Twittering My Life Away...

If you haven't noticed the Twitter sidebar (look on the left), I'd suggest you take a look now. It's a place where I can post pithy updates while I'm on the road (actually I tend to spend more time on the rail). These updates can only be 140 characters maximum. I'm not sure what happens if you go over the limit. Does your membership get suspended? Do those following you start tweeting? I just don't know. I'm not sure I want to know. This much I do know: I love tweeting (or is it Twittering?). It's fun. I like the idea of recording my adventures while I'm en route. It makes an ordinary journey that much more exciting. It also makes waiting for the bus more tolerable. In fact, I have to ensure the bus doesn't speed past me while I'm busy texting Twitter. As much as I adore this new application, I really enjoy getting to my destination as fast as possible. Twitter is always possible, boarding another no. 22 bus might be 23-minute wait. I hate that.

What do I text to Twitter? Just look. I've noticed I do talk about the weather, which I suspect is only normal when you're depending on public transportation to run errands and make appointments on time. But I also do go on and on about my hobbies: namely knitting and sewing. Yesterday, I yakked ever so briefly about Burda World of Fashion's March issue, no. 115. I also complained about progress on my knitting. I'm trying to write something funny while I'm away from home. I think most people like to read something funny whether it's 1,400 characters long or only 128. We all need a laugh. I know I do, you might not. In fact, you might thrive on seriousness. Not me, I need to hear, read and write hilarious things every hour I'm awake, which makes studying French a problem. My homework is fairly straightforward. No laugh track, unless it's my fellow students chuckling at my mispronunciations of basic words. I have this tendency to use a Spanish accent; no doubt an influence from all the Spanish I took in junior high and high school. I can tell you without hesitation how to say "Let's go to the beach" in our country's second most popular language (Vamos a la playa.) but right now I'd have a problem getting to sand and water in France. Perhaps I should start twittering in French. Here's the thing: I'd like to get all those accent marks in their proper position if I'm going to do that. Otherwise, I'm going to look like a novice. I know I'm newbie, but I rather appear like an expert.

Anyhow, Twittering is fun to follow. I'm following Penelope Trunk's Twitter, ditto The Sartorialist, Jen Singer and Erin McKean. I'd have to say Ms. Trunk and Mrs. Singer are the most prolific and entertaining Twitterers on my roll. Trunk talks about sneaking tweets while dis cussing things with her divorce lawyer. Singer, her kids. Sarto? So far he just uploads links to his blog. Yawn. Ms. Dressaday? Dictionary-related tweets related to her other job as a lexicographer. Man, I'd really love to read about Erin's adventures on the road. I'd gladly read any updates on trips to Vogue Fabrics (where I hang out also), Jo-Ann Fabrics, O'Hare airport and Harlem Avenue Antique and Resale Shoppe. Here's to hoping, fingers double-crossed.

There are a couple of other bloggers who don't Twitter but who I'd enjoy tagging along with. How about Erica Bunker, tweeting during her outdoor photo shoots? Or what her expeditions at Hancock's or Vogue? Ditto Miss Celie's Pants. She could use her Crackberry to talk about all her travels - picking up fabric in Africa, Panama and heavens knows where else. Wendy Bernard would be a complete crack-up in Twitter, I have no doubt. She'd yammer away about exploits at the LYS (Local Yarn Store in knitter-speak), but I think it might be difficult for her to describe her latest acquisition in a few short words. Or how about Alicia Paulson? Wouldn't you love to hear her while she's out on walks with her canine? I'd miss out on her luscious photographs, only available online.

So far these ladies have not started Twittering. They may be wanting to keep things certain things in their lives private. It's completely possible too that they don't want fans approaching them while they're using their 40 percent off coupon at Jo-Ann's. I understand that, I think (written with a sigh or perhaps that was a whimper).

For now I'm content (let me amend that: I'm thrilled) to Twitter three times a day. I'm not sure who's reading it on my blog. Oddly enough, to date I've got more men than women following me at Twitter.com. Interesting. Perhaps they want to learn how to sew and knit, but they don't want to admit it openly? What's up with that? You can still be masculine and participate in the womanly arts! Come on, guys, stand up and be counted! It's okay to carry sticks and yarn. Be proud! I'll proudly support you in your new addictions.

