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What's the sound of one hand clapping? Can the pope hear it when he takes a dump in the woods? And would that cause a tree to fall down?
It's DONE.
Done like the thanksgiving leftovers still in my freezer.
Done like the republican party with George.
Done like the extra 3 pounds I used to cart around on my chest.
Done like my bank account after Madrona.
Here it is:
It took me a YEAR. A friggin YEAR. But, a sock is done.
And there is no way I can repeat what I did.
See? Isn't that a cool first sock? It's pink and purple. My favorite colors (when I was six, so that's forgivable). I started on 2's and knit down to the heel, and figured out that a) I am a complete moron for trying the lace and faux cable pattern that is entirely lost in the busy yarn.
Notice the fine kitchner-ing of the toe.
The tag, you ask? Why the stitch marker lets me know when I started decreases. It's the "Seduction Socks" from interweave knits, but I got bored after I turned the heel, and started messing with it. Seriously messing with it. I heard I should do the bottom on 1's so it would be a tighter fabric and thus last longer. So I did that.
Then I knit about another inch or so and realized I should, say, check with the Yarn Harlot or Cat Bordhi or someone about when I should decrease, since they sort of know socks a bit better than me. You know, like people from Colorado know a bit more about snow than say, people from Barbados.
I would be Barbados in this example.
Anyway, I figured I should shape the sock a bit like a foot. No idea why I got that notion, but what the hell.
Then I knitted a bunch more and decided that probably it would go a bit faster if I stopped trying to do the pattern on the top.
See how it stops kinda way before the actual toe? Genius. Anyone can knit a sock, but it takes pure, unadulterated genius to completely fuck it up beyond the ability to repeat one's self.
It's a dobby sock. And yes, I will be punishing myself shortly.
It's going to do me in. If I were not in love with the yarn, if it were less silky, less varigated, if perhaps I didn't love my mother as I do, I swear I would throw this out the window.
Never. Do. Boring. Scarves. In. Laceweight.
Promise me?
I am to the decreases at last, and I see Rich's taunting face before me, daring me to finish it, telling me to suck it up, everyone else laughing, perhaps Daniel most of all because he knew it would frustrate me.
Here is my progress:
and here's more:
It is insufferable.
And yes, I began still more projects, scattered lifeless and nearly forgotten across my bedtable, with nothing quite so sad and neglected as my golding spindle. It is a sight to be seen.
And yet here I am blogging rather than thundering through one more 12 row section. As I must before I am allowed to do anything else.
On the other hand (well, actually on both), earlier I did get two repeats done on my eiffel
I am doing it in elann canapone, hemp, and no Dad, I am not breathing it in or smoking it. It is, however, leaving my hands rather black and I am glad not to be using wood or bamboo needles on it. I am doubling it up to get near gauge (I hope, if my swatch can be trusted, which yes, should have been larger, but at least I swatched in the round.)
And my incisions still hurt. And the methotrexate is wiping me out. And dh has the flu, and has kindly let me stay in the bedroom and suffers downstairs on the couch, poor guy, and I am not fit to nurse him myself, being so readily infected due to all the immune suppressants. Ugh.
He made me a new spindle which is brilliantly oxidizing purple, he discovered that if you leave it in the air long enough, it does not turn brown (as the bits in my rocking chair did) but stays purple, if you wipe mineral oil on it after it's had the chance to oxidize. I'll get a picture soon, perhaps with my new roving from Madrona, I got fleece artist....
I hate when people ask me how I feel, how I'm doing, if I'm healing, if I'm flaring. I hate it because I have to answer, and it's hardly ever (especially this time of year, with my vitamin D deficiency and inability to metabolize it in pill form very well) a satisfactory thing to the asker, either. I must deprive them of the illusion that I am well, I must do so in a fashion that belittles the actual discomfort of it so as to make them feel easy again, and I often fail.
I sometimes hear of others with various chronic diseases, some of whom handle it "better" than I do, some of them worse perhaps. But there is an inevitable wish on the part of the friend for me to "feel better" and a dejectedness on my part, for I am often unable to keep my promise.
My doctor wrote a book with his patient called "You Don't Look Sick" which is a good read, and helped me choose his care. I recommend it:
You Don't Look Sick
I also found a website that had a good explanation of chronic autoimmune disease. You should read it if you know anyone with a chronic disease. And if you are reading my blog, chances are, you do.
Since Ravelry seems to be eating my "edit photos" on this project, I am trying to satisfy my need to flash it everywhere by posting it here.
Light Hyacinth malabrigo silky merino, #9's a G crochet hook (picot edging) and I just need to weave in ends, and maybe block a bit, and it'll come with me to Madrona.
This is the Best. Yarn. Ever.
Seriously.
An elderly man came up to me at the dr's office lobby and asked what I was making and proclaimed, "lovely... that is just lovely!" He didn't seem to be a knitter himself, but I daresay he'd lived with one at some point because he was really complimentary to it. :beam:
Until I am feeling well enough to get daylight pictures out of doors, of knitting in the wild, I apologize but all the pics are on my lap from my recovery bed. Being straight up isn't fun yet, and I try to do it as little as possible. If someone would be so kind as to shut the gravity down a bit in here, I would really appreciate it.
