babababababad to the bone

Socks v. Scarves-- Instant Gratification

or........ "How my LYS deluded me"

Maybe when I first discovered my LYS they highlighted sock yarn. I can vaguely remember a display towards the front of fine, verigated yarns that were called "sock weight" but I also remember displays patterns for sweaters and hats and vitrually everything else to do with the yarns.

I do know that I've never, ever seen in their flyer an advertisment for a sock class. I can attest to this because I've been playing with the idea of making socks for years but I've been a bit skeeered of the whole heel/toe process.

So, I've knit scarves-- a whole bunch of scarves. The ones that I haven't given away are on a 6' curtian bar I installed in my bedroom as they took up too much space in the hall closet. Now they are functional wall decore.

But through scarves (primarily novilty yarn scarves) I was told I'd get instant gratification, they are quick and the yarns are interesting and make cool fabric. Sounds great, eh? Trouble was that not only did the yarn loose it "oooooo" factor after I knit 6 inches or so, but they weren't as totable as I'd imagined and most would languish until I was struck with a massive finishitis virus or a need.

But socks, with socks I've found interesting color changes in verigated yarns, I've found patterns galore which I've yet to delve into and I haven't even had issues with SSS as I've WANTED to wear each and every cushy sock that's come off my needles so far (which would be 2 pair done, two first socks on needles now). I can walk while knitting a sock, I can stand and talk to someone, hell I can stand in line on Black Friday and almost not mind. I love socks, I love the little stiches, the way it grows without becoming huge and how seemingly fast all those tiny stiches knit up. And I love that everyone else love socks too-- so many patterns and books. So much yarn (my hookup: brooke5653 on ebay-- hand dyed merino to die for).

Everyone loves socks, except apparently my yarn store--that vision of desire that is only 3 blocks from my house, that house of refuge from the cruel outside world where I should spend countless hours fondling yarns.

They have sock yarn, one tiny-tiny display case of mostly self striping (puke) yarns at the very back of the store.

But they have novelty. Want to knit a jelly purse? And you thought we were so over the 80s.

Fine! Take it.

My baby sister has a nasty tendancy for asking, both directly and indirectly, for anything, everything........ I choose to believe that it's a subconcious tick that has developed through years of financial hardships, regardless, she can't spend 10 minutes in my house without suggesting that she would make better use of something that belongs to me then I do.

There are some items that she's become quite tenacious about. (and if I ever get robbed or loose everything in a fire I can count on her to provide the inventory). Some she doesn't stand a chance in hell of ever prying out of my grasp, while others she will recieve in due time (yes, I know, I enable-- but I'm a purger too, it serves my purpose.). For at least a year one of the items she has repetatively told me she's going to lift from my house is yarn, not just any of the stash, but a particular yarn which I've told her she'd have to wait on since I've stil got use for it.

This weekend, I decided to conclude this particular conversation, the easiest way. Do what I wanted to do with the yarn and give it to her. It's a lovely color way, I'll admit that, but now that I'm working on it, I have to admit, I don't like it. I've been working with natural fibers for so long now that this synthetic feels icky in my hand and I wonder if I'd feel the same when I wear it. Though, I can't give in to the sister and give it all to her........... what a quandry, to act like a sister or a rational adult? And maybe I won't hate it when it's done anyway.

The yarn was purchased during my e-bay craziness. At a time when I felt financial stress and so a cheap price looked like a great deal that I couldn't pass up. And I bought whatever I could get my hands on that was cheap. This particular yarn seems to be intended as a rug or craft yarn. It's thick, made of nylon and is on a very large cone-- were talking 5-7#s here. I'm sure that my indecision will cause me to continue to move forward. It's not like I don't rip out sweaters............ who knows, maybe I'll be in desperate need of a welcome mat someday.

Oh look, another sock.

And so it begins

When it became apparent that my father's health was fading, I forsaw that I'd be spending more time away from my couch and my TV and the happy place where I create sweaters. I also knew that I didn't like toting sweaters or even pieces of sweaters and I've got way too many scarves as it is. So the idea of learning to make socks started bouncing around in my head. I liked the idea and searched for a pattern and bought yarn (full disclosure, the first yarn I bought was chosen because it was the cheapest sock yarn at the yarn store).

