Granny Square Slippers

I love a good granny square. There is something so old-fashioned, pure, and lovely about the humble crocheted granny square.  

I also love a good pair of slippers. Nobody likes cold feet. 

Combined together? Crocheted awesomeness. 

I think granny squares sometimes get a bad rap, because we remember scratchy acrylic blankets our aunts or grandmothers made. Or maybe we once saw a friend wear a kitschy skirt or poncho... and we vowed to never wear granny squares in our own clothing.  

But really, granny squares are kind of hip -- and so versatile!  They can be big, small, on their own or joined together. 

Slippers however, need no defense, in my mind. Ever since my first summer in Ukraine during my college years, I have found any excuse to wear slippers. It is unheard of to enter a house there and simply keep your shoes on. Instead, it's much more common to leave your dirty shoes at the door, and then throw on a pair of slippers to slop around inside the house.

Of course, as a guest, I would be exempt from this rule on occasion, but I preferred to follow the custom. Often, my hosts would then scramble to find me a pair of slippers to wear as soon as they saw my feet.

Sometimes, this was to my detriment. I gave English lessons to a student at his home regularly one summer. In return for the lessons, the student's grandmother pumped food into me at a rapid pace -- and prior to feasting, she forced me into a hideous pair of maroon and grey slippers whenever I entered the house. 

I was used to being barefoot inside, especially in the summer. However, Babka didn’t back down. My feet were on fire throughout the meal and then the lesson. I returned to college with a roaring case of athlete’s foot -- and the slippers. When I left Ukraine, she insisted I take them with me. 

I kept them to be polite, but I soon found myself actually wearing them regularly. Those slippers lasted me for years -- they kept my feet warm through British winters and they made me smile whenever I remembered how I resisted wearing them at first. 

Now, I try to employ the slipper rule in my own home regularly. We are often falling over shoes on the way in or out the door, but at least they are all clumped together. (I also recently read somewhere that you are less likely to bring certain germs into your home this way -- things like pesticides, etc, stay on your shoes. Who wants to bring that into a home?!) 

My favorite granny square and slipper pattern at the moment is this one from Purl Soho's blog, The Purl Bee. You can also see more samples on Ravelry here.

I've lost count of the number of these I have made and given away as gifts... and I'm still making more. That alone proves to me that this is a pattern you really can't get tired of.

The best part? I can whip them up in a night or two, so they make a great last minute gift. And, I can easily pack them in a bag, making them very portable travel slippers.

The Ukrainian granny was right. Slippers are a necessity. 

And with such a fun and easy pattern, who can argue with that? 

Snowfall and Snowflowers

After a solid week of rain in Idaho, it finally snowed. 

I finished knitting these fun fried chicken mitts just in time: 

To celebrate the true arrival of winter, I also crocheted my friend a snowflower: 

I love watching snow falling from a window -- unless that window is in the airport. I got stuck today in Minneapolis for an extra five hours. Sadly, I checked my bag with all of that new glorious yarn AND my needles. Even the mittens are in there.

I don't know what I was thinking -- I even bought some sock yarn and new needles especially for the trip home. Then before I knew it, I had checked my bag WITH said needles and yarn (and just about anything else one might like to have on a long layover -- like a toothbrush...) Clearly my coffee had not yet kicked in this morning, because I found myself telling multiple people at various check-in counters more than once today: 'Truly, I travel more often than it appears.'

And yet here I am, at a random hotel somewhere between an airport and home, without any yarn or needles, using an awful travel toothbrush that Delta so kindly gave me (along with the hotel bill), and now I have to wear the same socks tomorrow because I didn't knit myself a new pair along the way.

Thankfully, I remembered to carry my laptop with me. The chargers for every device I own, however, are also in luggage limbo.

 

The Dishes

Dishes are an inevitable part of life. We eat. Then we eat again, and again, and again. And unless you eat out three times a day, or use paper plates in your house daily for every meal (or you eat a meal over the sink, which I have been known to do on occasion when the Sailor is not home) then you need to do the dishes at some point. 

Modern conveniences mean many of us in the Western world simply rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. Unless you have a grimy pot, no elbow grease is required. 

I've never had a dishwasher in my life. I'm not sure I ever want one. I'm one of those people who doesn't mind doing the dishes. To me, it's always been part of the whole 'cook it, then clean it up' process. 

To make the process more enjoyable, I employ good soap (always natural -- I have a weird allergy to any type of blue dish soap and many green ones) and I like to use fun sponges or dishcloths to clean up.

I had quite a bit of yarn leftover from the Bullion Beach Blanket, so I whipped up some basic garter stitch dishcloths and crocheted tawashis -- perfect for scrubbing. 

Recently, I gave a few to a friend as a gift. I smiled, as I did the dishes at her house, using the bright green dishcloth to clean the counter.

Bullion Beach Blanket

During our recent epic road trip (the one where I decided I needed to start blogging again), I decided to crochet a blanket. I had a stash of pink, green and cream cotton yarn (acquired during a stock-up sale). I also had an issue of Interweave Crochet, purchased especially for this Bullion Beach Blanket pattern. I decided that the colors -- crazy as they are -- actually looked great together. I piled the stash into the car and proceeded to make the motifs both in the car and everywhere we happened to stay. 

I blitzed through motif after motif and stacked them into piles as I completed them. They started to look like neon pancakes after a while. I wish now that I had taken photos of them on a breakfast platter. 

 

But then they all came together... 

And here again...

And wouldn't you know, I still had a TON of leftover crazy-colored yarn.

I go to a local knitting club once a month where I live. Every once in a while I seem to have something quite spectacular to show the other members -- a month ago, I brought in this blanket for my own version of grown-up craft show and tell. 

This past week I had nothing to show the group. One of the ladies sidled up to me to see what I was actually working on -- and then she chuckled. I was knitting a basic dishcloth. It's my go-to project when I'm in between big projects. It seems that every other meeting, I'm making a dishcloth. (They do make great gifts... and really, you never can have enough for your own kitchen.)

Then I realized that none of the gals at the meeting actually saw me working on this blanket... maybe they thought I didn't really make it...? 

Regardless, I know I actually made it. The Sailor witnessed the whole process too and even went so far as to ask, 'Where are you going to put that thing?'

Isn't it obvious? We're taking it on the next trip to the beach.