Monday, October 25, 2010

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? (en chorus)

I'm embarrassed. I used the Joe DiMaggio title twice of recent. Today's three times a charm is intentional.

Is that something you remember as a child, adults repeating the same thing, and you looking up at them in impatience wondering how one could forget they've already said that umpteen times?

I remember having a sharp mind as a child. I have a vague and consistent memory of thinking forlornly about losing said sharpness of mind around age 16 and onwards. These days I am on theory number three or four or five of why this happened. I think, now, it happens primarily because older folks have more memories the more we age. More traumas, more joys, more people we've met, more jobs mastered and forgotten. More detritus, to be blunt.

Life is overstimulating. Maybe holding on to the core things is how our brain stabilizes us in time and place. So the title to this post has some significance to my own mythology. One that I fall back on in comfort.

Comfort is good. October has been good. It's been a month of yarn gorging. There was Vermont Sheep & Wool, and then there was a last minute trip to Webs two days ago. No Rhinebeck again this year, but c'est la vie. I'm sure one less body in the stalls was a comfort to someone in Dutchess County, New York.

We drove out to Webs to purchase a new colorway of Madelinetosh's, Nectar, in the DK line. Turns out the color was the wrong pink for me. And without seeing the back room once again, I walked away with some new to me yarns from Malabrigo and Madelinetosh, as well as lines I've already begun to stash.

I am fascinated by pale grays kissed with color (see banner!) I thought Nectar would be such, but I found this lovely new Malabrigo Twist that maintains that spirit more faithfully. Fucking "A" yum.


There's more. Much much more. I'm a yarn whore.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Another musically inspired title.

It's been a month? Life spins me right 'round baby right 'round. (I remember loving to hate that song. My best friend loved it. I loved the send-up to the singer, and the era's fashion, in The Wedding Singer. Great movie.)

But this har joint is a knitting blog. Knitting. Yes, I have been knitting. Not as much, not as often, but with great enjoyment.

And I have a little photographic proof. (Just a little.)


Above is my Rambling Rows afghan, or should I say lapghan. It will be pretty small, and that's okay.

I've been meaning to knit this for a couple of years and well, now I am.

I bought the yarn as an impulse buy from Knitpicks this summer. I'm a sucker for tweeds. I had no plan for it, and then the yarn arrived and the colors weren't as dynamic as I had envisioned.

After the initial disappointment, I realized the yarn would be a natural fit for this mosaic tiled afghan. In August, I used MSExcel to finalize the color scheme. As I only purchased four different colors of this merino/alpaca mix, I decided to use some leftover Cascade 220 to fill in the gap.

It is the perfect coloring for a fall project, although I am darn sure I'll be knitting this for some time to come; On Ravelry I named the project "Will she or won't she," to express my fear I was going to abandon the project altogether. It's now called "i am."

My problem is with the yarn. I have a visual disinclination to knit Alpaca. A few tiles in, and I'm loving the Alpaca and begrudging the Cascades' coarse touch. Perception is everything. It took me a month to tip the scale of dissing to inclining.

What also came back to me this summer? My gift knitting mojo.

Hubby's redacted M'Gonigle/Ellipti'gle

As my rav notes indicate, the M'Gonigle pattern inspired the hat. I did not use the pattern, just kinda stole the cable motif for a generically structured hat.

So, what revelations have I had? Lots. I finally realized one of the reasons I love knitting lace. I love loose knitting. D'oh.

I love the look of tight little knit stitches, am absolutely am head-over-heels for it. But I do not enjoy it. At all. Whatsover. No. Never. Ever. Well, never say never, almost never.

Another revelation? I have no problem not being a perfect knitter. That hat above, knit for my hubby for our 11th wedding anniversary a few weeks ago, is riddled with errors. R.I.D.D.L.E.D. And I still love it. I'm still proud of it.

I had to learn to allow myself to love imperfection. It may have been hard, I'm not yet sure, but I think it's comprehensively achieved. The inner voice of disapprobation has been foiled again. Farg you, icehole! Woot!


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