eye candy friday -- the second best thing i've ever made

I made a person once. But it wasn't on purpose and I can't say I had a lot to do with the shaping or designing of him. He came out how he came out, which happened to be magnificent, for which I thank my lucky stars.

Even though deep down inside I know I shouldn't go claiming credit, I do. Schmin is the best thing I've ever made.

The second best thing is this:

Remember the tiny buttons from a previous Eye Candy Friday? Here they are, finally at home. And the quote, from this post? It's from the "Some Babies' Things" chapter of Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitter's Almanac. That's the chapter that contains this lovely, lovely pattern, which everyone refers to as The February Baby Sweater.

Knitting this sweater was, for me, something like giving birth. While other knitbloggers who made it wrote of good times and easy knitting, Zimmermann's "pithy" directions and my own lack of experience knitting sweaters (I'd only done shrugs before) made me cry out for an epidural. The version you see here is number two. Number one was a beautiful failure.

It took a while for me to figure out where I went wrong the first time, but I did. (Among other mistakes, I read Zimmermann's directions literally and worked the 2nd front section just like the first. All she says is "repeat for second sleeve" and I didn't realize I needed to knit all the way around first, so that everything would end up on the same row, but anyhow.) It pained me to frog the first sweater. It was sweet, even in its deformity. But I was making this for the baby girl of a very dear friend and I wanted it to be, needed it to be, perfection. Just like the baby, whose name is Grace Beatrice. Isn't this the most ideal little old-fashioned sweater for a girl named Gracie Bea? I think so. And I love knitting old-timey pieces like this.

February Baby Sweater
Artyarns Supermerino #113
Size 7 Addi Turbos
Buttons from Michael Levine's Fabrics, Downtown LA

Nature's trick on childbearing women is that we develop amnesia regarding the excruciating brush with death that having a baby is. Most of us love the product of all that torture so much that we forget about the agony and we turn around and do it again.

I got the best of nature and decided once was enough, but knitting this sweater, even the second time, was not without its share of comparable agonizing moments.

The pain of which apparently has escaped my consciousness because I'm already a third of the way through a second one.

there's good and then there's very good

And so I'd been a very good girl when it comes to participating in Knit From Your Stash 2007. With yarn, I'd been upstanding in sticking to the rules I laid out for myself. I bought in Paris, but only one scarf kit for 20 Euros at La Droguerie. America is such a land of fiber plenty -- what with the Internet and all -- that I didn't feel Paris had anything on us. There was no need to go nuts when I can do just as well, without a lousy exchange rate, here.

Other than the kit, I hadn't bought any yarn at all. I'd been a little dodgy with fabric, having bought some pre-cut squares for all the quilting I'll get around to in the year 2010 on eBay. I also bought some dollar-a-yard stuff at my LFS, Michael I've Died and Gone to Fabric Heaven Levine's. Well, and some lining to go with it because it's thin cotton. And a pattern or two to have something to make out of it. Oh yeah, and some notions, embroidery stuff, leather remnants, and jingle bells because a girl never knows when she's going to make baby booties and isn't tiny jingly baby footwear the cutest?

Probably I'm forgetting something I got from Michael Levine's (right, the backing fabric with the adorable stars for the baby blanket, and...) because that place makes me lose my natural mind the minute I hit the door. I do believe I hit the door three times last month.

I'd also bought a couple of sewing books and craft mags, so I'm close, but not dangerously so, to meeting my limit of 10 books for the year.

Not too too bad.

Then came Black Sheep Knittery :

It seems Black Sheep is having itself not a good sale, but a VERY good sale. Everything in the shop, including books and needles and notions -- books and needles and notions, people! -- is on sale for 50% off. Yes. I know what this means. I've used one of my three get out of jail free cards. I really did try to resist this. But I have friends. Women about whom I speak in reverent tones. Lovely as they are, they talk. They talk of pretty soft things, things color filled and dazzling, and of the beautiful tools necessary to work them into something spectacular. They especially talk when these things can be had for half their retail value.

The Black Sheep sale has been going on since (before?) I left for Paris. Two Saturdays ago there was talk that it would be the last weekend to catch it and since I was busy with the baby blanket, I figured I was safe. Then came word, from Natalie, who has a hawk's eye for such things, that it had been extended. It happened to be last Wednesday. I happened to be getting off work and free as a bird at 2pm. I met her there. The rest, as the old saw goes, is history.

