It is 7:30 on Saturday night: I am dreaming of knitting and starting a new project (For some reason none of the 5 million projects I have going is just right to work on right now. I’m studiously ignoring the fact that I have 5 million projects). I’m browsing Ravelry looking for something in brioche and I come across this cowl that I’ve had queued for months. Perfection. I buy the pattern.
8:30 PM on Saturday: I’ve rummaged through my stash and found the perfect yarn – Hedgehog Fibers Sock in Nutmeg (that I bought on my honeymoon) and KnitPicks Stroll in Midnight Heather. Yummy! I cast on, figure out how to do brioche again, and work a few rows. Exhausted, I go to bed.
12:30 PM on Sunday: *I pick up my knitting, work a few rows, and make a mistake I can’t fix. I rip it all out and start again. Repeat from * once more. Walk away frustrated. Clean house instead.
6 PM on Sunday: I notice my yarn is starting to show signs of wear. I stop to think before casting on for the 4th time. I decide to use a larger needle to cast on so the top will be nice and stretchy. I ask my husband to kiss my yarn for good luck before I start – he complies with no further questions, bless him. Using a US 6 circular needle I cast on the required number of stitches. I join to work in the round. I switch a smaller needle and work the foundation rounds. I join my second colour and start brioche-ing away. A few rows later I make a mistake, but it’s only a small mistake and easily fixable. I’m sailing away to Brioche land.
I am an introvert. I like listening to the quiet around me and being alone or with just a few friends. I have a fear that I will totally mess up interpersonal moments – especially with strangers – so I rehearse imagined conversations a lot.
Yesterday I was at the bookstore. I had ordered a London Fog and browsed through the stacks. I had quite a lovely time. I made my selections and walked up to the cash register for *cue scary music* HUMAN INTERACTION!!!
The cashier looked like a nice person. “Hey, what’s up?” She asked.
Genius that I am, I replied, ” Good thanks.”
A moment of awkward silence followed. I decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room: “That’s completely not what you asked.”
At this point the cashier started to laugh. So I added, “Introverts of the world unite!”
She giggled harder and then added, ” From the safety of our own homes.”
We both chuckled as she rang up my book, and as I left she wished me a happy time “safe at home.”
I used to be good at talking to people. Or at least I didn’t make a fool of myself. Next time I’m making my husband check out for me.
My friends, brace yourselves. I have been dabbling with the dark art…of CROCHET! I don’t know what came over me. I was at the store to buy a respectable knitting needle. I had wandered over to the book section to see if there was anything about spinning, when this MONSTER leaped out at me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t take it home.
I like living, so I agreed. Once home I figured the book was at least worth looking at. This was a mistake. I was sucked into the vortex, and before I knew what I was doing I was winding yarn.
I have been saving this gorgeous Araucania Nuble yarn for a shawl, so I retained my senses just enough to start one. It will be a basic half granny shawl. I hope.
Is there a way out of the vortex? Maybe I should follow the yarn…
You are deep into a game of yarn chicken, hoping against hope that you will have enough yarn to bind off, knitting like the wind because surely knitting faster will make the yarn last longer. And then it happens:
You get to the bind off row with 14 stitches and 2 inches of yarn.
A few weeks ago Ann and Kay over at Mason-Dixon Knitting started a one-sock knit-along. I had a sock that I was working on, so I was more than happy to join in. I knit dutifully on my Juniper sock (note the singular use of ‘sock’) for days and days. Until one day something inside me snapped. I didn’t want to knit this sock anymore. Who cares that I had finally memorized the stitch pattern. It wasn’t fun to knit. If I had been smart I would have remembered that I didn’t particularly enjoy the hat my sock pattern is based on. Now don’t take me wrong: the designer did a great job with that pattern. I have nothing against them. I just don’t particularly enjoy mock cables.
Still, I could get over this if I was sure the finished object would be perfect. But here’s the rub: I don’t think the socks will fit after washing. It seems my best course of action may be to frog the sock (frogging is so named because you rip-it, rip-it). I may also take a page from one of my favourite knitters ever, Stephanie Pearl-McFee (what a lovely coincidence that we share the same name) and deny any and all knowledge of this project.
What sock? I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I was sitting on my bed knitting (Bed is by far the best place to knit. Especially since I have a total of 1 chair in my apartment, and that chair is uncushioned). Life was lovely. I was watching Harry Potter with a knitter friend and drinking tea. But then the tea ran out. I needed more! So up I got in search of tea.
**Warning: Those with weak stomachs may want to skip the next part**
When I sat down again I knelt along the length of my needle. I heard a pop (The pop was not from my leg). I had broken my knitting needle. I sat there in shock for a few minutes numbly muttering, “I broke my needle. I broke my needle.” It was all very sad.
A broken needle means no more knitting. I had been working on my Farrah sweater. Of course, I had the option to start something else, but Farrah is what I wanted to work on. I was about to be inconsolable when my friend made a suggestion: “Can you superglue it?”
Oh ya. Superglue. We do live in the 21st century. Superglue to the rescue! My needle is now back in working order, but I have ordered a replacement just in case.
Needle: Knit Picks Options Interchangeable Rainbow Wood Circular Knitting Needle (say that five times fast!) Size US 8/ 5.0 mm
Once upon a time a very wee girl lived with her mommy and daddy and her big brother. Christmas was just around the corner, so the daddy took his son and daughter Christmas shopping for their mommy. They went from store to store until they had all found the perfect gifts for her. Now the daddy gave his son and daughter strict instructions not to tell their mother what they had bought her for Christmas – the gifts were supposed to be a surprise, after all.
So when they got home the mommy with a mischievous twinkle in her eye asked her wee daughter, “Bethany*, what did you get me for Christmas?”
You must understand at this point that Bethany was a mostly obedient child. So she answered her mother not by telling her what the present was, but by saying, “I can’t tell you, but it doesn’t have a doggy on it!”
“BETHANY!!!” burst her brother, “You weren’t supposed to tell her!!!”
“But I didn’t tell her that it was a teapot with a kitty on it!”
*Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.