it's elementary

My LSH recently unearthed this hat in our front hall closet, and Terzo took immediate possession of it.

He has taken such a shine to it that he begged to wear it to school today. You have to wonder how many second graders show up in deerstalkers.

Unusual headgear seems to run in the family these days. His middle brother has not stopped wearing his ushanka since the moment it received it as a 13th birthday present (by request):

I found the wool coat on deep, deep discount in the pre-spring clearance. It makes quite the statement with the hat!

creativity, run amok

The multitude of FFA scarves and the shawlette I just finished reminded me of the value of having deadlines for knitted projects. A deadline provides just the right amount of dedication, focus, and drive to actually get things completed in a somewhat timely fashion, instead of working on things for months at a time while pinwheeling from project to project.

With this in mind, I decided to concentrate on finishing a wool cardigan I have been knitting, while it is still chilly enough to wear it comfortably—i.e., before the end of February. I wanted to work out the final decreases at the tops of the sleeves during my peaceful early morning knitting time on Sunday morning...

But then I couldn't find the sleeves.

Sleeves are very deceptive little buggers. You finish the body of the sweater and pat yourself on the back for being at least 75% done with the darn thing, or so it seems. All that's left is the sleeves! They're just little tubes! I guess it has something to do with the perspective of where human eyes are located on our heads, but arms are a lot longer and wider around than they appear to be. This means sleeves are a heck of a lot of boring knitting, just when you are ready to be done and wearing the sweater. My mother gave me the great advice to knit them at the same time, so you are sure they match up no matter what and you don't have a second sleeve to do once you wrestle your way through the first.

So the fact that I couldn't find two sleeves that were so very close to being done set off a muted panic. I searched and searched and searched my work room. Unfortunately, my work room looked like this:

I had obvious problems with locating anything, let alone a set of sleeves, in there. It represented months and months of giving free rein to creativity and general sloppiness, resulting in a logjam of ideas and projects and inspiration and laziness.

Yesterday I dedicated a couple of hours to get it straightened out. The results were impressive, though most effort basically involved picking things up off the floor and shoving them into various containers and shelves against the walls:

Terzo said that it is now so clear in there, he couldn't think.

As for the sleeves, which can be seen hanging on the back of the rocking chair, already blocked and waiting to be seamed?

I found them in my office, on a completely different floor of the house, of course. I may be able to organize my work space, but there seems to be little hope for my cluttered brain.

when I knit

I have an ongoing debate with my aunt concerning when I can possibly get all this knitting done. She is firmly convinced that I must knit in my sleep at night, as that is the only possible explanation. She intends to grill my LSH about it the next time she sees him, because she doesn't believe my protestations that I am a girl who needs her full forty winks.

I was pleasantly surprised on my progress on the green shawlette I just made, however. It seemed to be finished in record time, and got me thinking about when I had actually knit it. When I sat down to work it out, it was pretty instructive (and pretty typical):

1. I cast on Monday afternoon during Terzo's baseball evaluations. I cannot believe it is time to start baseball already, but that's how the darn sport goes.

2. I continued Monday evening while the family watched Monty Python's Holy Grail, in between explaining some of the jokes to Terzo.

3. I made great progress Tuesday morning during my most productive knitting time: early in the morning. I love that time, just after getting Primo on the bus and before I have to wake Secondo up. It's dark and quiet and peaceful. Knitting with the dogs at my feet and no one else astir is the perfect nourishment for the soul.

4. I knit a few rows during the day, while talking to a few people on the phone. (Chances are, if you are on the phone with me, I am knitting. No worries. I am still paying perfect attention to you, unless I happen to drop a stitch.)

5. I worked on it a little bit Tuesday evening while waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for Primo's event to start during the sectional meet for Winter Track. I ended up tinking most of it back, though, as the setting wasn't really conducive to knitting lace, even very simple lace.

6. More progress early Wednesday morning...

7. Knit during Secondo's piano lesson Wednesday evening...

8. Finished and cast off early Thursday morning.

There you have it, Aunt P. As exciting as a shopping list, but a testament to wresting time away from the mundane time wasters in life and literally making something out of it. And no need to lose sleep, either!

yankee fiber finish

Remember this most excellent fiber I received a month ago in my spinner's group Yankee swap?

I managed to spin it up during the snow storm two Saturdays ago. My set-up couldn't be beat:

While my LSH took the boys sledding and face-wrecking, I watched the movie Arranged (highly, highly recommend) and spun to my heart's content. (Yes, he is awesome, but he is also glad that he didn't have to watch the movie with me.) I finished plying it later that night while we finally saw True Grit.

It took me a little while to figure out to make out of the resulting yarn, which totaled about 175 yards due to rusty spinning skills. I finally realized that a pattern I had in my Ravelry queue for some time would work, and I cast on Monday afternoon, with the goal of finishing it by this Friday. I was the hostess for the group this month, and I wanted to show the gifter my results. Unfortunately she couldn't make it due to illness! Marilyn, I hope you are feeling better soon.