Let's take a closer look at my loot, shall we?

Namaste glass needles. These things usually go for, what? Thirty bucks a pop? I got them for three bucks each. Did I mention Black Sheep also has bins of $1 - 5 yarns, needles, and other goodies? Dollar yarn right here --

and here, in blue, with a 3 dollar Frida tote:

These boxes of ribbon embellishments are marked $12.95. I caught them while they were sunbathing in the 3 dollar bin.

And a few of my most favorite things:





When I walked into Black Sheep the first day (much like a potato chip, it was impossible to indulge in this sale only once, though since it is the same sale, I'm only counting it as one outing, yar!) I had to sit down and catch my breath before I could shop. I mean, come on. A sweet little tin of mixed buttons? 1/2 price Manos? Golden embroidery scissors? Jimi and Che under glass?

They keep pulling more stuff out of some magical warehouse. I'll set a modest spending limit (I will! I mean it!) and drop in just one more time. One more. That's all. Because there's broke and then there's very broke.

eye candy friday -- preview of things to come

done is better than perfect

The deed is done.

The shower officially started at 1pm. My goal was to be there by 2, as this was a casual backyard affair. At 2, I was just finishing sewing on the backing, using the old face-to-face, sew all around but leave a hole, turn inside-out trick nicely detailed here. Once that was done, I did some of the tacking to see how it would look. I liked the red, so red it was. I snapped a few shots, took measurement (27 x 23.5 -- small, but Bubs said it was okay because I was looking to cover a newborn, not its parents), grabbed the stuff I'd bought at Target (washcloths, onesies, baby wash, a rubber duckie) and placed in this cute little box

Also from Target. Adorable, yes?

and off we went.

With Bubba at the wheel, I spent the 45 minute ride tacking the quilt. Sometimes the backing would get a funny pull in it when I stuck the yarn through to the front and I'd have to do each tack over. When we pulled up in front of the house, I was done tacking and was trying to get the blanket wrapped. I could see people in the backyard -- and they could see me -- so I asked Bubs to pull around the corner. He did, but not too happily because he was starving and had spied the food table. I have to give Ye Olde Bubs lots of credit. While I was at Target, he washed and dried the blanket top and the backing fabric, an operation that took a couple of hours because the thick Lion Cotton creation did not go gently into that good dryness. In fact, the thing was still a bit damp when I gave it to the mom-to-be.

Looking at the pictures of the finished project gives me a tinge of regret over the whipstitching. I suck at using the mattress stitch and, had I used it, it would've taken me twice as long to get done. I did the whipstitch thing at 7 in the morning and from that part of day, it looked fine. Post wash, though, the uneveness of the stitches really shows. I haven't thrown myself on a sharp object over this is because it actually looks better in person. So poo on you, pictures.

The road to the shower:

Über-talented Natalie made me a beautiful set of gift tags for my birthday last year. They're from a photo Schmin took of me reveling in the glory of ImaginKnit. I'd used the photo for my party invitations and Natalie took one and made tags. They're very dear to me. I fondly think of them as "the narcissistic tags" because they feature my big old head in technicolor. And because I love looking at them so much.

She even included the title of one of my blog posts.

Finally, wrapping it up (featuring more Target supplies. They should pay me for advertising):

And the moment that gives us an excuse to knit makes it all worth it:

My lovely friend really liked the blanket. Her friend was checking out the tag, wondering, Who does this chick think she is putting her face on everything? Oprah?

For absolutely no reason, here's a shot of my tablemate. Click for big and check him out close up.

Happy Easter to those who celebrate. Happy Sunday all around.

eye candy friday -- oh baby oh

Goodness! I seem to only make appearances for Eye Candy Friday these days, and late Eye Candy Friday at that. But I'm glad to have this obligation because it keeps me posting when my time is short and it keeps me thinking about posting even when I can't come here and do it. Plus, as my interest turns more and more to photography (I said "my interest," not "my skill") my dedication to ECF pushes me to try harder to develop and carry out a vision. Eh, sometimes I get there.

Since the Paris post will take me time to get together (there's so much I'd like to share), and I won't be showing the contest prizes until (hopefully) early next week, I figured I'd dedicate today's ECF to, well, today.

