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Breaking News: Passing It Forward

Breaking News: Passing It Forward

Dear Kay, I don’t know why it never occurred to me that I wasn’t the only person in the world who was squirreling away Rowan Donegal Lambswool. It just seemed like a weird thing to be doing. I was all settled into a nice, long process of collecting yarn for my Donegal sweater. So when I got an email yesterday from Mary o’ Texas, announcing that she had almost all the yarn I was missing for the Donegal sweater project–and...

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A Grinding Halt

A Grinding Halt

Dear Kay, I don’t think I can properly capture exactly what has been going on in terms of my knitting recently. Actually, I have been reluctant to go into it, because it really does feel like I’ve been in a dark place. A little compulsive. A little too far gone. Even for us, and that is saying something. Here’s the thing: I finished that Keava Fair Isle sweater; I wallowed around in the landscaping for a while; I folded and...

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The Cure for Finishitis: Actually Finishing

The Cure for Finishitis: Actually Finishing

Dear Kay, Well, I know you’ll be relieved to hear that last night, at 9:48 pm CDT, in my favorite knitting chair, I finally arrived at the mountaintop. There it is: the last stitch of Alice Starmore’s Keava. For the record, I started this sweater in March 2004, back when George W. Bush was our president, back when our trade deficit was huge, back when we were in a two-front war in the Middle East–O how times have changed! When...

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March Madness, Indeed

March Madness, Indeed

Dear Kay, I was so crabby after Davidson’s noble effort last night that I ended up in my closet, rooting around in what is the inevitable crapheap of my life. A bad mood always sends me toward cleaning up, so at least something came of that so-close-yet-so-far ending to the Kansas-Davidson game. The whole issue of my closet is really irritating to me. It’s one of those closets that has all these cubbies and shelves and clothes...

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Living on Tammy Time

Living on Tammy Time

Dear Kay, I am guessing that you have given up hope altogether that I will ever write about knitting. You’re quakin’ in your Mom Shoes that I’m going to sit here and tell you about the hilarious send-up of country music, The Doyle and Debbie Show, which Hubbo and I saw on Sairdy night. And give you constant updates about our vegetable garden. Zukes and cukes are up. Beans nowhere in sight. And report on the health of our...

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Sober Reflections on Fair Isle Knitting

Sober Reflections on Fair Isle Knitting

Dear Kay, It’s been just a heckuva week, between the bourbon milkshake problem last Sunday at book group, the Rebecca Ruth Bourbon Balls which made their annual appearance at our house, and the general bourboniness of the season. Hubbo figured out a way to debourbon the Bourbon Balls (he likened it to gutting a fish–a swift twist of the knife, and you’re left with a chocolatey shell), but to me, why would you want to tamper...

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Report from Fair Isle

Report from Fair Isle

Dear Kay, I have so much to tell ye. I have new skills to report. There comes a time in circular knitting where you’ve done enough tube. It’s time to stop the tube. In the case of this Fair Isle project (which I hasten to remind you is in fact my first attempt at this sort of thing), I may have overtubed. This thing is so long that it may actually be a dress. Remember how I was making big fun of sweater dresses and the ’80s and...

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Suburban Hen House

Suburban Hen House

Dear Kay, Early this morning I opened the back door to bring in the milk,* and about thirty feet back, there he was: a dingy orange brown, the size of a medium dog but not a dog. Pointy nose and a bushy tail. A fox. It was the damndest thing. He froze, looked straight at me, then loped off into the bushes. It’s not like we live in the country. It’s pure old suburbia here, so seeing a FOX is purely weird. A couple of miles from here...

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Making Life Worth Living

Dear Kay, While you’re off cleansing your home of an accumulation of paper that would freak out a fire marshall, I’ve been busy. Anybody who knits observes a few necessary traditions: the winding o’ the yarn. The knitting o’ the swatch. The photocopying o’ the pattern. Making a copy of the pattern is the only way to keep those pattern books from falling into decay or, worse, actual use. Well, it looks like Keava is...

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