I'm still knitting my fingers to the bone making swatch after swatch for the Master's Hand Knitting Program. I figure at the rate I'm going I'll be done when I start collecting Social Security. The swatch on the right, Number 6, has been the bane of my existence and I've started it twice, ripped it out and then did it again and blocked it. The poor thing was pinned down like a dead butterfly and was still not correct. Damn! The swatch on the left hasn't been a picnic either.
The two swatches show increases and decreases. Lefty has the decreases and good old Number 6 has the lifted increases. The Lifted Increases were the ones that drove me right about the bend. I looked in so many books and on so many websites for the correct way to work this increase that I became obsessed and went a little crazy. The books I had been using for reference just showed a pencil drawn needle stuck into a knitted stitch. Seriously. How is that helping me? All those pencil drawn knit stitches took on the look of an M. C. Escher drawing and pretty soon I was just staring at the illustration trying to follow the trail of yarn. I needed a good slap in the face.
Eventually I discovered that You Tube has all the knitting videos I would ever need and more. I found the Lifted Increase, found which stitch to stick my needle into which way and knit up my Number 6. She is pinned again to the green blocking square. Her yarn tails need to be woven in before she can jump into her little page protector and relax.
Lefty, however, has a different issue. I just didn't knit it correctly and that's all there is to it. I'm a moron. Here I thought I knew what was what in the knitting department. Seems I was wrong. Seems I don't know jack and have been blithely knitting my way through life wondering why things don't fit the way they should. Seems I should probably FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS! Hell! I knit Lefty up with a cool hand and a smug smile. I knew how to decrease using the K2tog and the SSK ....of course I did. I had been doing it for years. But then, why, when Lefty was blocked did she look so different from my other increased and decreased swatches? H-m-m-m-m. I went back and read over the directions yet again, for probably the tenth time, and discovered that I was supposed to decrease 'every other RS row' instead of every right side row. Rookie mistake. Stupid rookie mistake.
The swatch is now reknit in the proper manner and I have checked all the other ones to make sure I knit them the way I was supposed to. I just don't want all this work coming back with a note that says, 'Really?'
I love a good TV tray. Ever since I was a little girl and mom came home from the store with a set of TV trays and a mess of TV dinners I was hooked. What could be better than sitting in the living room eating in front of the old black and white console television? Nothing. I watched endless episodes of Leave it to Beaver while I ate and gagged down a giant glass of milk. That was part of the deal...the big glass of milk. If I didn't drink it I couldn't sit in the living room with my tray anymore. And if I spilled it I was grounded from TV dining for quite some time and I had to beg to go back there. It was so much better to be in my little TV world than it was sitting at the table with my parents.
My little girls ate at the table in the kitchen with us but when they got bigger, grew up and out, hubby and I ended up back in the living room eating off of TV trays and by that time they weren't a pretty sight. My poor trays took some serious wear and tear over the years because I used them for more than eating. I used them to hold things. I used them for projects. I set them up when I folded laundry so that each girl would have their own TV tray full of clothes to put away. I painted so many things on the 'painting TV tray' that it became the go-to tray for that. One day the cat jumped up on it, stepped in my saucer of paint and left his little kitty footprints on it in such a pleasing manner that I didn't wash it off. My trays had been used and loved but they either needed to go or get a make-over. I chose a revamp because you just can't find acceptable TV trays anymore.
One day I was perusing a dollar store for something all together different when I spied some sticky shelf paper that I just had to have. It was beautiful and like nothing I had seen before. I knew I wanted it but for what reason? I hated sticky shelf paper on my shelves. What to do, what to do. All of a sudden the ghastly looking TV trays popped into my head and I knew I had found the solution to that problem. I bought four rolls and toted them home where they happily lived under a cabinet until I could find the time to use them. I finally found it. All it took was a good scrubbing of trays, a coat of primer, and tow more of black paint. And because I was painting a tray it was already on a little stand so that I didn't have to make myself one out of TV trays. Fabulous!
It took two days to dry and for me to get up the courage to slap that pretty sticky paper on the tray but it went better than expected. I had cut it a little big but there, in my pen cup, was an X-acto knife and the edges were trimmed off in seconds. The paper wasn't so sticky that it stuck to itself and made a horrible, wadded up gob of nastiness that I couldn't get off my hand. It went on smooth like butter. Oh! It was beautiful. My TV tray was so pretty that I felt I should get new dinner plates and cloth napkins ansd some silver candlesticks. And maybe watch Masterpiece Theatre while eating and drinking that big glass of milk.