I am embarrassed to admit that this was only the second time that I knit a project from yarn I spun, and boy, was it instructive. Every time I came to a spot of thickness where I hadn't drafted properly, I cursed my poor form, especially as I drew close to the end of the pattern and realized that I wasn't going to have enough yarn to finish. (I cut the pattern short with six lines to go. It didn't make any difference to the pattern and I think I actually prefer it this way, so all's well that ends well, but note to future self: draft more consistently!)

In the end though, I am very happy with the project for several reasons. The fiber didn't marinate in my stash for forever and a day; I managed to produce a scarfette I really like; the colors are ones that I wouldn't have grabbed—though I love them; and best of all: I'll think of Marilyn every time I wear it.

keeper scarf

There was one completed scarf that wasn't in that pile on the front hall table.

See the pink and purple scarf he is knitting in this picture? He had made it for one of his girl cousins, with the intention of making a second for the other cousin. Then his aunt had a third girl cousin and he threw in the towel on the whole project.

It was not his first scarf. His first scarf was a learner's special, full of mystery holes and undulating width to give it interest. His littlest brother, the intended recipient, didn't care and was happy to wear it, even before the ends were woven in.

It was his second scarf, which he made for a 4-H presentation on "Ways to Make Cloth" when he was in 4th grade. He knit a scarf, wove a scarf, and wet-felted a scarf. It was quite a bit of effort for a 4th grader! I can't bring myself to throw any of these presentation boards away, so I finally found the scarf, still draped on that particular board with the other two.

I thought about sending it in, but I just couldn't do it. It probably wouldn't have sold anyway, but that wasn't the point. I'll pack it back away for him to decide on the eventual recipient himself. Hard as it is for me to think about, it just may be a girl of his own.

scarf factory

I spent the last week knitting my little fingers to the bone for Primo's FFA chapter. Final count: 7 scarves, plus one that I had knit up for a sample some time ago and no longer had a need for. The pile on the front hallway table was quite impressive by the end:

Of course the name of the game was super bulky yarn on super big needles, because there is no other way to churn out scarves that quickly. Four of the eight were a quick pattern that showcased the yarn well, I thought.

I am not usually a fan of this type of yarn but I couldn't argue with three hours per scarf, and I did like the end result.

The others were a hodge-podge. One was made with a very thick yarn that unfortunately required two skeins for the length of a scarf, but produced a really nice thick fabric.

As Primo pointed out to his FFA club, however, at the $10 price they plan to charge per scarf, the cost of the yarn wasn't covered if you had to use more than one skein. (He was highly indignant about this. I didn't even get into the whole "cost of your time" argument, because as far as a teenager is concerned, they have so much of it to spare, it stretches out limitless to the horizon.)

One was made with an orphaned ball of bulky alpaca yarn that I had in my stash.

I loved this pattern, and it was another three hour or so effort, from start to finish. I used the same rib pattern for the black scarf, and just left off the ruffles at the end.

Another stash yarn: a hank of handspun that I had made several years ago. I had no plans for it, and it was just laying in a basket, so it may as well find a home somewhere else.

I doubt anyone will buy it, however—it is a little scratchy, and a little short, and a little unusual in color. The pattern was for a cowl, but mine didn't end up quite the same. I added the button to add a little interest and give a way of securing it. It has a shank with a smaller button on the end, so it buttons through the scarf in reverse and can be moved around to suit the wearer.

The last one, modeled by the ever-patient Secondo, was knit side to side some time ago.

And Primo's scarf? Well, this weekend he had: a 4-H project; work; a date with the girlfriend; the county winter track meet; a 4-H meeting; and of course the Superbowl. (In other words, the usual, with the exception of the Superbowl.)

It's a work in progress, on its way to school this morning. He plans to knit it while manning the sale table. Should generate some interest in their wares, at least!

jokes

The music teacher in our elementary school is a notorious teller of bad jokes. We knew we were in for it when Terzo announced he had attended a concert with Mr. S. today. Terzo still has a bit of a tough time with jokes, for several reasons, so we have learned to take it with a grain of salt when he starts in with one. Like tonight.

He asked us: "How do you get off an elephant?"

(insert obvious answers, all obviously wrong)

His answer: "You don't get off an elephant, you get off a duck."

(insert complete puzzlement here)

His explanation: "Because the elephant is too high! So the duck flies you to the ground."

I knew there was something I wasn't getting, but I could not figure it out without the help of the innernets. Perhaps you are cleverer than I, so you might have worked out that the joke is missing one critical word (which in the way of such things, makes all the difference):

Actual Joke Question: "How do you get down off an elephant?"

Actual Joke Answer: "You don't get down off an elephant, you get down off a duck."

And now you understand the challenges of Terzo's joke telling.

While I was looking up why in fact this was a joke, I came across a page of jokes that I started telling at the dinner table, to much hilarity (when we weren't explaining them to Terzo). Some prime examples:

Q: What do you call a fish with no eyes?

A: A fsh.

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Q: Where did Napoleon keep his armies?

A: In his sleevies.

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Q: What's orange and sounds like a parrot?

A: A carrot.

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Q: Why was the sand wet?

A: The seaweed. (A particular boy favorite, once deconstructed.)

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Q: What did the fish say when it hit a wall?

A: Dam.

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By far my favorite however—I am not ashamed to admit that I laughed until I cried—

Q: What is brown and sticky?

A: A stick.

And now you understand the challenges of my sense of humor.