The first day of the rest of my life.

Hold on, everybody be quiet for a minute, listen carefully…Hear that? Do you hear it? That’s right! You hear nothing! Nothing at all. Nobody fighting over a hair tie, nobody sitting in somebody else’s seat, nobody eating every last thing that I just bought from the grocery store not more than 15 minutes ago like some teenaged horde of ravening locusts, nobody accusing someone else of stealing their dignity or their shoes.
That’s right, somebody buy me a beer…(yes, I know that it’s pretty early for a beer, I don’t think you understand the level of celebration that we’re experiencing over here) It’s that most glorious of transition days, that day that I go back to having a career, the day that I can expect to have a full conversation with Joe, to finish a whole cup of coffee before it goes cold and…holy crap, I might be able to go a whole hour without telling somebody that they are wearing too much mascara. (Here’s a tip: If you can only open your eyes halfway and you have a muscle ache in the top part of your eyelid from struggling to hold your eye open halfway? You are wearing too much mascara. There you go, one of Mama’s little life skills.)
It is The First Day Of School.
Amanda (15) gets up this morning and looks outside. Yesterday, the last day of summer and freedom was glorious sunny and brilliant. Today, the day that she will be returned to a world of structure, homework, responsibility and getting up at 7 in the morning the world outside is cold, dismal, gray and raining. Amanda looks out the window, looks at the rain, and bitterly says
“Great. Pathetic fallacy.”
I laughed myself stupid. (I admit I’m a pretty easy mark today, just about everything is making me laugh this morning. I am simply joyful. Did I mention that it’s The First Day of School?)
This weekend I mostly (well, if we are going to overlook the dancing and the counting down) worked on the Something Else. Here’s another piece. Loving it.
The Poncho Parade continues… Check out Cheryl, who totally got the hang of the funky kid poncho (that kid looks like a lot of fun), and our own Lady Norma of the comments. (Seriously, could Norma be any cuter? Who would have guessed that she was that cute? Let’s overlook that this means that I am surprised when people are good looking. It means nothing. I’m sure you are really cute too.) Michelle pulled a Laurie and put a funky “better than the harlot ever thought it could be” edging on it. Lara’s is pretty classy. I’m all over the stripe. I’m so crazy about the stripe that I’m actually a little bit bitter now that mine doesn’t have a stripe, but (I don’t know if I mentioned it) it’s The First Day of School, so there’s really only so much bitterness that I can hold in my heart. Even if you hate ponchos, even if you think that you can’t even look at another one without it starting to have an impact on your feelings for me…you should go look at Lara’s. She has a poncho dance. (I might need a poncho dance. Yes, I know that I am not as young and hip as Lara, and I understand that wanting a poncho dance is wrong.)
About the poncho. I’ve had a couple of emails from people who are not feeling the love. They have poncho problems.
I implied, (ok, fine. I didn’t imply. I came right out and said it.) that you should be able to see where the increases go after the first few. I stand by that. I think you should. Let’s discuss. The yarn over’s (YO) go either side of a centre stitch. All one must do to be free to increase at will, unfettered by the use of the stitch marker, is learn to identify this one centre stitch. If you took it off the needle, it would be this one.
On the needles, it looks like this. (I have thoughtfully drawn the stitch in a lighter colour so that you may see it clearly. This did take a little while, but I have nothing but concern for your happiness. Well that and it’s The First Day of School. I’m feeling generous.)
All you need to be able to do to knit the poncho (or anything else with regular increases) is identify that stitch. See the way the previous YO’s are either side of it? The chain of that centre stitch runs down the work with the eyelets either side of it. You need to knit until you come to that stitch.
This is the only thing you need to learn. See the edge of the centre stitch? See how you can track it down through the work? This is the spot. The first YO always goes here. Every time. Without exception. Once you know where this first YO goes, then you know where the second one goes. (YO, k1 that centre stitch, YO)
Tah dah!
In other news, I have started a new pair of socks.
I am significantly weirded out by how different the socks are from the yarn. While I like them, they really aren’t what I though would happen.
These will be my bus-buddy socks, keeping me company as I travel the city, although no socks can ever replace the Dublin Bay socks in my heart. These have a funky little freehand sort of fair isle thingie that I really hope I can repeat on the other sock. (I lost the chart. Well, I lost the scrap of graph paper that I ripped off of the corner of one of Amanda’s math notebooks. I gotta get me a better system.)
Also, I started another poncho.
Yes, I am beginning to feel the burn of shame. No, I don’t think I can stop myself, and yes, I am starting to wish that I could. I understand that there are those among you who are disappointed that I am using my powers for the evil pointed simplicity of the poncho and are holding on by your fingernails waiting for this phase to end. (You know who you are) I draw your attention to the fair isle peerie on the socks, and the lace Something Else and I ask you…do those projects not redeem me a little? C’mon. It’s a dreadlocks handpainted mohair poncho. Feel the magic. If nothing else, humour me. It’s The First Day of School.