Today is rainy and breezy, and I'm so thankful that I don't have to go anywhere today. I'm a little saddened, however, that I can't go jogging today; I haven't gone jogging since Sunday.
The day before yesterday, I wore my sandals, not knowing whether or not the whole day would promise to be sandal-weather. Yesterday felt to be the cusp of sandal-weather and non-sandal-weather; I didn't wear them. I wore my grown-up, big-people shoes and went into work wearing big-people clothes.
I want to make a pair of mittens. I made some wrist-warmers for my little sister last Christmas. Surely mittens can't be that difficult.
I won a contest that was run by Leslie over at the Silver Fork Saga. She went to the Kitchener-Waterloo Knitter's Fair. She brought home eight skeins of sock yarn and thirty (!) skeins of yarn altogether. For guessing the correct amount of sock yarn that she'd buy, she's going to send me some sock yarn!
My Favorite Equation:
Sock Knitter + More Sock Yarn = A Sock Knitter in Bliss
I can't say that my guess was a pure guess. I've been reading Leslie's blog since we were partners for the Knitting Olympics. I made a complicated, calculated guess that included many scientific variables. I'll share that equation with you someday.
On Sunday, when I went for a jog, my boyfriend spotted a stoop sale (for those of you not in NYC, a "stoop sale" is a yard or garage sale, minus yard or garage, usually held on the steps of the stoop of a brownstone; if there is no stoop, the sale is sometimes referred to as a "tag" sale, which confuses me very much), and he wanted to stop by the stoop sale because there were books. He doesn't really need anymore books, but he is always looking for more books.
And on a table marked "FREE" there were those beauties that you're seeing in the photograph above.
I found vintage knitting magazines from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. (For those of you who grew up when I did: there are freaken knits for Cabbage Patch dolls in the 80s mags!) I grabbed a few of the 90s knitting mags as well. I didn't take them all, but I did grab up all of the ones from the 60s and 70s.
The woman who was running the stoop sale ran out of her house, joyously exclaiming, "A knitter! A knitter!" Apparently, these were her mother's magazines, and her mother had passed away, and she didn't want to just throw these magazines away. She was so happy to have a knitter come and take the magazines. I told her that her joy was my joy twice over. (What I was thinking but didn't say was: Will it give you more joy to hand over your mother's yarn stash and needles?)
I don't think I'll knit anything from the 80s mags. I took them because, if you haven't realized by now with my love of things from the 70s, I'm terribly nostalgic, and looking through old advertisements and clothes and styles gives me that certain feeling halfway between despair and comfort.
Some of the magazines are falling apart; they fairly distintegrate when I turn over pages. I think I'll have to excise the pages and put them in page-protectors.
Specs, over at Spectacled, recently fell in love with a particular sweater. I commented that I too had fallen in love with a particular sweater, and she was curious to know what sort of sweater it was. I fell in love with this:
This image was apparently on the cover of the magazine (a Vogue Knitting), but this particular issue, as several others, was missing its cover.
It will be my first sweater. I know, I know. I've flirted around before with the thought of sweater knitting, and I have never ever had anything to show for it. This time I will do good by my sweater. I will see her through.
I promise; I do.
I wish I had paid more attention to my mother when she was trying to teach me to crochet so that I might be able to waste time by making these. CUTE!
As a sock-knitter, all I can say about this is: HOLY COW!!! GEEZ-LOU-EZZ!!! I first saw this method on a beautiful website that apparently doesn't exist anymore. But that website included this little quote for all of us literature lovers who might be compelled to learn this daunting method out of our love of literature and knitting: When the pair was finished, she made a solemn ceremony of pulling one stocking out of the other in the presence of the children. -- Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.
Will I be trying this method anytime soon? No, thank you, says I. No no no.
4 comments:
That is a nice sweater! Please go for it! The end satisfaction of finishing a sweater is a million times greater than that of the second sock.
Also: good god, that sock method. I think I might have to try this. The pictures at the end convinced me.
Hey:
I have that same 101 Sweaters Magazine. My boyfriend's mother gave it to me along with some other old knitting and crochet magazines. Amazing!
Great to meet you at the Park Slope Knitting Circle last night.
Best,
Wanda
What cool magazines. I have a collection of old magazines that one of my aunts gave me. They are a treasure trove of goodies. Mittens are easy, especially for a sock maker.
Ah, the mysteries of science... And they say that writers can't do the maths!
If you get a chance, send me your address (ldgraff76 at hotmail) and we'll see what we can do about that equation for adding more bliss to a sock knitter's life!
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