Knit Sisters

I finished the sherbet socks and have since worn them twice (and washed them once).  Here’s a shot of them adorning my feet–I call this “Socks with Dog Butt.”

 

And a closeup:

 

As it turns out, I did have enough yarn to finish both socks, thus saving me a painful stash dive for some sort of mismatched odds and ends to finish the second toe.  Whew.  This also bodes well for the remaining 400 several balls of this yarn that I have in the stash.  Now I know I can actually get two full socks out of each ball.  I’ll tell you, I slept more soundly this weekend knowing that.

Unfortunately for my other Christmas break projects, I too have succumbed to the siren song of a new project.  I started the “Handsome Triangle” shawl out of Victorian Lace Today last night.  I’m using the fuchsia merino/cashmere that Ellen sent me in her luxury fiber care package last month.  So far, it’s shaping up nicely.

I also (somehow, I just don’t know how it could have happened) started spinning the brown double-coated fleece the other night.  This is the undercoat, and my goal is a laceweight yarn.  Some of the shawls in the Victorian Lace book are made out of the author’s own handspun yarn, and they are truly beautiful.  That inspired me to spin one of my naturally-colored fleeces into a laceweight yarn, and I think a shawl made out of this fleece would be gorgeous.

 

Oh, yeah, and I also started a new pair of socks for Rob.  I’m almost to the heel on the first one, but I didn’t take a picture, since they’re a bit–um, how shall I say?–boring.  You know, manly colors and all that.  But they’re going fast, because Rob likes his socks quite plain.  It’s actually sort of nice to have something mindless, small, and portable to take with me when I leave the house.

Tomorrow, it’s back to work for me.  All good things must come to an end.

My best wishes for a very happy new year to you all!

1. I will not use clichés in my writing, speech, or thinking. Like, for instance, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

2. I may still use colorful sayings garnered from the Southern branch of our family in my writing, speech, and thinking. Like, for instance, “Uncle Billy was so tight he wouldn’t pay a dime to watch a gnat stretch its ass over an elephant’s head.”

I acknowledge that I may be thrown out of finer establishments and more refined homes for using these colorful sayings.

3. I will cultivate peace between warring nations, peoples, landlords and tenants, dogs and cats, cats and their stepmothers, and all other living creatures.

Much to their chagrin, they were caught being good, and charitable towards one another.

Whaddya think you’re lookin’ at, biped?

4. At some point in 2007, I will finish this sweater, which is so lovely that I can’t imagine why I didn’t complete it earlier.

The delightful Bristow from Knitty.

5. At some point in 2007, I will finish said sweater and this currently extremely unpromising-looking afghan.

6. At some point in 2007, I will finish said sweater, and said unpromising-looking afghan, and make mates for these:

They’re tired of being single, frankly. When the glove joined Match.com, I knew something had to be done.

7. For the first time in my life, I will attempt to design a sweater for myself. I have begun in a perfectly orthodox fashion with this little swatch, proving that I am only foolhardy up to a point.

To save time, and potential public humiliation, take time to check your gauge.

8. I will not buy more Malabrigo. I will not buy more Malabrigo. I will not buy more Malabrigo.

9. I will continue to live my life according to the wisdom of Collette: “You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.”

10. I will drop a dress size before my wedding in June, but only if I contract tuberculosis.

And finally, in considering the arrival of the New Year, I’m afraid I cannot improve upon what Rainer Maria Rilke wrote: “And now let us welcome the new year, full of things that have never been.”

Happy New Year everyone!

On the second sherbet sock:

                    Pictured here next to the ultra-groovy jigsaw puzzle Rob gave me for Christmas.  This is a Frank Lloyd Wright design, originally designed as a magazine cover, now living as an art glass mural at the Arizona Biltmore. 

I have a serious weakness for jigsaw puzzles, and it is my stated goal to work a puzzle over each of the major holiday weekends.  And, of course, one can only work the same old puzzles so many times.  So Rob, being the good man that he is, actually gave me three (3) puzzles for Christmas.  I finished this one up lickety-split, because it is so cool.  Now I’m resisting the urge to start another–Easter weekend is coming.

Anyway, back to the sock.  I also have a stated goal to finish these socks before I have to go back to school on Jan. 3rd.  Since this a yarn that claims to have enough yardage to make a pair out of one ball, I’m now nearing the end of the ball.  The specter of not having enough yarn has reared its ugly little head.  Whatever does one do when one runs out of yarn an inch or less from the end of a sock?  It doesn’t bear thinking of.

My other knitting-related gift this Christmas was some funding from my mom and dad to attend this retreat in March.  I’ve already sent in my registration and am waiting to hear back from them about class availability.  I have a hotel room booked and everything!  Can you tell I’m really looking forward to this?  Perfect timing too, because by early March those of us who work in the public school system really, really need a break.