I cast on at home the day that mom told me that dad was going to the hospice and I told her that I'd be there in two days. The next day I found my BIL at my door with istructions from my sister to get me to the hospice RIGHT NOW! I packed the sock, again with the idea that I'd be in a strange place for prolonged periods of time with not much to distract me but learning how to make a sock.

As it turned out, Dad died within minutes of my arrival at the hospice and the sock never made it out of my bag. However, it was my security blanket during the ride with my mother to her house and the next 24 hours that I spent with her. The sock also saw me through the viewing and the memorial service. The next sock helped me through the funeral dinner and the visitations over the course of the next couple of days by the dear friends and supporters that love my mother and loved Dad.

My dad would like the asymmetry of these socks. He would appreciate the randomness, nay the chaos that the yarn presented. I'm not entirely sure that I could have ever gotten two matching socks out of this yarn. Dad, like Grumpy has been around since 1937. Also like Grumpy, he had a gruff exterior but a heart of gold. He taught me old fashioned morals and ethics. He taught me to work and to be proud of my accomplishments and he taught me to be a great person. Dad taught me many virtues that he himself did possess and could never change his paradigm to ingrain into his charecter, but he taught them and ingrained them upon me anyway.


So one legacy has come to an end, but in his shadow, a new skill was born.

April 1937-November 2006

Daddy, I'll miss you.

But tell me, is anyone else but me concerned that they don't ask for IDs when handing out ballots?

Regardless, one never knows if his voice will be listened to so long as he remains mute.

Video Games are good?

I have never been a go-to-the-store-to-buy-a-costume kind of girl and I've never let the kids take the easy, comercial route either. My son also seems to love Holloween enough to start thinking about it in, oh, February or so. This year he didn't just tell me that he wanted to be a vampire or a ninja and we didn't just make up the costume based on a pre-fab charecter. No, this year the boy brought me a picture and told me that that was his costume. It was apparently a composite of several of his favorite video game heros plus a few twists and turns of his own.

Thank goddness he does come up with these things in plenty of time to figure out just how to make it all work.

With the help of duct tape (and yes, the residue did wash off the pants-- finally) some form board and a bit of luck, we nailed the costume and he was very happy with it. Who knows if this creativity will result in something lucrative and enjoyable when he gets taller (because do we ever really have to grow up?) But I like the start that we have. ******It took an hour to straighten all that hair, enjoy, for it won't happen ever again.**********

the girl has convinced me the her life will be enhanced by reptiles and we are going to be extending our family by one skink in the near future (after she reads up on them a bit). Who could say no to that facination?

On the knitting front: Once upon a time, there was a girl who had learned to crochet when she was 9. Had known how to sew forever, but the stars and the fates had not yet determined that she should get the knack of knitting. This girl loved to make her own clothes and loved sweaters, so, in a fit of delusion, she created not one, but many crochet sweaters. Many out of worsted weight yarns. Now it took her far too long to realized that crocheted lace makes beautiful sweaters, but if one is trying of imatate knitting, well, that's just crazy talk. So she was left with monstrosities such as this.
Which begged the question of what to do with such crap? Obviously, she couldn't give these to the charity stores because it would be a crime to humanity to offer up shit to someone with less taste and dicernment then she had previously possesed (though maybe she could heve eventually found her items on the truly clueless celebertis on Go Fug Yourself, ummmm, yeah, she'd rather not) and being the cheap wench that she was, the garbage wasn't happening either. So what was left to do but to take these finished monstrosities to the frog pond. And lo and behold she found such destruction to be cathartic, so much so that she's got plans to do it again.

Now if she could just get the 400 some odd stitches of the front band worked and bound off, she might just have a new, fabulous sweater to show.............

a halloween blog

without pictures is like gretting a whole bag of candy without chocolate. Maybe tomorrow.......................