Mindless updates

Hospital knitting went fine, both the knitting part and the hospital part. The little tyke handled himself fine (aside from understandably impatient cries because he was hungry and couldn't be fed before anesthesia). Mommy and Daddy also handled ourselves fine, with minimum tears (Mommy) and impatience (Daddy.)



And the knitting was accepably captivatingly mindless. It had been so long, I was enjoying the project, but row after row of garter stitch is, well, mindless. I have kept the Merry Berry Shawl around for the occassional break from Grandma's socks, and have now remembered why I got a little bored with it.
Hundreds of tiny little stitches. Over two hundred and increasing. Of garter stitch. I used a smaller guage than the pattern specified (they were obviously smarter than I, and knew that the thicker the yarn for endless garter the better), so I have no doubt that I will end up with more than the 399 stitches listed in the pattern. There is no way I am halfway through it.

Then there is the slightly ruffled border. More increases. I don't think that I can count that high.

Today, it is all about the numbers

P.S. Grandma's socks are still progressing. Around halfway through the foot and still at it.

Anything but socks

The good news is that I am anticipating an entire day waiting, with little to do but read and/or knit. The bad news is that it is because I will be hovering around a hospital most of the day. Waiting. Knitting. Waiting. "Minor surgery" and "very routine" are little comfort when it is happening to someone you love.


So as I am packing up a bag for the day (this is one of those occasions where knitting while I am endlessly waiting might actually prevent me from committing felonies), I am experiencing a project mutiny.




I just can't work on Grandma's sock s another minute. I have completed both gussets. Both socks are again in progress as I work down the foot, and I just need a break. I wasn't meant for this sort of knitting monogomy. I get sick of looking at the same directions. I tire of looking at the same colors. The pattern become less interesting. Even the usefulness is called into question. "These socks won't fit anyway." "It is summer, why would anyone need wool handknit socks." Even though Grandma said that she wanted it roomy in the calf, I know I have made them too big.


So I went in search of a second project to take. (I am bringing the socks. I am Catholic, and we have guilt perfected to an art form. These are Grandma's socks, and I self-inposed a moratorium on all other knitting until they were finished.)


I considered something lace, which has been calling my name for so long now it is screaming), but that was quickly disregarded. Instead of occupying my mind to a degree that would distract me from the minutes ticking past, lace would likely drive me crazy within moments. I don't think I am going to have the patience or concentration for lace.






So I am thinking this. It is perfect. Light. Portable. I am enchanted with the color. I am picturing myself wearing it on a brisk fall morning. Merry Berry shawl, why did I ever put you down? Oh, well that little tangle of yarn might have something to do with it, but that was easily remedied this morning.






Then I remembered. I had been second-guessing the eyelet row. The shawl is planned to have a white slightly ruffled trim, and I was afraid that the eyelet rows would detract from it's simple elegance. At first, I thought it was part of the shaping. I didn't realize that it was an eyelet decoration. It took me a shockingly long time to realize that, actually. It wasn't part of the original plan, so it is taking me a while to warm up to the eyelets.


The yarn is a fuzzy mohair, so ripping that much is out of the question, but I could just start over today. Any thought from the peanut gallery? To eyelet or not to eyelet? We leave for the hospital in an hour, so I realize that my window is small. I think I may have to resort to the unthinkable: ask my husband for his knitting opinion. That has had limited success in the past, so I am not optimistic.


Now, excuse me while I search for a magic piece of paper. What I thought were the directions at the bottom of the shawl bag turned out to be notes from a sweater I saw at the courthouse. The directions have got to be around here somewhere.


Today, it is all about the theraputic knitting.

Technology vs. Fiber

The Contenders:

"In this corner. . . .weighing 12 pounds, consisting of tower, monitor, keyboard and mouse, five years in age and dressed all in black: Technology!"

In this corner. . . with an anticipated finished weight of 100 grams, consisting of two half-finished knitted pastel striped socks, four months in progress: Fiber!"

"Let's have a good clean competition. No rabbit or kidney punches. No clinches. Wait for the bell, and come out fighting."

My computer sometimes gets a a little sick. It just runs maddingly slow. I run too many different programs, and every click of the mouse has a lag time. Today, I was knitting while working. Click, knit half a row, click, knit, double click.

I could have just re-booted, which usuaally rights the problem, but, well, then I would have been able to justify knitting at work, right?

