Moving on we have a Bucket-O-Chic. Boy did I go around and around on the brim. First I knit it with a double strand picking up 110 stitches and knitting in stockinette for 5 rows, then purled for 2 then bound off purlwise. After reading many sad stories about ruined hats with wavy brims I ripped it out. I then started many times to reknit the brim, each time making one dopey mistake after another. I put it aside to finish my tote. Last night I picked it up, picked up 110 stitches and knit 5 rows st st and 2 purl and bound off purlwise with a single strand. The brim looks great. No curling, no waves. The top, however, looks a tad mushroomy. Sigh... See for yourself.
Last we have a swatch I just made for Elle.
This will be my very first fair isle project. Half-way into making the swatch I measured it just for kicks and saw that my gauge was too tight. I thought I needed a bigger needle which, of course, I don't own. And there are no knitting stores open at 10pm on a Saturday night. The nerve. Then I realized that I am a big stupid-head because I was knitting my (fair isle!) swatch flat. This project is knit in the round. I need to swatch in the round. Duh! Now I need to go into the attic and try to dig out some size 6 dpns. Wish me luck.
Unpacking progress is slow but steady. I am gradually feeling like I live in this place and that it's not just some really nice B+B with an inattentive staff.
My sons seem to have absorbed just how obsessed with knitting I have become. The first example was when my 5 year old walked by me watching "Martha Stewart Living." It's very, very unusual for me to watch tv when my kids are up. He looked at Martha baking some fabulous tart or something and said, "You shouldn't be watching this because you never bake. You should watch a knitting show." Ouch.
Then, yesterday morning, both of my sons (3 and the aforementioned 5 year old) got into bed with me to snuggle in the morning. My younger son is very cuddly and affectionate. He was giving me little kisses and rubbing noses with me. I was utterly charmed. Not to be outdone, my 5 year old kissed me on the arm.
"I love you, Mom," he told me.
"I love you too, honey."
"I love you more than anything. Do you love me more than anything?"
I tried to be diplomatic and pointed out that I loved them both more than anything.
He thought for a moment and asked, "More than knitting?!"