My husband came home and saw the collection of items for this post.  He asked me “what is all this stuff?”  I answered that it was for my F post.  “I’m struggling to see how a seahorse and an esspresso cup equal F.” 

Some people have scrapbooks and photo albums.  I have “stuff”.  In my kitchen cupboards, on shelves, beside my clock radio there is “stuff”.  I don’t see a toy or a book, I see the person behind it.   The “stuff” that came to me by way of those that are important.  My friends. My family.

It should come as no surprise that with an English teacher for a mother, that education was always treated with great importance.  However, to my parents credit, they were incredibly open minded as to the educational path choosen.   In high school, I had serious dreams of becoming a fashion designer or interior decorator.  My excellent math skills and high SAT scores mattered little to me.  In my junior year of school, I did not take the normal college prep classes - who needs extra chemistry or pre-calculus classes anyways.  Gentle prodding about wasting my talent and abilities along with a career assesment eventually steered me into an engineering degree.  But I always remember that if I had truly insisted on a career in fashion they probably would have let me.  They knew that I could always return to college for a different degree if the first one didn’t work out.  A valuable lesson that I would have never found in any classroom - do overs are always there for those willing to learn from their mistakes.

I know I read somewhere that k1, p1 draws your knitting in - resulting in a more narrow fabric that can still stretch as far as plain stockinette.  Every knitter’s how-to book talks of this amazing characteristic.  Sweater hems and necklines depend on this feature.  I also know with equal certainty that in spite of my daily mental exercises where I practice bending the world to my will I cannot turn the universe upside-down or inside-out.   Apprently, nor can I knit a k1, p1 that is smaller than all knit stitches.

Therefore, I can only conclude that my attempt to deal with my gauge issue for this sock is being thwarted at the highest levels of the knitting god’s kingdom.

That saying is so true when it comes to the shawl swap that Dyann proposed many months ago.  I had seen some of her previous work and knew that I would be getting a great shawl.  And did I ever!! 

The arrangement was to swap yarn and the knitter would choose the pattern.  The yarn owner would receive a finished shawl.  She sent suri alpaca in beautiful shades of grey, blue, and purple.  I sent a silk/wool blend hand dyed in my favorite color (Grand Traverse) by my LYS.  Not only did I get an absolutely beautiful shawl, she sent along some of her wonderful handmade clay mugs with tea to drink.

Dyann, you did a fabulous job - the knitting, the pattern choice, the blocking, all of it!   It has already seen action about town.  Thank you so much for suggesting this.

Me: “Why don’t we go out for dinner?”
Hubby: “I suppose so.  But don’t think that I don’t know the reason why.”
Me: “???”
Hubby: “You’re wanting to show off the shawl.  Dinner is just an excuse.”
He knows me so well. :)

Blocking has always been the best part of lace for me.  The shawl that I’ve been knitting for Dyann is the kind of lace that really benefits from a good stretch.  Of course while I’m blocking, I often wonder if it is worth the effort.  Keeping edges straight and even can be a real nightmare when a piece is overly large.  (Although my brilliant husband said that I should invest in one of these to help it go more quickly - seriously, why didn’t I think of this?)

But when it’s done, I know why the effort is worth it.  It is hard to see the potential in a lace piece while you are knitting it.  You have to have faith that it will be more beautiful than the pile of ugh currently on your needles.  I’m going to have a hard time letting this shawl go. The blocking did it’s magic - I should have never doubted.  Wanna see it too?  Unless you are Dyann.  Then you have no business clicking these links.  You’ll be seeing the real thing in a few days.  I mean it.  Don’t click those links.  I’ll know.  Don’t think I won’t.

Hubby works retail.  I work 9 to 5 (ish).  We often go several days without being able to sit down for dinner together.  When the planets align, the fates allow, his schedule has him home for dinner we tend to cook fancy.  Actually, I’d cook gourmet anytime without an excuse.  Lamb meatballs with a tomato rosemary sauce is one of our favorite dishes.  A little time intensive and the meatballs earn frequent flier miles with the number of times they are transferred to and from the sauce pan, but well worth it. 

I’m knitting a pair of star toe - Cat Bordhi new pathway gusset placement she calls Riverbed - but hey the stockinette is simple - socks. 

I’d be much further along on these socks if it weren’t for the strange vortex that distorts reality I was able to determine my gauge.  Depending on the amount of humidity, if I’m wearing wool or cotton, and if the minute hand is pointed up or down on the clock, my gauge is somewhere between 7.5 sts to 9 sts per inch.  I have even tried measuring the same row twice.  Can’t be done.  I get a different answer because a butterfly flapped it’s wings in some other country. 

Normally, I would take this all in stride.  Except these aren’t for me.  Or for anyone else within reasonable driving distance.  Or for someone who has the same size feet as someone within reasonable driving distance.  I am on my own for estimating fit.  Gauge is all I’ve got and so far it’s not playing fair.

So should I …  A) knit on and hope for the best, B) start over assuming size for the average gauge and hope for the best, or C) knit on as is for the first sock, knit the second sock in the average gauge, write a note to the intended recipient about how the universe conspired against me (and them by association to this whole affair), beg forgiveness that one sock will need to be reknit and could they please let me know which one that is, and hope for the best.