Buncha Hooligans

It occurred to me over the weekend that my children may have a hard time finding their best path of rebellion against me, what with my belonging to a motorcycle gang, and all.  True, the "gang" are all my siblings, and we are pretty tame, all things considered, but I think my kids may have to become arch conservatives or something if they really want to shock and appall me.

L to R:  Ian, my brother's dog, Monica, my SIL, David, my brother, Lindsay, my daughter, me, and Susie, my sister

Here are some of us, after about 100 miles on Sunday.  You will notice that I am not knitting in this picture.  Yeah, yeah, I know: them sweaters cain't knit theirselves.  But sometimes you just have to bust out and do something, even if it's wrong.  And if riding motorcycles is wrong, baby, I don't wanna be right.

During the unscheduled interruption since my last post, I have

Celebrated my brother in law's 50th birthday, which resulted in 15 houseguests for him and my sister
Put 300 miles on the bike's odometer
Took on a design project for Knit Picks (this is so cool I couldn't say no - stay tuned for sneak peeks!)
Finished and blocked a sweater body
Started 2 sleeves
Kidnapped my mom to in an effort to trick her into helping me knit (or at least cheer me on while I do)
Had a meeting with the lovely and talented Linda Roghaar (the Literary Lovely who has been my agent for half a year without ever having slapped eyes on me)
Broken my vow of yarn abstinence (it wasn't my fault:  Linda made me meet her at Village Yarn & Tea, where they were having a sale, and you know the rest - just don't squeal to my husband and nobody gets hurt)
Returned Phillip and the Smallies to School, kicking and screaming (just Phillip, actually; the kids were pleased to go)
Washed, dried, folded and stored 472 loads of laundry, resulting in a small crater (okay, indentation) on the north face of Mount Washmore
Continued trying to teach two kittens that my blocking board is not a kitten amusement sliding aparatus (good luck with that)

So, nothing much is going on here at Knitting Book Ground Zero.  I don't sleep anymore so much as enter temporary comas.
 

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.