kimberkit: (Default)
I was going to post something about how my newest excuse to Neil for spending money (other than, "God hung a sign on me that said 'tempt me'") is usually: "But I spent it for you!" Case in point: sock yarn, $26, and I'll knit him one beautiful pair of socks after I get over being nervous about touching it.

Really, I realized, though, hangin' out with the so-awesome [ profile] regyt, though, that it's all about me. I'm a hedonist. I bought Koigu Painter's Palette sock yarn because it was incredibly luscious, touchable and had browns in sunset colors I'd never seen before.

Earlier today, when I went with [ profile] regyt to an amazing chocolate-and-coffee tasting, and I learned about things like acidity, body, fragrance, and flavor in coffee, I realized... I'm a taste slut. I love food. I adore the salad we had together, how smooth the goat-cheese was with the smoky-and-fruity balsalmic, paired with the savory tenderloin and full tomato-acid flavors. I'm sure I was drunk on the passionfruit-raspberry chocolate. For some reason, though, I am apologetic about going into spasms over things.

Some day I shall stop apologizing for being such a taste slut.

But meanwhile, I added peppermint extract to my seltzer when I got home and tasted salt on Neil's skin.
kimberkit: (Default)
One of the nice things about knitting is that it keeps you quiet and from turning into an ostrich, even when things feel crappy. Like today, when my throat is on fire because the cold I was fighting off got the better of me, I am still humming a silly song I made up. ("I'm a big girl now...")

The only tricksy thing is that I feel the urge to go buy more yarn.

I am daydreaming of the pretty green alpaca that I would like to match this dark grey-almost-black merino for the inside of Neil's hypothetical cloak. I should just buy it already, because the yardage and price are right, but I feel pretty bad about the alpaca I already bought for the sweater. So instead I just have eyeprints on it.
kimberkit: (Default)
I've been knitting to try to bleed off some of the crazy levels of anxiety I've had for the past month or so. It works, sort of, or I wouldn't keep it up. But here are some pitfalls for the unwary knitter:

  • Beware quality-of-yarn obsession. You might find yourself stalking ebay for yummy alpaca and cashmere and realizing you're contemplating spending more on yarn than you're actually making right now.

  • As a corollary to the above warning, beware: all of a sudden you'll find yourself talking to a lot of other knitters (who randomly just pop up everywhere, by the way -- the subway, the bus stop, and even if you're just walking down the street with knitting needles sticking out of your pocket!) Those knitters are not only similarly obsessive about the softness and touchability and quality of your yarn, but they point you to new yarn stores (like Schoolhouse Products) and they feed the yarn obsession.

  • Your knitting project may haunt your uneasy, already-anxious sleep.

  • Hanks of yarn -- twisted-pretzel-like shapes of yarn that yarn stores sell to you without even so much as a warning label -- are not possible to knit from without creating a giant tangled mess. That half hour of your life untangling the giant mess you created? You'll never get it back. It is unknown to anyone why they can't sell you the yarn in nice, center-pull balls that you don't have to spend 15 minutes winding (or buy a professional winder and yarn swifter), but I'm convinced of Conspiracy.

  • When knitting a project for a baby, you should ask Mom for the baby's measurements first. Do not simply look at the pattern that assumes an average size for this baby. You might get lucky, and have it fit. Or... it may turn out that the baby may, in fact, actually be a small beanpole, not a baby, and its legs at 6 months are longer and bigger than the sizing for the 18-month old size. Not that I was bitter.

  • Worsted-weight cotton (such as if you are attempting to knit a pair of "denim jeans" for a baby) is very, very unforgiving on the hands. You may break your wrists if you keep attempting to finish it fast. Stop being a monogamous project knitter and concentrate on the half-dozen other lovely woolly projects you're working on and imagining.

  • You can spot the obnoxious yarn-commenters by the aroma of alcohol on their breath. Your yarn never smelled like that, even right off the sheep, so pay attention to your nose. Yes, even if you're looking at your work. But he might have just been jealous of how pretty and soft the merino-cashmere cowl that you're knitting for yourself is.

  • If you attempt to knit blind, while, for example watching a movie in the theatre, be prepared to curse when you discover your mistakes. Other patrons may wonder whether you have Tourette's. Your husband may confiscate your knitting in this case.

  • Ravelry may lead to more time lost than actual knitting does.

I'm sure I'll run into other knitting adventures for your amusement soon. Meanwhile, even if this is ultimately less dramatic than Kim's never-ending TragiComedies In Inappropriate Infatuation, it sure is more fun.


kimberkit: (Default)

March 2012

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