Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I had to come back, to revive the muse of astronomy to have her oversee my knitting, cause, well, if I start one more lace project that is unfinishable I think I will go find a black hole to fall into. Spaghettification sounds pretty good right now.
Aeolian caught my eye, but the tiny yarn and the counting hasn't fit into my summer "decompress from stressful day job" plans. So I tried another shawl, cause I madly want a nice lacy shawl, to blow about me and curl amongst my limbs as I walk the beach...Same yarn, different tactic.
Now I don't wanna touch it.
My backup "stress reliever" is the green leafy scarf intended for a present- but I hand wrote the pattern and it's crumpled in the bottom of my knitting bag -it's a graphite mess now.
So...what to knit....hmm, how's about we get four 35 oz. skeins of blood red, shaggy English mohair and knit a wide lace scarf with it. Sounds like an awesome summer project! And let's get experienced with the unfamiliar language of the Rebecca patterns while we're at it. Stress reliever x 10! Did I mention my day job was teaching science to girls in juvie?
Apparently I like a challenge.
Oh, I also bought three skeins of white mohair, just cause I had to. You know the urge. So, as I'm knitting on the second pattern repeat, I'm doing the math in my head and it occurs that I don't have nearly enough yarn to make the luxurious, wide and hairy bath towel of a shawl I intended, at least not with the red. So do I frog mohair and make it narrower?("NO!" shouts Urania) Or do I see how far I get before I run out and then just abruptly start knitting with the white? In my present mood I will do the latter. And it will look like hell and I'll stop knitting it. But maybe not, because I'm getting a very distinctive and pungent pleasure from knitting blood red hairy mohair in the sunny July afternoons, so maybe I'll just keep knitting the hairy hot bloody thing and see what happens. I like mohair. It surprises me.
I also like my gardens. My lavendar is my prize, I beat back the mint when it tries to intimidate, and planting the tomatoes against the stark white south facing wall of the garage was a brilliant stroke.