tablet, and the sound seemed correct enough. Besides, sound quality isn't always mandatory, as for an example the Commuter Knitter records in her car during her commute. So I want to give it a try on my tablet or my phone. Only last technical problem is hosting.

And then, I need your opinion : what would you want to hear? I envision this as a pod from time to time rather than a show with a regular schedule. Main focus would be crochet and knitting and books, but I'm open to other subjets. What segments, what subjects, what technique would you want to hear about?
Thanks :) I know it's a bit cheeky to ask in English for a podcast that would be in French, but that could be a language aid, the way english-speaking podcasts are to me?

Fiat lux

Ce n'est pas souvent que vous me verrez faire une citation comme ça avec mon manque chronique d'éducation religieuse. Et les lumières dont je veux parler sont plus que séculaires, il s'agit des décorations de fêtes sur la maison, mises en place pour la sainte Lucie. Elles ont une signification particulière dans notre famille. Quand ma tante se mourrait du cancer en décembre 2005 ou 2004 (c'est affreux, je me souviens de la date anniversaire mais j'ai fait un blocage sur la date exacte, c'est comme ça avec beaucoup de deuils familiaux, je ne fait pas mon deuil correctement, je bloque les souvenirs à la place; c'est pareil avec les souvenirs d'enfance), la conversation à son chevet est tombée sur les illuminations que de plus en plus de particuliers mettaient à leur façade. Elle a demandé à mon père d'en mettre une pour la Ste Lucie. Mon père s'est exécuté et lui a amené la photo. Elle a répondu que c'était bien, mais qu'il en fallait plus. On en a donc mis plus, et on lui a amené la photo. ça l'a fait sourire et elle a dit que c'était bien. C'est la dernière fois qu'elle a sourit. A Noël elle est tombée dans le coma et elle est morte le 3 janvier. 
C'est pour ça que tous les ans mon père met des lumières à notre maison, en souvenir d'elle.
Elle me manque. Depuis la sainte Lucie je rêve d'elle.

It's a rare occurence, my using a religious quote, as I am really uneducated, religion-wise. And the lights I want to talk about are quite secular : the lights that decorate the house for the holidays and that are put on the house for Saint Lucie's day. In our family, they have a hidden meaning. When my auntie was dying from cancer in 2004 or 2005 (It's horrible, I remember the day, not the year, and it's the same with many of the deaths in my family, I don't achieve my mourning period correctly, instead I block memories and details. I'm the same with childhood memories). She was at the Curie hospital in Paris, and around her bed conversation went about the decorative lights that were starting to be popular in France. ( cities did illuminations, of course, but it's been only about ten years that citizens started to decorate the outside of their house and garden with lights, when their retail price plumetted.). My auntie asked my father to put a light garland on our house for Saint Lucie's day. My father did and brought her the picture of the illuminated house. She said it was well, but not enough, so he put on more and brought the pic to her bedside again. She then smiled and said it was well. It was the last time she smiled. At Christmas she went into a coma and left us on the third of january.
That's why my father always put on lights for Saint Lucie's day, in memoriam.
I miss her. I've been dreaming of her since Saint Lucie's day.

I've got mail - Du courrier

Du courrier qui vient du Canada, une superbe carte venant de Mary-Anne.

Mail from Canada, a gorgeous card sent by Mary-Anne.

 Thank you so much, Mary-Anne :) We seldom exchange cards in my family, and only from vacation places in summer, not for Christmas, as my auntie died during the holidays. It feels lonely sometimes. So getting mail for Christmas means the world to me.

Malheureusement la mienne n'est pas aussi belle car j'ai dû me contenter de celles de mon marchand de journaux de quartier, car trop d'angoisse avec le monde des fêtes au centre commercial. Alors bien sûr, ce sont des gens super, d'ailleurs j'essaie de faire un pull à leur petite yorkie, mais les cartes c'est vraiment pas leur niche.

Unfortunately mine isn't as pretty as yours, as, as I'm anxious in the holiday crowds at our local mall, I had to make do with the cards from the little newsstand across the street. They are lovely people, as a matter of fact I'm trying to crochet a little sweater for their yorkie, but their business is magazines and newspapers and cigarettes and scratch cards and loto, not cards.

I'm going to be busy - Ca va être chargé

Dans le coin d'Auvergne où ma mère est née, trois communes ( Narnhac, Malbo où elle est née et Lacapelle-Barrès) se sont réunies en une amicale, bientôt rejointes par la commune de Saint-Martin-s-Vigouroux.
Cette amicale s'est appelée Lou pé d'andel. L'andel, c'est un trépied  sur lequel on pose la marmite. Trois communes originelles, trois pieds. Chaque année l'un des trois-pieds-devenus-quatre (comme les mousquetaires!)  organise un banquet et une fête à tour de rôle. Et chaque hiver, il y a un banquet à Paris pour les Auvergnats de Paris. Nous venons de recevoir l'invitation pour celui de cette année et il y a un thème : rouge et noir (petite musique de Jeanne Mas qui traîne dans la tête...). Généralement nous n'y allons pas mais là l'idée de faire une robe rouge à ma mère, une cravate rouge à mon père et des manchettes dentelle rouges pour moi m'excite à mort.
Pour la robe, je pensais à celle-ci, je crois avoir ce Vogue Knitting-là. La plus grande taille serait juste la bonne pour ma mère. Pour moi, des Mrs Beeton et pour mon père, peut-être un beau noeud papillon.
Mais le lendemain du Pé d'Andel, il y a une exposition à la mairie de ma ville, par les associations, et j'aimerais participer. Je pensais à quelques colliers en dentelle, peut-être des manchettes dentelle, et ce bonnet :

In the part of Auvergne where my mother and almost entire maternal family comes from, three communes ( Narnhac, Malbo where my mother is born and Lacapelle-Barrès) organised a friendly association a long time ago. Soon they were joined by the commune of Saint-Martin-sous-Vigouroux.
This association got named lou pé d'Andel. It's an occitan name (southern french). An andel is a tripod to put a marmitte over a fire. Three founding communes, three feets of the tripod, hence lou pé d'andel, "the foot of the tripod". Every summer, one of the three-feet-that-actually-became-four (like the three musketeers!) organizes a big party with a feast. And every winter there is a feast in Paris for the Auvergnats from Paris (a lot of people from Auvergne used to come to paris to found cafés (still called bougnats, from the slang name for Auvergnat people). This year there is a theme : red and black (a little note for my english-speaking friends. When you say rouge et noir, it will immediately make a french person think of this 80s song.) and this is exciting me. We generally don't go, but I'd love to go this time because it would mean I'd get to make a red dress for my mother, a red tie for my father and red lacy armwarmers for myself.
For the dress, I thought of this one because I think it's one of the rare Vogue Knitting mags I own. The largest size would be perfect for her. For me, I'd see some Mrs Beeton and maybe a bow tie for my father.
But the day after the feast my town organizes an exposition where the creative associations of the town will participate. I was thinking about entering a few lace chokers, maybe some lace fingerless gloves, and this hat :

J'ai fait le patron à partir d'une stock-photo de 1967 et je suis toujours très fière du rendu proche de mon inspiration originelle :

I made up the pattern by copying a stock photo from 1967 and I'm still very proud that I came so close to my original inspiration:

Mais il va falloir vite savoir si nous allons à la soirée en rouge et noir ou pas, car si on n'y va pas, j'aimerais aussi tenter une plus grosse pièce. Dans tout les cas, je vais être occupée :)

But we're going to decide quickly if we really want to go to the red and black feast or not. If we don't go, I'd like to make a big piece for the expo. In any case, december will be busy for me!

unbelievable - Impensable

It's the final day of Nablopomo and I don't know what to say in this post. I can't do an appraisal of what I wrote, as I already did that mid-challenge.

Instead, I will talk about my crocheting. I'm crocheting something that's secret because I want to enter it in a contest on a french forum, so no pics, no French translation.  Last year, I made up a pattern from the pic of a beautiful hippie girl in a 1967 pic, you can trace it from my Rav profile. It's a lace hat. I'm keeping the border but will make the rest more solid, I found a two-colours stitch that's reminiscent of the netting that was in the original.
That's it, that's my crochet for now.

I hope Nablopomo was the kickstarter for my blog, and that I won't let it go stale now that I'm accustomed to write regularly. I want to thanks the Ravelry group too. Thanks to it I discovered amazing blogs.

One year later - un an après.

Look at me, here is me being an hypocrite. I rant about people who take phone camera videos in concerts, then I use them...

Regardez-moi cette petite hypocrite qui peste contre les preneurs de vidéos dans les concerts et qui fait son marché sur Youtube...

(it wasn't the day I saw him - ce n'était pas le jour où je l'ai vu)

(french version - version française)

(I couldn't not include this one - un must)

(this one as well - celle-ci aussi)

year 1000 - An mille

Another postcard post from my family's region (my maternal family is from Auvergne, more precisely Cantal; my paternal family is parisian or suburban). A few years ago, they found a buron, a shepherd's shelter, then a 1000-years old village on the territory of the Rissergues village in the mountain up on our commune of Malbo. It is amazing. Here are a few pics. Here you can see a reconstitution of one of the five buildings they found. Other pics, with some artifacts, can be found here.

Un autre billet carte-postale de la région de ma famille (ma famille maternelle est d'Auvergne, du Cantal plus précisément; ma famille paternelle est parisienne ou banlieusarde); Il y a quelques années, il a été trouvé un buron, un abri de berger, puis tout un village vieux de 1000 ans, sur le territoire de Rissergues, dans la montagne sur notre commune de Malbo. Vous pouvez voir quelques photos ici. Et ici, une reconstitution d'un bâtiment. D'autres photos présentant notamment des artefacts peuvent être vues ici.

Caterpillar

(no source, it was on Pinterest, with URL changed to a commercial site, I hate when they do this)

I know this blog is very me-centered, but that's my way of aprehending my place in the world, as in real life I have exactly four interlocutors, total : my parents, my singing teacher and my psychiatrist. Maybe I could tell my psychiatrist, but I generally have something more important to say than pure vanity. But vanity can be important, as for an example when fat activists reclaim their right to be the way they are through selfies, fashion posts, vidcasts...by the way, I wish I had the stamina to be a fat activist, but most of the times I'm lost in my own head, let alone my body, so I would be a very bad recruit.

The quote above resonated with me in two ways : 1- I wish my wings are coming, now that I'm more stable. 2- I fear my wings days are passé, that I'm an old mite that is damaging its wings against a bright, hot lightbulb.

