Small Victories

My little sister has become a knitter - or is on her way to doing so (it is amazing what a knitted beer bottle pattern and a ball winder can do). I present to you her reflections on the happy event:

Oh sheep. So often over looked. So oft taken for granted. It should not be so, for the fluff which adorns their exterior (I was going to be poetic and put an adjective like 'fanciful' before that...but I'm not really sure that is a good way to describe the appearance of a sheep...) is used to supply the world with wool which is the cause of countless minor (almost not worth mentioning) crimes never being committed simply due to the fact that the people who might otherwise have been lying about idle were knitting.

As I type this I have to satisfy my self with only gazing longingly at the piece of work which I cast to the ground in order to write this note instead of picking it up and knitting 'just one more row'. Indeed, it was a challenge simply to begin this piece in the first place as when I sat in front of my computer I took up my knitting and said to myself "well, just one row..." and then, while engaged in said row, another part of me replied "just finish this section leah...you know you want to...." And I did.

For those of you who thought you knew me and by reading this are becoming befuddled, don't worry, I have not been a closet knitter, I took up the art less than 24 hours ago when Kate showed me a book that had some patterns that peaked my interest. After a hurried run to Michaels we sat in the basement, the credits of Shooter bursting to run as it lay paused and neglected on the screen while Kate taught me how to knit and purl my way through a few rows.

Of course, being me, I picked a pattern which was made entirely of the world's thickest thread. It's a major character flaw of mine to never want to do anything easy while being incredibly lazy (it might be the reason why I rarely seem to finish anything). So I sat on the very edge of my seat painstakingly inserting the needle and wrapping the yarn around, pulling it out and exclaiming my dismay at having dropped a stitch. On the purl rows I repeated over and over and over again "over under, over under, over under..." My expression was one of determined anguish, but soon I saw my piece beginning to take shape. Maybe, just maybe, it's all worth it. And probably, just probably, I have joined the ranks of those whose nicotine is knitting.

And now I have a question - should I do 1 scarf in two shades of brown (or rather taupe and dark taupe...) and 1 in blue and grey, or should I do grey and one of the taupes and blue and the other...

And so it goes...

All socks have been completed and disbursed, a new round will start soon. - This is my good news.

My bad news - my Great Aunt Shirley passed away last week. She, along with my Grandma, taught me to knit. We've never been particularly close, and so the knitting was our major source of bonding and the primary source of those happy memories childhood is supposed to contain of such relatives. (I was much closer with her husband, Uncle Allan, also a knitter, who died 15 years ago).

The week has been busy with the various to and fro-ings associated with family deaths, and my mom has been more than usually busy with things as we are really the geographically closest and Aunt Shirley's kids are all in the States. I spent most of Tuesday moving things around the house and loading the van with the various things we've inherited (everything from fabric to dishes to books to ziplock bags). Most people remember my Aunt as a doctor, it was her dominate achievement in terms of how she presented herself (and given the givens not a small one), but I remember her as a knitter and have now discovered she also: sewed, tatted, and did various other sorts of needle work - all of the tools and remnants of which my mother has inherited. Grandma it seems got most of the yarn (as Mom doesn't know one end of a knitting needle from the other)- I have a few skeins of black Kroy and some new needles. It is interesting to reflect on knitting habits and preferences, it seems my Aunt liked straights (while I haven't used any in years - dpns and circulars all the way). I also cannot account for most of the yarn I've found. (ie. what does one do with bags and bags of hideous brown baby alpaca? or large quantities of very delicate bright red mohair? or random odd skeins of worsted 100% wool of the most Brillo pad like texture? well maybe that's why they are still stash...) I'm sure one day someone will wonder the same thing about all that blue Astra and some of that very random stuff I got last time I went into the store - (even I can't figure out what I bought half of it for!! - an ugly blanket some day I guess).

Middling News -

*My committee has decreed an end of May date for my fields

*I don't need an extension (yeah!! I hate such forms)

*my lace shawl continues to inch along (or rather to centimeter along) and I'm currently just past half way through the 3 (of 11) pattern repeats.

(between the webcam and the crappy lighting it doesn't look like much, but it I promise it is a lace shawl... sitting on top of some Old English next to a Christmas Tree...)

Question:

*Is it better to try and dye the yarn for a sweater first or knit it up and dye the whole garment? (in this case a sweater for a 10yr old boy on wool that is currently various shades of turquoise and will ultimately be a blackish-greyish-blue - among the other things I inherited was a book on knitting guernseys, and now I want to try and use up some wool by designing one for my little brother)