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I have been waiting for what seemed like forever for a package in the mail, and guess what — it just arrived:
This package, which looks so small on my table has loomed large in my mind for the last few weeks, as it contains yarn with a deadline attached. Here it is in the fibre:
It doesn’t look so threatening now does it? And here I will throw in a gratuitous yarn shot for good measure:
I am so disappointed; I am still waiting for my spinning wheel. I have so much yarn dancing in my head, but I have no wheel, and I put down my deposit over a month ago.
Apparently, it is somewhere on the Pacific Ocean, and that is all we know.
I have already bought some fibre and I feel like an idiot because I have all this fibre (okay so it is just a small (very small) shopping bag of the stuff), but I have no wheel to do anything with it.
And since it seems like time for true confessions, I have had my knitting machine for over a year, and I have yet to knit anything on it.
I am feeling down about my level of accomplishment today.
I have had such a frustrating time photographing this vest. These represent the fourth time we have tried to take good pictures — the last ones were okay, but I think they were too wintery, so here is our latest kick at the can:
The vest is great, but for some reason it hasn’t been easy to photograph well.
If you are interested in buying the pattern, the pattern page is here.
I was so horrified in January when I took all my stash out and looked at it in one place, and I decided I would do something about it. I bought one more tote to put it in, and separated the yarn into three containers: warm, cool, and neutral shades. The lids even almost closed properly. Then I knit Lyra’s coat (the pattern for which I will rationalize one of these days: if any of you actually want to knit it, please let me know so I will do it faster for you), and it used — well, more yarn than you can shake a stick at.
I thought I was almost home free: I had space in the totes, and I was so proud of myself, but I find I have lapsed into my old ways. I cleaned up my knitting basket yesterday, which was threatening to take over the living room floor (again), and I found that there was all this yarn I have bought on my various trips to other cities and yarn stores. It represented so many ideas and whims, but I find I cannot make things as fast as I can think them up. I suppose when/if I ever start making more money with my designs I could get contract knitters to whip up all my ideas — that makes me so jealous of the big designers — they have people to do the knitting for the projects they can’t get to.
I don’t have any room in the totes anymore, and I don’t have space in the closet for any more totes, so I am reduced to putting the yarn in question into my suitcase:
It’s all just so pretty and precious, and I want it out all the time so I can commune with it, but I live with someone else and feel it is wrong to monopolize the floor any further.
My feelings of guilt/horror/shame were not dissipated when Jon came into the living room and took one look at the yarn, unfinished objects, and other fibre paraphernalia and said: “so I am not judging you, but how much money is represented by this stuff? $300, $400?.” I was overcome by a little sinking feeling as I did a few rough calculations in my head, and just had to nod: “yes, something like that.” But now the contents of the basket are contained by the basket, and I will not do that anymore (until next time).
(I will be very annoyed with myself again the next time I have to go on a trip.)
I love early summer, I think it must be my favourite season — though I suppose that really one should still consider this late spring. I walk to and from work and it is so beautiful that I walk along in a bit of a daze staring up at the trees:
Saskatoon has been very lucky so far in that dutch elm disease hasn’t struck here yet, so all the streets in the old parts of town are lined with elms, but at any time they could all be gone.
On a smaller scale my flax is up and multi-leaved, which apparently makes it more frost tolerant — this is surely ironic as when it is two leaved there is a much greater likelihood of frost. Look at how pretty it is:
I think I may have got a little too excited when I scattered the seed. See here:
Any thoughts on what I should do? I guess I could try to thin it, but there is no where to walk without stepping on flax — I guess rows have a purpose after all, who knew?
I just followed the method my father-in-law told me from when he grew up on the farm: you scatter the seed with your hand. I may just leave it, maybe spindly plants give softer fibre or something.
I have been procrastinating on washing this sweater, and now it is June and it still hasn’t been worn. I have been working on it since last August — you would think that was enough time to get the only handmade Christmas present I made last year finished in time, but alas no.
It is no longer really getting later, as it is now too warm to wear it.
I just looked back and realized it has been quite a while since I wrote about my cabley gloves, and now they are so close to being done. I had forgotten how fast they work up when you do them this way.
They always look like a dog’s breakfast at this stage, but I am very happy with the way they have turned out. It almost (almost) makes me look forward to winter, or at least October, so I can wear them.
When I got home from work yesterday I was so excited to find a Canada Post parcel delivery notice. I am waiting for some very pressing yarn orders with deadlines attached, and I am feeling very impatient.
When I got to the post office and I first saw the box, I was confused as it looked too big and heavy to be yarn. Then I saw the return address and it all came flooding back to me: I was sick a few weeks ago, and I was idly surfing the Internet in the middle of the morning and came upon the Folio Society website (okay, I had it bookmarked — in a folder called bibliophilia, please let your mind now fill with lurid images), and I decided that I would finally join after being patient for . . . oh, a very long time.
So now I have the “Empires of the Ancient World” introductory offer in my living room:
I have since gone online and ordered my four books to cement the deal. This is why credit cards and the Internet are a perilous, perilous combination not to be mixed by the unwary.
Wisp is only a pattern in the broadest sense of the word and borrows heavily from Debbie New’s scribble lace technique from Unexpected Knitting, which is quite frankly one of the most wonderful knitting books I have ever come across.
I believe I have mentioned this before, but I think Debbie New would be the most fun person to have in a knitting group. I can just imagine what it would be like:
“So, Debbie, what are you working on?”
“I am using this great lace weight wool I got to knit myself a boat. I have dyed it puce and am going to get one of my sons to cover it with epoxy and take it camping.”
If you could convince Debbie to join, it might be worth starting a knitting group, just for that.
Note: I was initially scared off by statements from Amazon and bookstores about how long it takes to get the book, but Schoolhouse Press seems to really have it together, and it was worth the wait.