Yarnification

[I wrote most of this on paper two days ago while I was away from a computer, but as it turns out, it is very inefficient to write blog entries on paper and then transcribe them onto the computer.]

I have put myself in a bit of a bind. My knitting/crochet bag seems to be at work. I, however, am at home. All my current projects are in that bag, as are the giant, big-as-baseball-bats size 11 dpns I thought I might try out.

In a desperate search for something crafty to do, I discovered a ball of worsted-weight wool that hadn’t yet been packed or moved.

I have not yet got the hang of dpns, but hope springs eternal. The size 11′s are for a project that uses a double strand of laceweight. I thought this might be helpful in figuring it out since I’ve only tried size 3′s before and they were so tiny and kept flying across the room unexpectedly, to the point where I was afraid I’d end up putting someone’s eye out.

It may have been the booze, but the size 11 dpns did the same thing the other night when I first tried with the laceweight. See, it came to pass that a half-full bottle of Bailey’s was found in a cupboard while packing up the kitchen, and it was decided by all present that this bottle was both bulky and breakable and therefore the only thing to do was for us to drink it, all of it, right then and there, rather than pack it, move it, unpack it and then drink it some other time.

It will not be disclosed how much of the Bailey’s I had to drink. Suffice to say a little while later I found myself trying to cast on 8 stitches, divide them between 4 dpns, and then arrange the resulting mess into a square so as to be able to figure out what order the needles were supposed to go in. While I was doing this, one needle shot right out of the middle. I cast on again, divided the stitches again, joined and started knitting—and then another needle went rogue on me.

Third time’s the charm, right? I got a whole round done, then started the second round, putting yarn-overs in places that were really not the same places dictated by the pattern. Then I looked at it and realized (a little late, maybe) that I was not really sober enough to be doing this, not by a long shot. At that exact moment Don looked over and asked me, “What the hell is that? Isn’t that way too many needles?” whereupon I collapsed in a fit of giggles. (I was actually accused of snorting, but that would be unladylike and totally uncharacteristic of a delicate flower such as myself, so clearly that never happened.)

Next thing I knew most of the needles were no longer holding any of the stitches.

That right there is how not to learn to use double-pointed needles.

So here I am this evening, perfectly sober and capable of anything (ha) but without any of my projects with me. I do have lots of crochet hooks, assorted straight needles, a set of size 5 dpns. Some other laceweight in my backpack—I’ve been carrying it around in there in a plastic bag and petting it in secret every so often. But no patterns handy, and no energy with which to figure out something to do without a pattern.

But I have those size 5 dpns. And that ball of wool I found. Maybe I can get the hang of this circular knitting thing once and for all.

[This picture was taken this afternoon, two days after I wrote all that. I finally figured it out.]

It ain’t perfect, but I think I got it. Coincidentally enough, it turns out that little tube fits around my wrist exactly, which tempts me more than I can say to keep on with it and make some fingerless gloves. But since the whole thing’s in stockinette, it wants to curl something awful, and I am not yet clever enough to know how to go about picking up stitches on the edge afterward to add some ribbing or something to keep it flat.