So little time...

Well, it's soon to be bon voyage to the stash once more.

In little more than 32 hours, I'll be winging away on a new adventure--one that happily requires a little knitting. So far I've made one hat (Trilobite!) for myself--and I've started another for Daniel. If I'm lucky, I might be able to get one more done before it won't matter.

That said....I have a great deal of knitting to which I must return.

Regular blog posts will hopefully recommence after my life stops being quite so interesting.

Like a toddler with a room full of shiny objects

As you can easily see, there are still no pictures on the blog. Shameful, yes. Unwarranted, only if you have never felt the borderline obsessive (ha, borderline) joy of returning to a copious and beautiful yarn stash.

In honor of our being reunited, I decided to attempt a minor stash dive--a difficult and dangerous maneuver in which I perch precariously on the far side of my bed and open up all the various boxes that comprise a portion of the stash. A full stash dive--which would involve both shifting my room in order to access bins and braving the inner depths of my closet--is not recommended at this time. The minor dive, however, was fruitful enough.

I harvested no less than five skeins of malabrigo, and nearly wept for joy as I inspected the haul: three skeins of worsted (in purple, green, and a beautiful pink/brown/green which sounds ridiculous and looks like paradise) and two skeins of dark blue lace weight. The lace weight has been partially wound and bagged up to become a Tilli Tomas Mystique shawl. I also balled up the pink/brown/green with the thoughts of maybe making a Trilobite hat, though this is pending the opinions of my readers...

Unfortunately, winding both balls proved to be even more laborious: having been in the stash for a Very Long time, they had felted and grown finiky from the lack of my direct adoration. The experience has inspired me to attempt to knit All of the remaining malabrigo in my stash as soon as possible--with the exception of the superwash socks, but we'll see.

This could prove to be a very interesting summer.

I can almost smell it

My conspicuous absence and my separation from the stash are almost at an end.

This week has been lovely: I've enjoyed the summer sun, gotten together with two of my favorite people (coincidentally both readers of the blog...not that their reading it has anything to do with their status as "favorite people"), knit quite a bit of a very wonky scarf (it's story will be song by the bards...or you know, posted when I set up my camera), and resisted the temptation to buy yarn from ESK.

I sadly succumbed to a little temptation while I was here. On the second trip to Michael's (can you see where my mistake was?) I found some acrylic self patterning yarn. It's cunning little stripes and delicate spotted pattern defeated my will power; I bought a skein. Four dollars of temptation wouldn't look so bad...except for two reasons:

-Daniel bought two skeins of the same type of yarn in green and brown. He wants a "camo" scarf.

-I fully intend to plead with my loved ones for the permission to buy some special yarn for the trip that shall not be typed. If I type it might not happen...and I really want it to happen.

This place makes me nervous

I'm on the first of what will be a series of trips this summer--which means two things: my blog posts will be erratic, and I will have limited access to yarn. The latter aspect frankly makes me a little anxious.

Generally, I'm never farther than 30 feet away from a variety of yarn for more than a few hours. For some unknown reason, this summer I've agreed to several trips that will not only take me away from my ample stash, but will also make the acquisition of more yarn very difficult (I can hear all those who love me and wish to preserve my sanity...err, I mean bank account heave a great sigh of relief).

Perhaps half way through the week I will find a Michael's--just to look (and pretend that I could knit the yarn at will) and maybe fondle.

Then maybe when I get home I will begin looking into self help groups.

A hush runs over the Knitting community

There's an electric buzz in the air and my fingers have the urge to abandon poor Surfie for unknown glory. It's not my normal knitterly fickleness; this is a special brand of wanton abandon.

The new Knitty is up.

I haven't even looked at the patterns yet (lies, I saw the crab pattern while I was making the above link, but that doesn't really count does it?) but I look forward to the new Knitty with the sort of all consuming, heart stopping joy of a child before her birthday.

I had another post planned today (it even turned out to be weirdly relevant to my day, given that I had a swimsuit breakthrough today), but....

the new Knitty is up.