Strictly speaking about vanity, I was an ugly child and highschooler, and not rich, so I was wearing a lot of hand-me-downs and discount brands (the discount brands of the 90's, when textiles were still relatively expensive and discounter carried very badly cut fare); I was the scapegoat in school since preschool where a group of children used to isolate me and beat me; middle school was relatively OK, high-school saw the return of physical threats with the added bonus of psychologic harrassment). University was a huge liberation, as I was with people who didn't know I used to be bullied, so they didn't bully me. I still wasn't social enough to form real friendships, but I had good buddies, better than the mere acquaintances I had in school. Then I slowly grow anxious, anxious everywhere, all the time. I started being affraid of my fellow students and my professors, I started hearing things I knew weren't true, I started roaming endlessly the city of Paris or going back home in my suburb to sleep instead of going to my classes. I was a very good student. Two years laters, I was unable to follow my classes anymore. Then the big decompensation happened during my exams for my chemistry maîtrise (third year of university). I stopped university altogether. I wouldn't have passed anyway. This is when I started seen a psych.
After a few months, things got better. As I still had hope I could go back to school, and was eyeing a school for noses or other workers of the perfume industry, I accepted a job as a sales clerk in a brand new shop in the mall that had just opened near me, as this shop was all about scents and flavours : jams, spices, condiments, candy, candles, lampes Berger, hookahs, incense, oil burners, essential oils, toiletries...so I felt I could learn a lot and train my nose in passing.
I learnt a lot indeed, in particular about incense, which are far more than the sticks dipped in artificial perfumes we see in bazaars. I learnt about rare woods, resins, japanese incense, the simplest mass blends. Customers needed me to navigate this aisle. I felt worthy and helpful. And sartorially, my then manager let me do whatever I wanted, included romantic goth look and red-rose hair, as she knew I was part of the folklore of the shop and people were telling her they were looking inside the shop and only came in if they saw my red hair.
On the mental health front, I was stable and able to work. Therapy was enough to keep me stable. Life was good.

(what if if that was the time where I got my wings?)

Then things started to go pear-shaped again. More anxiety, more halucinations. New managers who fired everybody except me, so no work recognition, all of these feeding each other in an enormous, atrocious vicious circle. I was not able to do without medication anymore. I was not allowed anymore to have unnatural hair. Which is a biggest problem that one could thought, as I have trouble recognizing myself in the mirror or in pics without it. I am more me with pink or purple hair, as ridiculous as it sounds, it's true.
Then there was the holiday season of 2007, the one I still have flashbacks about when I hear the commercial for Kinder Advent Calendars, just because Let It Snow was part of the music that was played at the shop this season. I promised myself I could endure it till new year's eve. Three days later my psych made me a note for me not to work till I was again able to. It took me almost two years and an hospital stay. I have the chance to live under french work laws, where my employer couldn't fire me. So when in September 2009 I was a little better, I was able to go back to my job; but it wasn't the same. People had been fired again, the shop downsized a part of its physical location and stopped carrying rare incense in favour of the easiest to sell bazaar kind. I was doing my best but clearly, I didn't have my place anymore. And I was starting going worse again.
It worked till may of 2010, when they sent a letter to the work doctor with my odd behaviours detailed in it, some true, but most falsely exagerated. He declared me inapt for my job. That's the only legal way they had to get rid of me but, to be frank, I think I couldn't have lasted more than a few months at that stage.
So, second hospital stay, with the usual symptoms and now a bonus : depression. In a few months I put on 40kg. Here is a pic where I tried to retain a part of the old me by dying my hair :

(I am the one with dark cherry hair. What do you think? Burnt wings?)

A few years passed and now I am more stable again, even if anxiety is very high since the start of 2014; I still halucinate, and it's still deconcerting and unnerving when it happens, but it's almost, "routine" halucinations, if you will. I have been allowed to work in a safe environment, in a workshop for mental health patients, and I am on their waiting list.

Here is the pic I like best of me now :

(it's also one of the few pics where I'm smiling)

So I don't know. What if, instead of a butterfly, I was Dicrocoelium dendriticum, the lancet liver fluke, who has a life circle with 3 phases, each one parasiting a new animal : snail, ant, sheep?

a curious observation - une observation curieuse

In these days where any phone has a camera inside, I don't take much pics, apart from my projects. I think it comes from several causes. When I was little we were often broke, and film was expensive, so it was saved for the big events. And even then, I was an ugly little girl, so my pic was not as often taken than my conventionally pretty cousins. As a matter of fact, all the pics of myself when I was little have ended up shredded when I did my big decompensation twelve years ago. My parents still own some, though

But that's just one reason. I think I prefer living the instant instead of spoiling it, recording it to remember it later. Which is paradoxal, as I don't have much as a memory and I unconsciously block a lot of memories. But the last two times I had the courage to go to a concert I was annoyed a lot by people recording on their cells, obscuring the view with their raised arms and screens full of lights. Why don't they savour the moment instead? And all that for, most of the times, a pretty crappy recording of the event.

So, this is why this blog may be failing on that aspect : not enough personal pics, too much external links for illustration. But keep in mind that even if I did take pics, my technique is too amateur to be enjoyable.

De nos jours où le moindre téléphone a un appareil photo, je me rends compte que je ne prends pas beaucoup de photos, à part mes projets. Je crois que ça vient de causes diverses; quand j'étais petite les sous ça ne courait pas à la maison et la pellicule coûtait cher, aussi les photos étaient pour les plus grands évènements. Dans ma famille, étant une petite fille laide, j'étais moins prise en photo que mes cousines plus conventionnellement jolies. D'ailleurs toutes les photos de moi petite en ma possession, je les ai déchirées et jetées lors de ma grande décompensation, il y a douze ans. Mes parents ont encore les leurs, cependant.

Mais ce n'est qu'une raison. Je crois que je préfère vivre l'instant au lieu de le gâcher en voulant le préserver pour plus tard. Ce qui est plutôt paradoxal, car j'ai une très mauvaise mémoire et je bloque beaucoup de souvenirs. Mais les deux dernières fois où j'ai eu le courage d'aller à un concert j'ai été plus qu'ennuyée par les gens qui enregistraient sur leur téléphone, obscurcissant la vue pour les autres avec leurs bras levés et leurs écran lumineux. Pourquoi ne pas savourer l'instant à la place? Et tout ça, pour, la plupart du temps, un enregistrement plus que minable qui ne montre rien.

Aussi, c'est un des endroits où ce blog pèche : pas assez de photos personnelles, trop de liens externes pour illustrer. Mais gardez à l'esprit que même si je prenais des photos, ma technique est trop amateur pour être satisfaisante.

