November 2009

We were out doing a last minute photo shoot today in the sun:

It was so lovely.  It snowed a little last night, but it wasn’t cold, which is good as I am unsure of the attractiveness of a very red nose and how it will ever induce anyone to knit a sweater.

A couple little girls walked by, and they were very interested in what we were doing.  One of them says to me: “I want to be a model — are you a model?” To which I didn’t have an immediate response — I guess I am, as I model my own designs, it would be a bit different if I were paid to do it, but as it is no one can tell me I can’t.

They told us that designing sweaters is cool, and they would be happy to buy the one I was wearing.  Apparently they thought the lovely Jonathan was proposing, instead of taking my picture, which would have been more exciting than having my picture taken and require much less standing on boggy ground.  Not that I want to imply that having a sweater in Knitty isn’t very exciting indeed.

Having been married and published in Knitty, it is difficult to say which was more exciting the first time — being divorced, I can say that I think getting published in Knitty was.

That isn’t good: I guess I will have to fall back on many more people being married than being published in Knitty and leave it at that.

I just read an excerpt from The Knitter’s Book of Wool: The Ultimate Guide to Understanding, Using, and Loving this Most Fabulous Fiber in the winter issue of Twist Collective (The Softness Myth by Clara Parkes).  I think this article is full of good observations — yarn should not just be as soft as possible.  I have had the conversation on many occasions about a particular yarn I happen to like and been told it is not soft enough, but I ask you: how soft does yarn need to be?

I confess here that I am quite accepting of scratchy wool and will quite willingly wear a hat that makes me scratch and scratch when I take it off — which of course means a red forehead, but I don’t mind (I generally make sure that any yarn I suggest others use in my yarn suggestions is not too scratchy as I know not everyone shares my particular preferences).  All the same, if you live somewhere really cold — please never underestimate the value of good forehead coverage, it really is important — I gave myself frostbite (or something very close to it) walking to work one day when it was too cold for the car to start and will never forget that particular lesson (other lessons, yes, that one, no).

But all the same yarn should not only be judged on being as soft as possible — there really are all sorts of measures of a yarn, and I am happy to see more discussion on the subject.

I have immediately requested said book from the library to check out what else Clara has to say.

I have been home for the last couple days as I have been sick.

I really feel like I can’t go outside as going out when you are sick is like the new drinking and driving and people will yell at me.

While on the road I spent a fair amount of time knitting in bed (there never seems to be a good place to sit in hotel rooms):

And I finished my socks, but I think I need to do more socks to get the grafting at the end of the toes right.  It just didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to — it has nubby bits on each side of the grafting:

I can graft quite well when the two sides can butt up against each other flat, but having to do it when the sides were laid on top if each other stymied me a bit.  I will wash them — that first wash takes our all sorts of knitting ills.

Oh well, if I were got at everything when I first tried it life would probably be less rewarding, and I would be less modest, which would most likely do me no good at all.

I would like to try it out for a month or so though.

I recently got back from an epic trip around Saskatchewan.  I didn’t know there were trees and lakes, well someone did tell me, but I didn’t believe them in the real way you believe in something that actually exists — like -40 degree weather, if you haven’t ever lived it, you don’t believe it exists.

But as I knew you might not believe me, I brought back proof:

It really is genuinely beautiful, and certainly worth the trip.  Especially if you like hunting and fishing (or so I am told).

There were however, a few things that were of concern, like this sign:

It’s like the earth will just swallow you up and just doesn’t fill one with confidence.

It was the farthest north I have ever been in my whole life and everything looks a little different.  So much so, that I persuaded the person I was with to stop the car so I could take a picture of the ground:

Who knew lichen could be lush?