Dana Didn't Eat This on Sunday

But I did.
And it was yummy! Dana, keep not knitting something else, and bring us more treats.

It's the "Dana Didn't Knit This" Caption Contest!

Write your best caption to this picture in the comments! (The winner gets something Dana didn't knit.)

Sonnet--To Dana's Beloved (and Finished!) Jaywalkers

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more woolly--and thou I did create.
Rain, winds, and hail do ruin Boston’s May,
And leave us soggy, grumpy, and irate.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
But this year is his gold complexion dimmed;
And all our hopes of springtime joy decline,
Leaving tulips drooping, trees bare-limbed.
But thy warm purpleness shall never fade
Thy lovely zigzag stripe I will extol;
Although, I must admit, I am afraid
You may one day develop—gasp—a hole!
But, darn it, you will have my guarantee
This blog forever will give life to thee.

Dana has been busy!

Dana has been spending a lot of time not knitting lately, which is how she didn't knit this:



Yes, this beautiful doily took Dana nearly a month of not knitting.

Dana Didn't Write a New Poem Today

Nor did she knit this nasty hedgehog. But some fool did.
And they bought the ugliest fun fur ever made to do it with.


But maybe Dana should knit herself a hedgehog.
Landlords love them. Not a lot of wear and tear on the apartment.

Maybe when she's finished with that Jaywalker.....

it's the hard knit life....

it's the hard-knit life for us!
it's the hard-knit life for us!

no one cares for you a smidge
when you're ne'er knit nor finished
it's the hard-knit life!

steada' knitted, we get ripped
steada' finished, we get quipped
it's the hard-knit life!

dana's toes we never see
dana's toes, what's that?
who's she?

no one cares for you a smidge
when you're ne'er knit nor finished
it's the hard-knit life!

Don't Cry for Me, Grumperina

(Everybody sing!)

It won't be easy, you'll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I’d still like more patterns after all that you've done.

You won't believe me
All you will see is a girl you once knew
Who preferred to knit mostly with nines
Although sixes and sevens would do.

I had to let it happen, I had to change.
I had never learned how to turn heels
I just knitted scarves—I had done thirty-one!

So I knit Odessa.
That wasn’t so bad—I knit Tivoli, too
But Jaywalkers—they made me bawl--
Though I knitted them using Koigu!

Don't cry for me, Grumperina
The truth is I did not doubt you
Throughout my frogging days
I had persistence
Because of Knitsmiths
And their assistance.

Blogging out of control

There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going!
There's no knowing where we're rowing,
Or which way the river's flowing!
Is it raining? Is it snowing?
Is a hurricane a-blowing?
Bah! Not a speck of light is showing,
So the danger must be growing,
Are the fires of hell a-blowing?
Is the grizzly reaper mowing?
Yes! The danger must be growing,
For the rowers keep on rowing,
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing...

extra, extra read all about it

Dana Didn't Write This (and Neither did Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while Dana knitted weak and weary,
On this quaint and curious pattern she had started to abhor,
While she nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at her chamber door.
"'Tis just one more boy," she muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'"

Curious, Dana opened the shutter, and, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a lass whose blog was stocked with free patterns galore.
Not the least commotion made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But this sometimes grumpy lady walked in through the chamber door -
Stepped upon the finished sock there blocking by the chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and said no more.

Then this knitter so delighted Dana’s fancy, so excited
By the balls and skeins and cones of lovely sock yarn that she bore.
“Oh you famous knitting maven, I have on this pattern slaven!”
Dana cried, “Please, I beg you, your wise counsel I implore,
Tell me, should I knit Jaywalkers, in abundance, score on score?”
Quoth the knitter, “Nevermore.”

Stopping By Knitsmiths on a Sunday Afternoon

(with abject apologies to Robert Frost)

Whose sock this is I think I know.
Her chair, I see, is empty though;
She will not see me sitting here
To gauge her progress; it’s been slow.
My fellow Knitsmiths think it’s queer
To steal her spot when she’s not here
But from where I sit I can partake
Of Lisa’s wit and Thea’s cheer.
And look! This week someone’s brought cake!
It can’t be me—I do not bake.
The loudest sound I hear is Gail,
“Shush”ing us to no avail.
This Koigu’s lovely, dark, and sweet.
But, look, here’s Dana, back from Peet’s!
Back to my own chair I creep,
For I have promises to keep
And miles to knit before I sleep,
And miles to knit before I sleep.