Ah, the sweetness of gainful employment. I have returned to my local hospital to work as a ward clerk, envelope stuffer, PA and/or general skivvy. And I love it. There's something lovely about being good at a somewhat mindless job. I think that's one of my themes for this year: allowing myself to be good at things. Challenging myself doesn't necessarily mean doing something more difficult - sometimes it just means doing an easy thing better.
Other recent news: for a Craftster swap (I'm angel-ing, I wanted to give myself a craft challenge) I've made a little "How to Embroider" kit for my partner. It has demonstrations of stitches on squares of fabric and then an illustration of how to do the stitches. I really enjoyed drawing the pictures - and I consulted a stitch dictionary for a lot of them and so have incidentally learned some new stitches!
I like embroidery, since I feel like it fits with my style of artwork, and it's an easy way to make incredibly geeky t-shirts (sucrose molecule, anyone?). Now I've done this I think I'll be exploring it some more. And I think I'll embroider something to put inside the parcel as well!
So, I made some gloves. They're pretty much an incredibly simple riff on Ysolda's Garter Stitch Mitts, with a bit of lace and a couple of buttons. This picture was chosen mainly to illustrate that I have an awesome hat. Seriously. I am now contractually obligated to fight crime because of it.
It is that awesome.
Right, yeah, the gloves. I actually started them as a present for a male friend of mine - then I thought "hey, these would look great with some lace!" and they became a present for, well, me. So I can fight crime with them.
Apologies for the bad photo; turns out it's really difficult to take a picture of your own hands. Who knew?
These were a quick, easy but still interesting knit, and quite comfy to wear. They keep your fingers and thumb free to fight crime. However, I think there isn't quite enough short row shaping, leaving the wrists too loose. Continue reading Crime-fighting garter stitch mitts.
Today I filled in an application for a job whose description contains the phrase "assist with the care of the leeches". I think it might be that they said the leeches, rather than just leeches, which attracts me so much. It's as if the leeches are an important part of the job, that they have been there a long time and will remain long after I've been fired.
Hopefully I will get another, easier, leech-less job. My general plan is to work just enough that I can spend the rest of my time in foppish indifference, wearing a velvet jacket and being idly intellectual. I plan to read a perfectly unseemly number of books and be generally debauched.
Actually, I don't. However, I have just finished reading Will Self's Dorian, which is a gloriously dark retelling of Wilde's story of vanity and murderousness. It skims wonderfully close to the original, wallowing in language and witticisms and wonderful degeneration. It's brilliant, you simply must read it. It will make you long for foppishness.