I’m here. I feel like I barely escaped the weekend with my life, but I’m here. Team Harlot and it’s associated members attended a grand total of 5 (five) parties this weekend, survived a scary blow to the head that Sam took at party 3 (she’s just fine, but has a dramatic black eye), and successfully launched Joe on a wilderness camping/canoeing/portaging/ picture taking trip to Algonquin Provincial Park. It confuses me still that the man can look at me wrapping presents in the kitchen and somehow think that I have a package of waterproof matches, his dry bags or the camp stove on my person. Joe claims, of course, that he didn’t really think that I “had” the camping stuff on me, but he’s lying. Why else would someone follow you around the house asking for it?
The sweater didn’t get finished in time for party #2, but it was knit on at parties 3 and 4 and before attending party 5 on Sunday, it was delivered to the birthday boy.
I think Max likes his new sweater…

but he may be sort of neutral about the hood.

Last night I celebrated not being at a party by digging up the ribbon tank. (I did find more of the ribbon, same dye lot too. I stood in the store just stunned. That never happens to me. I’d be the lady with all the striped sweaters).

A couple of weeks ago when I realized that I was going to run out of yarn I put the stitches on to a piece of yarn so I could try it on and figure out if it was worth beginning a yarn search. I have concerns about making and wearing stuff at this gauge (16 stitches to 10cm) I have this feeling that chunky knits tend to make the wearer look, well…chunky. I was thinking that if I was knitting the world’s ugliest tank that I wouldn’t be able to bear the irony of spending hours searching Toronto and the world for more yarn just to knit something that made me look like a discus thrower. (Someday I’ll show you the sweater that taught me this lesson. I call it the “michelin man” sweater. It’s an abomination on the earth)
The tank seems ok, but when I went to put the knitting back on needles last night I couldn’t for the life of me remember what needles I was using. A clever knitter would have written what needles she was using on her pattern. A thoughtful knitter would have put the needle into the bag with the tank. A less tidy knitter (and I really thought I was one of those) would have still had the needle on the coffee table even though it has been 2 weeks. In a very un-harlotty move, the needle had been tidied into my drawer of circular needles with it’s tangled brothers and sisters. What’s a knitter to do? I may not be clever or thoughtful, but I am blogging…I went back to my previous entry about the tank, looked closely at the needles (reason #16 why coloured needles are just neat) and bob’s yer uncle. I’m discovering the advantages of blogging all the time.