Small Things

My first year at Sock Camp has taught me many things, and reminded me of many others.  Things we should be doing every day include:

Make new friends

Cherish old ones

Remember that while some secrets are best kept, some are better shared.

Sing songs

Eat good food

Take walks

The giving of gifts is as much for the joy of the giver as the recipient.

In Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's class I made these socks for the very first grandbaby of Sockateer (Camp Counselor) Cockeyed.  Cockeyed is not only one of the tireless pistons who drive Blue Moon Fiber Arts, she's part of the glue holding together the camp experience for us all.  It brought me such joy to give these to her.

So it's time to pack up and leave my first sleep-away camp experience.  And today is my 40th birthday, to boot.  I'm on to my next adventure, which probably involves getting up to a bit (coughMOREcough) trouble with my pal K.T.  We are driving from Bainbridge Island back to her house outside Seattle before I head home to Phillip and the Smallies.

Can't wait to see what happens next.

Surgery and Recovery

It's just possible that I've been knitting seamless sweaters for so long that I have completely forgotten how to make flat pieces that will actually fit together.  If I ever knew how in the first place, that is (jury still out). 

The ribbing on one of my cardigan fronts was a full five rows longer than the other.  This would be the two-color, fiddly waste yarn cast on with no corresponding bind off which cannot be shortened except from the top, with a good old fashioned frogging.  Except that I was totally unwilling to tear it back, because I had completely finished that front, bobbles and shaping and all.

I had to go fetal mull it over for a day or so before admitting that there were only two choices:

Option 1:        Try to "ease" in the extra length when sewing the side seam on that piece.  I could live with this option, provided that  A.  I could keep my hand firmly held to my side at all times so as not to reveal the error, or B.   Keep moving around constantly so no one would notice. 

2.        Operate on the patient.  With no idea how to graft 2 x 2 rib, and no confidence that it could be done at all, I drank beer thought it over a while longer before arriving at my decision.

I wonder why everything always comes down to cutting sweaters with scissors in my world?  I guess when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks a lot like a nail.  I decided that while option 1. had no hope of a positive outcome (except possibly increased physical fitness), option 2. offered at least a chance of success:

Always the carnage.  I don't know what's scarier: all those live stitches, or the fact that I had to turn the piece over every two stitches make the join.  For some reason, I could recreate a knit stitch with the unraveled working yarn and a tapestry needle, but I could not mimic a purled one.

I'm pleased to announce that Crunch Berries, although clinically dead for an entire afternoon, turned back from the brink of oblivion, and her prognosis is good:

The two of us are convalescing at Sock Camp, in beautiful Port Ludlow, where the sun even came out for an entire day.  She's a fighter, that one..

Road Trip

At last I located the perfect car for Phillip.  Yes, it was 175 miles away, but a little thing like that wasn't going to get between me and automotive fulfillment.  You see, having decided which make and model, I had my heart set on this very special Electric Blue paint.  Not because I am any huge fan of Electric Blue, but because it's the exact blue found in the logo of Phillip's favorite baseball team, the Chicago Cubs.   Having agreed to let him put a Cubs sticker on the car, I had to be sure that we got a color that I could stand to see that on.  Yeah, I know:  I need a life.  What can I say?  Colors matter to me.  A Lot.

So drive, we did.  The four of us piled into my car and headed North, to the dealership with whom I had already made the deal, over the phone.  Nobody panic; I had a trusted friend who was in the neighborhood test drive the car for me, before offering to buy it. 

After a whole morning in the car, the Smallies displayed remarkable patience while we waited for paperwork at the dealership.  Unlike their father, who is notably absent from this picture.  He was pacing the halls at this point, I believe.  Can't blame him, really.  He still had no idea what car he was getting, because I wanted to surprise him.  He knew what model I had been looking for, but not the year or the color.

Finally it was time for the big reveal.  Think he liked it much?

He's still getting used to all the features, but seems confident that he will acclimate.

True, it was a bit of an ordeal for me, but remember who the recipient is:  Father to the Smallies, walker of Scottie Dogs, and most important:  He never complains about the yarn.
 

Mission Accomplished.