The Sarrans Dam - le barrage de Sarrans

Near my late grandmother's commune, there is a big electrical dam on the Truyère river,  that was built circa 1920, if I recall well. They empty it every 30 years. Last time I was a wee baby, this summer is the second time (and the first I remember) I saw it empty. If I'm lucky I might see it once again. It's amazing, there was no vegetation , appart from the biggest trees that stand, all blackened, like burnt skeletons, and the ghostly ruins. Now they are filling the dam again, the water has started to rise, you can see the process over here.

Près de la commune de feue ma grand-mère, il y a cet énorme barrage électrique sur la Truyère qui a été construit vers 1920 si je me souviens bien. Tous les trente ans,ils le purgent. La dernière fois j'étais bébé et je ne me souvenais pas, cet été c'était la deuxième fois et si je suis chanceuse je le verrai encore une fois. C'était extraordinaire, il n'y avais plus de végétation à part les squelettes noircis des plus gros arbres, et les ruines. C'était fantomatique. Depuis un mois ils remplissent à nouveau le barrage et les eaux montent, vous pouvez suivre le processus ici.

Resilience

Right now I'm a mess because I have several pieces of paperwork to do, and it's always a great source of anxiety because I'm not very good at filing my paperwork, so finding the forms they want is hard work, plus I tend to fill them wrong so it always starts a game of back and forth mail between me and the organism that wants the paperwork. It is to the point I'm seriously dreaming about giving up filing my paperworl entirely, even if it means I won't have my disability pension anymore. So when they say it's easy for mental health patients to go homeless, I'm starting to see how indeed easy it could be. I'm serious this time, I'm doing it, but I'm still lacking two forms and it makes me worried.

But I wanted to talk about something else. It's connected, however tiny the link is, as it makes me think that, even with strong limitations, one can achieve marvels. In June 2014 I went to a museum with people from my mental health dispensary. It was la Fabuloserie, the very first "art brut" museum that ever opened in France. In its garden there is this marvellous merry-go-round, nowadays we'd say it's entirely upcycled. It was made by a peasant called Petit Pierre, who was born deaf, mute and with deformities. His parents tried to make him go to school but other pupils were so bad with him he barely went one year, as, as disabeled he was and as hard it made communicating, his mind was perfectly normal so he could resent other children's cruelty. I think he learnt to write and read with his sister, but that may be me elaborating on the story. He started making his merry-go-round with tins and wood and other things he found, and soon he could let people visit it on sundays, so it was his way to be accepted by the people who looked down on him where he lived.

I don't have pics as I was too mesmerized by the merry-go-round to fetch my phone. There are even little tricks, like a man drinking in a glass with the sign : look at the man drinking his wine, and when you stop to look at it, you're splashed with water! There are also fireworkers that splash you from a big ladder, and a huge Eifel tower. I loved it.
I will try to find youtube videos but as I don't have sound on my PC I have no idea what they say :

So maybe, if Petit Pierre achieved his dream, I may be able to complete that bloody paperwork. At least I hope.


And if you ever go to Paris and can spare a day to go to Dicy, 130km from there, please do yourself a favour and go to la Fabuloserie. It's not conventionally pretty art, a lot of it feels oppressive as it reflects the circonstances of the persons who made it, but not all the pieces are grim. There are even textile pieces, and wooden machines and toys. And the village is charming, there is a little river with little stone houses and quaint gardens, it's really pretty if you like to draw or for a picnic.

Spot the error - Cherchez l'erreur

It's glaring at me. No wonder I had 8 stitches that went nowhere at the end of my chain. That's what you get when you listen to trash tv while working.

Elle me saute aux yeux. Pas étonnant qu'il me reste 8 mailles à la fin de la chaînette; ça m'apprendra à écouter D8 en crochetant.

(It's there! THERE! Là! LA!)

But do I care enough to start over? That is the question...
(last minute news, 6 hours later : I caved in and frogged and added a row of filet between the two sides of the edging)

Mais est-ce que ça m'importune au point de recommencer? Là est la question...
(nouvelles de dernière minute , 6 heures plus tard : j'ai flanché, ai tout défait et rajouté un rang de filet entre les deux côtés de la bordure)


Stitch is border #60 in the Priscilla Irish Crochet Book that can be downloaded on the Antique Pattern  Library. (pdf direct link here). I won't translate it as I will do in the french paragraph (let's just say it's a starting chain of multiples of 16 stitches, as it wasn't mentioned in the book), as it is perfectly understandable English, but here is the chart of the first repeat :

Il s'agit de la bordure n°60 dans le Priscilla Irish Crochet Book qui peut être chargé sur l'Antique Pattern Library. (lien direct vers le pdf ici); je me suis amusée à dessiner la première répétition du motif.

Sur une chaînette d'un multiple de 16 mailles :

• 8 ms, 6ml, tourner le travail, fermer avec une ms sur la première ms faite de la série de 8.Tourner
• 4ms, 1 picot, 6ms sur l'arceau de 6ml
• repartir sur la chaînette de départ, 8ms, 6ml, tourner le travail, fermer 8ms plus loin avec une ms. Tourner
• 4ms sur l'arceau de 6ml,7 ml, tourner. Fermer avec une ms à 2 mailles du picot.Tourner
• 4ms, 1 picot,4ms, 1 picot, 4ms dans l'arceau de 7ml
• repartir sur l'arceau de 6ml : 2ms, 1 picot, 4ms.
• recommencer au début.

The Uncommon Reader - la Reine des Lectrices

What would happen if Elizabeth II discovered a traveling library in front of Buckingham palace and started to feel a devastating love for reading as a consequence of this discovery? This is the premices of this book. I couldn't make it justice, as right now I'm still sick, so I think a lot of it passed above my poor achy mind, but I loved the subtle english humor. Well, when I say subtle, it's because my kind of English humour generally is Terry Pratchett or Tom Sharpe...There is possibly more reflection on the effects of reading on the reader - in a standard reader, it isolates; in the Queen, that uncommon reader, it makes her relate more to her people. But again, I don't have the ability to analyze this right now. I'll for sure reread it in a while, if it doesn't hide in the jungle that is my Kindle app.
The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett.

