Monthly Archives: November 2017

A lazy post about another pair of socks

Eh, shit’s busy – working more to make up for vacation time, dealing with more house malfunctions, putting the garden to rest, and feeling the need for more rest that comes with less light.

Once again (as always) just as I though that the cuffs would never end, they did.

And since it’s cold now (several premature-ish killing frosts here already) there are always wool socks in the laundry, so I have room in my wool sock drawer for them after all.

I’m still not in love with the colorway, but I’m happy with them and their process to completion. I bought the yarn somewhat on impulse and very much on sale just a couple of years ago – in fact, I think it was the last time I bought any sock yarn, and it was knit up within a reasonable amount of time and became something I will wear often.

I’d come off a stretch of not knitting any socks for a few months and wasn’t particularly excited about starting this pair.

But then they took off and I favored them over other projects.

I finished the feet and the first couple of inches of cuffs while on vacation.

Most of the time I sat on a footstool in front of an open window listening to a neighbor dog sing along with church bells and feeling the autumn sun warm on my shoulders while my fingers did their thing.

(And there was a memorable several-hour knitting session at the base of a mountain I couldn’t climb while N could.)

Then suddenly we were home and it was cold and the light was gone and my fingers did their thing in the dim in front of the boob tube.

And now cold rain falls and they’re on my not cold feet.

Next pair? These left me with enough scrap that I finally have enough total scrap for a scrappy pair. Or I can suck it up and finally make some boring fine-gauge “business socks.” Or I can double up the yarn for another thick pair. Or I think I’ve got one more ball of this same yarn kicking around somewhere so I could do a quickish repeat, but it is a brown/light colorway and I need more greys and darks. So the last option is probably out, but the others are all up for grabs.

Knitting notes: ONline Supersocke (sport weight) on US 2 dpns. The yarn was a mess – many knots and color breaks – it could have been a seconds batch since I got it cheap, but the label didn’t have any seconds/defective markings…? Provisional cast-on 64 stitches, plain knitting to toe while reducing 4 sts on foot, then unpicked CO and knit cuff up. I decided to do a p3, k1 ribbing so more of the smooth side would be against my leg and for the sake of something different, but I didn’t want to p3, so I knit on the inside stitches first, then turned the sock inside out so it was k3, p1 after all.

 

 

 

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Autumn home and away

We finally made it back to Italy.

I17-fonte pacile

New needy house, new needy dog, future uncertainties, and the fluctuating costs of travel kept us away for the last few years. It was all over in a flash though, and I’ve never been less interested in returning to my home country…

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But for a few brilliantly sunny days we hiked some familiar and new trails, ate some familiar and new food, and stuck much closer to the familiar little city, but in a new little house.

We were oddly thwarted from many planned days – mountain passes closed (since just after we were there last 3 years ago!), restaurants too crowded for lunch, other places inexplicably shuttered – but we found other routes and other places and all was fine in the end.

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Even better than fine – my shredded knees kept their complaining to a minimum and I finally felt their restrictive grip released a bit for the first time in years.

(And Italy is always downright magical in terms of taking away all of my allergies and mild dairy/digestive issues…)

But there’s always one hike that flirts with going very wrong in every trip, right? One new-to-us trail that was supposed to be an easy/lazy couple hour meander suitable for infants and elderly (according to a tourist map) took a turn for the tired, sweaty, and absurd and involved mildly frightening encounters with wild boars, an unavoidable boot-sucking mud pit, and hand over hand scrambling underneath power lines.

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It all went tits up when the trail markers ceased and all signs pointed (inexplicably in english) for endurance in all directions. But the tourist map was still accurate for way finding, though it left the infants and elderly in the dust looking for their broken glasses.

And several hitchhikers joined me for a few excursions – the mantis population seemed to have exploded and grown to monstrous proportions.

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And we sought N’s ancestors and ancestral places – finally finding a house (or what was left), but not graves – most of the town was pointlessly annihilated in WWII.

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I missed visiting with a few fiber folks and buying wool, but I ate the beast from which it comes and sipped from the same fonts.

The weather was entirely perfect, the autumn in full color, and the markets still stocked with the peaks of harvests.

But autumn is still here at home – even a bit slower perhaps – and the white throated sparrows are back, and the garden is still giving us patty pans, carrots, greens, and a few last winter squash…

But we also returned to a dead boiler, yet more job rejections for me, and my need to re-enter the shitzoo that passes for public healthcare in this (currently really fucked up) country.

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So while my mountain sunshiny vitamin D high wears off, and I’m not making up work hours, I’m getting my nesting game on – clearing out (or at least organizing) the clutter, shaking out the woolens, considering baking a bit, debating yet again if one of those light alarm clocks is worth the clams, and knitting and spinning with more ferocity to keep my hands warm.

And snuggling with the beast.

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