This morning I helped someone I met through this-here blog teach a group of teenagers how to knit, and it was a lot of fun. I love teaching people to knit, and these girls very quickly got the hang of it. We were teaching them to pick, but one of the girls I helped was instinctively throwing, and my throwing heart lept a bit.
It's finally cold enough for me to wear the Moorish Patterned Pullover. I've been eagerly awaiting this moment since I bound off the collar. Speaking of which... it's driving me batty, this collar. It's way too loose. Tonight may be the night I rip it out and redo it, this time putting in decreases so it sits flat. I don't remember the pattern having decreases, but if it did, it certainly needs more.
I haven't had much knitting time. Yesterday I sat down for an hour and worked on the sleeve of my sister's sweater, a time the cats felt to be a nice time to be absolutely insane, so I didn't get much accomplished. I'm cheating, though. Rather than buying size 10 DPNs I'm using my 10.5s. I can't really tell any difference. I hate hate hate doing colorwork on DPNs, though; it's always so tight.
I've developed a new life goal: everywhere I go, I should turn people onto knitting. Soon, me and knitting will TAKE OVER THE WORLD.
A light sprinkle of bitching.
I picked up Knit Lit, Too from the library, and got about halfway into it when I realized that I can't read this crap. The overdone, obvious sentimentality of 80% of the works made me physically ill.
Mind you, there were some great pieces (like the Yarn Harlot's, and the fiction piece with the chainsmoking mom and dead dog), but if I had to read one more about someone's dead brother/sister/mother/grandma/husband/cockatoo/goldfish and how they didn't really know how to knit but they tried cause they felt all connected to the world and it gave them peace and this knitted stuff showered love and rainbows all over the world even though it's made of acrylic, I was going to hurl.
Seriously, people. There's a way to write a good essay, and that way isn't to be overtly, obviously, overwhelmingly sentimental.
One thing I wonder: were the rejected ones worse? Or were they better? Maybe the aim of this is to be a Chicken Soup for the Knitter's Soul. In that case, I've just gone vegetarian.
Tipper @ 3:16 PM * link
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