Qu'arriverait-il si Elizabeth II découvrait par hasard un bibliobus au pied du palais de Buckingham et se piquait soudainement de lecture avec une passion dévorante? C'est ce qui se passe dans ce livre. Je ne pourrais pas lui rendre justice maintenant, étant toujours malade, car je pense que beaucoup de choses sont passées au dessus de ma pauvre tête endolorie, mais j'ai adoré le subtil humour anglais...Enfin quand je dis subtil, c'est parce que mon genre d'humour habituel c'est Terry Pratchett ou Tom Sharpe...il y a certainement pas mal de réflexion sur les effets de la lecture sur le lecteur - chez le lecteur lambda, c'est l'isolation; mais chez la Reine, cette uncommon lectrice, cette lectrice hors du commun des mortels, cela la fait se rapprocher des contingences de son peuple. Mais là encore, en ce moment je n'ai pas toutes mes facultés pour analyser en finesse. Je vais certainement le relire un peu plus tard s'il ne se perd pas dans la jungle de mon appli Kindle.
La Reine des Lectrices d'Alan Bennett.

The eternal plight of the selfish Knitter - La rançon de la tricoteuse égoïste

I want a dress
I want a poncho that looks like a capelet in front and a triangular shawl in the back
I want a lace choker
I want a lavalière
I want a flapper cloche
I want a simpler Katwise coat
I want a lacy hoodie with a big monacal hood
I want a purse.
Too many ideas at the same time, too little concentration and time, and materials, too many techniques to learn, oh my.... that's the eternal plight of the selfish knitter.

Je veux une robe
Je veux un poncho qui ressemble à un chauffe-coeur devant et un châle triangulaire derrière
Je veux un ras du cou en dentelle
Je veux une lavalière
Je veux une cloche à la garçonne.
Je veux un manteau à la Katwise, en plus simple
Je veux une veste à capuche en dentelle avec un grand capuchon monacal
Je veux un sac à main
Trop d'idées toutes en même temps, trop peu de concentration ou de temps, ou de matériaux, trop de techniques à apprendre, oh bon sang....la rançon de la tricoteuse égoïste.

Let's talk about fluff, baby

Let's talk about fluff, baby

Let's talk about clothes and me

Let's talk about all the good things
And the bad things that may be

Let's talk about fluff 

Let's talk about fluff!

(showing my age there- oups, je dévoile mon âge là...)

Too sick to crochet (hard to crochet with hook in one hand and tissue in the other), so I made a Pinterest board about the style I'd want to cultivate : dark knitter :)

Trop mal en point pour crocheter (trop dur de crocheter un crochet dans une main et un mouchoir dans l'autre), aussi j'ai fait un tableau Pinterest sur un style que j'aimerais adopter : tricoteuse dark :)

Still with my purse idea - toujours cette idée de sac en tête.

I'm brusquely sick with a flu-ish virus but still entertaining that new purse idea; this time, crochet!

So I've seen this gorgeous pic on Flickr (her whole flickr is gorgeous eyecandy for fiber fanatics!)and then I thought I could assemble snowflakes like these on a plum lining cotton. Seems easy enough to do.

Another possibility is taking inspiration from the gorgeous Géranium bag from Sophie Digard; mine would be thicker, as she uses a multitude of very fine linen threads to get those gorgeous everchanging shades; but I have a pastel collection of skeins of Noble from Holstgarn. I initially bought them because I wanted to make a shrug inspired by this bag. So : bag, sweater, what should I choose?


J'ai subitement la crève mais toujours cette idée de nouveau sac en tête; cette fois-ci, au crochet!

Je viens de voir cette belle photo sur Flickr (le flickr entier de l'auteur est une invitation à manier le fil) et je me suis dit que je pourrais assembler des flocons comme ça sur une doublure de coton prune; ça paraît assez facile.

Une autre possibilité est de s'inspirer du superbe sac Géranium de Sophie Digard; le mien serait plus épais, vu que je n'ai pas à ma disposition la myriade de fils de lin très fins qu'elle assemble pour obtenir ses teintes changeantes; mais j'ai une petite collection pastel de Noble d'Holstgarn que j'avais acheté parce que je voulais un chauffe-épaules inspiré de ce sac; alors : chauffe-épaules, sac, que choisir?

 (no source. This pic is all over the Net; pas de source, on retrouve cette image un peu partout)

(the shrug could bear a ressemblance to that; I like it, as mad as it looks. Pic from a zhurnal mod magazine I found on the net, I need to buy the mag. Le chauffe épaules pourrait ou ne pourrait pas ressembler à ça, et c'est tellement dingue que j'adore; image de zhurnal mod trouvée sur le net, il va falloir que je me le procure celui-là)

you know what I'd like? - Vous savez ce que je voudrais?

I'm craving a new purse. My huge eggplant Namaste Malibu is dying, the vegan leather is peeling. If I could, I'd buy a Poppins in raspberry because it's so cute and appears to be roomy, but the only website I can order Namaste from doesn't carry it. So instead I bought a purse frame, the biggest I could (I need big bags for my knitting and a bottle of water, and possibly a piece of fruit or two) : 25cm, I'm so sad I couldn't find a 30cm one with the little holes in the frame so that you can sew the top (I don't trust the textile glue-only ones).
Right now I have two ideas. One is simple and luxurious; I've got a few skeins of dark petrol alpaca, probably not enough for a sweater that's bigger than a roomy shrug. I thought I could do the bag in stockinette, and then embroider constellations with DMC gold and silver thread.
Other idea is more involved but less luxurious. I have white acrylic. My dream is little aran snowflakes. It might be doable if I made them in the round, so that there would be branches in all directions, and then I could sew them together. Possibly, there even might already exist a snowflake pattern in Nicky Epstein's excellent Knitting In Circles...
Whatever I choose, I'll need fabric to line it, though.

