Only An Ocean Away

It has been said that the body of a sweater can be an endless ocean of stockinette.

I tend to agree.  Today's meditation focuses on the middles of sweaters. 

Between the interesting and exciting Beginning of the sweater, and the triumphant exhilaration of the End of the sweater, lies the no-man's land of the body knitting.  It's a desert, an unbroken field, an airport parking lot.  Immense, gargantuan, and freakin' huge.  The sweater I am working on has entered this stage prematurely, on day 2 of its existence.  It's my own fault.  I thought I would mix things up a bit, and eschew my typical extravagant lower border in favor of something more restrained.  I'm supposed to challenge myself, no?  Well that was fine, except I forgot that a simple little border does not offer the bonus of distraction.  When the first thing I do on a garment is six or eight inches of challenging color work, the difficulty usually distracts me from thinking about how many inches are completed.  Not so with this number.  The wimpy little nancy-border was over in like two seconds, leaving me on stranded on the beach.  Nothing to see but the miles of flat water ahead.  No cables or shaping or interest of any kind.  Nothing but the hypnotic sameness of knit, knit, knit. 

I have heard this kind of knitting referred to as "TV knitting".  I think it refers to the kind of knitting you can do at the same time as something else, because it doesn't require much of you.  Since ALL of my knitting is done at the same time as something else, I can't really categorize it that way.  This is neither talent nor gift; only strategy.  If I didn't co-knit (knitting while also in line at the DMV, knitting while also quizzing a child on spelling words, knitting while also water skiing - you know the drill), I would never knit at all.

This piece is also big.  I mean BIG, as in 288 stitches in a round, on size 3 needles.  That's a 48" circumference, to you and me (provided the Gods of Gauge are feeling benevolent - never a guarantee).  I made the mistake of estimating how many stitches are going to be in the thing:  80,640.  This does not encourage me.  I have decided instead to measure my progress, not by the stitch, or even the inch, but by the skein.  That's right; even yardage is too weak a measurement;  I need the big guns.  I have estimated that 5 inches of sweater body length equal about one skein of yarn, so that is going to be my progress milepost.  I predict that I will have to knit one whole skein every day this week to stay on schedule.  Even for a knitting maniac, that is a fat-ass goal.

I will now retreat to what relative privacy I can , and execute the following emergency measures:

1.    A sincere entreaty to the patron saint(s) of Repetitive Motion Injury - anybody know who that is?
2.    Blood sacrifice to Garterina and Stockinetta, the Pagan Gods of dull knitting.
3.    Serene reflection on the nature and consequence of overcommitment.
4.    Location of the backup emergency corkscrew.

My Entourage

With the weekend all to myself, I am surprised at how quickly I have gone completely feral.  I have studiously ignored ALL forms of housework.  I have eaten nothing that required the use of dishes.  I only left the house to buy ribbon for a sweater, and the latest issue of Interweave Knits.  I had grand visions of lots of self-indulgent me-time activities, like bubble baths and recreational reading, and shaving my legs and drinking wine.  Turns out all I wanted to do was work, snack, and sleep.  Having made no attempt to maintain even minimum sanitation standards in my house, I find it much easier to fight the guilt if I just don't look up from my work.

I'm not completely alone, though.  The Pets are keeping a diligent watch over me (as long as diligence includes napping)  Here's my cast of supporting characters:

Paisley peeks around a corner to see if I have noticed yet that the CHILDREN ARE NOT HERE, and what am I, DUMB or something?  She is highly agitated due to the irregularity of their absence, and as a result her nap schedule is in a complete state of disruption.

Not suffering from this problem are Hex and Jinx:

They barely opened their eyes for their photo opportunity, and are only dimly aware that they have me all to themselves.    I realize that posting pictures of my cats on my blog is a totally Uber-Dweeb thing to do, but I hope to be forgiven this once, because they are only kittens and they are so CUUUUUUTE...  Yeah, I know:  I seriously need to knit less/leave the house more.  Have mercy on my pitiful soul though;  I lack a certain perspective, due to extended periods of sweater construction.  We who are about to write a book salute you.

I completed the sibling sleeves, and presented them to my assistant for inspection:

She is not as enthusiastic a supporter of my work as I had hoped.  Maybe if I wrapped the sleeves around a pork chop or something...

As much as I crave and relish time by myself, I realize that I may not be the type of person who should be left to my own devices too often.  Lucky for me, Phillip and the smallies will be home this evening to regale me with tales of everything I missed at the lake.  And I will tell them that however much I just want to be left alone sometimes, they are the only thing I have worth being awake for.  Except, of course, for the Entourage.
 

Re-Entry

So there I was, having the time of my life with my two sisters, who only improved the situation by also having the times of their lives, when the weekend came to a screeching halt and Monday reared its ugly head.  Strange how sometimes a little time away can feel like a month off on vacation, and other times many days off in a row do nothing to give one a break. 

Re-entry is of course, what happens to objects which have been in orbit and then must come back into contact with the atmosphere.  It is also what happens to people who go on weekend motorcycle adventures with their sisters and then have to go back to the office on Monday.  The process is invasive, inflammatory, and generally a sucky transition from one plane of existence and frame of reference to an entirely different one.  Common symptoms include jet lag, hangover, disorientation, disillusionment, financial strain and criminal record.  In this case, my only complaints are disorientation and disillusionment, but it's enough to really stink up my attitude. 

The other problem might be self-fulfilling prophesy:  I took a day off from knitting and now I don't feel like working on it anymore.  I was so afraid to give myself a break, and now I know why.  I was afraid I wouldn't feel like starting again.  So in the interest of self-motivation, I will list all the great reasons I can think of to get back to work:

1.        Knitting is an excellent excuse not to do laundry.
2.        The weather is not miserably hot today, so sitting under the project will not hurt a bit.
3.        My lovely DH will be preparing our evening meal (as he has done all summer) so that I can work.
4.        Knitting does not require any more physical strain than say, beer-drinking, and is far more productive.
5.        Failure to meet my publishers deadline will result in extreme embarrassment and lack of cash.
6.        I am making a sweater, not mapping the human genome.  It's not that challenging, for pity's sake.

Okay, I think that was helpful.  Except for the part where I reminded myself about beer-drinking...