That's it for now, folks, until we "meet" on Clark Street....

P.S. Would you put a Twitter sidebar on your blog. Or is that too personal or silly for your taste?

French Words I Like Today...

Ever since I started taking lessons on how to brush up my speaking skills in a certain language at Alliance Française, certain words have been virtually leaping off the tattered pages of my Webster's Dictionary onto my tongue. Especially ones that have to do with fashion. Those I just love to toss up and down in my mouth, and pretend I'm a native, living in Paris, with a full-view of the Eiffel Tower from my window, where I can sit and eat brie cheese all day and not gain an ounce: (Who knows? It could actually happen, not the latter but the former.)

• aigrette. n. a tuft or spray, as of feathers, diamonds, etc. the small white heron; an egret. The aigrette on your chapeau is just lovely, Madame. I do hope those jewels do not come from a South African mine.
  
• ampoule. n. a small sealed glass container holding hyperdemic dose. The ampoule pinned on her lapel could not support a peony, it's so small!
• amulet. n. talisman, a charm. The young girl considered the Hello Kitty necklace an amulet; she always aced her exams when she wore it.
• arras. n. tapestry; tapestries, used as wall hangings. I don't have carpets in my atelier, I have arras from Ikea.
• balletomane. n. an enthusiast for ballet. You're a balletomane? Me too! Don't you just adore Mikhail Baryshnikov?
• bombazine, bombasine. n. a twilled fabric of silk and worsted or cotton. Do you think I could find some bombazine at Mood Fabrics in New York or am I just dreaming?
• kepi. n. a light military cap. flat-topped with a straight peak. A kepi! That will be just the thing to wear with that Issey Miyake outfit. You don't know what a kepi is?
  
• moiety. n. half. You can have moiety of my fabric collection. Really, I don't mind. No, wait. Am I on drugs? No, you can have a swatch, just one. That's it!
  

Maybe Baby

My sister will be giving birth to newest baby in the Klatt klan in a few weeks. I saw her at Easter, her hip-length henley bunching at her rounded belly. This will be my 12th niece or nephew.

Soon there will be a newborn crying at the next family get-together, squishing his/her little face and turning beet-red because she/he is hungry or her/her diaper is soiled. (Isn’t that how it is? I’m completely forgotten. It’s so odd how I grew up surrounded by babies as one of the eldest in my tribe of 10. I was the go-to babysitter. More or often than not, I dumped the youngest sibling into the stroller, strapped him/her in and off we raced to the library so I could get more books to read. Wearing a wrap-around red/blue plaid poly jumper I was once actually mistaken for a young mother while I was prowling for new reading material in the children’s section. I was so insulted.)

Babies crying in the crib or in the high-chair...well, it’s all as foreign to me as French (and I’m relearning what I absorbed in high school). Today though, I just cringe when I hear those high-pitch wails. When I hear them on the bus, I go to the farthest unoccupied seat and pray that that family gets off as soon as possible. Or I depart as quickly as I can. Unabated cries just wear on me rapidly, although I do feel for those mothers who can’t escape an unhappy child.

Now there’s nary a play-thing in my house yet when I was a teenager I was accustomed to stepping on Leggo pieces. Ouch! Wait, I take that back: there’s a stash of McDonald’s Happy Meal toys that I’ve received from my best friend in my linen closet. I give those to my nieces and nephews at Christmas. But no diaper bins in the bathroom or baby food in the refrigerator. My life is different: I can scarcely tolerate the sound of humans ages 1-10 in my immediate vicinity. Example: I become annoyed when my upstair neighbor’s kids scamper back and forth on the wood floor above my bedroom. If I’m lucky, I’m distracted by entertaining a guest in my own living room during that time.

So I’ve been thinking about this new addition. Do I make a hat? Knitting one takes a little more effort. Or do I stitch one up out of some inexpensive fleece on my sewing machine? Or do become one of the masses and buy yet another onesie to add to my sister’s already expansive selection in this clothing category?

If I leisurely knit a cap I’ll be thinking about that newcomer a little more. Developing an attachment if you will. It’s much like the time I made a little box embellished with a Victorian letter for my first niece. I had difficulty familiarizing myself to her name, which was pretty, but I felt like it clashed with her last name. So I decoupaged this tiny cardboard box, so I could get conversant with the sound of her name.

