Famousness!

I love Mad Men.

Well, not those of the male gender who are angry.  I have had my fill of those.  And perhaps fill enough for a few others as well, if the truth be known.  And here at Chez Needles, or Casa del Iron, depending which way the wind is blowing, we...in the royal sense of we...are all about the truth.

So.

Mad Men.  And famousness!

I speak of the TV show.  Or in my case, the TiVo'd show, with somebody who plays Don Draper (yum!) and an actress named January Jones.  I think if I still had children to name, I might copy that one.  I think it has a certain snap to it.

Wiki describes the setting, the plot, and essence of the show as follows:

"Set in New York City, Mad Men begins in 1960 at the fictional Sterling Cooper advertising agency on Madison Avenue. The show centers on Don Draper (Jon Hamm), the agency's creative director, and those in his life, in and out of the office. It also depicts the changing social mores of 1960s America."

I like it.  I like it alot.  I am all about 'changing social mores'!

Wonderful Guy thinks there isn't much action to it.

But then...then there was this episode!

(And here comes the famousness!)

Don Draper's missus (played by the lovely January Jones), for one reason or another, mostly in a decadent way to bribe the daughter to love the new baby boy, buys said daughter a gift.

This is what was the daughter of Don Draper (yum!) sees when she opens her present.

I squealed.  Yes I did.  I squealed and said, 'That's EXACTLY like my Barbie.'

And it was.  Is!

She hasn't changed a bit.

Except now she wears hand knits, and lives in Colorado, and wear shoes bought off Ebay.

See.  Me and Don Draper's lil' girl.  Two peas in a pod...

That is, until she booted her Barbie out her bedroom window in a fit of pique, or little brother jealousy, or some early onset of a 1960's neurosis that is sure to not show up until she is married with three kids and 43 and wondering what happened when life doesn't work like it was suppose to....

Spoiled little rich girl...

I had to save for my Barbie...

P.S. It's Just-A-Mere's turn tomorrow.

The Agony and The Ecstasy

As I put together one more post for Blasted Blogtoberfest...I think of Rex Harrison and Charlton Heston sparring over the painting of the Sistine Chapel in the aforementioned movie...

Pope Rex asks "When will you make an end?"

Charltonangelo replies "When I am finished!"

Only it is Blogger Needles...asking Blogtober...
Buckle down, girlie, you have another six days to write about. Better get pithy!

Slogging onward.

I am voting by mail-in ballot before the week-end is out. It is on the ubiquitous to do list. (Little known factoid about yours truly...I have voted in every election since I was eighteen. I believe in doing my civic duty seriously.)

Ebay is the place apparently for Barbie shoes. And there is great hope there. Wonderful Guy drove me to Toys R Us today. He asked me what I was going to do with my Barbie, after I got her all tricked out (my words...). Was I going to give her to the Grandbebe Girl? Silly man. I gently corrected him, informing him that my Barbie was an authentic 1963 (or thereabouts) Barbie, and in all her handknits, was sure to be...the coolest!


The Sunflower dishclothes are fait complet. Behold!


(Artsy shot!)
(work with me, baby...)

And my favoritist dishcloth ever....



with their matchy matchy tribbles!

All together now....aaaaahhhhhh!

A History of Dishclothes

I learned to knit from my mother. I remember growing up that she had an exciting array of knitting needles, of varying sizes, lengths, and types, but mostly I remember her using aluminum needles, 10" or 14". I wanted to see her use the other, more 'exotic' types, but in the '60's the aluminum were the new, modern ones. The old wooden and plastics stayed in her carrying case for the most part.
Momma knitted quite a variety of articles, among them Barbie doll clothing. We had very little , and could not afford store-bought Barbie clothes. (Heck, we could barely afford the Barbie Dolls!) Observe the fashion sense of my 'bubble hair-cut' Barbie. She may have lost her shoes, but she is still stylin' in her hand knitted roll neck top and peg legs! Ooooh baby!

Mother and her sister, Favorite Aunt, learned to knit a circular, doily-like dishcloth about 30 years ago. I think she liked knitting them because the yarn was inexpensive, came in a variety of colors, was a portable project, and a project that was initially a challenge, then became one she could do by rote. It provided her something to sell at the craft bazaar at her church, and she gave them as gifts. They were always admired and appreciated, which she liked. Sometimes her dishclothes never made it to the kitchen sink, but were used as doilies.
She knitted STACKS of them(on sz 8 dpns, no less), like pancakes, each identical to the one before, and the one after. I think Momma might have knit thousands of them. The cotton yarn would be found on sale, or bought on-line in bulk, eventually. When I would come home for a visit, she would always ask, 'do you need any dishclothes?', and I would always say yes, thus enlarging my stash. I used them for gifts for my girl's school teachers, sunday school teachers, piano teachers, fellow employees, and anyone else. I could give them outright as dishclothes/doilies, or I would thread a ribbon through the 'eyelet' portion of the outside scallops, pulling it up to make a pouch, and fill it with candy. With the years, Momma's short term memory started to fail, yet she continued to knit the dishclothes, not missing a stitch. It was the most remarkable thing. My sisters and I knew the dishclothes would become a thing of the past eventually. While I had a copy of the instructions from years back, and had gone over them once with her, I wanted to make sure this knowledge wasn't going to slip away from us. I traveled back one weekend, and spent the afternoon with her in the assisted living facility where she lived. I took my needles, my yarn, and my copy of her hand-written directions, and parked myself on her couch, across from where she sat in her chair. I cast on, and we began. She watched, then questioned if I had dropped a stitch. I counted, and replied, 'no', and continued. Pretty soon she came over to sit beside me, and again questioned whether I had done something correctly. I started to bristle, just like a child, thinking, 'gosh, Mom, I know how to knit'.
Then I saw what an opportunity, what a gift, I was being given. I relaxed, and settled in next to my mother, and let her teach me all over again. We spent the afternoon, on her couch, knitting, and I had a second chance to enjoy her company, and her lessons, and her talent like I never really did as a child. I hold that afternoon close to my heart as such a treasure.
Mom's memory continued to erode, and pretty soon, the dishclothes were not so identical, or stacking 'like pancakes', and then she quit knitting. We knew we had crossed another bridge on her journey. The dishclothes no longer were given as gifts, as there would be no more from her.
Momma passed away almost three years ago, and now, as Precious Niece has put it, we guard our personal hoards of Momma's dishclothes like 'hissing dragons'. We knit our own, but personally, I have found another dishcloth pattern I like to knit. I can't do Momma's pattern as well as she could, so I don't even try for now. Her's was her's, and I can leave it like that. But I learned that one must....MUST....knit dishclothes, and when Sugar 'n Cream is on sale.....buy it!