I am feeling unwell today, fever is back. Of course I discovered this after the dr office was closed, so we'll see.
I have crafting add right now, I've begun a ton of new projects (all on ravelry) and discovered to my dismay, despite actually having a rather extensive supply of different colors in the stash. Right now it seems all about purple and blue, which is ok but I do like other colors too.
In other news, apparently my sex life would be improved if I wore 3 inch heels. It says nothing about my feet and back though, and I do expect that the subsequent sacrifice of health in those areas would counteract by far any improvement.
So about the yarn...
I began a market bag after elann's usual lightening speed shipping, to help carry purchases at next weekend's Madrona festival. I don't feel well so it's going slowly compared to normal, but fast compared to many projects.
here was my start:
and you can see I have made some progress.
In other news, I am wishing I had 5 more skeins of Malabrigo in the matisse colorway to make the Printed Silk Cardigan in the new interweave.
The yarn is just so soft and lustrous and it really is even that much better than regular malabrigo. I know! Hard to believe, but everyone last night at Miro agreed. At $12 a skein, though, it's a bit out of my current budget to afford it right now.
So here's some more eye candy:
and
I have two of this last one, it's the matisse. The purple is (yes, I know, more blue and purple) light hyacinth. I said I would marry regular malabrigo if I could, and for the silky I think maybe some sort of fiber geek spok mind meld is where I'd go.
Go get some.
As Ferris Bueller said, "If you have the means, I highly recommend picking some up"
I've been in bed all day hardly up at all. Hardly even lifting my head up. My temp is 37.8 (sorry guys, our thermometer was in the bargain bin apparently because it only does metric. And "any day now" America will switch. Jimmy Carter said so in 1978. heh. Since I run low normally, this is a temp more of fever for me then it would be for someone else.
In other boob related news (sorry guys) I got to buy bras online. Trouble is, I don't know what size I am (yes, I did measure) because I am still swollen. So I got two, and we'll see, but that's what places like onehanesplace are for.
The bag project got a quick boost in my queue due to a thread recently on ravelry about plastic bags. I was appalled at how many folks were so blase, that they thought by reusing a bag once, it was very "green." These people by and large had never heard of biodegradable pet bags, and were flummoxed at the thought of living without a car and shopping. Perhaps they buy plastic bags which are sturdier but that made me laugh--who hasn't suffered a tear and groceries all over? I usually, in the odd circumstance that I don't bring my cloth bags in, make them repack bags in paper if they've neglected to ask me (we use them to carry recycling and non-meat food to our yard waste bin, and they are fully biodegradable and made of recycled material where we shop most often, but then again lately I use my own bags instead anyway).
The fever grows, ebbs and flows, and before I descend into complete rhyme, I suppose that is enough for now.
I am hoping I'll feel up to Madrona on Saturday.
Wouldn't you be rather happy to sit upstairs and knit? I know I have.
And yes, oreos do help you heal. Sadly I am out. Malabrigo does as well, particularly the silky merino, but any will do. And mom made the quilt, it's made up of my favorite--batiks.
I wish I lived in here exclusively. I've got a bit more time in it left remaining in it, I think. Thank you lovely friends, I am feeling better (and am the better to know you) and having the antibiotics to knock out the infection really helped.
I'd rather not dwell on it though. It is a sad state of affairs. One of my children has been behaving abominably today, though I'd thought to make this post earlier due to the non-accidental rudeness of some on ravelry. I envy journalistic comedy writing types, I am unable, while unhappy, to pretend otherwise. I am quite sure that those who can are superior writers, whatever their topics. When I attempt it (as I related to a friend who is quite superior in her skill), it comes off as channeling my inner Dorothy Parker, rather than Oscar Wilde. While I am naturally a fan of Dorothy, I do think one reads her work all at once entertained and appalled, for she had such an unhappy life.
I am so excited. I just ordered one skein of this:
They had 10. Someone restrain me from ordering the rest.
It's helping me heal... seriously!
(p.s. it's silky merino. YUM!)
EDA: I had turned on an authenticating for comments, trying to shut off spammers, and unfortunately it seems to have shut down everyone. I hate this software... I turned it off, so you should be able to comment now.
And EDA: that would be why I turned it off, 20 min later I had 4 spam comments. UGH. I'm leaving it on but may have to shut it off...
So I did get to knit, only a day after my surgery. Actually I did knit about 6 stitches on the day of, just 'cause I wanted to prove I could.
Then I finished my odessa the day after, so I would be able to enjoy cashmere and cover the very bad hair day hair.
Yeah, it's blurry. Blame dh, he took the picture ;-P
Now I need to get back to work on the other WIP's, especially mom's clap. Which I am not having fun knitting. I think this will be my one and only clap, which is a bummer because this yarn rocks (not to knit with, it's very splitty, but it's pretty. See how much fun pain meds can be? My next post may be in iambic pentameter).