I might have to do that same with the newest baby, since my sister is prone to dub her second child after a natural object in another language native to South America. I never heard of her son’s appellation until he was welcomed on this planet. Perhaps I could stitch No. 2’s initial on a hat after the fact? Babies need hats because their hair is so short, it’s like peach fuzz. But I’d no sooner finished my handiwork than the baby would be on her/his way to accept her Master’s Degree diploma. No, I could complete my that hat faster than that - perhaps by the time she/he is in second grade. By then, my creation might be suitable for another person about to be born.

It’s funny how it’s taking me longer to warm up to a name than the bona fide physical presence of this new person. After all, I’m far more likely to ask how __ is doing than I am to be spending time in his or her presence. I’ll be shopping for gifts, sending personalized birthday cards far more often than I will be burping him/her on my cloth diaper-protected shoulder. I’m much more predisposed to be saying “God Bless What’s His Name” just like Sister Maria in The Sound of Music than actually spending time with this child bouncing up in down in a church pew.

A name takes some getting used to. My own name probably sounds quaint to those young ones; to me, it’s what I became acquainted with along with my dark brown eyes and long waist. While I might wrinkle my nose at some of what I consider strange monikers of the younger Klatts, you know what those kids do? They tell me to cut my fingernails. They think they’re too long. One actually bends back my nails when he gets the chance, not realizing that that hurts.

Comments, Comments

This post isn't about my yarn shop, I don't have one, and I don't even hope to own a knitting store one day. This was just something I scribbled when I was practicing my Spencerian Script recently. It's so pretty, that I thought you might enjoy it too, and it's somewhat related to my post for today. Ok, it's a little bit of a stretch. I just wanted something to illustrate my topic for today: the comments board, something you might see at this store or at the local Y.

Anyhow, I enjoy reading them. They're a hoot and such an insight into shoppers' obsessions. I read a bunch recently that were so entertaining, I had to write them down on a paper plate. A napkin wouldn't do. These were on the Bakery section of the bulletin board under Customer Communication:

Please add sugar-free fruit to your bakery assortment.

Response:
Sugar-free pies are available by special order. Please ask a Bakery Team Member to order for you.
(Signed) Team member, Jean, Concierge

Dated 1/19/08, this was also amusing:

I am a loyal customer and I am concerned that you're phasing out the Kashi Heart to Heart Instant Oatmeal. PLEASE don't. I went to both stores today and there was none in stock. Sincerely, Talaya J. (Evanston)

Jean ever so politely wrote in response:

Dear Customer, It's on the shelf! Sometimes the distributor or producer is out of stock. Thanks for shopping here!

There were other pleas and urgent requests posted on the produce section of the board, but I didn't get around to reading those. But I will. I must. I have to read everything that crosses my path and I was sorely disappointed that there no comments posted at my local Y where I work out. They must have cleaned them out, especially my note asking if they would be getting a Power Plate anytime soon.

Those queries and questions got me thinking. What if a yarn shop had similar kinds of posts on an in-store board? What would knitters ask? How would the owners or employees respond? (That's how my picture is somewhat related to this post.)

Here are some questions I would ask and here's how I might answer (if I owned a yarn shop):

Customer Comments

Question: Why do I find bits of wood (yes, timber!) in my Noro Kureyon yarn? It makes knitting a little difficult and I'm afraid to get a splinter in my finger.

Answer: We don't know why there's wood in your yarn. But other people have asked us this question. So you are not alone. Just get this straight: we're not chopping elm trees in the back room, so those cellulose fibers aren't our fault. Maybe parts of a wooden spinning wheel are getting swept up in the yarn. We don't know. Email the folks at Noro and ask 'em. If you're afraid of getting a splinter, don't knit with this yarn. Yes, it's that simple.

Question: Why don't you have Wenlan Chia's latest book?

Answer: We're not terribly fond of Wenlan Chia's work, to be honest. Virtually every pattern is made from chunky yarn, which knits up at about two stitches per inch and doesn't flatter any woman who wears a B-cup size bra or larger. However, don't let our opinions stop you from using her patterns if you're so inclined. We're certain that the nearest chain book store of your choice will stock Chia's book. Good luck!


