I think I know what my problem is. I'm trying to knit things that actually involve MY BRAIN for more than 30 seconds at a time. Sorry, not currently available, try back when my kids are in school. For example, I started the lace socks while waiting on the street for DP to pick me up from work after getting the kids at daycare. I was there long enough to knit half a round. I think I did the rest of the round in the car, then after dinner, then maybe ripped it out after the kids went to bed. I guarantee you, I am not a good enough knitter to do *decreases* under those circumstances. What made me think I could do lace? Duh.
As blog is my witness, I will lock myself in a brightly-lit room to do the first round of any future lace project. I expect the bathroom will serve nicely. The kids will be shocked to find that, for once, they can't follow me in there.
This approach has paid off. The lace section of Soleil is done.
Okay, so it's not done in the picture, which I took yesterday afternoon, before I spent all night ripping and reknitting the *increase* round after the lace because, apparently, I am unable to read a pattern. Never mind. It's fixed. I have the right number of stitches. All is well.
I've decided the name of this sweater should be Soleil sorbet, since it's such an icy, shiny pastely color. I can't decide if I like it. It's pretty, but it splits dreadfully and it's doing this odd pooling thing that I think will come out looking kind of camouflage-like in the end. The colors are so subtle, though, that I'm not sure if it's going to have much of a final effect. Anyway. I'm enjoying knitting it because a) 22 sts/4in, and b) no sleeves. It doesn't seem like this should be hard for my brain to take in, but in just the same way that I look at the Fair Isle and say to myself "YOU MEAN I'M GOING TO HAVE TO KNIT SLEEVES TOO?", when I look at Soleil sorbet, I keep having to pinch myself that when I'm done with the body, I'm done. So, you know, about Maryland, I'm not saying anything out loud, but, you know, looks good, is all I'm saying (having typed that, I do realize that my sweater will burst into flames).
Meanwhile, I have commenced a project that is totally appropriate for moments in which I am capable of only totally stupid knitting. Four rectangles. Klaralund, the sequel. I'm enjoying knitting this sweater so much that I fear that by next fall I will have a Klaralund for every day of the week. I suppose it could be quite a bit worse. I also forgot how much I enjoy knitting with Kureyon. It's not the highest-quality yarn (ahem), but watching the stripes emerge just rocks, baby. I can forgive a lot for a really good dye job. That's the back (or the front, depends on how the other one looks) and the edge of a sleeve. Ahhh. Knitting *is* relaxing!
Despite my increasing resentment of this project, I have finally finished knitting Eloise and have begun the loathsome seaming process. I just love seaming bulky sweaters. Not. (I am not using a different yarn for seaming, since I can't figure out even what color to look for, but it's really the 3/4" seams it generates.) The more I look at this thing, the less I like it, so seaming it up just reminds me of how garish the yarn is, how much money I spent on it, and what a boondoggle the whole thing was. I did have the idea that I might overdye the whole thing with a blue dye. There's nothing there that would turn too terrible a color with a blue cast on it, and I think it might tone the whole thing down into something I could, um, stand to be in the same room with. Ironically (after running out of yarn twice), I have a fair amount of bits and pieces left over due to obsessive and pointless stripe matching, so I will try it on the yarn first. When I get around to it. I know you're not holding your breath.
We had a taste of spring this weekend and the kids and I took a trip to Tregellys, a local fiber farm. The farm is set on a ridge with a simply spectacular view, as you can see. There were new lambs all over, not to mention llamas, yaks, potbeillied pigs, camels (HUGE camels), turkeys...the list goes on. Best of all, the lovely owner let Henry & Eleanor feed a pair of bottle babies. There was one ewe who even I could tell was a) having twins, and b) about to drop any second. I was hoping she might have them while we were there, but no such luck. And of course, a birth might be a bit much for the kids to watch. But it would have been cool. There was this incredible alpaca with the most amazing red/brown fleece--I can't even describe it--and I asked about the fleece but the owner put me off a bit. I bet she wants it all for herself! Don't think I won't be stalking her at Cummington.
Unfortunately, I left the camera in the car for all the animal encounters, but I did get a photo of Henry walking around the Buddhist Stupa they have built on the farm. He was the only one who knew we were supposed to walk around it three times--El and I only did it twice. Who says there's no such thing as reincarnation?
If you go, and I recommend that you do, be sure to bring someone who's not afraid of dogs to deal with the welcoming committee. The dogs are perfectly fine, but it's a bit overwhelming at first as they greet you in the standard dog way: by barking their little heads off.
Rhys is off on a business trip this week, so I'd better get some sleep if I have any hope of not being a grumpy, yelly mom tomorrow. Nighty night.