It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

and I was in my office, working hard on paperwork and a fresh hangover. Life's never easy for a private eye, and being a dame makes it about as easy as putting toothpaste back in the tube. That's right, I'm a broad, a woman, a skirt, a bird. Whatever you want to call me, I'm on the downhill side of 30 and I feel 40 bearing down on me like a Mac truck on a skunk at midnight. I used to be a hotty, a dish. Now the junks a little lower in the trunk, and the bedroom eyes look like they could use some sleep. Still, it's nothing some lipstick, low lighting, and a couple of drinks can't fix.

That's when she walked into my life. She was tall and blonde, with a shape that might have made me switch teams in another place and time. I knew something was wrong at the sight of her sunglasses. The weather was just too crappy for her to be acting mysterious.

"I need your help," she said, in a voice that had obviously done a bit of screaming lately.

"People don't usually just come here for my company and charm," I replied. "Who did it? Boyfriend, husband?"

"I guess you could call him my boss," she murmured. "I don't suppose you've heard of Tony Malone?"

to be continued...

I'm Back, I Think

OK, the goddess of all trades has pretty much failed at being a blogging goddess. There is only so much time in the day, and the only thing lower down on the To Do list than blogging is dish washing. Thankfully, my husband washes the dishes, or I would be buried. I'm not sure what direction I am going to go with this blog. Time will tell.

The Lace Coat of infamy is still OTN. I hope to get back to it this fall, but the 2 year old boy won't go to bed at night, and two things that mix worse than oil and water are small boys and knitting.

is Knitting silly?

Sometimes I can't help but feel a little silly for enjoying knitting and spinning. It seems like such an obsolete art. Why do I enjoy twisting wool into yarn? My husband doesn't understand why either--he calls it my "hair collection". I know that spinning and knitting used to be vital to life before China made everything for us. Imagine when ALL the thread for cloth had to be spun by hand. But now it don't get no respect: people seem to think it is just some weird thing that little old ladies like to do--make itchy, ugly hats for grandchildren. Any thoughts?

some background

Here's the beginning of the lace coat. This is where I am right now. I will continue the history of the making, but I thought I'd introduce the protagonist now. This is from a pattern in the holiday issue of Vogue Knitting. I've been knitting for other people for years, so I finally decided to knit something for myself. Could it be a hat? no Could it be a scarf, No--it had to be a 37" long lace coat.

dirty dirty

The next step is to find somewhere to wash 10 lbs of extremely dirty fleece. It is a rule that the alpaca with the best wool is also the alpaca that really enjoys rolling in the mud. If you have access to a veterinary clinic or a dog groomer, I found the raised bathtubs very convenient. I am one of the veterinarians, so I can get away with using the tubs. If you are an employee, this might be a bit trickier. I recommend using a large piece of window screen to wrap the fleece in to keep it from clogging up the drains. Sorry I don't have a picture today--I forgot the cable for my camera.

The Lace Coat. A Tale of Big Ambitions, Frustrations and Multitasking

First you shear an alpaca. This is not easy, especially if you do not have electric shearing clippers. Don't worry about what the alpaca looks like, just get as much of the wool off as you can without being kicked or spat on (much).