Those of you within striking distance–wanna come play with me?

First things first. In spite of existing primarily in a state of fatigued haze as a result of Woolcott’s big, big sale (Tuesday) and two days of inventory (Wednesday and Thursday), all of which followed on the heels of a major holiday (Monday), I have somehow stumbled through the week and arrived at Thursday night.

All without telling you about the fabulous handspun my sister gave me for a Christmas gift.

Eat yer heart out…

And that ain’t all:

Simply beautiful.

Thank you, Sarah! It’s so wonderful to work with yarn that you spun. The only question is, what garment and/or pattern is good enough for it?

Suggestions will be taken under advisement, so don’t be shy with your comments!

In the blur of activity, not to mention the excitement of finding out I was famous, I also failed to tell you about other aspects of our holiday celebration and the week.

For instance, as a result of the big, big sale and the fact that I had amassed a certain amount of store credit at Woolcott, I was able to acquire some serious swag over the past week and the beauty part of it was that almost no actual money changed hands.

Jordana Paige bag that I had been coveting for literally months:

I am convinced this bag will change my life.

Highly desirable Teva Durham and Fiona Ellis books along with a representative sample of newly-acquired Malabrigo:

There may be a couple more skeins that are not shown. Or ten.

I may be leaving a few things out, but at some point the shame really is too great. Especially considering that at some point in the coming year, I’ll probably clean forget about this orgy of knitting-related acquisition, get a burr under my saddle about consumerism, and go to preachin’ here on the blog about how we have to simplify our lives and buy less and so forth.

Ah, well. A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds!

Despite long odds, a little progress has been made on the much-maligned Trekking convertible fingerless glove/mitten:

What can one say but, “A triumph of color combination!”?

And finally, this week brought our much-anticipated, traditional holiday visit from Miss A.:

Shown here with her Pop, a fine jazz pianist whose CDs may be found here.

…and her younger sis:

Not to mention their mother, the delightful Emily, featured here raising a cup of French Roast to toast the fact that she got up at 5:30 a.m. to start her journey:

Miss A., you will note, is knitting in the foreground.

A good deal of pandemonium ensued:

Many questions were asked.

The answer, you see, is almost invariably seven.

And thus was Christmas 2006 kept.

Somehow, against the overwhelming odds of actually finishing anything over Christmas break that you set out to do, I have finished the black and white superwash 2-ply.

                                  Pictured here next to my lazy Kate.

I like the way this turned out, and it went pretty quickly, all things considered.

I received two knitting-related gifts this holiday:  two books from my sister-in-law, Pam.  You know a person really loves you when they go ahead and get you the knitting books/yarn/fiber that you ask for, even though you know they’re secretly thinking that you need more knitting books/yarn/fiber like you need a gangrenous limb.  Thanks, Pam!

I haven’t truly perused Knitting Beyond the Edge yet, so I don’t have too much to say about that.  But Victorian Lace Today…oh, my!  There are some gorgeous shawls and scarves in this book.  I think my interest in laceweight mohair has been revived.  (Not that it was ever really dead.  No, not at all.)  I begin to have a little inkling of what to do with the Alchemy Haiku.  And that laceweight sage-green mohair.  And the laceweight alpaca.  Hmmm, I know of an Ebay seller that has lots of Henry’s Attic yarns, including many different laceweights.  And then there’s the Knitpicks dye-your-own yarns….

It’s a sickness.

P.S.  On second thought, I did receive another knitting-related gift from my mother and father, which will bear fruit later in the year.  More on that later in the week.

We had a post-Christmas, pre-inventory sale at Woolcott today. Big sale.

Big, big sale.

I’m afraid that due to the big, big sale and the big, big crowds it attracted, I am no longer competent to string together a coherent sentence. But apparently in the past I was capable of stringing together a coherent sentence (or even two or three) because when I arrived at the store this morning, I had the following dialogue with Sean, our wonderful store manager:

Sean: Hey, did you know that you are famous?

Me: Um…no?

Sean: Yeah, I got my Stitch ‘N Bitch 2007 calendar and there’s a quote from you in it!

Me: You’re kidding.

Sean: Yeah, well you know, they say you shouldn’t look through all the days of the year when you first get the calendar, but I couldn’t resist and all of a sudden I saw this quote and I thought, “Hey I know that person!”

Me: Yeah, come to think of it, I wrote the Debbie Stoller crew a few sentences about my favorite yarn or something ages ago, but then I never heard anything more about it.

Sean: Well, you’re in there. Towards the end of the year. You’re famous!

Me: (Grumbling) Well, they could have bothered to tell me! Instead of just thrusting this kind of fame upon me! Is that even legal?

