Gesundheit

You might remember that when I started this vest, I didn't even really want to make it.  I wasn't so much interested in the project as I was compelled.  I just couldn't get the idea of it out of my head. 

And so once I let go the question of whether or not I was going to make the thing, it pretty much leapt, fully formed, out of my head.  Not unlike sneezing.  You know it's coming, and there's not a darn thing to be done about it, except possibly to protect innocent bystanders by adjusting your aim.

My mother always told me and my sisters when we were growing up that we should avoid horizontal stripes because they are unflattering and make you look wide in all the wrong places.  Sorry, Mom, but I think I may have proven that theory wrong.

I love it when people say that stranded colorwork garments are unflattering because they are nothing but straight lines, with no shaping.  To those uninitiated, I offer the Violet Vest: Steek-A-Palooza.

And as for the style, I'd say it's somewhere between Bea-Arthur-As-Maude, and Bohemian Dirndl.  Stripes are not usually the first design element I think of, but I really dig the way they highlight the shaping, by bending around it.  I also love the peasanty bust gathers above the waist detail; very comfortable to wear.  

So now that I have that out of my system, I'll be returning to the Weasley jumpers, the second sock, and possibly some more Japanese oak leaves.  Just gotta locate the tissues first.
 

Did Somebody Yell "Cut!"?

Okay, based on some of the comments, I may have done an intellectual drive-by when I went off about sculpting with string, and all those steeks, a couple of days ago.  I finished knitting the bottom half of this vest today, so I thought I'd show you the rest of the gory details, blow by blow.  There is truly nothing mysterious or difficult about what you are about to see.  But if you are at all squeamish about scissors and knitting, you might want to grab something to steady your nerves.  No hurry; I'll wait:

Here's the patient, anesthetized and ready for surgery.  It's just one big oddly-shaped tube at this point.  Strategic slicing, adjacent to the decreases and increases I have already knit in will now cause it to become a shapely vest.  Honest.

Here you can see that the first two cuts are done, both the center front, and the front neckline.  Sort of like butterflying a sweater!

And now I have sliced open the back neckline.  Looks more like a garment all the time...

And finally, the armhole slashes are made.  Voila!  Kinda sweater-like, no?

Next I will perform a three-needle bindoff to join the shoulders, and then let the binding party commence.  Gobs of edges to cover with a swell binding.  See you on the other side!
 

Hapless Bystander

I blame the Cub Scouts. 

Campbell participated in a cake auction this weekend, as a fundraiser for his den.  

Together we chose a recipe for a cake so luscious, so chocolaty, so decadent that I couldn't bear to transport it to the auction in anything less than a proper bakery cake box.  It was raining, after all, and wet cake never raised any funds.

I begged at the grocery.  I implored at the mega-mart.  Nobody seemed to have a disposable container for cake transport.  In a feeble last attempt, I tried the craft store.  You know how they have that cake decorating area?  Yeah, it's right next to the big "Today Only: Paton's Classic Wool $3.99" sign.

And everything after that is kind of a blur.

I know I got the cake box.  I also know we attended the cake auction, because I have a finished sock to prove I was there.  But time seems to have pleated on me (by the way, who reset all these clocks?).  I also, for some reason, have 10 skeins of this gorgeous color called "Cognac Heather".  It has russet, and purple, and green, and gold in it.  And it was SO CHEAP!  And I have this Japanese pattern that I have been dreaming about decoding for two years...

So the next thing I know, it's Monday already.  I have been knitting in Japanese (possibly the most difficult thing I have ever attempted, knitting or otherwise) for longer than is appropriate.  I can tell because:
    A.    There is an uncommonly deep dent in the cushion on my knitting chair, which made ass-extraction more challenging than usual when I went for the dismount.
    B.    No household chores have been accomplished.  And by chores, I mean, child-feeding, dog-walking, or husband-bossing.  The whole pack of them have gone feral.  Or so I assume.  I won't know until I find them all.
    C.    I have actually knitted something.  It seems to be the beginning of a sleeve, but don't quote me.  And it looks strangely similar to the pattern I have been trying to decipher.

I can't put it down.  The stripy vest languishes on the coffee table.  Both Weasley jumpers cower in a corner.  The second sock whimpers for attention, from somewhere in the depths of my purse.  And all I can think about is whether that curlicue thing with the upside-down smiley face could mean "stitches", or "rows".  And look!  I made an Oak Leaf, out of $3.99 string!

There is still some part of my brain that is trying to function.  I know because I can hear it grinding out feeble directives like "Go to the bathroom", "Feed the cat", and "Look for the Children".  But I'm ignoring it, because the pull of the oak leaves and the Japanese squiggles is just too powerful.  And the whole evil digression is not even my fault, because the cub scouts, and the cake, and the box, and the yarn sale all happened in spite of my more noble intentions. 

And that's my story.