These are winter house socks for him, although my foot thinks that's unfair. The yarn is interesting: it's a pure Wensleydale Longwool aran weight from Cross Lanes Farm, bought at Woolfest because the yarn has a lovely sheen, is a perfect denim blue heathered with black, and I've been wondering whether Wensleydale would make a good sock yarn. I must have been a magpie in a previous life: I like shiny, worsted yarns that catch the light to show how the stitches flow in the fabric. And this is lovely stuff, shiny but soft, and developing a lovely slight bloom of loose fibre as I knit it. On 3mm needles (magic loop) it's making a dense, soft fabric that I think I've finally got sized to his liking for his feet. I just hope it doesn't felt badly during wear.
I'm beginning to feel the urge to knit a garment. Real clothing. Socks somehow seem a bit like 'cheating' now that I now I can knit them to fit me, and possibly him. I think I'll want something more challenging soon. So why on earth have I just ordered more sock yarn? Because on Sunday night I dreamed of knitting socks. I frequently dream of knitting. How sad is that? I'm actually not certain it is sad; it may be that my knitting skills will improve because of it. Let's keep thinking that, shall we?
Mindie, I bought two of the three patterns the Museum had for sale; the Gairloch diamond stitch pattern (charted) and another for a man's sock with Scotch thistles decorating the wide knit panels in the ribbing. A similar pattern with the Mackenzie stag instead of the thistle had sold out (not that I wanted it). Anyway, I dreamt I was knitting the Gairloch pattern. But not in sane, traditional colours. Apparently my subconscious wants 'Indisch Rot' and 'Gewitterhimmel' from Claudia, the Wollmeise. Next week I'll see if it's possible to do this without going blind. If I need a break, I could use the prize I won for donating to Claudia's MS Ride. Thanks, Rebecca!
I must say an even louder, more heartfelt 'thank you' to all of you for reading my words. It's such an ego boost to read your comments, especially when I'm feeling down. Incidentally, I don't know the best way to respond to questions in the comments; it's more personal if I answer directly in another comment, but I don't know whether you're obsessive enough to check for an answer, especially when as now I'm so slow.
Catsmum [Everyone stop reading this and go see the quilt!], I can only approximate the Gaelic pronounciation. I've got a 'Teach Yourself Gaelic' course sitting on my desk, but it takes more concentration than I'd thought; [did you see that lightbulb?] I might be able to manage it while knitting, though. 'Baosbheinn' I can do, sort of, because I checked with a native Gaelic speaker. It's my favourite of the Torridon mountains; I loved that long ridge even before I discovered the name means something like 'magic mountain/wizard's peak' or, alternatively 'hill of the forehead'. The latter because seen from the coast the western end looks a bit like a craggy, noble face. 'Baos', the first syllable, should sound like 'bush' but modify that 'u' with a hint of 'e' as it would sound in 'besh'. 'Bheinn' is roughly 'ven', with a short 'e'. I spent an entire evening muttering that name to myself so I can get it right. After all, names have power.
And now for something completely different. If you need a laugh and are in the right frame of mind, try lolcats. Some leave me cold, some make me smile and some make me LOL. ["Luke I is ur fathur"]. I'm also intrigued by the way such memes develop; Anil Dash has some thoughts on this here. And here's me this morning...*
Your Score: Sad Cookie Cat
65% Affectionate, 37% Excitable, 75% Hungry
You are the classic Shakespearian tragedy of the lolcat universe. The sad story of a baking a cookie, succumbing to gluttony, and in turn consuming the very cookie that was to be offered. Bad grammar ensues.
To see all possible results, checka dis.
|Link: The Which Lolcat Are You? Test written by GumOtaku on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test|
* Believe it or not, I actually threw the last half packet of Bourbon Cream biscuits (my favourites!) in the bin last night to prevent them following the first half down my throat. I can has cookie? NO.