A few months ago (January? December?) I found I could no longer fight the urge to throw myself into modular knitting. I'd long been planning to do a baby blanket from some Lion Cotton I had stashed. I had the usual dirty dozen (and the dirty dozen's cousins) on the needles, but, with great gusto, I cast on for the blanket. I made two squares then called up Natalie and told her how wonderful and soothing this modular thing was. I could make squares forever, I declared. I carried on, then I got word that one of my friends was a few months pregnant. I decided to give the blanket to her, but y'all know how it is. The baby's birth always seems eons away. So does the baby shower.

So I didn't worry when, after about ten more squares, my usual project ADD set in. I set the squares aside and moved on without a care. This is a fine example of something I really like about myself: I don't nag me too much.

Only maybe, when it comes to making stuff on a deadline, I should at least occasionally shake a threatening finger at myself as I pass a mirror.

Word is bond. My friend's baby shower is tomorrow.

This here is what I'm working with. I am not having much fun breaking my fingers (and having to miss seeing Grindhouse with The Bubba) to get the blanket done, but taking these pictures felt good. The light was better than I thought, and the image of the turquoise blue -- though it could be a tad more green -- makes me happy.

Today I finished the last five squares and I'm in the process of stitching all of them together. It'll be my first time putting on backing, but with the aid of those who've gone before me and been nice enough to tell about it on the Internet, I'll figure out a quick way to get it done.

Lord willing and the crick don't rise, I'll soon be able to post pics of the finished blanket. After gifting it, bless my soul.

UPDATE: 10:10am Saturday. The top is done. I've whipstitched it together and The Bubba is headed to the laundrymat to wash it and the backing fabric while I head to Target for gift packaging and the customary store bought item it's so classy to include with handmade gifts. Target = busy as hell. The Bubba at the laundrymat = wildcard. Departure time for shower = 1pm. I'll still have to sew on the backing and tack quilt the whole thing between Target and then. Will I make it?

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: 11:27am. Back from Target. Not too bad. Checked on Bubs at the laundry. Blanket and backing drying well. No fading on either. Yay. Preparing to use sewing machine to practice putting backing on 1 square. Can I do it? Only if I get off this blog!

on march

Early Monday evening I left the Musée du Louvre and made my way to the Metro to meet Michelle for dinner. I was certain of the direction back to the station and decided I could therefore vary the route a bit. As I walked along, I saw people sitting on a bank below the walkway, and a paved ramp leading down to where they were. The lure of the river, the Seine, was impossible to resist and I took the ramp, found a spot on a platform above the walkway, and sat a while watching the Parisians, the tour boats on the river, the ducks, and the age-old buildings surrounding it all.

Whenever I find myself in a distant and unanticipated place I think of my mother. She never left the United States, spent most of her adult life trying to wrangle Toledo into something more kind to her. I think of her and feel sad because she died a month after her 49th birthday and there was so much she never got a chance to see. When I mentioned this to Michelle as I stood underneath the Arc de Triomphe the day before, she told me (and I have heard many times) that I take my mother with me and, in that way, she gets to see what I see. I believe this and I don't. Perhaps something I need to reconcile.

Though I wrestle with what my mother's life was, I deeply appreciate how my life's fortune points my feet in directions I don't expect to walk. Sitting beside the Seine on a beautiful day in March filled me with a sense of excitement, a friendly expectancy about the days to come. And maybe a little, just a little, I felt my mother smiling for us both.

eye candy friday -- two from a parisian cafe

I'm back from my wondrous Paris journey. I loved every minute of it and have lots of photos (some of them crafty) to share. I'll post as soon as I shake off this jet lag.

In the meantime, bonne nuit a tous! (Goodnight, everyone.)

eye candy friday -- string section

I am seriously running low on eye candy but don't want to miss posting because it's nice to build some consistency somewhere.

This week has been crazy busy, 12+ hour work days, a doctor's visit that reminded me why I'm so grateful to have a full-time gig in the first place (health insurance, anyone?), an appointment with my aesthetician that required a harrowing 11th hour drive from work to The Valley to get my face de-furred. No way was I going to France with my father's eyebrows.

Here I am, oh, say, 7 hours from taking off for another continent and I haven't packed a thing. I kid you not. My suitcases are still stored in the trunk of my car. This morning I got myself hopped up on coffee so I could proctor a 7:30am exam and now I'm so damn exhausted that the very concept of coffee is a slap in the face. I want only sleep.

Okay. Somebody help me. I'm watching this "October Road" show on TV and the main character, a famous novelist who looks like if he does type, he does it with his toes, wants a job at his alma mater so now he's serenading the dean. Naturally, it's the way to go. She hires him. These TV shows are so steeply based in life on this planet.

