contagion

I admire those who blog every day. How do you do it? Since my last post...

Summer arrived. I know this because we had our town road race (no member of my family looked this cute across the finish line, btw) and the daylilies bloomed.
School ended, and the concept of "working" from home went down the drain faster than you can fling a fully loaded backpack across the room yelling "DONE!". Until camp and summer programs start.
We headed south to the beach in Delaware for some family togetherness, since attempting anything productive during this limbo period is futile .
Before I left, 3 more miters and one started in just slightly more subdued tones. Couldn't take it along, since that'd reveal the surprise to my parents. In truth, my dad wouldn't notice if you were knitting an atom bomb but my mom'd be all over it, wondering what stitch you'd chosen to convert the plutonium.

I returned to the socks, but not without a complete insurance package.

Funny thing happened on my way to the magic loop. Before I cracked the pamphlet I decided to knit my stitches from the dpns, where I'd knit about an inch of cuff, onto the circs. Predictably by the time I got to the third needle, things were getting tight. I figured I'd pull up some cable to ease it, then I'd figure out what the "magic loop" procedure was all about. Well, duh, that was it. I offered the pamphlet to my mom who was looking on skeptically at the whole operation.

My mom is an ace knitter. She should be, her mom owned a dry goods store in the South Bronx in the 1930's-50's. Grandma gave sidewalk knitting lessons, with neighborhood women perched on milk crates. (and yes, I wish I could go back in time to that). But she doesn't love knitting in the round and hasn't knit socks since she was a teenager.

One quick bike ride to the lys, and look what happened.

my weekend knitting theme song

If I had one, would have featured Mick Jagger and started out " I Can't Get No......"

Half finished home improvement disrupting projects scattered anywhere I set my eyes. Two sons making me crazy with their plans (and lack of interest in mine). Escape into knitting was required. What?
Only two more miters and I realized the mail hadn't brought more yarn. I was flat out, unless I want a square that is all cream colored with maybe 4 rows in mixed colors.

I returned to my Opal Rodeo sock. I was just about up to the toe decreases when I tried it on. I knew it was a little snug, knew I wished the cuff a bit longer...but I didn't know about the big honking hole in the gusset/ankle area. Where did that come from? Upon closer inspection, a tiny dropped stitch, no doubt off the end of one of my traveling dpn toothpicks, had started to run, creating a stinkin' hole.

Three strikes against this sock , out I ripped. This did not make me any happier. Return to the Rodeo is now at about an inch.

Without wasting any more time (ha) I re-read a socks on circs tutorial, still didn't quite get it, took a leap and ordered a long circular needle. I was ordering more Shine Worsted , anyhow.

This last was, admittedly, satifsying: my 15 year old was seen by friends in one of his squoosh hats, and now they asked if I might, please, maybe, could I, if I had time, make them one too. Are there sweeter words? Aside from, can I help clean up the yard, sure I'd love to go to the festival with you and then I'll go study for finals. I didn't for the record, hear those last three phrases this weekend.

I wandered through the homestead looking at the half-mulched front yard (ran out of chips), the living room where I decided to reaarange furniture and talked Dave into helping me get rid of a truly disgusting old sofa, only to realize its replacement wasn't ready yet (frame only), wandered up my my office where I'd stalled reorganizng a shelf last week - what has gotten into me???- didn't even look at the unweeded back gardens. Felt like a lunatic.

Until I finally saw that fat old full moon Saturday night. A-Ha! Ended the weekend on the beach with a beer and my little bit of sock.

Peony, mint & false Indigo bouquet from the yard. Very satisfying!

comments on comments/comments on miters

I have a comment problem. I love getting comments (except from those who want to sell something or enlarge non-existent parts of my anatomy) but there's something about my settings that many come with a "no reply" tag address. I can't Use My Manners and write back to you.

This may give the impression that I'm either incredibly lazy or incredibly rude. In truth I may be a little of both but if I could write back, I would. Sometimes I can sleuth it, channeling my inner Harriet the Spy. Some are just dead end links. So..that said. I apologize. Keep them comments coming.

To answer pressing comments: Kay asked if my sisters would get response time while the afghan collaboration is chronicled. My answer: are you kidding? Uh-unh. They don't even know I have a blog. sshh. Its just a matter of time before one of them hits it while surfing. Anyway. They would only seize it as an opportunity to correct me and reveal how insufferable I am as an older sister. So, in short. no.

Elysbeth (I can only find you here, do you have a blog?) asked to see more of my bag. You betcha. She called it fab and she's right. You can keep your handbags, purses, clutches, baguettes, evening bags. Give me a nice capacious tote anyday. This is one of my favorites, it reverses from vintage floral to a red denim but I almost never flip away from the retro flower side. Credit due, as with most of my nicer accessories, to the tighter miter sister who gifted me with it a couple of years ago. The company makes a lot of bags with retro fabric , go look but I warn you, you'll buy something to carry your summer knitting in.

On to my miters. Layed out randomly.

No one warned me how addictive these are. Once you get to the middle of one, the finish is just minutes away, thanks to quickly diminishing size. Talk about the thrill of victory, they just pop right off the needles. I am also having a hoot with the colors, so inaccurately captured in these photos. Combos that I thought I'd hate, look good. The hues change with proximity. I don't see boredom setting in for a good long while. The main reason I don't have more - aside from a full plate o'work and family demands- is I've almost used up my first order of yarn and am dragging the sticks till the next order gets here. Square eight is on the sticks for me.

Lulu is on her second, I haven't seen 'em but she warned me that they are presently more "homemade than handmade'. This was a major mantra of our mom's when we were growing up, you were always aiming to cross that thin line into handmade. Kind of an outdated saying, as homemade now means you have the luxury of time at home, but it used to be an insult, as in you couldn't afford storebought.

Nevertheless she's saying she's got issues with her miters. As in some have holes. The other two knitters join in when school ends June 18th. I'm not worried. And neither is Lulu. Says she, steely glint in eye "well, I may not do so great with the squares but when it comes to laying the whole thing out, I'll know exactly where to put each one"