I’m copping out today and not fighting for charming insight or brilliant knitting or spinning. This is largely because my big plan to show you the finished fronts of the Erle sweater have been dashed by knitter error. I got up this morning and trooped the wee sweater out to the garden for it’s photo shoot and discovered that I had artfully executed the neck hole over the armhole. Since I’m really hoping that this is not the configuration of the baby that this is intended for, I’m re-doing it.
In the meantime I shall distract you from my sucky knitting with mirth and questions from the comments yesterday.
Am I the only one who counted 12 skeins in the photo? Don’t count yourself short! and, I have to add: if you missed that, might it make your total amount of yarn “mileage” different?
No, no you weren’t the only one who noticed that. Many, many of you wrote to tell me I had miscounted. (I shall not digress into commentary on what it implies that you all are wasting knitting time on skein counting accuracy and simply be glad that you whack of obsessive compulsive fibre manics are on my side.) It was an intellectual error. Two of the skeins, these two…
are half sized. Therefore, even though there are technically 12 skeins, they really only add up to 11. Pity though. My heart soared for a moment. (Actually, it didn’t. When I got to thinking about it, I would have been really pissed if the last great ply-fest resulted in a total amount of yarn that was only one skein short of a sweater.)
You know, the whole gansey thing would be much simpler if you had just fallen in love with a smaller man.
I’m just saying.
This advice falls right in there with what my mother always said about spouse selection. “Honey, it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.” It’s something a knitter should take into consideration when deciding a spouse is attractive. Single knitters take note, no matter what gossip you hear about the advantages of a mate with large hands or feet (and you all know what I mean) don’t forget that you will at some point in your relationship be called upon to express your love in wool. It can’t be worth it.
Um. Small detail, but, have you designed the gansey yet?
No. I was going to start knitting anyway. (Insert hysterical laughter/ foreboding music here) What can go wrong?
Wonderful raised bed.
Why thank you. Unfortunately for me, I have committed the raised bed equivalent of putting the neck over the armhole. The old raised beds were made out of 2X4’s and plywood. (Total width of bed wall – 4 inches.) I have replaced them with very sturdy beds made out of stacked 4X4’s. (Total width of bed wall – 8 inches.) The new beds cover the same area as the old ones, but our critical planning error was discovered when Ian was done putting the soil that came out of the old beds back into the new ones.
They do not have the same volume. By several cubic metres actually. Having already distributed as much of it as I can on my own property, I have spent the last two days stalking around the neighbourhood with shovelfuls of soil offering to fill in low spots in other peoples gardens. Lucky for me, my neighbours already think I’m a complete lunatic (- it may have been photographing yarn in the bushes almost everyday for the last two years that did it.) and nobody has said a word to me except for “No thank you.” (I think they are whispering about me.) I’m contemplating distributing it under cover of darkness or stuffing it down the sewer grate one handful per day for the next year. I’m open to other ideas.