Anyhow. I've got to get busy pulling some strength out of my ass. I'll be back next Friday with new *French!* eye candy and a fun tale or two.

(Kellz, I'm good for that tote bag as soon as I return.)

Cheers.

eye candy friday -- ode to caffe mocha

you have found me here
at 40
drag-assed and frantic
wanting to do every single thing
i've never done
and all at once
because time
is not what it used to be

i need you
though i have shunned your kind
my entire life

you do not take this personally

i come for you and you lift me up
to ride the sky
like a baby

because i am an infant
in this game we play
i walk away from you
with the jitters
and feeling, shall we say,
a little loose?

never mind that

all that matters
is that you are legal
and the only one
strong enough
to keep me from
drooling on my desk
in the middle of
the day

it ain't the lotto, but it's got a big winner!

The winner of the sweater tote is Kellz!

I felt the need to do it 'til I was satisfied, so I drew a 2nd place winner too!

My assistant, Pig, will say it again

Kellz, lover of Lizz Wright's Salt, and Grace, lover of Astor Piazzolla, please e-mail me your mailing addresses. I'm at sappmama1@yahoo.com. Kellz, a fabulous sweater tote will soon be coming your way. Grace, your prize is a surprise.

Thanks so so much to everyone who entered. Good times, yes?

Viva la musica! :)

ah, the best laid plans

Y'all know. Sometimes the knitting and the blogging they find themselves at loggerheads, your two poor little hands caught in the middle.

That happened to me today.

I wanted to take photos for the drawing and to announce the winner, instead I wound up knitting and listening to Children Running Through most of the day. And so I'll do the drawing tomorrow, after I arrive home from working for The Man.

In the meantime, I'd like to offer something, so I'll leave you with a passage that has to do with the project I worked on today, the same project for which the tiny buttons are intended.

I slipped off into the most delightful post-prandial nap. My special technique for car-cat-naps is to sit bolt upright, and let the chin drop down as far as it can on the chest, relaxing all neck-muscles. My reflexes are now so conditioned that this pose sends me to sleep almost immediately; the head doesn't loll, the mouth doesn't open degradingly and I like to think that there is no snoring, although the family is in a conspiracy to tell me that I always snore, which is plain nonsense.

This is not the non-sequitur it might seem (as anyone who has knitted this project can attest). You'll see.

eye candy friday -- tiny buttons

These are for a project I'm currently working on. I think they're very sweet.

The contest has been wonderful. A big thank you to everyone who played along. You all have been the highlight of my week. Today I went to Amoeba and bought Patty Griffin's Children Running Through. I was planning to listen to her, per Mel's suggestion, then I saw her singing "Heavenly Day" on Letterman. I figured it was a sign. Mel, I'll be moving on to 1000 Kisses next. Then on to others of you guys' favorites.

Sunday -- THE BIG DRAWING. Someone's getting a new totebag. :)

and the colored girls sing do do-do do-do...

[If any newcomers would still like to enter the contest, see "Play Here and Win, " the post below.]

I swear to goodness that this here little music contest is more fun than a barrel of drunken monkeys. And oh my god, touching, too. When I read this, I cried:

Hands down no questions asked it's Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks. I can pop it in, close my eyes, and in an instant I'm transported back to summer road trips through the white mountains of NH with my dad. I can see the headliner of our dilapidated ford draping down towards my face as I lounge up against my brother and sister in the back seat. On that trip without my mother I first fell in love with the woods, the open road, and with Mr. Dylan, and I've been reeling ever since.

Blimey. Isn't that beautiful? Tangledbleus, I want to make you a tote right now. And I want to get Bob Dylan to hand it to you.

Most of you, like me, don't have Tangledbleus' s certainty. You want to make mixed-CDs and to bring your iPods to the desert island.

Often for good reason, like Sade said:

I really can't chose an album for a desert island, 'cause, each album brings me memories of one day, one week, one month or even one year in my life.

I feel this way all the time. And when an album is really good, I'll squeeze myself into it even if it has nothing in particular to do with what I'm going through in my life. That was the case with Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun. That record's got her breakup with Andre 3000 sung all over it -- or, I should say it's got "Andre 3000 jilted me and I really hate him but since we've got a baby I'm trying really hard to work through it" sung all over it. It came out at a time when my characteristically tumultuous love life had smoothed itself out. I had a boyfriend I was happy with, a relationship I couldn't complain much about. But, boy, oh boy, when that "Green Eyes" would come on and Erykah would sing "I can't leave it's too-oo late, I can't leave it's too-oo late" I would just DIE. I'd start believing my man was doing me wrong, wishing to god that he had been, so I could reaallly get into the drama. I wanted to feel like somebody was sitting on my chest, because I knew that's how she felt when she made the song. I have that experience every single time I play that disc.

Sometimes no matter how good an album is, I'll never get thoroughly into it. Hari said:

I can't BELIEVE Tori Amos hasn't graced your list! Tori Amos's Scarlet's Walk is such a great album...

Touche. Yes. It is. It's a great, great album. I think Tori's best. But no matter. Because, you see, Tori Amos belongs -- lock, stock, barrel and soul -- to Mr. Stevens. Call it sibling rivalry. We've been friends since we were 14 and we lived most of our adult lives under the same roof. And Mr. Stevens is a very emphatic type of person. When he likes something, the whole world will know. He got to Tori long before I did and he would play her and talk about her and sing along with her to the point where I'd want to kill them both. I let him have Tori, then and forever. I play Scarlet's Walk from time to time and I really enjoy it (I know all the lyrics to "A Sorta Fairytale" and I love "Your Cloud") , but on principle, I can't put it on my desert island list.

Plus, Hari, do you know all the albums that man stole from me? I'd bring home something good and he'd get his hands on it and start playing it to death, forcing me to relinquish all rights to future listening. (His side of the story, I'm sure, is different. But this is my blog.)

I'm pleasantly surprised by how many of you guys know and love Eva Cassidy's music (Audrey, did you see her live?). And there's one Nina Simone fan, Angela. I'm a fan, too. The only problem is that all my favorite songs of hers are scattered among different CDs. I'd have to burn my own mix for the desert island. The little known "Baltimore" would have to be included. Like Prairiedaun, I also like Cheryl Crow. I think The Globe Sessions is around here somewhere. These days I mostly listen to her best of. Chemgrrl chose Graceland, which I think is an inspired pick. That's one of those records that every few years goes into heavy rotation with me. My friend Summer chose Miles Davis's Kind of Blue, because "sometimes I just need the music man, and not the chatter." Summer, you almost got me on that bandwagon, but mama's gotta SING. If you tied a tune to my back I couldn't carry it across the street, but I gotta sing.

Then there are the artists I know but haven't really gotten into, like steph_knits's choice, Janis Joplin. I used to be too sad for her, but now that I'm closer to understanding the brevity of life, I could listen. I'll check out Box of Pearls. And Shobhana, I've heard of Jeff Buckley. I don't know Grace, but I will. Bensmumma listed Works by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, a group I know of but can't name any of their songs. But with a statement like, "I could die feeling complete, listening to Greg Lake singing 'Lend Your Love to Me Tonight,'" well, who am I not to give them a spin?

And then there are the artists I've never heard of at all, which is why this contest is such a kick. Adrienne mentioned The Eye, a new band to me. And, Jacqueline, I'd be into some "Australian rock with meaning." I'll look for Paul Kelly's Songs of the South. Mel, Rachael Yamagata? Never heard of her. I'll give her a listen. You say these Duhks do a good cover of "Mountains o' Things?" I find that, ahem, hard to believe, so I must find out.

Right now I'm listening to Fleetwood Mac's Very Best of and thinking, How the hell do I figure I could survive on a desert island with no Fleetwood Mac? Or at least a little Stevie solo? An hour ago, while listening to David Gray's Life in Slow Motion, it was If I had to go to a desert island without this, I'd throw myself to the sharks.

Ah, music. It is good, yes?

Thank you all for talking music with me! It's an absolute pleasure.

play here and win

Partly because I'm out of control and want to make these sweater totes every moment until my hour of death and partly because y'all have been so kind, supportive and generous with your comments on my projects (and my myriad other ramblings), I'd like to offer a little contest here at Purly Victorious. Before I get into the particulars, let me see if I can rouse some interest by showing my latest tote project, which I have been sporting about town for a few weeks.

There.