A little snarky, I know. What would you ask your LYS (local yarn store) if you could do so anonymously on a board?

The Name of the Blog...

You're probably wondering how I gave my blog the name, The Lazy Milliner. It's a moniker that's been sitting in the hard drive on my body for the past two years. In fact, it's the name I was going to give my other blog. I should have gone with my original instinct because here is twenty-four months after I gave birth to the other weblog, which came about after I ended the earthly life of still another site on 1930s hats (now how's that for a limited topic? But people actually did stop by, mostly likely because I was on a few webrings.) You would think the name the Lazy Milliner would be somehow restricted the author to writing about hats all day. But I don't intend to do that because I'm the Lazy Milliner. I'm lackadaisical when it comes to making hats, remember? So I won't talk about what I don't do very much. Doesn't that make perfect sense? It does to me, especially since it's early Friday morning and I have many other things to do before the sun bites the dusk later today. Like what, you say? For example, I must finetune a story before turning it in, make a least a dozen work-related phone calls, run some errands at lunch time, take a nap, make another call related to a fellowship I'm applying for, reduce the inbox, eat dinner, dawdle a little bit and then ring up a few friends post-supper. If I'm feeling somewhat productive, I'll sweep the living room and perhaps hem the orange paisley-blue leopard spots knit dress that's clinging to my dress form for dear life. Then I'll call it a night to get a jump-start on my action-packed weekend (well, it has to be since I have no car right now and must walk everywhere I need to go.) What about you? How did you name your blog, if you have one?

An Introduction

My name is Mary Beth. I'm really am lazy about making hats as I mentioned in the "What You Need to Know About Me" section on the side of this blog. I can't tell you how many hat patterns I have collected over the years...bundled up in folders, stacked in cardboard boxes; these patterns are sitting just itching to be made. I see them wiggling each time I rifle through them looking for a dress, skirt or a top to stitch up. I know the hat patterns feel a little insulted when I ignore them. Trust me, I feel guilty too. I feel like I'm forgetting my children. At least I wear hats. Not every single moment. You won't find me wearing a night cap (or drinking one for that matter.) But I do love hats. My favorite one at the moment is a fluffy fur flap hat that I picked up at this show. It cost well well over a $100, but it keeps me warm and gets me attention (although yesterday, I had it on when the bus sped past even though I was waving my arms wildly.)

Aside from my growing hat collection, you need to that I love to

. I learned how to crochet about six years ago. It felt quite intimidated holding the yarn in my left hand while I wielded a crochet hook in my right paw. It felt so foreign, like I was drinking 2 percent milk with brandy in it. I did master the basic stitches, even if I was making them all in the same hole, creating this little, bunchy thing. Soon, I was making Fourth of July colored cotton pot holders. Now, I've made skirts, ponchos, and berets.

You should also know I like

. Notice I didn't say I love knitting. You've got to be kidding! Knitting is so slow. There are days I rather walk from walk from Chicago to my alma mater and back rather than pick up two needles and a ball of yarn. Somehow I've managed to knit a couple of skirts, a sleeveless halter top and a wonky skirt turned into a shawl. Knitting is torture, but I'm still doing that instead of crochet right now.

Even more than crochet and knitting, I love

. I have a stash of fabric that's bulging out of one of those black-mesh laundry units in my closet and a huge collection of Vogue, Butterick, McCalls, and Simplicity patterns. I'm also a proud owner of a Viking Husqvarna 735. I love that baby sooo much. I've made at least 12 tops (that kind you wear, not spin), a few dresses and a lot of designer touches that I've just tossed in the garbage. Some of the more wearable designer items I wear to bed if they're not too scratchy. But sewing....it's so quick. Or it can be, if you so choose. I love the insty-ness of it. From cutting out the fabric to stitching up the hem, I can have a new piece of clothing in boom! 2 hours. Or thereabouts.
Enough about me for the moment. Tell me about you. What do you like to do?
* If you are interested in learning more about the calligraphy: it's Spencerian Script, popular during the Victorian era. I wrote these words, using a White Sharpie peel-off China marker on Strathmore Artagain black paper, which I just noticed is ideally suited for soft pastels and charcoal.