I always thought I was pretty intuitive in a general day-to-day life kind of way but it seems that I've lost my edge and the rock that has ground it down is technology. I have to admit that I have lost it on the iPod. This is a true representation of my Mother's Day gift and I have no idea how to use it. Every spot that I find to look for answers tells me that the iPod is intuitive. Hell. I had to have help to find the on and off button. At this point I'd almost rather look at it and say to myself, 'oh, what a pretty flower', than go back to the computer to try and find my way around. I'm starting to hate the words 'app store'.
This is just me being contrary. Apparently, even though I say I enjoy new things I secretly hate them. I don't want to be intuitive. I want a damn manual. I want something to hold in my hands that is made of paper and has words on it to tell me exactly what to do. I do not want to watch a You Tube video on how to operate the thing because it will go by too fast, I won't know what they are talking about and I will end up having to watch it over and over and take notes as well. What I really need is a kid to show me how to use it and then a notebook to write down all the stuff she tells me.
I used to be pretty intuitive concerning people. I thought if you pushed this button while talking to someone you would get that reaction. Or if you said this you would hear that in response. Raising kids hones your intuitive skills to a razor sharp edge and I thought I kept that edge pretty well. But that was with people. Actual human beings. This little iPod is not listening to me and is not up for a conversation. I can't figure out what it wants, what time it needs to go to bed and if I should give it another drink of water. There are no little tricks I can play on it to get it to see things my way. It's immune to reverse psychology. It makes me nervous because I'm not getting a vibe.
Oh. I just figured out that I can find out what the weather is going to be like by pressing the little sun icon. So much better than sticking my head out the window.
This is not a true representation of my family on Mother's Day. I have a loving husband but he doesn't wear a dressing gown and his hair never looks this good or so slick with product this early in the morning. I don't have any sons but I have three beautiful daughters none of whom wear braids in their hair anymore. And really....how can that kid's braid look so nice after she's slept on it all night? We know the dad didn't braid it so it makes me wonder if the mom has already been up cutting her own grapefruit and combing hair. And then putting on a full face of make-up. Nope, this is not my family.
When my girls were little we always went to church early on Sunday morning. Hubby sang in the choir, the kids were in Sunday School and I had to get my ass out of bed early to get them all ready. I loved that I had daughters and that they wore dresses and tights and little black patent leather shoes on Sunday but it was a major deal getting them all dressed, fed, combed and into the car. There was no time for me to have breakfast in bed. I usually got a donut and a cup of burnt tasting coffee at church. One year one of my girls toasted a bagel for me, slathered it with cream cheese and then set it on my hip as I lay in bed on my side for just one more minute. Mother's Day wasn't for me....it was for my own mom and my mom-in-law. And that was a lovely power struggle I was put smack dab in the middle of just to see who won.
Things are very different now. I have my own Mother's Day and I enjoy the hell out of it. We don't go to church anymore so I mostly languish around in my hubby's old plaid bathrobe drinking coffee for the better part of the morning. He reads the paper. I'm on the computer. I smell the flowers he brings me. I pet the cat. There is no rushing around like clowns at the circus and praying that there aren't any holes in the little white tights. There are no fights over whose house to visit. Or who's mom is more important. There is only me. The Mom. All the daughters come over in the afternoon bringing husbands and boyfriends and all the beautiful grandchildren. I get sloppy kisses and lots of hugs. I get cards and gifts and food. I get to have a Mimosa if I have a mind to. I also get to see a circle of faces full of love and if that ain't the best thing about growing old I don't know what is.
Here it is...my first little baby swatch knitted for the Master's program. I feel like I have a newborn and I don't know what to do with it. I just keep staring at it wondering if it's alright. She's not blocked yet because I'm not sure if I am supposed to block her yet or not. She's been fed and burped but the rest of it is kind of a mystery. I have read and re-read the directions and it put me in mind of flipping through Dr. Spock when I had a tiny crying baby in my arms. Just what do I do next?
