on my current lack of progress

As I predicted ad nauseum, my non-Olympic project is going nowhere in a hurry. I erroneously mentioned in my previous post that I was ten inches into the front. Of course I meant the back, i.e. the first piece. It's going smoothly though and will be a fun project once things settle down around here.

We drove to Kingston this weekend for a gymnastics meet, and the most exciting part for me was a brief glimpse of an alpaca in a field adjacent to the 401. You might think that watching my kids compete would be more exciting than a fibre-bearing animal but I have witnessed more than my fill of Spontaneous Gravitational Events this season. The less said about that the better (that distant roar you hear is the cheers of my family, who are very tired of hearing me rant about my gymnastics issues). I did knit maybe four rounds on the second Leftovers Sock on the way home.

We're off to Florida on Wednesday and I am planning to pack some sock knitting in my checked luggage. I am using wee pointy DPNs and as there seems to be no consensus on their legality I am going to stow them safely and take a book on the plane. One can live without knitting for a couple of hours, after all.

in support of a campaign to muzzle non-knitters

So there I was knitting merrily away on my non-Olympic sweater -- very non-Olympic at this point as I am a mere 10" into the front -- at the daughter's gymnastics meet last weekend. And another mom, a confirmed non-knitter, shrieks at me, "You're knitting? What are you doing knitting?" I can only assume that to her knitting indicates lack of interest in the proceedings. To me it was a way to keep my hair rooted in my head and at least a little skin on my knuckles. It always amazes me that some people manage to find knitting offensive.

And for the record, the daughter suffered a malevolent gravity attack during her beam routine and did not get the score she needed. We're hoping that the gymnastic gods will grant her another shot next month.

My name is Kathryn and I am an idiot.

Well, my Olympics are off to a riproaring start.

I cast on, as planned, during the Opening Ceremonies. I was tearing through the back ribbing, was even beginning to wonder if I'd finish the ribbing before the flame was lit. Measured the ribbing -- quarter of an inch to go. Must remember to increase during the last row and change to bigger needles...

Crap. Am already using bigger needles.

Flame is lit. Ceremony is over. Am casting on again using correct needles.

presenting something that resembles a decision

At the risk of overloading my redundancy module, I must reiterate that I cannot formally participate in the Knitting Olympics. No, please, begging is futile. I will be spending the coming weekend at our gymnastics club where we are hosting a meet (in which my firstborn will be making a frantic last-ditch effort to qualify for the provincial championships while I crouch in a corner muttering jibberish and confirming the other gym moms' belief that I am certifiable). Next weekend we're off to Kingston where both offspring will be competing in an invitational, which will be the first competition ever for my secondborn. Three days after that we're going to Florida for a week. With all these complications there is no way that I can commit to completing anything.

However. I do not like feeling left out, as is evidenced by my constant beating of this particular dead horse, so I have made a decision to join everyone in casting on during the opening ceremonies and make no promises.

I wanted to knit the husband a hooded sweatshirt. I'd love to have the legendary Wonderful Wallaby pattern but I don't know where to get it other than online and I do not want to pay a five-dollar shipping fee on a six-dollar pattern, especially if it's coming from the US and might encounter the Customs ogre as well. My next choice was Sally Melville's kangaroo sweater from The Purl Stitch. But it calls for a gauge of 20st/4" and I couldn't get that comfortably with the cheapo yarn I'm forced to use as a result of my dear husband's combination of wool allergies and extreme fiscal responsibility policy. After an afternoon of miserable swatching, I've decided to scrap the hood plan and try the basic sweater pattern from Ann Budd's Knitter's Handy Book Of Patterns. That way (with apologies to EZ who is probably up there wondering why I don't just wing it and stick those infernal straight needles in a very dark place), I can be the boss of my gauge and not the reverse, which was not working for me in the extreme.

So now I have something to cast on with the rest of you. As the husband so aptly put it, Faster, Higher, Woolier.

Let's all laugh at my husband, shall we?

In a moment of reckless abandon I confessed to the spouse that I had ordered two sock knitting books from Amazon (and incidentally, by some cosmic twist of fate they added up to one penny over that mystical free shipping number!). Please note that I did not say that the books were ordered with reckless abandon; it was the admission of guilt that was perhaps a bit hasty.

"Sock books?" asks he, after a moment, with obvious astonishment. "But don't you already have some sock books?"

"Yes..." I say, not convinced that he could possibly have a point.

His next query, and I do believe he was serious: "Have you finished all the patterns in those books already?"

the sweater-to-be

embryonic sweater
Originally uploaded by shesitsandknits.

May the knitting gods be praised, I have finally finished the five freakin' inches of ribbing for the Winter Snow Scene sweater from Creative Knitting. I am using the decidedly non-snowy colours pictured because, well, these are the colours that I had in the basement. And I had these particular colours because, well, this is what the LYS had the day I visited. Sometimes you just gotta go with the flow.

And now I'm in for many, many inches of plain knitting, which will make an excellent substitute for nail-biting and hand-wringing at our two upcoming gymnastics meets.