There's something to be said for miles and miles of stockinette knitting. It's easy, especially when done in the round; you don't have to pay much [any] attention to it, so it's great to take to knit night or any other time you want to be talking and knitting; it even works when you're watching a movie with subtitles.
On the down side, it's mindnumbingly boring. It's knitting that can be done if you're in a coma. If you're not in a coma when you start, you will be by the time you're done.
On a top-down, raglan sleeve, sweater, after the yoke is finished, and you're no longer increasing for the shoulders/sleeves, there is nothing to do but knit. No increases to keep track of, no decreases to keep track of. Nothing fancy like yarn-over's; or my favorite double vertical decrease. Just knit, knit, knit, knit, knit. Not even the occasional purl to yank you out of your stupor, let alone a stray cable.
Getting to the ribbed cuff was jumping into a cool refreshing lake. Thee was something else to do beside knit. I got to Knit 2, Purl 2. Yeah, that's exciting. Not. So, anyway, hopefully Tim will be wearing a sweater with both of its sleeves on Saturday.
Of course, this means that when I'm not knitting I'm looking for the next project. I've come into possession of Barbara Walker's "The Craft of Lace Knitting", copyright 1971. In it are the most lovely lace stitch patterns, and I think I'm hearing the call to design another shawl. I was so pleased with how Caribbean Breeze came out. I've gotten compliments every single time I've warn it, and not just by knitters. Strangers have stopped me to comment on that shawl. Ladies and Gents, we have a winner.
So now, my little creative brain is thinking about what to do next. I don't know, but I'll get there. But first, I have to finish the boring red sweater (which is so comfy, I know Tim's going to wear it all winter).
Whatever is next is going to be lace. It will be more complicated than what I've done so far. And, as much as I've queued a whole bunch of lace shawls...I'm kind of more interested in designing my own, so we'll see what this winter's projects are.
I know I want to knit Mr. Greanjeans, for myself. I'm going to do some kind of Aran pullover for himself (I must love him a lot), and more socks.
Also, I need, need, need to spin!!! And, I want to do some lace project with my handspun. Looks like I can keep myself busy all winter, and I haven't even been to Rhinebeck yet.
If, like me, you're appalled at the idea that Sarah Palin is qualified to be the President of the United States, check out this video. If you're not appalled, you've probably not been paying enough attention.
But on to other topics.
I was in the pool at the Y the other night and starting wondering about something. The pool isn't that big. It's a standard, olympic sized pool. 8 lanes. 2 lifeguards, one for each side. Now, each of the lifeguards has, strapped to him or herself this big red floaty thing. Strapped to them.
A couple of things occurred to me.
1. I know it's a flotation device, but why does a lifeguard watching 650 square meters of water need a flotation device? Personally, I'd like to think that someone guarding my life would know how to swim.
2. How long does it take a swimmer wearing nothing but a bathing suit, jumping off a 6' high chair to get to the bottom of the furthest, deepest part of the pool.
3. How much LONGER does it take for the same swimmer to get to the same place with a big, ungainly, red flotation device strapped to his/her back? I understand the need for flotation devices in open water situations, but the pool at the Y? Isn't that like hunting mosquitos with an elephant gun? Maybe I'm strange, but in a save my life situation, I think I'd prefer someone getting to me fast and yanking me to the top, rather than being hampered by the big red floaty thing with the long leash worn on the back of the person who is supposed to be saving my life.
4. I wonder how many lifeguards get tripped by the leash on the big red floaty thing when they're trying to get out of the chair in a hurry? (like in a life-saving situation).
These are the things I think about while swimming laps at my local Y.
On to the weekend recap:
This past weekend we went apple picking with friends, including 15 and 19 year-olds. There is nothing quite as good as an apple plucked directly from the tree. They're different. Crisper. Juicier. Sweeter. Tarter. Better.
I'll leave you with pictures.