J'ai très envie d'un nouveau sac. Mon énorme Namaste Malibu couleur eggplant est en fin de vie, le faux cuir se dédouble. Si je pouvais, j'achèterais un Poppins de la même marque, dans la couleur raspberry, parce qu'il a l'air très mignon et très spacieux, mais le seul site où je peux acheter Namaste ne le fait pas. Alors à la place j'ai acheté une monture de sac, la plus grande que j'ai pu trouver (j'ai besoin d'un grand sac avec mon tricot, une bouteille d'eau et un fruit ou deux à trimballer): 25cm; je suis déçue de ne pas avoir trouvé 30cm avec la monture percée pour la coudre (je ne fais pas confiance à celles où on ne mets que de la colle textile).
Pour l'instant j'ai deux idées; la première est simple mais luxueuse : j'ai quelques pelotes d'alpaga pétrole foncé, pas assez pour un gilet plus grand qu'un shrug un peu spacieux. Je pensais le tricoter en jersey, et broder des constellations dessus au fil DMC doré et argenté.
 L'autre idée est plus élaborée mais moins luxueuse : j'ai de l'acrylique blanche et suis obsédée par les flocons en torsades. ça devrait être possible à faire si je les fais en circulaire, de façon à ce que les branches partent dans toutes les directions, et après je pourrais coudre les motifs ensemble. Et qui sait, il y a peut-être un motif déjà tout fait dans l'excellent Knitting In Circles de Nicky Epstein...
Quoi que je choisisse, je vais devoir trouver du tissu pour le doubler.

Mid-term - Mi-temps

So, I've completed half of my Nablopomo challenge. I think I can congratulate myself on this, as I didn't know if I could last that long. Looking at my entries, there is as much knitting as I thought there would be, but far less fluff. Also, more serious posts than I would originally have thought two weeks ago. When I started a new blog, I wanted to avoid the personal stuff. Turns out I can't. The Net is really my only outlet, apart from my appointments with the psych. Sometimes I post only in English, not in French, if I don't want a few persons I know to read these entries, should they stumble upon my blog (so now that I have confessed it, I can't translate that post too...). Sometimes it's only in french, because I was too overwhelmed so my native language is the only one I can be coherent in. Sometimes it's in both...

But there is one thing I know for sure : those people who say Internet is the death of sociability as we know it, do they think about the socially-challenged, like me? Internet was a revolution for me. It allowed me to be far more social than I have ever been. It's not a traditional, face to face way to be social, that's for sure. But that's still social time. I'd be lost without Ravelry, as it is my go-to site when I feel social, or when I want to talk about a particular thing, as I know there is a group for everything. I'm less at-home on Facebook, as I only joined last year and I prefer the user-friendliness of Ravelry. Without that site, I would only have contact with my parents, my psych and my singing teacher.
I was especially thinking about this today because a FB friend I've chatted with for a year has blocked me. We shared very personal things but I think he resented the fact we only chatted via FB or SMS and that we never met or talked via phone (no innuendo there, he's gay and married). I still don't know what I feel about this. I'm sad because I appreciate him, but I'm still relieved because of the expectation of having to meet him one day, or phone him, to go outside of my comfort zone and maybe not meet his rather high standards...

And you, are you a socially apt person whose Internet use has enhanced your life, or another socially inapt peon like me? If you read this, I know there are chances you're not in the "back in the good ole day" partisans.

The state of things so far

I think I will ask for an internship (it's required before permanently joining)  in the ESAT workshop for mental health patients and, on the 26th, when I see my psychiatrist, I will ask him to talk with my parents to convince them. He already proposed to do this previously but I declined because it was making me anxious. You see, when it's something that is not as accepted as depression, french psychs are reluctant to give a definite diagnosis. I've seen a total of four psychs in different settings, and all of them told me they treat symptoms, not labels (hence the tag for those entries); I've lurked on french patients forums on the net, and it always happens to people with bipolarity or schizophrenia or another type of psychosis, and they often have to wait for years before someone tells them. I know that on my disability paperwork (where they have to state the reason why one asks for disability) there is "chronic hallucinatory psychosis, depression and generalized anxiety" but it was never discussed (no, I lie; a psych once conceded I was "more psychotic than nevrotic". Well, a lot of good that did me! I tried to read about it but my reading comprehension failed me; but it may prove the psychs' point that they wouldn't give me a diagnosis so that I don't run and check what it means on wikipedia, with the risk I'd unconsciously behave like the description was). I did try a lot, though. I did a professional orientation assessment last year, where it was decided I should apply for the ESAT, and , as it is not a government organisation but a non profit private organisation that did this assessment, the psych told me he just put "personality disorder" on the paperwork in order to protect me so as not to disclose my diagnosis to untrustful persons but still put something to fill the questionnaire, so now I'm very confused. All I know is that I constantly am anxious, I sleep all the time and have a hard time feeling good feelings or feeling simply alive (we have two main ways to sense how I feel in my appointments with the psych : for strange perceptions, do I feel like it was from the outside or the inside of my mind [i.e. is it an halucination or an obsession], and for the general mood, do I feel alive or not), in a word I am apathetic when it comes to other feelings than anxiety and halucinate from time to time and experiences depersonalisation.( If you look at the drawings over there, the depersonalisation resonates a lot with me because it happens a lot, I knew the name of the symptom, but I prefer to call it being wayward from reality or from my mind, as I mostly feel a shift from reality. I've never seen a drawing expressing it so well!)
So I was reluctant that the psych talked to my mother, because I don't know where professionnal secret ends and am affraid my parents will know more than myself on my health and, even if they learn little about it, that it will break their heart. They have this fantasy it's my last job that burnt me out, but they conveniantly forget I had to drop out of university far before that because of my mental health...
But I need to do something. I'm tired of staying at home everyday and feeling like a leech, but I know I wouldn't be able to hold the jobs I see propositions for on the job office site. When I did my professional orientation assessment, it required a two-weeks internship, and I did mine in the ESAT in my town, the one where I'll go if all goes well. I was doing the washing and ironing of napkins, tableclothes and uniforms for the restaurant and gardeners of the ESAT, plus a few external clients. Everytime I had to load the industrial machine I was in stitches all the time it cycled because I was always affraid I'd forget to check a pocket and it could wreck the machine. It doesn't sound like much, but it was enough to make me freeze. And there were lots of other little occurrences like that. Plus I went to hide every time an external client came, and on my evaluation they said I was too solitary and didn't mingle with other workers, so I know it would be very difficult to handle standard workplace coworkers...even when I was a sales assistant and still able to hold my job, I had a very hard time relating to coworkers and interacting with them...

