July 27, 2011

Sheepish

It is a truth, commonly acknowledged, that I am a knitter.
Well, not just a knitter: an obsessed knitter.
A fiber addict.
A yarn harlot.
A wooly woman.
Give me two sticks and a string and I will find a way to turn it into something (even if "something" is just a few rows knit, pulled out, and knit again, merely for the fun of it).
I recently realized that, due to lack of body fat, this coming Fall and Winter are going to be rather serious affairs to get through comfortably. I've been meaning to put together a sort of bucket list of items I desperately want to knit, and actually work on getting them done; so I did. Sweaters, slippers, socks: you name it. My plan is mostly to knit my way through my two favorite knitting books: Weekend Knits by Melanie Falick, and New England Knits by Cecily Glowik MacDonald and Melissa LaBarre. Both are chock full of the most sumptuous and beautiful projects- clothing and otherwise- that I've been dying to create, and all exemplified on the page in stunning photography. Weekend Knitting is actually the book that got me into the craft in the first place: I sauntered past a copy in our library one day several years ago, fell in love with the pictures (and the patterns), and knew that I had to learn to knit, just so I could make those things. The rest, as they say, is history. 
I have spent the entire weekend and a bit of the past two days working on my latest project: a jacket-like sweater knit in a variegated wool that goes from a dusky white to a dark gunmetal grey, lightly accented by bits of a lighter blue and red. It's absolutely lovely. 
I just about finished the sweater this morning (pictures to come eventually), I just need to sew on the snaps and buttons, and she'll be done! I normally turn into a certifiable hermit when I adopt large projects: that is, I clam up in my room, or the kitchen, or even just my mind, and knit fastidiously away with little-to-no attention for the rest of the world. This is why I normally start (and finish) my projects on the weekend. 
However, I had to work this past Saturday and yesterday as well (not to mention today, tomorrow, Friday, and this coming Saturday!), so my normal state of mindlessness wasn't an option. 
The only problem this presents is my general preoccupation during the workday: the way my mind wanders the two-and-a-half miles back home, upstairs, into my room, and rests on the needles and yarn laid to rest until I come home and can take them up again.
But I digress: the sweater is almost done, and I'm already prepared to start my new project- a pair of argyle slippers- tonight. 
But I've decided that I'm going to be utterly selfish and throw caution to the wind at the risk of looking utterly crazy (which I am), and indulge my yarn and knitting addiction here for a moment. A moment which you all get to benefit from.
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Being an all-around lover of wool, I naturally like to pay homage to and delight over the source (Well, the source besides God): sheep.
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Anyone who earnestly loves knitting has, at some point, considered the thought of learning to spin yarn, moving to the country, raising sheep, and selling yarn, wool, and knitting. I ponder this possibility often. Practicality, however, begs my attention, and I believe I may have to stick to knitting as a mere obsession and not a career. However, if it were possible? I would in a heartbeat. 
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And then there's the yarn itself. Oh, lovely lovely yarn. 
You are all probably either rolling your eyes or gazing in confusion. 
After all, it's just a lump of fibrous stuff, right?
I'll pretend you just didn't ask that.
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I firmly believe on of the reasons I shall never get married is so that I'll have more room for my yarn. And be able to put it places like this. Also, because I may need that extra space in my bed for yarn as well. Or I could  just get a smaller bed and put the yarn in airtight boxes on the floor. Or in the mattress. Possibilities...
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The greatest curse in life could be being both a lover of natural lighting, natural colors, and natural fibers. It's the triple whammy with me. 
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You know you're a knitter when: pictures like this make you salivate.
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One of my favorite things in the world is the smell of wool. Especially wet wool. I know this probably sounds deranged and crazy, but I do! When I block my wool projects (Blocking: the art of getting the lumpy, knitted project wet, pinning it out, letting it dry, and ending up with a perfect, straight, non-lumpy project), I pin them to my bedroom floor on a towel. The smell of warm, damp wool fills the air, and gives me sweet dreams about knitting. *sigh*
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World's cutest knitting basket.
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I should like to point out that the sweater this person is wearing is not hand knit. Hypocrite. 
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And the cute illustrations are endless too!
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This is what I look like. In my mind. Which is a ball of yarn.
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World's cutest cake pops!
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Phew! Well; now that I've gotten that (partly) out of my system, I feel much better!
Well, for now. In the mean time, I'll give my fibrous ramblings a rest and let you all escape. 
I, however, have some snaps and buttons to sew on, and a workday ahead of me.
Cheerio, all you blogger-oos: knitters and non-knitters alike!


3 comments:

Mary said...

Oh my...last night I was thinking about you when I went to bed, and when I fell asleep I started dreaming about knitting! Is that weird or what? I think I want to learn to knit now. :) :)

Grace said...

Oh you most definitely should! I love love LOVE knitting (Nooo, really? Hehe!) so I support this inclination of yours fully! It's so much fun!

Melinda said...

Oh MY. ::drooooool::

By the way, one can adore yarn and still get married. That person (I will not say whom) just fills the linen closet with yarn (and very few linens). :-D