It is hot. Totally hot. So hot that when you are knitting wool socks out in public people look at you like you are out of your mind because it is so hot that they can’t imagine that they will ever, ever need help being warm again.
Today’s predicted to be 43 degrees with the humidex (there’s always humidity in Toronto, year round. It’s that great big lake that’s the problem.) and for our American friends, that’s about 109 F, and it’s scorching.
(Sorry, quick aside here. The last time I gave a temperature and converted to Fahrenheit “for Americans” I got quite a bit of mail asking me why I’d singled Americans out. This time I’m getting ahead by letting you know that I said that for the simple reason that the US is the only country still officially using that scale. Lots of other people around the world remember Fahrenheit, but mostly, and certainly on an official level the switch has been totally made. Knowing how hard it is for me to travel in the US properly dressed (seriously. 43 is cold?) makes me sympathetic enough to put both on the blog.)
This of course, means it’s sort of ironic that I’m knitting wool while I wait for the delivery guys to bring my new stove, being delivered today. I’d be excited but I’m still so totally pissed that I had to buy a new one that I can’t quite connect with my glee. The old one kicked the bucket with an emphasis and creativity that was completely behaviour unbecoming a faithful appliance and I was forced to buy a new one. I feel sort of bullied. This broken stove has been in our house for a month, so loathe was I to accept the truth.
My old stove was a “no bells, no whistles” 10 year old gas stove and I liked it just fine. It cooked. It didn’t do anything else, it didn’t have any sensors or electronics…you just turned the fire on and it made things hot. On – off. That’s what it did. The new one, with it’s smarmy electronic display and pretentious self cleaning thingie is going to take some getting used to. It self cleans (my old one didn’t) it has a separate broiler (my old one didn’t) and you actually get to pick what temperature the oven comes to (er…my old one used to. For the last couple of years our relationship wasn’t so much about temperature as timing. It had one temperature and I put things in for however long it took.) Now that I think about it I suppose I’ll like the new stove more when I get over being forced to give it so much of my money.
The delivery of said unwelcome heat box (arriving on the hottest day of the year so far) promises to be entertaining. The front hall (traditional gateway to the kitchen) is only 66 cm wide, but the stove is 76 cm wide. That would be a 10 cm (gauge swatch) difference, and not in the favour of the new stove. Clearly it’s not coming in that way. When I mentioned this challenge to the sales guy he said “It’ll be ok. The guys are experienced. I’m not sure what experience does to shrink stoves, but I bet it’s fun to watch. (There’s always the back garden door, though then we’re tramping appliances through the back garden to make a try at a door that’s only 5cm too small….) I’m seriously looking forward to it.
Joe’s unhooked the albatross of a stove we have now (how did we get that one in here? I seem to recall a screwdriver and some disassembly) and I’m waiting, and knitting. It’s pretty hard to sit with the Kauni on my lap without getting a little woozy from the heat at present, so I’m onto socks.
These are Loksins! pattern bought from Ms. Too Much Wool herself, and I’m knitting them up out of some nice stash (the new stove means stash diving will be my MO for a while), sock yarn from Lisa Souza. (Colourway is “Turqua” a colour that Ms. TMW would never knit with. I figure it’s my duty to help the Loksins pattern be knit in all colours, even the ones that Cassie doesn’t like.) KnitPicks dpns size 1, and I’m happy as a clam. I love them, and they are the perfect hot weather knit. The pattern is pretty intuitive, and the chart is very, very easy to memorize and moves pretty quick.
As for yesterdays mis-matched monkeys, Laura left a comment saying the other two skeins were already bought, and middle-daughter Megan promptly claimed the mis-matched ones I made with enthusiasm. Problem solved, though I was leaning toward the “buy the yarn and save another knitter” approach.
Never mind. Mama’s got a new stove to pay for.