Today, it is all about the contenders.

Stolen moments

My sweetie and I went camping for the holiday weekend. Well, soft camping, since we were in a camping trailor complete with a/c and microwave. (And my sweetie learned an expensive lesson about why an Iphone doesn't belong in a boat. "Splash!") My mother and the inlaws were there, along with a friend that loves kids, so I was optomistic that I would have some great kid free time that would free me up for knitting.

Well, it turned out that it wasn't nearly as much as I hoped. I foolishly brought several projects. Not that I thought I would FINISH Grandma's sock, but more in case I got so much done on it that I was bored and could reward myself with a change of pace. . . . . I know, I am not sure what fairy tale was going through my mind. I did finish the gussets on one sock, and a good halfway through the second.

Now I go back to my usual block of knitting time: between 9 p.m. and 7 a.m. Of course, you see the problem with that plan. . . . that is when I usually clean house.

Today, it is all about the gussets.

"What are you doing up?"

My sweetie leaves for work around 5:45. Even if I am awake, I usually wait until after he leaves to start moving around, so that I don't risk getting into his way. Yesterday, I got up earlier. When he asked, I told him that I wanted to get a little work done before the kids woke up, since I was only going into the office for a half day. I spent about ten minutes before he left for arranging work materials, shuffling papers and looking like I was getting ready to work.

I was lying. My plan was to use the quiet time to knit. I wanted to finish those heels, and I needed a decent chunk of uninterrupted time to do so.

I forgot for one day that lying is bad, even a little white lie that doesn't hurt anyone. After my sweetie left, I took a quick shower, got a fresh Diet Coke and settled on the sofa. Before I could even open the knitting bag, I heard my newborn waking up.

Awake baby equals no knitting, and my punishment for lying.

And yet, all was not lost. Last night, I ignored the clean dishes in the dishwasher and the toys scattered on the living room floor, and convenienty forgot the fact that I had told my sweetie that i was going to go grocery shopping after the kids went to sleep, and I knit instead.

The heels are nearly done, and I found them to be easier than I remembered. I was able to modify the generic instructions without any problems, and even the progression of instructions appeared logical to me. A few more rows, and I will be ready to pick up and gusset.

I have a renewed urgency to finish these socks. Grandma ended up in the hospital this week. She broke her leg, so nothing too serious in theory, but at her age, anything can be serious. The surgery to place a rod inside of her thighbone went well, and they are hoping to transfer her to a rehab center sometime in the next day or two. Mom has been spending a lot of time at the hospital with Grandma, hence my part-time hours at the office. Can't watch two kids under 2 in a hospital room all day. We are looking at a month or two at the rehab center before she can go back home.

Wouldn't it be nice if Grandma could have pretty socks when she is at the rehab center?

Today, it is all about the urgency.

Turning the corner. . . .

. . . . and walking right into the math wall. Owing to grandma's aforementioned full-figured feet, these socks are larger than your average, and considering my lack of heel flapping and turning for a number of years, I find myself having to THINK about my heeling. I tried to think of the math myself, then throught that method had too high a margin of error. I have slow enough progress on these socks without doing some parts multiple times. So I tried finding a sock with the same amount of cast on stitches.

Success! Oh, wait, the random sock pattern has 44 stitches, and I have 44 on each side for a total of 88 stitches around. Ok, if I just double all the turning heel directions, I should be OK, right? Right? That is still math, but I feel has increased likelihood of success than me doing it all.

Turn, baby, turn!

Who knew that Sister Anna Marie would be right and I really WOULD need math as a grown up?

Today it is all about turning.

The sound of wings

Do you hear that sound? Far off, in the distance? Listen carefully. Flap. Flap. Flap. I have reached the heel flap on Grandma's socks. Flap. Flap. Flap. The heel is the halfway point of a sock. Clap. Clap. Clap.

The funny thing is. . . I haven't done a heel flap in a while. I have long preferred a short row heel for myself. Grandma's feet are, well, I hate to say "fat", but so it is. So I don't want the tighter fitting short row heels. And now I have to remember and/or look up how to turn a heel. I haven't done so for quite a while, and the only thing that I remember is that I spend the whole time thinking "this can't be right, I must be getting something wrong, this can't be right. . . .oh look, a heel!"

Today, it is all about the "wings" of the socks.