Hm. I was halfway through the hat already. Halfway! Probably the fasted I've knitted anything, really. Probably on account of the fact that I was so excited about making cables :P
But I didn't like how it turned out. It's a bit too slouchy already, which is perfect for me, but for stylish Italian Ahmad?? Who buys his stylish glasses expressly from stylish Lebanon? This must needs be tailored. So I frogged the bitch. Fucking Vanna's Choice. I was talking to Patty how after a while you get pickier and pickier with yarn. Maybe not exclusively cashmere or anything, but that super saver shit isn't going to cut it anymore. Vanna's Choice is joining the list.
After much hemming and hawing I signed up on Ravelry, and have been trawling its fibrous depths like a spiny lobster, absorbing patterns into my gooey crustacean innards.
Sometimes I want to skip all this youthful ambition crap and just retire to a mountainside cottage in Switzerland with a quiet, industrious Swiss husband and just knit all day with my seven cats and lumbering Newfoundland dog.
Though most days I just dream about being Elizabeth Zimmermann.
It's like my ultimate dream to make an adult surprise jacket with long sleeves gathered at the wrists like the picture in The Opinionated Knitter.
Thick cream or mottled heather grey. Alpaca or cashmere or both. Or... sigh.
And one of those fair isle sweaters! Mmph! I've never really balked at any kind of knitting--except maybe Estonian lace :O--but the kind of intricate colour changes of fair isle kind of maybe scare me a little bit.
I've been talking about knitting an awful lot since school has ended only because i've been trying to find things to talk about. :P Things will begin to happen on Friday. I want to make an effort to write things down coherently, since it's not a habit of mine to be especially coherent.
I think my mind has suffered for laying fallow so long, so that hard work feels like hard work instead of the kind of mental adventure it once was when I was younger.
I remember watching Serge at work, cleaning his brushes and putting away the sponges. It was as if every movement was calculated and considered. Everything was put back into its right place. He folded the paper towels we use to wipe down our paintbrushes into careful fourths and methodically wiped down the counters. And yet it wasn't a painstaking process. Every motion was determined and quick, executed with surety and peace of mind. I like being around Serge because he knows himself and he knows what he's doing. Maybe because he's older, he's stopped wasting time.
Or maybe it's all the weed and the LSD. Maybe he burned out all the useless shit in his brain, leaving nothing but peace and efficiency, like watching a starving tortoise eating mash.
Those things can go.
Anyway, that's the kind of thing I want to go for this year.
Off to the yarn shop :P
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