Twitch Knits III: Revenge of the Shrug

The DIC Shrug got its revenge this evening. After a fortifying day of exercise and reading, I decided to settle into the sunshine chair (a squooshy chair located right by the window), watch a little Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and get to picking up those stitches. Everything was zipping along until my dad asked me to close the window--but even then I figured I'd be fine. It wasn't as idyllic, but I still had some light to work by and the movie was so funny--how could I deny him a better viewing experience?

A few hours later, and I've realized the mistake. Somewhere after the first forty of the 182 stitches I picked up, I got off of the double rib pattern. Also, somehow--despite careful counting and a great deal of patience--I picked up a number that can not possibly be 182 stitches. If it were 182 stitches, I would have do some wiggling to make the pattern work.
Yet the appropriate wiggling made the edging wonkier than it was before.

However, all this wonky-ness did not catch my attention until a row and a half later. At first, my natural reaction was (as a wise, wise knitter once told me) to just keep on knitting and pretend nothing had happened.

This quickly proved to be a bad plan, leaving me with a wierd mish-mash instead of lovely, defined ribbing.

The appropriate swearing ensued and I dug a crochet hook out of my needle binder.

After an hour I had everything in order--plus I can now boast that I'm completely adept at dropping and picking up stitches.

But I've confined the shrug to it's ziploc bag once more--it needs to take a long hard look at it's recent behavior before I let it try to cozy up to me again.

Get off my back...

...you stinkin' shrug.

I can feel you watching me everywhere I go, but smothering will get you nowhere buddy. Just ask the Mystique pattern that keeps "bumping" into me as I try to clean the unholy sty that I occasionally call a bedroom. Familiarity breeds contempt, and the more you harangue me about finishing (or casting on--I'm looking at you Mystique) the more appealing the non-demanding Cinched Waist top becomes.

Picking up the number of stitches that you keep insisting I need to requires fortitude...and possibly some liquor...or an incredible, yet non-consuming movie. Maybe I'm exaggerating--you're not really asking for much. But in a world recently filled with Malabrigo Sock, how can you expect me to stay focused?

Speaking of, I have to get back to my busy schedule of staring at the Mal and wondering which pattern is worthy of it.

A day without yarn

Well, if I'm being honest with myself I could never survive a day without yarn. My conspicuous absence yesterday (it was conspicuous--I have followers now! *yarny dance*) stemmed from the fact that I'd spent 6 hours at the mall helping my dad. The local mall was hosting a "hurricane expo"--this being Florida and all--and my father's office was invited not only to man a booth, but also to give intermittent presentations. However, complications meant that for a good part of the day, my mom and I were manning the booth--causing me to kick myself for not having the foresight to pack a project.

Also, someone needs to alert the mall that they've made a serious oversight: they have absolutely no craft stores.

To celebrate getting through a day filled with false smiles, talking to strangers, and carrying heavy objects, I devoted myself to finishing the back of the DIC Shrug. This morning I hit ribbing once more, meaning that if I work my tail off I might be able to finish the shrug in just over a week.

Unfortunately, between the mall and the shrug I've been unable to devote any time to uploading pictures. I would promise their impending addition to the blog--but I sense you're begining to doubt me.

YAY! Someone's reading this!

(hug) to Jamie!

I'm still working on pictures; hopefully they will be up by the end of the weekend!

In other news, I took yesterday off from the KAL in order to cast on with some of the acrylic yarn I found in my stash. I'm making the Cinched Waist Top by Vladimir Teriokhin from Vogue Spring/Summer 2006. I think I found enough Simply Soft Brite in Rose Violet to make the top--and maybe even add some extra frill, or longer sleeves. I decided it would be easier to give into temptation and knit a few inches of the corset waist--then get back to the DIC Shrug.

Don't tell Surfie.

Failure

My resolve has already cracked.

This morning, my mom offered to take me to the awesome local yarn store--the Knit and Stitch. I initially declined: I knew the temptation that lurks in Cocoa Village, and I didn't want to put myself in danger of breaking the yarn diet. However, I decided to check the store's newsletter anyways. (I told myself that I wanted to check the class schedule...yeah right.)

All it took was the phrase "shipment of Malabrigo sock yarn" and we were in the car. Well...actually, we had to wait for a thunderstorm to pass--during which time I convinced myself that I only wanted to meet the yarn. I'd never seen it in person, and it's always good to feel a yarn for future reference (that sounds oddly dirty--but we'll ignore the potential psychological ramifications).

In the car I decided that if they had any of the three colors that I'd been stalking at Eat.Sleep.Knit (indiecita, solis, and terracotta) I would buy one skein--but that was all I was allowed.

When I arrived, I found what I really should have anticipated: a decimated Malabrigo sock section. They'd had all the colors in at the begining of June, but they'd sold faster than water and bleach right before a hurricane (why do we need the bleach for a hurricane? Really, someone tell me).

But amongst the wreckage: five skeins of terracotta. I know own two of them.

However, I'd like to believe that the knitting gods don't really mind: as a sign of good faith, they graced me with a free knitting pattern for a beautiful shawl.

What was that about an honors college?

So I frequently have moments when I realize that I've missed something obvious. For example, during my first blog post, when I substituted "darn" for my usual colorfully unladylike vernacular it took me three paragraphs to realize that it wasn't just a nicety to my potential readers (if I have readers), it was also a pun.

Or the fact that every few months I realize that the Stitch (copyright Disney) key chain I attached to my needle binder is oddly appropriate, though completely unintentional. (Maybe my subconscious loves indulging in puns when it knows I'm not looking?)

For the ESK DIC KAL (eat.sleep.knit dream in color knit-along; if no one is reading I might as well use abbreviations) I decided to continue my new habit of recklessly flying in the face of instructions--instead of knitting flat, I'm knitting in the round. I tried to think through the problems this might pose to the project as a whole and decided it would be fine.

Last night I noticed something strange going on with my shrug--the sleeves had lovely little stripes going in quick succession, but the back of the shrug was knitting up into bigger stripes and blocks of color. I'm ashamed of how long it took me to figure out my knitting phenomena. Eventually it hit me: knitting in the round for the sleeves caused different color alignments than knitting flat for the back.

In recognition that I'm a darn idiot, I will leave you with this:
Midvale

Good Behavior is encouraged

Despite manifold temptations from my favorite online yarn store (see the links to the right), I've been a good girl and I've stuck to my yarn diet. I've watched as skein after skein of my favorite yarns have arrived in new colors, and my favorite colors have waltzed in on new yarns. Each time I feel my addiction leap forward, I try to remind myself of next years tuition. I may have money for the minute, but in a few months I really and truly need to be an adult--a transition that will be so much easier if I stop acting like a spoiled brat and start the maturation process now.

It might also help that I'm having recurring nightmares about trying to pack up all of my stuff and move out of my dorm.

The universe has smiled on my attempts to be a realistic and sensible person--a fact that hit home today.

So far I've had very nice evaluations (my college doesn't rely on a grade system--but trust me, written evaluations might make you miss a good old anonymous GPA), but today I received a doozy. It's always satisfying to do well in a difficult course--especially when the teacher is at times scant with her praise. I believe that this good (okay, great) evaluation is cosmically connected to my trying to reign in my wild yarn accumulating ways.

But even better than getting a good evaluation:

While I was cleaning my death corner (a corner of my room that is notoriously avoided during other cleaning sprees because it is more or less a black hole of doom devouring all the odds and ends that I'm never sure what to do with) I discovered yarn that I don't remember purchasing.

Really pretty yarn. Enough to make a sweater with.
Who needs to buy yarn, when you can discover it for free?

For once I'm glad that there's more room to clean...who knows how many potential sweaters may be hidden in there?

It's not you, it's me

Dear Surfie,

It's not that I don't love you...I just think that we need to take a break. You probably saw me this afternoon, working on the Dream in Color shrug with it's tantalizing lace pattern and sultry color variegation. It's not that I want it more--I signed up for that knit-a-long before I even met you. You don't want me to back away from a commitment do you? What kind of knitter would that make me?

Please just give me a week, and I promise I'll come back to you. I'll knit you for the rest of the summer...but maybe we'll do some double dates.

I miss you, painstaking stitches and all,
Twitch