I admit it.

I’m going to admit something publicly, own up to the fact that it isn’t an intellectual pursuit of which I should be proud, you may all mock and belittle me for one day and then we will move on.
I watch Survivor. That’s right, I do. I understand that it is humans at their worst, and that I encourage the morally repugnant practice of scratching and clawing at your fellow man for money by watching it…but I can’t help it. I love it, can’t get enough. I know that this must run contrary to everything you all know about your tree-hugging, vegetarian, leftist, book reading Harlot….but there you have it. I love it, I read webpages analysing every inane minute the next day, have long conversations with my friend Lene (That’s right chickie….I just outed ya) about each and every dumbass move the contestants are making and speak confidently about how I would have been a fire making expert before I got there. (Wouldn’t you? Seriously, 18 people thrown on an island with no fire. Every single time. If you knew you were going to be on Survivor, wouldn’t you have spent as many obsessive hours in the backyard as it took to be able to make fire pretty reliably? Cave men did it 40 thousand years ago for crying out loud, surely one stinking modern contestant could manage.) Never mind, the point is that I get a little sincere about Survivor. I set myself down in front of the TV, and have a profound period of focus for an hour, during which time I can scarcely drag my eyes from the screen and therefore can’t work on the Latvian mittens during this time. I worked on the Rainbow Peerie socks, and finished the first of the Fleece Artist mittens (but I used my own pattern).
You may all scoff openly now, but I bet that you do it too. Don’t tell me that you’ve never shunned a sub-titled film at the video store because you were working on fair isle. Picked an intellectual movie with lots of talking because you knew that you didn’t need to look up from a Latvian braid, how about choosing to knit plain socks so that you could watch all the action in a James Bond flick? You know you do it.
When Survivor was over, I returned my attention to the Latvian mittens. (Fine, I’ll admit that I may have watched The Apprentice too…I’m so disturbed to be intrigued by Donald Trump, let’s not discuss it.)
You will note that the second set of braids run in a direction opposite to the first set. This is a triumph of an intensely personal nature. I am now poised to begin the thumb, which frankly scares the begeebers out of me. Seriously, I’m afraid that I’m going to wreck the whole work of art with a crappy thumb. All those braids, the perfectly even fair isle….I can’t seem to bring myself to stick a thumb in it.
The second round of braids went much, much faster due in large part to this comment from Conk yesterday:
So you probably don’t want to hear that one of the very first things I did with 2 colors of yarn was a pair of socks with 6 braids each, huh? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Once you accept the twisty yarn will go away in the next row, braids are great.
Excuse me? The twisty yarn goes away? (I think that we can probably agree as a group that we are going to ignore the first part of that comment, right?) When you knit braids each stitch puts a twist into the yarn. It’s crazy making. I would knit ten stitches, then hold up the knitting and let it dangle to get the twist out, then knit ten more stitches and repeat. What Conk is talking about is the fact that knitting the first round of the braid you twist the yarn up one way, then when you knit the second round, the yarn gets twisted the other. A little patience and the whole thing sorts itself out. It’s complete common sense and I totally missed it. (I also missed that the book explained that in the instructions. Note to self: Read instructions. Especially read instructions before complaining online and looking like an arse.)
Kristi said:
Very very strange. I can knit these braided edgings MUCH faster than K2P2 ribbing, they just fly by. Hmm. Do you hold one color in each hand? And they really do look great, I’d do them even if they took an extraordinary long time.
After thinking about this comment for a really long time, I’ve decided that she’s messing with me. Right?
(Hey, Kristi? If this isn’t a cruel joke….(which is fine…I can respect a really decent cruel joke) could you email me right away with more information? In which way could I use two hands? How would I twist the yarns if they were in two hands? Fly? Seriously? Also, I would like just a quick opportunity to worship and grovel at your feet if that’s ok. Like I said though, if this is just messing with me that’s ok too. Just never mind.)