Here I am, just past midnight, sitting at my desk. Surrounded by knitting projects and school books. My two great loves, yarn and words. I’m trying to organize things. To banish the books to one side of my desk, exile the knitting to the other. There will always be overlap, but at the very least I want to keep the yarn from being dragged into the printer again. Miranda’s handy hint for the day: Do not leave your sock-in-progress on the paper tray. (One time unjamming that mess was enough.)
I’m listening to Edith Piaf. The language barrier doesn’t bother me. I can at least pretend I know what she’s talking about, and there is something so Sabrina about writing in a small apartment in a big city, listening to “La Vie En Rose.” Maybe I too will fall in love with a millionaire from the North Shore of Long Island. You never know.
I just started Tubey, from the Winter ’05 edition of Knitty. I’m making it out of Berroco Pure Merino in a color that reminds me powerfully of Dexter. Who doesn’t want a nice sweater that reminds them of a fictional serial killer? Ever since I saw that sweater, I have been mildly lusting after it. I never had the right yarn for it, and always had the sneaking suspicion that the ribbing would look weird across my stomach. However, I just decided that I was going to make it, but change the ribbing from 3×1 to 4×2, and cable the four-stitch sections every six rows or so. I think that will look good. If not, I’ll probably just give up and have a beautiful red shrug.
I would post a picture, but there are only eight rows right now, and so help me, it looks like a scarf. Instead, I will leave you with the following: