Bad knitting karma

Ever have one of those days when you were just not meant to knit. The planets align, the stars move in the sky, and you somehow miss the message to ignore all forms of knitting for the day. Still basking in my success of two finished pairs of socks this week (INCLUDING the Kitchnered toe, thank you), I decided to work on some too-long neglected projects, only one of which is a sock. During my lunch hour, I knit a bit on the dove gray hint of lace shawl. It isn't that difficult, just the occassional Yarn Over at the ends and the middle, creating a mostly stockinette shawl. How hard can that be, right? Apparently, hard enough for me, because I stopped halfway through the row, after I realized that I knit my lone stitch marker into the shawl, and have no idea where the center yarn overs are supposed to be. No picture, since I left it at the office, knowing I would be too frustrated to work on it last night.


As we were getting ready to leave for the usual Thursday night at the American Legion, I remembered that I hadn't planned on what to knit. So I quickly grabbed Pomotomus. I hadn't worked on this one in quite a while, even though I am really enjoyed the pattern. Had to scrounge for a pen, and my postie note was so longer sticking so I had to improvise a baby's legos to keep track of which line I was on in the chart, but I was making nice progress without too many snags. Knit a few rows. reposition needles. Knit a few rows. Oh, extra stitch. Make correction. Wait a minute, now I have two extra stiches. Make correction. Ok, back on track. Knit a few rows. What the. . . . ? That would be the time when the wheels fell off the wagon. I can't even blame the alcohol, since I only had one beer. I am not sure where I went wrong, since my sweetie though that when I was counting stitches to try to figure things out was a perfect time to start rattling random numbers in my ear. Fortunately (for him), I can't backhand him in public, and simply put my kntiting away for another day.


So all this leads me to wonder, is it safe for me to knit today?


Meanwhile, my sweetie is progressing nicely on the shed. Cool temperatures and low humidity have him vowing to finish making a roof this weekend.

Today, it is all about the karma curiosity.

I haven't been slacking, really.

Ok, so it has been over a week since I posted. I have just been very busy. See?

Second trekking sock, nearly finished!

Shed, has the beginning of a roof!

MIL socks, finished except for. . . . .Yeah, ok, whatever.

I am starting to feel like I am in a knitting rut, since all I seem to knit these days is socks. I can't help it! Socks of perfect summer and/or portable knitting. No huge aphgan making your knees sweat. (Learned THAT lesson the hard way. My knitting tip #32: always start an aphgan in the summer, so it is short for the hot weather and long for the cold.) No large bag stuffed with yarn, etc. Easy to stop and start when interrupted. Socks are just ideal.

And the best news of all lately. . . . . the Harley is back, and seemingly functioning properly. Just in time for us to go out of town again to help Mom get her house ready to sell.

Today, it is all about the no-longer whining husband.

Nature's sprinkler

We finally got a touch of rain in my corner of Indiana. So now my sweetie can stop fretting about the lawn, and I can stop fretting abut water conservation and our water bill. For a while at least. . . .

My sweetie and his buddy were hard at work on Friday and Saturday on the shed. I felt almost a little bad to see them all sweaty in the steamy heat, while I stood in air-conditioned comfort inside. Not bad enough to go outside, of course. I had my knitting and a list of cleaning to do. (Don't step on the wet kitchen floor!)

Saturday's motorcycle ride was a bit anticimactic. We were excited to take both bikes to Nascar Club (don't ask). I got to the end of our street, and my bike cut out. No reserve tank, should have still had gas, but dry as a bone anyway. Okaaaaay, one would think that the shop would have splashed a little in the tank, or at least tell me that it was driving on fumes, but maybe that is just too much to ask. A few grunts and swear words later, we got my bike back to the house and filled a little from the gas can. The gas station is just down the street and we were off. . . . Except that my sweetie decided to top off his tank, since we were there, and realized that in the 40 miles he had driven since he picked it up from the shop, he had used 3 gallons. Ok, I have a hard time believing that a motorcycle gets the same gas milage as his pickup truck: 15 miles to the gallon. Plus, it was riding rougher and rougher with every mile. So, his bike goes back to the shop today, as obviously SOMETHING is wrong. Some part isn't talking to another part properly, and it is running worse now that it was before the repairs. [Insert string of explatives here in my sweetie's voice.]

