We also have had the funk. The nose-swiping, circus-seal-impersonating funk. Both the children and I have it, and my husband is somehow immune. That's probably a good thing, because we can't handle a man-cold around here. We still have PTSD from the last one in July. Violet was up quite a bit last night, gritching about her stuffy nose. It's really hard to reason with a baby at 4 am, by the way.
I have been knitting, quite a fair bit, too. I find that I really go to town on something simple when real life is whupping my butt. That sweater I was knitting a couple of weeks ago? It didn't really work out, so I did a mercy killing and started something else.
This is my lovely assistant Violet showing the almost-completed body and the almost-completed sleeve of another Elizabeth Zimmermann pattern, the yoke patterned sweater (Cascade 220 in Denim Heather). I swear I do knit other things that aren't EZ, I promise. I'm just...going through a phase. Maybe I need to branch out. But right now the endless rows of stockinette are very soothing.
Here is another project I've been working on. This is the Landscape Shawl by Evelyn Clark (of Swallowtail Shawl fame). I've knit this before, and I'm making this for someone for Christmas...which I found out is only 53 days away. Gulp. Please don't smack me the next time you see me. I'm just telling the truth here, folks.
Anyhoo, this shawl is made from the wonderful, cushy, bouncy Elsebeth Lavold Merino Lace, but in my humble opinion, it is rather thicker than lace. Maybe more like a fingering weight. What's nice about the shawl pattern is that it has instructions for different weights of yarn, from lace all the way to worsted. Each section/chevron of the shawl is knit in garter, seed stitch, stockinette, moss stitch, or reverse stockinette, and it has a nice picot edging along the sides. What is also very nice about the pattern is that I can actually knit it. I am missing that part of my DNA that allows other competent knitters to make lace. I couldn't knit lace if you held a gun to my head, or a flame to my stash. I cannot even knit the super-popular Swallowtail Lace Shawl that everyone and their blind, three-legged dog can knit. I've tried three times, and ended up saying things that blistered paint.
I am also reaching into the mists of time, sifting through the stash for another goody that needs to be finished.
It's Elizabeth Zimmermann again (sorry, folks, I'm going through a phase), the Ski Sampler Sweater. My husband has been waiting for this albatross for about three years now, and this year (knock on wood) it's gonna happen. I am knitting this up in fantastically rustic Icelandic Lopi. My husband loves that sort of thing. In fact, as I'm knitting along, sometimes I come to a bit of a twig still in the yarn and you know what? I just keep it in there and knit it into the sweater too. He loves scratchy clothing, which strikes me as bizarre to say the least, but at least I'm doing my part to make sure he is itchy-scratchy all over. My husband is...well, that's another post for another day. I'll just say he's hard to knit for. So is my son, come to think of it.
I'm almost done with the body of this sweater, and then comes the sleeves and then....DUM DUM DUM...I shall be steeking. That's right, cutting my knitting all up. Making armholes. I've never done it before--have you? I find it makes me nervous that in the books I've read about knitting, whenever steeking comes up, the author invariably recommends you either have a drink afterward, or lie down in a dark room. Sheesh.
