Friends Bearing Gifts

Today I was going to tell you how this weekend I made yarn while the sun was still shining.  I was going to tell you that I have reached a milepost in the washing of the sheep, in that half of my fleece is now clean.  I was going to tell you that I even have a second bobbin of it all spun up, which will be ply #2 of the 5-ply I am dreaming of.  I was even going to tell you about how I have begun to imagine what my perfect black sheep gansey might look like, should I live long enough to scour and spin the second half of the circus tent fleece.

But then my friend Collier came home from his trip to Ireland, and every thought about my current and future knitting projects (and I have MANY) went clean out of my head.  He came over to our house especially to bring me this:

You see, my friend Collier asked me very kindly if there was anything I'd like him to bring me back from Ireland, and I of course said YARN, not really thinking he'd be able to find any.  I mean, if I landed in Ireland, I would not necessarily know where to look for yarn, though I'm an expert at sensing its presence, so I didn't really expect Collier to spend a lot of his vacation on a yarn quest. 

Lucky for me, I was SO wrong.  Dude has Master Yarn Sniffing Skills.  Can you believe the bounty?  There are 5, count them 5, skeins of this, and it's my favorite color and everything.  The color is called Bilberry (who knew?) and I am in love.  Oh, and get this:  It cost so dang many Euros that Collier decided my "punishment" would be that I have to knit HIM a sweater, too, so there are also 6 skeins of this in Jacob color for me to make him his Dream Aran.  Can you believe it?  It's my greatest "Will Work For Yarn" fantasy come to life. 

I have the best friends in the entire world, and Collier is their King.

Here is a picture, taken immediately after Collier left. 

Phillip:     "Would you like me to sleep on the couch tonight so you two can be alone?
Me:          "Would you?"
 

Not Really My Fault

Let me be perfectly clear:  I tried not to. 

I tried not to buy sock yarn.  I tried not to first covet, and later procure, the finest sock needles.  I labored to avoid sock books, sock blockers, sock project bags, and free sock patterns.  For a while there, I even attempted to hide from sock knitters.  Neither my children, angling for anklets, nor big brother, begging me for kilt hose could sway me.

You see, I thought that there was no need for me to be interested in sock-knitting.  I don't need to design socks, because it looks really hard, and gobs of clever people are already doing it, much better than I could.  I don't need to fuss with all those little DPNs (I'm guaranteed to lose at least one).  I cannot afford the luxury of self-indulgent personal knitting when I have professional knitting projects backed up around the block, and deadlines for them all.  Nope.  There was absolutely no need for me to branch out into the hosiery realm.  I was a monolith of resolve, even in a storm of temptation.  That's how I know that what happened was Not Really My Fault.

I found myself at the Sock Summit (couldn't help it - they threw the party right in my own backyard), and my ironclad will went like cotton candy in a car wash.

Carson started it.  He had these gorgeous handspun socks on that he made from Targhee, and it took everything I had not to get down on the floor to gawk his ankles. 

Then we went to the marketplace, which was ground zero for all things socksy.  My resolve started to rattle loose when I saw the yarn, but I held on to the thought that I have lots of yarn of my own at home (cause that was bound to work).  But none of my yarn is sock yarn.  My yarn is good; great even, but it's for other things, having been procured in specific amounts for specific projects.  One new little skein could make me a whole pair of socks, and there would be no need to disturb the stash.  One little skein could never hurt.

And that's when I saw the Scottish Terrier Sock Blockers.  If there were one thing I could have told you I really don't need, I would have to have been STSB.  But there they were, and Carson bought the Poodle ones.  That was it.  The twang of my self-control slipping from its cogs could be heard around the block.  I clutched the STSB to my heaving chest, breaking the cold sweat of a junkie as I wrote the check.

Everything after that is a blur.  I vaguely remember screeching to a halt in front of the sock needle display.  They were all there - all the sizes, and you could try them out...

And then there was the Blue Moon Fiber Arts booth, which Tina and her ilk had cleverly baited with all my favorite colors.  I staggered through, drunk on wool fumes, with only one thought:

"If I knit them really fast, it doesn't count."

Honest, I can quit any time I want.

Knit Much?

I know what you're thinking:  Isn't that the same sweater vest she posted day before yesterday, but WAY BIGGER NOW?  Yeah.  I've been on a bit of a knitting jag.  I surprised even myself with how fast this is going.  I put 7 inches on it in two days.  When the first 3.5 inches (hem facing no longer visible) took me three days.  Both areas contain 320 stitches in a row.  Both areas are in stockinette.  The only difference is that the first three days were worked flat, and the second two days, which included all the colorwork, were in the round.  Now let anybody try to tell you that circular knitting isn't that much faster! 

So:  How much am I in love with these colors?  That would be Madeline Tosh Grasshopper in the border background, and all the rest are Prism, notably Alpine for the main body.  While I am starry-eyed over the Tosh color, it's the Prism yarn that is knocking my (handknit) socks off here - it is some seriously squooshy, sproingy, killer yarn.  It's superwash, which causes it to be way slippery as wool goes, but also gives it a gorgeous, pearly sheen.  So. Dang. Pretty.  Here's a money shot (yarn porn, baby...oooh yeah...):

And it's not even blocked yet.  Wait till you see the buttons! 

This project is the perfect diversion at the perfect time - think of all the housework I'm avoiding!  The laundry pile groans (can't even close the laundry room door to avoid it anymore).  The kitchen floor has actual topsoil (Spring is coming: Ask me how I know).  No one has bought dog food in a while and she's beginning to eyeball the children (actually a potential win/win, if you think about it).  Don't care at all.  Nobody bug me.  I'm knitting.