It was a long week

I think I missed some of it. There were seven days, weren't there?

My knitting is all at sixes and sevens. I decided to try to get something finished, like maybe a sock. It would help if I actually worked on one. So this morning I picked up the frogged Go With the Flow sock and began to re-knit the heel. I'm almost finished with the gusset now, and it feels good to be making progress on something. This is the finished one, waiting for its mate.

I made a little progress on the Rib and Cable sock, but not much beyond this photograph. It's a nice pattern, and interesting to knit. There are a few variations on the basic sock formula that I'm enjoying. The toe, if I ever get there, looks really neat. I got my copy of Nancy Bush's Knitting Vintage Socks, too, and I think I'll be knitting out of it for a long time to come.

That scarf I took with me on my trip is an easy knit, brainless and good for travel. The yarn though, is filled with knots. Why didn't I pay attention to them when I was balling the skein? It's superwash merino, too, so I can't spit splice it with any consistency. Oh, well. That will teach me!

I finally photographed the cardigan I made last September. It's "Herdis" from Elspeth Lavold's first collection. [Edited on 10/8 to correct the crappy image that I posted the first time.]At the time it was the most complicated thing I'd ever undertaken, but as I got going it wasn't hard at all. If I had it to do all over again, I'd go down a needle size. I got gauge, but the fabric has a lot of give and it seems to grow when I wear it. Re-blocking didn't change it much. I still love it, and it represents a major knitting accomplishment.

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Rhinebeck, Rhinebeck, Rhinebeck! It's coming! Soon! Ohboyohboyohboy! My list is growing, the money is set aside, the car is clean and ready for guest travelers. J and the wonderful R's and I haven't made our final plans yet, but I already know that I'm going to convince them that we need to leave here at the crack of dawn on Saturday. None of this moseying on over to my house whenever, not this year! I have booths to visit, people to meet, and money to spend. Yes, I am geeky enough to have begun to make a list of which vendor is where, so that I won't miss the ones I want to visit. And yes, I am planning to show up at the Spirit Trail booth, probably more than once! I'm a little excited, can you tell? I really need a fiber fix.

And if it's October, it must be time to make serious Retreat plans! I didn't make it to the PO this week, but I hear that our Retreat packets have begun arriving in mailboxes. I'll have to be patient until Wednesday, when I can go get the mail. The KR Retreat following so close on the heels of Rhinebeck makes my head spin. Since I'm turning it into a week, not a weekend, I have lots of things to do beforehand. I'll be making the rounds of family and friends in the DC area, with a final stop on Sunday (I think) at K's house on the Eastern Shore.

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I'd like to be doing this:

Unfortunately, I have to tackle this:It ain't pretty.

All I really want to do...

...is start something new. I have a short trip coming up this week, involving airports and airplanes and other sitting around, so I need to be sure I take enough knitting, right? It's best if the projects are small, and not too pattern-intensive, right? And having choices makes a person a happier traveler, right? I have enough socks to work on, so I need something else, right? Okay, then. That's settled.

So this ball of peacock-colored merino is about to become a simple mistake rib scarf for Mister C., the most wonderful book buyer/general manager/co-worker in the entire book business. I'm thinking Christmas, but his birthday is in early December. Either way, the scarf will be done in a week or two, and I will be a happier traveler.

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I'm still reminiscing about Italy. Here's a picture of Villa Vignamaggio in Tuscany. The sky on this afternoon was a bit overcast, so the colors are sort of washed out, but Oh, what a place. This was where we stayed for a few days before returning to Florence. [My sister's and my room was in another, much smaller building, up steep stone steps and through an arched doorway. We felt like we'd stepped back in time, except that the bathroom had a whirlpool tub.]

This is where I got to make a few paintings, but I have to say that the landscape and the history were a little bit overwhelming at first. Me, painting in the Mona Lisa's front yard? A Tuscan landscape, no less? Oh, pinch me. Hey, the whole trip was an unimaginable dream, so who am I kidding? I was actually there. I'd love to go again, but I'll still need to be convinced that it's real.

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I made a (for me) large stash acquisition yesterday. Our local department store, which actually has a fabric and yarn department, had a big bin full of yarn marked 60% off. I came home with eight balls of Patons Canadiana and four balls of Patons Pure Wool. I thought I'd use it for Dulaan projects, but I forgot how much I dislike knitting garments with all-acrylic yarn, even when it's very nice all-acrylic yarn. The wool will get to be hats and scarves, but the Canadiana will have to wait until the right project comes along. I'm thinking baby blanket. One of these days some niece or nephew will expand the family, and I'll be ready.

Oh, Italy

One year ago today my sister and I arrived in Florence to begin our Italian adventure. Our little group had walked from the hotel to the Piazza Della Repubblica. When I turned around, this is what I saw:

I was near tears, in love and awe and with a heart about to burst with the magnitude of what I felt and saw.

Then we walked on to the Piazza Del Duomo. I looked up, and...

It's safe to say that I changed forever, right then.

And I hadn't even painted a single watercolor, or seen Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," or had any of the experiences that the next week would bring. Little did I know what was in store for us!

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It's Autumn at last -- official sweater-knitting season! I'd better get back to the Fabulous Manos Wildflower Pullover, then. Today, though, I made a third hat for Dulaan. I started it at the knitting circle, where I relaxed and became more comfortable and actually enjoyed myself (it was easy, now that I have revised my expectations). I finished it this evening. I'm going back to my Italy-dreaming now...

Sock progress and some sweet memories

The Rib and Cables sock has overtaken the Go with the Flow, after an unfortunate frogging incident involving a heel flap miscalculation.

According to the Rules of Frogging, the knitter is permitted to throw the frogged item into a corner for ever a few days, or until the unfortunate frogging incident is no longer quite so painful.

[You'd think that since I went to all the trouble to recalculate the original pattern to fit my foot better, and since I actually wrote the calculations down, that I'd remember to use them on the second sock, wouldn't you? Naaah, that would make too much sense.]

I posed the Here and There scarf, too, all finished and blocked. It will be warm and cozy come winter.

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I've been pondering Knitting Circle dynamics, with interesting input from Amie and Martha. I'll just let it be what it is, and not expect more than an afternoon of knitting. I'll either get to know the group, or I won't.

You see, I seem to have expectations. Long, long ago (in 1981) I began to attend a journal class with my friend V. We'd been invited to join the Wednesday night class by Bunny, the teacher, who was a fabric artist we'd met at a small show we'd all three been in. She began each of the three fifteen-minute segments by reading quotes and ideas -- things she had gathered from her reading, or what someone in the class had written the week before -- and then we'd write. "Think with your pen on the page," Bunny would say.

We took turns reading to the group, and Bunny and anyone who wanted to could comment. Well, that very first night we sat there, shy and nervous, as a woman we'd just met read the horrible, painful, powerful story of her rape. She just read it, unwavering. The faces around the room were full of love and shared pain.

I have never felt so trusted, so intimate, so tribal, as I did that night. I spent the next ten years going to journal class on Wednesday nights. We shared our souls, wrote poetry and drivel, laughed and cried, struggled to survive the death of one of our dearest friends, and ultimately, the death of our teacher. We wrote in many living rooms, in summer and winter, with and without our beloved Bunny. And always, we shared ourselves easily, palms up, hearts wide open.

That's way too much to ask of a Thursday afternoon knitting circle.