On the way off Cape Breton I went here:
and replenished my stash with this (which really isn't very much when it comes to a stash if you know much about a knitter's stash at all and mine was nearly gone):
For an amount of money that would have been staggering stateside. In other words, stateside I'd have felt it up longingly and then walked right back out the door I came in. I can give it a good squeeze and walk away lanolined for the day. Or night. Whichever.
Last night I started unwinding and balling the skeins (but just what I need, one at a time). I don't need anyone to hold this for me and I don't need one of those ridiculous machines. It's like a corkscrew; I'll take a sturdy waiter's jackknife over a rabbit any day. Please. Seriously. Just unwrap 10 times and drop it loosely on the floor (VERY loosely and no more and maybe a little less) and ball that thing.
I dislike more than I can tell you the time spent on a gauge swatch. Seriously, this drives me batshit ESPECIALLY if it doesn't work out and I have to rip it out, get another needle size and start it over again which is EXACTLY why I have to do it in the first place.
(That's sloppy shit in the upper right and I don't want to hear it) Does this look like a 4 x 4? No. No it does not. It looks like a 4 x 3. The pattern gauge is 16 x 23 gives you 4 x 4 with a size 7. uh uh. I don't have an 8 apparently so I look for a 9 and then I find a 10. eh. Fine. This is the result with a 10. I have larger needles but this is no longer an option because I still have 4 with the 16 if I go any larger I'm going to end up with something, um, really interesting and now it's time to alter the pattern. Casting on will be fine.
I've lost all but three of you.
Hang in there.
So back to my needles and everything else. I'm going bonkers last night looking for straights and all I can find are doubles and circulars and I realize that at some point I started knitting only in the round or with doubles for sleeves, socks, fishnet stockings (yup, Cletus went through a phase and boy were they colorful) and the tops of hats because I don't much care for piecing shit together. Baby sweaters, I think I did those with doubles with caps. I do blankets on wicked long circulars. I have an amazing collection. It comes to me last night that several years ago I was a freaking lunatic, culminating with the creation of 16 really unique hats in 16 evenings which is what finally depleted the stash. This happened between Thanksgiving and early December 2010 and then packed it all away.
At 11:25 last night I looked up at the clock and panicked. I'd just finished casting on and was trying to work out whether or not it was worth putting on the first row or two or maybe four or 10 (HELLO????) to see if that rib pattern was going to work out the way I wanted with the needle size I was going to start with (because I'd like to know sooner than later if I have to rip out and start over which means I need to find another set of needles because I clearly don't have what I need maybe Walmart on Wednesday just to be sure) and this was litterally going through my head along with the 11:25 panic and the HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN conversation (OK, that's not a conversation, it's more like a directive with courtesy punctuation) and just like that I threw the whole thing down on the table like it was on fire, picked up the phone and sent NM a text:
OK bed :-)
That's it. Not, I think it's time for bed, or I'm getting ready for bed or I'm thinking it might be time but OK bed. To be fair, it was nearly 90 minutes past my desired bedtime so it shouldn't have been a surprise to either of us that I'd be bolting for my pillow but still. Abrupt. The dog was already crated, the front door locked, the lights mostly out. I grabbed my toothbrush from my still unpacked bags and ran down the hall. Looking back down the hall I thought, maybe just one row...
I slammed the door just missing the cat's tail as he bolted for the bed.
Cast on 86 and start working up the back...