On the plus side, I am finished with my MIL socks. Well, except for, you guessed it, the Kitchner toe. I meant to bring it with the to the Father's Day thing, but, of course, I forgot. Well, she doesn't need wool socks in this pseudo-August weather, anyway, right? I was just too focused on bringing my second trekking sock, WITH reinforcment thread, through it turned out to be overly optomistic with that. Just a couple more rows to go til the heel . . . .I said that all aftenroon. Sigh.

Apparently, confession is good for knitting too.

After baring my knitting inadequancies in the vast world of the Internet, the guilt finally got to me. I sat down and Kitchnered three socks. (Sweetie, I am sorry that I snapped at you halfway through the second sock. It is just that you were talking to me when I was concentrating. And I don't blame you that that sock ended up with three extra stitches on one needle. Well, I don't entirely blame you.)

So, there are one COMPLETELY finished pair of charity socks, and one COMPLETELY finished Mother-in-Law sock. I am nearly finished with the second MIL sock. And since I was exercising my guilt muscles anyway, I realized that I had knit my new MIL socks before my own mother. We were going to Mom's for the weekend, so I started picking balls from the stash she might like. Ooo, this one is pretty, maybe this one, Mom loves blue. I brought the whole blessed container. Then, get this, she ended up picking the ball of Opal I first thought of a few weeks ago for her. Doh! Do I know my mom or what?

And in construction news. . . . The shed has three walls. Three socks, three walls. I better get back to work on that MIL sock.

Confessions

I am almost embarrassed to admit this. I thought this post would be full of my finishes and nearly finishes. I finished a pair of charity socks for Children in Common (except for the final seams), and am nearly finished with the MIL socks (except for the final seams) and am halfway finished with the second Trekking sock (first one finished, you got it, except for the final seam). . . . I couldn't believe it when I realized that I had four, count 'em, FOUR socks, finished except for the Kitchnering, and one more only a short-row toe away.

Kitchner stitch is complex, but not debilitating. What is my problem? I just had a flaskback to the time when on a snowy afternoon I wove in the seams on FIVE pairs of socks, that had been otherwise languishing in my basket. This realization makes me feel every inch the procrastinator that my sweet husband accuses me of being. Particularly since he is going like gangbusters on the shed. Three walls and a floor up. He is hoping to frame the front wall tonight, so he can start hanging the wood siding and provide some rain protection for the floor while he works on the trusses for the roof.

Today, it is all about the guilt.

Are we done yet?

"Is the shed done yet?"







No, but I am working on it."









"Is my mother's sock finished yet?"












"No, but I am working on it."








Unfortunately, Indiana has been plagued with intermittant rain the past several days. Great knitting weather, but apparently you can't use power tools in the rain, so not great construction weather.


Meanwhile, my sweetie was whining last night that his Harley is still in the shop. Apparently, the fact that it was raining all evening and he wouldn't have been able to drive it home anyway was irrelevant.

One down, one to go

My bike came home from the shop yesterday. New electrical gobblygook, and a new tire. I am choosing to believe that the shop legitimately did forget to put that new tire on, and not that they thought they were dealing with a woman who couldn't tell the difference from a new tire and a slick one. The coupon they let me use was almost worth the extra hour I had to wait while they put the new rear tire on. Then I rode her home. My first ride in an eternity, or last August. It felt good!

My sweetie's is still in the shop. He was hoping to have it home for the weekend too, but alas, it was not meant to be. I kept reminding him it was supposed to rain anyway, but he was unconsolable.

Otherwise, I am still stuck in the sagging center of knitdom. Four socks and one shawl still in active progress. Sigh.

Today, it is all about the vroom!