Thursday, February 07, 2008


Vexing

I don't normally name my sweater 'designs' because most of them are simply variations on Elizabeth Zimmerman's recipe for seamless raglan or yoke sweaters. I plug in stitch patterns, play with color, and modify the shaping a bit, but I'm happy to have such a versatile formula for sweaters that allows me to avoid seaming. Lately I've been learning to sew, both by hand and machine, and have even practiced several seams for knitwear, but I think this will remain my workhorse formula for the children's sweaters.

I've named Robin's future sweater 'Vexing' because it is absolutely killing me!! Oh the drama! The heartache! The frustration! The tears! Okay, I haven't cried yet, but probably that's because I'm so perfectly controlled and even-tempered. The sweater is vexing because the 'oxo' cables cross on every 1st and 3rd row, and the gull-stitch crosses only on the 4th row. Yes, I could have designed it differently, but when I made my gauge swatch, this really seemed like the best rhythm. It really did. Truly.

Now, I can read my knitting well enough to knit this without counting my rows or anything equally dreary, but I can't quite manage to knit this one while reading, watching television, or helping Wren with her math. Or rather, I can, but only if I'm okay with tinking that damn cable panel every few rows and occassionally frogging several rounds at once. Which I'm not okay with, because, honestly, I was being sarcastic when I called myself perfectly controlled and even-tempered. I'm about half-daft at the best of times.

The obvious solution is to save this knitting for my quiet-time and be all zen and focused with it. But I'm a mom. I've had 4 brain-cell-depleting pregnancies and I have 3 beautiful but crazy-making children. Also I homeschool. Also I frequently listen to the radio and/or read the news. Also, well, you get the picture. I multitask, and I fret, and I obsess about things. I don't do zen. This is where podcasts come in! And Pandora! Although, I have to say, that if Pandora plays Fairport Convention's "Don't Know Where I Stand" on my folk station even one more time I'll probably have a major depressive episode. That song just makes me think of a leftover hippy, with long gray hair, granny glasses sliding down her nose, hips swaying as she wanders, lost and lonely around her cat-pee smelling basement apartment in the city with dead and dying philodendrons hanging dejectedly in their sad little macrame hangers. She's sipping chartreuse out of a mug from her pottery-making days and wishing she had some marijuana and wondering where everybody went.

Forgive me! That was depressing. Next update will feature a finished object, resplendent and glorious, as well as bird-sightings, tempting menus, and happy thoughts.

dinner tonight: canned soup and sliced Wensleydale cheddar for the kids, leftover pasta for Justin, and nothing for me thanks, I'm wretchedly sick.

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