I have gone back and forth and back and forth through this Master's booklet and I've come to the conclusion that it's not so much about the knitting as it is about following directions. Aha! When I read over the knitting stuff for the tenth time I finally saw that 4 of the swatches need to be done in the same yarn. I hadn't seen that the first nine times I read it. I've read the blocking section and done a little homework on that but I'm still not clear if I should block the baby or wait to block the baby until all the swatches are knit and I've written a report on blocking. If that's the case, how will I know if I have achieved correct gauge on them? I have gauge on the baby now but what will happen when I give her a bath? I am very confused. And I believe I need a highlighter.
I love watching the Kentucky Derby. I love watching any horse race. The thunder of hooves on dirt gives me a little shiver and those horses! Those Horses!! The beauty of the animal makes my heart jump. My favorite part of the race is the last turn. The run for the home stretch. The reach of the horses' neck and the full tilt gallop as one horse breaks loose from the pack and runs like he's never run before. I should have been a stable hand so that I could hear the thunder of hooves on a regular basis. I don't know where this love of horse racing came from but it's there buried in a deep little spot. It perks up at Derby time and doesn't go back until all the races are over. If there is a triple crown winner I am borderline hysterical.
I'm beginning my own racing season now with the Master Hand Knitting Class-level one. I finally signed up for it last week and sent my money off into the great beyond. The options were to get a hard copy in the mail and wait four to six weeks for that or to get it sent through e-mail and maybe wait 2 or 3 days. Being an impatient type, I chose e-mail and got everything on Friday. After I printed off about 30 pages I set to reading them over. Yikes! They are not kidding around here. There is quite a bit of work involved and it will be a race to see if I can get it all done correctly within the time frame allotted. There will be no sound of trumpets and no thunder of hooves but I am at the gate and ready to go.
I know I have written about this Master knitting deal before because for quite awhile I was kind of trapped in the Ravelry group for it by my own fascination. There were so many questions, so many responses and so many tiny, minute details to it that I couldn't stop reading. I thought maybe people were making it harder than it really was. I'm not so sure now. Never mind the knitting...there are way more things to do than just the knitting. There is research, there is report writing, there is proper tag hanging and page protectors. I have to have a friggin' bibliography! They also suggest having the whole thing proof read. As I said, they are not kidding around.
The yarn required was right upstairs in my stash. This never happens so I feel that I can begin with confidence. I have the needles, a notebook for taking notes, and a free afternoon to start. I really can't say why I am so obsessed by this. Maybe there is another little spot deep down inside that insists I learn something new and push myself farther. Insists that I start and keep on going. Begs that I make the turn and strive for the finish line. After it is all over and the dust settles I might just be able to knit myself a sweater that fits.
One of the blogs I read with regularity is the Panopticon. The guy who writes it, Franklin Habit, is not only a wonderful knitter and talented photographer but he cracks me up on a regular basis. We all need a good belly laugh occasionally and I get mine from Franklin. I've also had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Habit and having him take my photograph for the 1,000 Knitter's Project. He was darling and I was as excited as a little girl. I wish I could get a copy of that picture because he caught me with my mouth wide open...laughing.... and I like to see myself that way. He must have said something witty and charming because that's just what he is.
You must go and read his latest blog post I Sew Like a Girl. It will leave you gasping for breath and wiping your eyes. It's all about a lovely old little book called the Mary Francis Sewing Book. Franklin describes Mary Francis' precious life with such hilarious detail that I've read the post over and over just to enjoy it again. His line about Mary Francis laying around on the front porch like a piece of boiled chicken in a pinafore gets me every time. There is also a Mary Francis Knitting Book and I'm now on the hunt for both of them. I just wish Franklin would tell me the story behind that and make me laugh all over again.
There is a section of the blog post, after the Mary Francis bio, about Franklin's lace knitting. Not just any lace but teeny, tiny, weeny lace knit so fine that it looks as though it was done by a very talented spider and then sewn onto a doll's slip with the silk from a milkweed seed. He's a gem that Franklin is. I hope I get to meet him again because I will bow at his feet and tell him how very talented I think he is. Then I will give him the business because his blog will not allow me to do that. Comment, I mean. Oh, I can comment and be anonymous but who wants to do that? Not I. Every time I try to fill in the blanks of the required form after I have made an astute, hilarious, or thought provoking comment something bad inside my computer writes me a message in red that states ' URL has illegal characters'. What? Illegal? Moi? All I wanted to do was write to him about the chicken in a pinafore. Sigh. I am going to have to write to the Weebly people to find out what's going on because seriously, if Franklin intends to crack me up this much over and over I need him to know about it.
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