Friday, August 28, 2009

Missed it by That Much

Recently, I finished these for my youngest brother.

Sam by Cookie A., Tanis Fiber Arts fingering weight in the Shadow colourway.

I put a lot of thought into this project, both about my brother and the socks themselves.  The yarn is by an indie dyer from Montreal, where he just finished his music degree.  The cables, to me, invoke the mountain peaks and icy waves that he would have seen out his window every day as he played jazz on a cruise ship doing the Vancouver-Alaska run.  LoML made me sock blockers in the larger size so that I could block them for his ski feet. (Okay, in fairness he doesn't have ski feet, but when the love of your life wears a 7 1/2 and he's the one you knit socks for, an 11 is ski feet).

They were made with love, and a lot of thought.  They were perfect.
Except for one teensy detail.

They don't fit.  Not too short, but too small all over, so it's back to the drawing board.

I've already found a pattern equally suited to his current gig on a cruise ship doing the Mediteranean route.  I'm pretty sure what yarn I'm going to use, just waiting on his colour preference.  And this time?  They'll be ribbed.

I'm so lucky that he thinks that it's the thought that counts, because the thought - and the love - was big enough. If only the socks had been. (Sorry Bud, I still love you and your ski-feet.)

Sunday, August 16, 2009

L'Homage a L'Harlot, L'Histoire & L'Homecoming

I love the Yarn Harlot. (Go read her blog if you haven't before. She's a goddess. I have all her books. She, as my sister would say, makes me happy in my heart. Go read. I'll be here when you get back.)

Friday night, the month-of-traveling-goofily came to an end, and, tidily enough, the socks that I cast on as travel knitting as the airplane took off for trip #1 (Vegas, June 28), were in my bag, finished, grafted, waiting for blocking. These socks were knit in six different cities (Las Vegas, Winnipeg, Boston, Toronto, Ottawa & Stratford). Most of the stitches were knit on airplanes, and - oddly - were only commented on once, by six rowdy civil servants on their way home from Churchill in a lame attempt to chat me up. (This flummoxed me so much that I screwed up the last few rows of the foot chart and had to rip back...but made me doubly grateful to the genius who invented the iPod, so we'll call it a draw. A hint, guys? If you're loudly discussing the relative "hotness" of the various flight attendants, and comparing your various "clever" methods of picking up the various locals in the various places you've been on this trip, it's pretty obvious you're not actually interested in my knitting, which is why I put in my headphones at the earliest opportunity. Just sayin', sound travels.)

The sock was my traveling companion through all of these trips, and functioned at various times as representative of excitement, passer of time, weirdness-magnet/slimeball repellant (see above), safe harbour from omnipresent newness-related anxiety, and, inspired by the Yarn Harlot, star of my touristy photos (I hope she doesn't mind the homage).

The sock visited Meech Lake, and enjoyed the beach, the sun, the history and the people watching.
It thought the Rideau Canal was pretty cool...
And, while it couldn't have its picture taken inside, still enjoyed the National Gallery quite a bit, even if the spider kind of gave it the willies. (At least it wasn't a moth.)
The sock surprised itself by how unbelievably patriotic it felt at Parliament... ...and wondered how a place so dignified could be the workplace of people who regularly exhibit behaviour that is decidedly not.

The sock supervised my sister and I as we had lunch at a pretty spectacular vegetarian restaurant...
...then boarded a train for Stratford, the Festival and my brother.

It saw the bluest water it's ever seen at Lake Huron:
...before having its toe grafted as a fish freshly caught from this very lake was on the barbecue.

The trips were wonderful. Seeing my siblings was food for my soul, learning what I did in Boston was a double espresso for my brain, and Las Vegas was a much-deserved, sequined, neon technicolor birthday cake of a celebration for the Love of my Life. The memories of the six weeks - airport lounges, slot machines, 112 degrees Farenheit, lobster, health care debates, more airport lounges, three books, patriotism, art, Shakespeare, Canadian history and family - are knit into this pair and, while I told myself all along that I was getting an early jump on Christmas knitting, I think they're going to stay here with me. Because these socks and I had many adventures together. And we are very, very glad to be home.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Progress Update

Back from Boston. Heading out to the lake and will blog properly when we're back. But in the meantime, here's a quick update: Highlight: Check out the dinner menu. I had lively conversation with intelligent, funny company (three counterparts from other Canadian hospital foundations) and ordered the Lobster Scampi (I say ordered, didn't come close to finishing, but got every bit of lobstery-goodness I could out of it. Man was it good). Treat beyond treat for a seafood-loving prairie girl.

Kevin's Kilt Hose went from this:
to this: and Pomatomus went from this:

to this:
So all in all, pretty productive, I'd say. See you in a couple of days...