Well, was it what one calls a stream od consciousness post? lots of parentheses...I'm sorry, it must be hard to read. 

ETA : it's barely 9h30 and I'm already sleepy. So I am posting this and going back to bed.

knitting litterature - Tricot-littérature

I love reading about knitting or crochet. But curiously, I don't like reading fiction about knitting. Generally it's about a knitting circle or a little quaint yarn shop and it's just an artificial device to artificially put together various characters that don't share a lot in common, i.e. it's a simple pretext, so the knitting theme is not well exploited, if it is used at all after having set the place, and I quicly give up reading it.

What I love are books that really are about knitters, not knitting as a quaint touch. That means I love those book where yarnies write about their love of knitting. Then identification with the author is total and immediate, which never happens with the pretend, half-assed knitters in fiction. Anytime I learn about such a book, it jumps in my kindle app, I can't help it...

A little list, because lists are rad :

• The Yarn Harlot 's books. (I prefer calling her the Yarn Harlot even if what I appreciate are her books, not her blog, as I have to check how to spell Stephanie Pearl-McPhee whenever I want to write about her). I love all her books, even The Amazing Thing About The Way It Goes, even if it's not about knitting. I must confess I like less Free-Range Knitter, though. The postulate, in Casts Offs, where Knitting is a country with its rules and customs, is hilarious as well as spot on : knitting can be elevated to a lifestyle; otherwise I wouldn't be so incensed about knit fiction that gets it so wrong...
• The Knitlit series : I like them like little snacks between meatier meals. Those are little essays that are grouped in subthemest hat are all having something to do with knitting. It's a pity the first one isn't available for Kindle (at least, not in France)
• Wendy Knits. Like the Yarn Harlot, I love her book, as it is most relatable, but I don't read her blog.
• Knit 2 together : I mention it because I like Tracey Ullman but it is more a pattern book with little autobiographical snippets. But what I don't like is the "knitting used to be for grannies, but both of us will drag it into the 21st century" tone that I get from the authors.
• Confessions of a Knitting Heretic : more of a how to book about combination knitting, but lots of autobiographical parts. Plus, I identify a lot with Annie Modesitt since I knit combination and I love her design work. I wish I was as fearless as her about my knitting.
• Knitting America is a bit different than the others book I listed, as it is an history book about knitting in North America. But it's so damn interesting, even to non americans.
• Knitting yarns and spinning Tales : another essays book. I'm especially fond of Teva Durham's one, Another Knitter On the Block.
• Knitting Yarns : Writers on Knitting : this one I haven't read yet, I think it got lost in the myriad books I have in my Kindle app. Another collection of essays that looks promising.
• Sweater Quest : My Year of Knitting Dangerously : I loved this one! The author wants to knit a famous fair-isle sweater in a year and documents all the obsessive process, from learning to knit fair-isle with yarns in both hands to locating the book (it wasn't reedited then) and yarn, to the inevitable question : due to the accommodations she had to do, is her sweater a real one or something entirely else?
• To knit or not to knit : So funny and erudite, both at the same time. It is written as a dear Abby column for knitters, is chockfull of famous quotes from historical figures and their knitterly equivalent, and lots of beautiful illustrations. A must-read.
• The Yarn Whisperer : most of the other books in this list are knitting books with bits of autobiography. This one is Clara Parkes' autobiography, using knitting and yarn as a theme or as paraboles. I can't really say more because I want to do this amazing book justice and I know I can't, even in my native french.
• Hooked For Life : Confessions Of A Crochet Zealot : last but not least, the only yarnie love book that is about crochet! It is very special in my heart.
• oh, just a last one : if Brenda Dayne happened to publish the essays that were aired in her late podcast, Cast-On, I'd buy it immediately. I especially remember an essay in the "secret life of stitches" series (I think cast on episode 47 or 48), about a blue dream sweater coat that didn't fit with the other elegant  jackets and coats at the office, as did her knitter in the corporate world; that really resonated with me. One day I'll have my dream coat and I hope it won't have to face the corporate world.

Wow, this is quite the list. But one thing saddens me : if it's all English-speaking books, it's not because I wouldn't put the occasional book in french. It's just that this knitting lit genre is unknown over here. You see, knitting is still seen as largely unhype, so I can't see a publishing company taking this risk. It's a pity. I'm sure designer/podcaster Annette Petavy would do marvels in this genre.

And now I face the gargantuesque task of translating this wall of text...




J'adore lire sur le tricot et le crochet. Mais je n'aime curieusement pas les fictions ayant le tricot ou le crochet pour thème. Généralement, elles sont à propos d'un club de tricot ou d'un petit magasin de laine pittoresque, et cela sert juste à artificiellement confronter des personnages n'ayant rien en commun. C'est donc un prétexte, très souvent mal exploité (et encore, s'il est exploité) passées les scènes d'exposition du lieu de l'action. Aussi j'abandonne très rapidement la lecture.