When I posted my Terry Tote, some of you indicated that you wouldn't mind being next in line for some bonding (hi, Nik; hi, Summer). My first thought was, Yes! I will make totes for all comers! Before long I woke up and realized the impossibility of that dream, seeing as I've barely put a dent in my much whined about mile-long project list (and The Bubba has declared a modeling strike if I don't come up with at least one of the zillion things I've promised to knit for him). I had to get real and acknowledge that I can't adorn the shoulders of every gal I meet with sweater totes. But I am good for one. To determine the lucky (lucky? have you seen my sewing skills up close?) recipient, I'll hold a drawing. How's that?

Backstory and what ya gotta do to enter:

When I gave Terry her tote, I couldn't think of anything better to stuff inside it than music, the gift that really does keep on giving. In turn for Ray and Aretha, Terry burned me Damien Rice, a great artist I might not have discovered on my own. Anybody know "Eskimo"? It ends with opera sang in Finnish. I mean, hot damn.

All this music exchange goodness started me to thinking about desert island albums. I'm one of those people who doesn't think it's corny to refer to life as having a soundtrack. There are certain records that I return to again and again, and every time I hear them, they wring me just a little bit. Rickie Lee Jones's Pirates and Flying Cowboys or Rickie Lee Jones, Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun, Elizabeth Cotten's Freight Train, David Gray's White Ladder, Joan Osborne's Relish, Van Morrison's Astral Weeks, Stevie Wonder's Hotter Than July, any one of the Aretha compilations that I own, Eva Cassidy's Songbird and Time After Time, Tracy Chapman's eponymous debut, Annie Lenox's Diva, Luther Vandross's Never Too Much, Prince's eponymous debut, Lila Downs's La Linea, Linda Ronstadt's Heart Like A Wheel, Sam Cooke's The Man and His Music. The list indeed goes on.

To choose one record to have if stranded on a desert island is difficult, but I've given this some thought and listening time, and today I'd have to pick Aretha's Queen of Soul: The Atlantic Recordings. Aretha dukes it out with Rickie, because Pirates is so good it's insane, recorded at a time when an artist could take time with a record, and still peerless. Every song is a journey, leaving itself and coming back again, compelling a level of presence not asked of us often enough.

Also in the running is the late, great Eva Cassidy. If you haven't heard her, you must. Truly one of the purest singers I've ever listened to. This woman, who died virtually undiscovered at 33, could sing absolutely anything (one would think this would be an asset, but not in an industry that operates on categorization and packaging). The first time I heard her voice, it was coming from a neighbor's house. I dropped what I was doing and went outside where I could hear better and jot down lyrics so I could google them and find out who the singer was. With the exception of Live at Blues Alley, all her albums were assembled posthumously. Her recognition came after she was gone, when DJs in the UK started playing her version of "Over the Rainbow." Many of her songs cast a spell on me, but her beautifully haunting remake of Sting's "Fields of Gold" just knocks me out. I also love, love, love her "Tall Trees in Georgia," "Wade in the Water," "People Get Ready," and "Penny to My Name." I'm not too proud to beg, after entering my drawing, please click on the links, read about Eva, and listen to her music. Please?

Thinking of being on that desert Island without Eva or Rickie has made me teary, but Aretha. Oh, Aretha. "Save Me," "All the King's Horses," "Going Down Slow." On Queen of Soul, a four disc set, Aretha interprets enough musical genres to make me think I'm listening to different singers (a handy mind trick for a desert island), but the beauty of it is that the songs are always done her way, and is there anything better than that? Her "Respect" is iconic, and rightfully so, but it's astounding to consider what a talented songwriter, musician, and composer she is, outside of her big, soulful voice and stand-up lyrics. And so Queen of Soul it is, because I wouldn't want to be stranded anywhere without Aretha.

At last! How to enter:

I would like to hear from whomever would care to share, what would be your desert island album? Leave me a comment with the artist, title, and, optionally, a bit of why you love it. If you're like me and have a hard time choosing just one record, you can cheat and leave two or three, but it'll be one entry per person in the drawing for the sweater tote.

Are you excited? I hope so, because I am. Maybe I'll discover some new favorites.

I'll run this contest for a week or so. By then I'll have time to sit down and sew up the prize. I'll do the drawing Serendipity style.

As I'm all about the Muse, I have no idea what the tote will look like (solid? striped? 1 pocket? two? another tryst with embroidery? a little pouch as an accessory?) but I promise it will be fun and functional. A tote bag for a song. I think it's a sweet exchange.

eye candy friday -- ventura blvd

Boutique. 1:15 this morning.