shorty socks

And more socks.

They look more or less like the other socks that I’ve already finished. I did the longer cuffed socks first, now I’m just trying to squeeze out a few pairs of the shorties out of the skein ends.

There is something innately satisfying about looking over and seeing a flock of socks form on the corner of my desk.

I haven’t exactly been very definite lately.

Me? A sock knitter?

I seem to work best in bursts. After a stint of yarnlessness (it was really not pretty) I went through a bit of a knitting related dry spell.

Actually, if I hadn’t been for the knitting this week I would have probably gone off the deep end.

It’s been a rough week for me. Not to sound cynical, but I learned (for the umpteen-thousandth time) that people who have a track record of flaking off will not randomly metamorphose into reliable and trustworthy butterflies. It’s one of those lessons that I think I’ve fully integrated, then I relapse and start with the whole irrational belief that people are generally benevolent.

So, with this kind of frustration I figure it’s best to put yarn on my knitting needles before I succumb to the temptation to violently stab them into human flesh. Because that sort of thing is generally frowned upon in polite company.

Yet the best laid plans sometimes go by the wayside to satisfy the compulsion to knit a scarf. Scarves are good.

I could have worse problems you know.

Now she’s a big girl, and at the end of this summer she’ll be a whopping 5 years old.

Now it takes a dedicated evening to come up with almost a pair of plain jane socks with short row heels and toes; almost but not quite a pair. Pictured is where last night tapered off.

For her part Lexi takes these delays for finished socks in stride. She’s very analytical about it, pointing out that it takes much longer to make Josey socks because his feet are “very very huge.” (Which indeed, Josey does have gigantic feet for an eleven year old.)

We also managed to work a new camera into the budget. R.I.P. old camera, you served us well right up unto the middle.

Buying a new camera that was within the budget was a difficult task. First I had to get the husband into the store. This might have been easier had I not divulged the fact that it was to purchase a new piece of electronics. (Note to self: next time hint that they may have a sale on Star Wars items and start a rumor that they are giving away free cookies.)

Then I had to actually get him to compare cameras, we’d chosen another camera awhile back, made comparisons on function and agreed that it was indeed the best one. So I’ll admit that choosing another model (as in a model that we could afford right at that very moment) was probably a bit of a shock to his system. He kept saying “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.” and I kept saying “How long will that wait be?” and he kept shrugging, so I’d answer his shrug with “We need one to get us through that wait.” and then he’d repeat “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.”

Lather, rinse and repeat for the next 40 minutes.

Let us not forget that while I only want a camera to document every second of my adventures in motherhood and knitterly activities, the husband actually needs a camera in the course of his professional life (as in if he doesn’t have a camera he can’t send very important photos to his clients in order to be paid.)

Eventually this all lead to buying the camera that we could afford: Canon PowerShot A470. Which, as it turns out Matt is absolutely delighted with, and I’m not going to turn my nose up at the macro setting. As my friend Opal points out “It’s all about the macro.”

Law of mohair #143 All mohair articles larger than 2 cubic inches knitted on metal circular needles will reject said needles when the article is in a resting state prior to completion.

Law of mohair #143 appendix a) articles larger than 2 cubic inches that have successfully rejected knitting needles in a resting state will spontaneously begin to unravel.

Further scientific study on the unique and often frustrating physical nature of mohair is required. The laws of mohair although baffling seem to be finite and immutable.

Now I suppose because I really liked that yarn and I have to spin more.

I know what’s it is destined to be; Lexi said as soon as she saw it “Yarn slippers!” For a three year old she’s pretty good at seeing uses for materials.

There’s barely enough for a pair of womans slippers, but plenty for preschooler big girl slippers. Big girl slippers for the soon to be 4 year old sound like a pretty good idea.

While the girl child is just now learning how to knit on a loom, the boy child has taken to sewing.

On my sewing machine.

Which, at times, hurts my brain. I have this standing rule with myself that I will not, ever, under any circumstances fix, fuss, or fiddle with my children’s craft projects– ever. Not because I’m mean and don’t want to help, but because I have perfectionist tendencies that I think my children can live without.

So that means I get to stand back and watch, give advice when I’m asked, and provide proper safety oversight. Fortunately Josey saw me impale my thumb with the needle of the machine a few years back, and he’s scarred for life duly cautious.

I was using a sewing machine (hell, lets be honest, I was using power tools and a gas lawn mower too) unsupervised when I was eight, it was a different time though. Still I boggle. What were my parents thinking? Every time Josey sits down at the sewing machine, my day stops and I’m right there until he’s done. I’m caught between feeling like a paranoid overprotective parent and a responsible one.

And before anyone gives me any guff for teaching my male child to sew or knit let me say this: It has nothing to do with undermining the macho factor, it has everything to do with learning to be a self sufficient adult.

The yarn pictured was the result of reading said book and trying the techniques therein, I wasn’t really fond of the yarn in particular at the time, but when I was sorting through my stash I came across it and I’m looking at it with different eyes.

So I decided to knit it up into a garter stitch rectangle, and throw it in the washing machine with some pinkish/crimson dye. It’s agitating with soap at the moment.

I have no idea what I’m going to use the cloth for, I guess it depends on how it turns out. One idea that I had was to embellish it with some ribbon or bits of fabric and just use it for holding the service dishes at dinner. (Doesn’t that sound fancy? I have cheap dishes, they need all the help they can get.)

Another idea was to felt it up firmly and use it as– felt. I just don’t know, it was a spur of the moment idea crafty impulse to do something and then worry about the consequences later.

Am I just a freak of nature because I’m not bored by stockinette or garter stitch?

Or am I just so obsessed with composition that I think the eye should have a clear line to travel and a place to rest, before taking in the contrast of complexity?

This is something to consider when choosing a pattern.

What I like about the Flower Basket shawl is that it’s a complex all-over design on a small shawl, therefore it’s not overwhelming on a normal sized person (who hopefully will wear a dress or blouse under it that is a solid color with clean lines.) What I like about the Icarus is that the lace pattern is mature and clean and the large field of lines is quite flattering– that and it has feathers so I can pretend to fly around the front yard singing the theme song from “the Greatest American Hero”

What I don’t like to see are shawls that visually make no sense. Like the designers decide to throw in everything and the kitchen sink just to make an entertaining knit. Stop it dammit. Stop it. Don’t you know some misguided soul is going to knit your bastard child design in Koigu and destroy us all? Just stop it. Please.

Why do knitters fall into this? Is it just to avoid miles of ‘boring’ stockinette?

Is it for bragging rights?

Come on, think about like this; good accessories are like good makeup. Both should be clean, fresh, and artfully applied to frame and not distract.

See? I told you she could pull off wearing darker colors. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a peach in pink, but always wearing pastels when you are under 5 is not law.

It’s after 8 o’clock so the intended recipient is unavailable to model it. It’s past her bed time. Although it’s pretty heartening to hear, “That’s my beautiful shawl?” as I pin it to shape on the quilt. I think Lexi likes it.

The yarn is handspun Shetland laceweight, doubled as recommended in the pattern and knit 4 stitches to the inch on size 7 US needles.

It’s quite pretty, I know people don’t think of putting little girls in such dark colors– but Lexi has such a clear complexion she can pull it off.

As for knitting lace, the jury is still out. I think I’m giving it a fair trial, but truthfully there are parts of it that really just don’t make for a relaxing time of knitting. I’m definitely not in love with carrying around patterns or firing up the laptop everytime I want to knit. At least with socks and sweaters, cables– oh my beloved cables– I know where I’m going.