Ce que j'aime, ce sont les livres qui sont à propos des tricoteuses, pas du tricot comme touche désuète ou excentrique apportée à un livre. En fait, j'aime ces livres où les accros du fil crient leur amour pour le tricot. L'identification avec l'auteur est alors totale et immédiate, ce qui n'arrive jamais avec les personnages ratés des fictions de tricot. Dès que j'apprends la publication d'un tel livre, il saute dans mon appli Kindle. C'est plus fort que moi...

Une petite liste, car les listes c'est le bien :

• Les livres de la Yarn Harlot (que j'appelle toujours Yarn Harlot même si j'aime ses livres, pas son blog, simplement parce que c'est plus facile à écrire que Stephanie Pearl-McPhee). Je les aime tous, même the Amazing Thing About The Way It Goes qui n'est pas sur le tricot. Je dois dire que j'aime moins Free-Range Knitter. Par contre, le postulat dans Casts Offs que le Tricot est une nation avec ses us et coutumes est non seulement hilarant mais au fond très juste : si le tricot ne pouvait se concevoir comme un style de vie, je ne serais pas aussi énervée par les fictions qui ont tout faux...
• La série des Knitlit : des collections de petits essais que je vois comme des bonbons à picorer entre deux repas plus substanciels. Je regrette que le premier ne soit pas disponible pour Kindle.
• Wendy Knits : comme la Yarn Harlot, j'adore ce livre mais ne lis pas son blog. Je m'identifie à mort.
• Knit 2 together : je le mentionnne surtout parce que j'aime Tracey Ullman. C'est plus un livres de modèles avec des petites scénettes autobiographiques. Et puis le livre a un certain ton de "le tricot c'était ringue,  à nous deux nous le faisons rentrer dans le vingt-et-unième siècle" qui me déplaît beaucoup.
• Confessions Of A Knitting Heretic : un livre sur le tricot méthode combination, avec de l'autobiographie. Je m'identifie à mort, étant donné que je tricote avec cette méthode et que j'adore le travail de création d'Annie Modesitt. J'aimerais être aussi téméraire en tricot.
• Knitting America est un peu différent, car il s'agit d'un livre d'histoire du tricot en Amérique du Nord. Passionnant même quand on n'a aucune attache avec les USA.
• Knitting Yarns And Spinning Tales : encore un livre d'essai. J'aime particulièrement celui de Teva Durham, Another Knitter On The Block.
• Knitting Yarns : Writers On Knitting : un autre livre d'essais qui s'est perdu dans la jungle de mon Kindle. Il a l'air prometteur.
• Sweater Quest : My Year Of Knitting Dangerously : J'adore ce livre! L'auteur veut tricoter un fair-isle célèbre et difficile en un an et documente son obsession, depuis la chasse au livre (qui n'était plus édité à l'époque) et aux laines jusqu'à apprendre à tricoter le fair-isle avec une couleur dans chaque main. Et puis, cette obsédante question : avec les inévitales arrangements qu'elle a dû faire, est-elle en train de tricoter un authentique modèle ou quelque chose d'entièrement différent?
• To Knit Or Not To Knit : très drôle et érudit à la fois. Ecrit comme un courrier du coeur pour tricoteuses, avec citations de personnages historiques et leur interprétation tricotesque, accompagné de belles illustrations. A lire absolument.
• The Yarn Whisperer : tous les autres livres de cette liste sont des livres de tricot à contenu autobiographique. Celui-ci est une autobiographie où le tricot sert de parabole. Je me tais car même en français je ne saurais pas rendre justice à ce merveilleux livre.
• Hooked For Life : Confessions Of A Crochet Zealot : le dernier mais non le moindre dans mon coeur, car c'est le seul à parler de crochet!
• Oh, et puis une dernière un peu particulière : Si Brenda Dayne se décidait à publier la collection d'essais qui ont été lus dans son défunt podcast Cast-On, je l'achèterais immédiatement. Un essai en particulier résonne en moi, un de la série "the secret life of stitches" (peut-être dans l'épisode 47 ou 48) à propos d'un manteau tricoté de rêve se sentant mis à part par les autres vestes et manteaux plus élégants du bureau, comme sa tricoteuse, peu faite pour un emploi dans une multinationale. J'espère un jour avoir mon manteau de rêve tricoté, et qu'il ne connaîtra pas les multinationales.

Voilà, c'est quand même une sacrée liste. Une chose me chagrine, l'inexistence de ce type de littérature en France. Le tricot y est encore vu comme trop ringard, aucune maison d'édition ne s'y risquerait. C'est dommage, je suis sûre qu'Annette Petavy ferait des merveilles dans ce genre.

Project dreams.

Some projects that inspire me or that I would like to do, had I the funds or the ability, but probably never will.

• A dress inspired by this one on Etsy.
• a top, dress or skirt inspired by this dress. I have the mapple leaf pattern in a Zhurnal Mod magazine.
• a crocheted lace bloomer and cami set to lounge at home.
• a jacket (started a lot of times but always frogged) with appliqués or embroidery inspired by this marriage contract between Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon :

Quelques projets qui m'inspirent et que je voudrais faire si monnaie et talent il y avait, mais que je ne ferai sûrement jamais.

• une robe aran inspirée de celle-ci sur Etsy.
• une robe, un haut ou une jupe comme ça; j'ai le patron de la feuille d'érable sur un Zhurnal Mod.
• un ensemble bloomers-camisole en dentelle au crochet pour traîner à la maison
• une veste (maintes fois commencée et défaite) appliquée ou brodée de coquelicots comme le contrat d'Henri VIII et Catherine d'Aragon.

(no known source)