As I’m sure is clear enough to all of you, it’s just one short step from being quoted in a Stitch ‘N Bitch calendar to spending the majority of your waking hours dodging paparazzi and guzzling champagne on yachts with Paris Hilton and Kid Rock.

In the meantime, you might want to check it out. You could say you knew me when.

…And all through the house
not a creature was stirring,
not even a sneaky, resentful cat with a flair for Asian-themed interior decorating

or a garbage-devouring canine with the heart of a lion and the culinary habits of a hog.

(Or, for that matter, a knitter who doesn’t mind putting a couple of extra syllables into a line.)

The red cashmere mitts were worn by the author

as she pawed through the packages looking for…one that gurgled.

(Or a legitimate rhyme.)

Knitting up beautifully was the much-maligned Trekking,

Admit that it is groovy, oh ye of little faith!

while more Malabrigo the budget was wrecking.

But as you can see from those two awful lines,
Great violence to language can come from a rhyme.

So let’s end it now, shall we, while we’re ahead?
And wish everyone happy Christmas instead.

Merry, merry Christmas everyone! Back on Tuesday with the holiday report…

We got out of school today for the Christmas break.  Woo hoo!  Twelve happy days of freedom:  knitting, spinning, dyeing.  Oh, and I guess Christmas is in there too.

This evening I took stock of my ongoing projects that I’d like to work on over Christmas break.

                                    The sherbet socks.  I’d like to actually finish these, because I have a new pair for Rob waiting in the wings.

                                               The black and white superwash roving.  I’m close to done with the second bobbin, and then I need to ply.

                                  Blue Bamboo.  There’s not much to say about this, except “Get to work!”

                                        The colored Romney fleece.  Comb, comb, comb.

                                      The dark brown double-coated fleece.  See above.

                                              The stranded yoke sweater.

Oh, and I’d like to do some experiments with dyeing roving and yarn, too.

Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen.  Can I get it all done?  Or at least a bit of everything?

Ah, the holidays.

Alex’s Trekking XXL socks are, at long last, done.

I’m very proud of them because although they are fraternal rather than identical twins with regard to their stripes, I actually wrote down the pattern I created for the first one and then repeated it on the second! Instead of what I usually do, which is follow roughly the same plan for the second sock and then fudge the rest.

Worked like a charm!

Here’s their eye-of-partridge or, as we like to call it Chez Mad Dog, eye-of-newt heel:

Spec are something like this: Trekking XXL, color 71; “designed” by me from various sock components including eye-of-partridge heel flap, pointed toe (instructions from Nancy Bush), and k2, p1 rib for the leg and foot. U.S. size 1 needles, 69 stitches.

Due to a sudden drop in the evening temperatures here, Alex has been wearing these socks to bed. Although I had fondly hoped that he would wear them outside the house once they were done, I am nonetheless pleased with his more limited use of the socks because it spares me the agony of feeling his cold feet on my legs in the middle of the night.

On another topic entirely, in a particularly alarming development, Zeno has started regularly checking his e-mail.

People, there ain’t no good can come of this.

Although there is actual knitting going on here at my house, my output has decreased significantly over the holiday season, and what is being worked on cannot be pictured here on the blog for Christmas security reasons.

So, I offer instead some thoughts about my son’s 11th birthday.  Yesterday was his birthday, and we had a little family get-together last night with cake and ice cream and gifts.  I made the cake–white cake with strawberry frosting.

 

He was a bit excited.

 

Eleven years ago, on a Sunday night, the night before my due date, I called my mother and told her, “Well, I can have the baby now.  I finished the baby quilt tonight!”  I was joking.  I thought that, being my first pregnancy and all, it was quite likely I would go over the due date.  I was just hoping I wouldn’t have the baby on Christmas.

He was born the next morning at 8:40 a.m. 

Like most mothers, I remember every detail of labor and delivery with perfect clarity.  It’s the following weeks that blend into a sleep-deprived blur.  Heck, let’s be honest.  Details of the following years blur together.  Moments stand out, though, some funny, some sweet, some unbearably sad.

I think of him as a toddler (“angel baby,” I called him, because he looked so sweet and angelic) and am overcome by sadness and sometimes, almost a kind of despair.  That child is gone now and will never be again.  He exists only in photographs and in memory.  Life with that toddler was so much simpler, in so many ways.  It was hard, too, I have to remind myself, and there were many days when I wished that things could be other than what they were.

When Harvey was a baby, I asked a mother of a five-year-old if things got easier.  She looked at me appraisingly and said, “Things get different.  Not necessarily easier.”  I had no idea.

Yet somewhere inside my great big eleven-year-old boy with all his problems, gifts, and talents, that angel baby still lives. 

After all, it’s what’s inside that counts.