What on earth got into you yesterday? In the future, when you have eight hours of knitting that you’re about to rip out, just send it to me, OK? There’s a safe haven for lush, purplygray knitting around here–it’s not like I’ve got some spy satellite eighty miles above the Earth that’s going to notice that lost increase. I am happy to offload any knitting that offends–marred shawls, warbly dishrags, send ’em on.
Your stitch marker strategy seems spot on, I have to say. Supercompulsive, which is a side of you we don’t see all that often. Yeah, you’re breezing though miles of garter stitch . . . but it’s accurate garter stitch. Couldn’t let it go, could you? So busted! I bet you’re rewinding yarn balls that have gone a little out of whack. Lining up stitch markers by weight. Taking better photos of those Ravelry projects from mid 2008.
Now. StormTrackerDopplerTerrorWeather radar indicates an inch of “wintry mix” coming our way today. Possibly the least satisfying forecast possible. The fellas, trudging off the school, were totally disgusted. “Where’s that two inches?” Clif asked. “I was counting on that.”
In the interest of pretending that we have bad weather, and because my closet is tidy enough at the moment that my sweaters aren’t in a giant pile of undifferentiated horribleness, I’ve fished out a sweater made at least 30 years ago. It’s a straight-ahead raglan fisherman’s sweater, and I never used to wear it because it always felt too small.But these days, now that the fashions of the moment are more fitted, and I’ve discovered that “too small for me” usually means “the correct size that I ought to be wearing,” it feels really nice.
My mom made it, back during one of her enthusiasms for knitting that ebbed and flowed.
Aw, c’mon, you know how this gives me a smile, looking at all these cables and seed stitches and imagining my mom ditching the kitchen so she could steal a few more rows.