Herman est Mort

We must now refer to the garment formerly known as Herman as "The Main Street Sweater". This shall be it's new and forever title, named by Kathy Elkins because I was so stuck on Herman I could not see past it. Besides, it's really her sweater now, so I have little attachment to it's name. It's done, and upon finishing I enjoy it more. I don't say love, because that would be a total lie or at the least an overestimation of the facts in the case. But the shape is good, simple, and I like the more open neck, and the colors are working for me more now, and speaking to me though softly. If it were for myself I'd do something very different with the colorwork, more squares and rectangles, a rectilinear yoke broken down into literal and minimal blocks of color.

Oh for the love of...Mel. Would you LOOK at this? This is an old cast-off treadmill shoe. It has to be more than a year old, and it was heading for the trash as all good shoes must in time. It's not just his favorite toy. It's like a bosom companion, a security blanket of sorts for when his Girl leaves him alone. He plays with sneakers, just like a D-O-G. The thing is not a cat. It's a dog, and every new revelation of his personality only proves it.

Speaking of dogs, we have a visitor. My dad's dog Tucker, a Welsh Terrier is here for a week while Dad is in Dallas, TX. Tucker is a persnickety person. He's used to having his own way, and can be quite grumpy when he does not get it. I adore him. Usually. Here he is shown attempting to assist me in the completion of Herm...I mean the M.S.S. He climbed right up, unasked, onto my lap. I spoke kindly and gently. I urged him to remove to his usual station. I begged. I broke out in a cold sweat, imaginging claws wrapped around yarn pulling, pulling, relentlessly pulling...Tucker sensed my concern. But his pride was greatly injured. He removed, and then refused to speak to me for the remainder of the day except to poop on the floor and stare at me in a very challenging manner. He's a canine extraordinaire! He's something totally other. He's something I'd never pick if I were puppy shopping, but entrancing to know and have around. BooBoo loves him and hates him. Being a jealous dog by nature, Boo cannot stand it when Mommy says things like "Tucker, what a good boy!" or "Tucker, come here and sit by me!" or "Tucker ,(fill in the blank)." Kioshi just wants to - and would eat him if she got the chance. I am not sure why. In their respective puppyhoods they got on just fine; nay, well even. They played very well together and had a wonderful time. Something changed - probably Kioshi's new status as "grumpy old lady". The cats have their own opinions. Mel avoids Tucker. Hannah stalks him like he's prey, and he runs from her. This will make my father happy. Tucker has finally learned the truth about cats. Truth being "OUCH!"

hermina.

Embrace the sweater...love the sweater...embrace the sweater...love the sweater...

It's going to take a lot more than one glass of wine to create a loving environment for this puppy. But it's nearly done, so that's a good thing. I want a mulligan on it. I do not like the neckline. I do not like the colorwork. I want to make a new version, and I shall eventually do so, but not for at least two weeks, because Malea needs her rockstar, and that must and shall be a priority. As of Monday, totally as of Monday it's definately, totally a huge priority!!
And check this - one skein of custom dyed Kangaroo Dyer yarn, using Valley Yarns laceweight alpaca silk. Deee-vine, very Melissa colors, and I cannot wait to decide what to do with it! Design something I think, at least that's the plan.
Wish me luck! Tomorrow I teach a group of kids, ages 7 and up, homeschoolers (phew!), to drop-spindle in a town an hour from home. And my life for two weeks has been Herman (Hermina). Will be interesting to see if I can stay awake, speak coherently, etc. I am taking my assistant (Girl!!) with me to do the actual demonstrating of said drop spindling. I am entirely too brain-fried to even remember how to use the wheel, let alone the accursed spindle. I've never been a drop spindle fan.
But you know, it was a turkish spindle, purchased at Cummington a long long time ago that started the whole thing. After that came The Babe, (double treadle Fiber Starter that I later sold on eBay for what I paid! - how can you not adore a wheel who's parts can be bought at a hardware store??), and then I procured enough Ashford stuff to bea Kiwi, and then I taught myself to knit, and then I discovered Webs, and the rest is, well...Mystory! I miss spinning. I miss the peace of it. Maybe after tomorrow, inspired by the youth, I'll make more time.

Perfectly Normal Chaos

This is my life. I really despise clutter, and the amount of frantic energy working into a project is directly proportional to the amount of chaos and clutter around me. When the garment is done, the clutter fades, everything is tidied back up, and I go back to a more sensible frame of mind and of space. From now until the design process is complete, this is my life. I am shooting for Tuesday afternoon as a clean-up day, when the final plans are in place and I can move on to just knitting the thing. What thing?
This thing. This is Herman the Lenox Swatch. Lenox is a new yarn that I would marry if I could. I love it. Fantastic yarn, well spun, great fiber content, soft, perfect. But the swatch? We are not in love. We may be by the end of things, but this is a truly hated garment, not like Make/Colorful Tracks which I just loved from the beginning. In fact, I hate Herman. But somehow, Herman must become a fair isle-ish pullover by next Monday. This is Herman the Sketch, with two neckline variations, and a looser sleeve than planned. I am thinking shaped pullover with a 3/4 sleeve. Neckline to be determined.

This is a completely unfinished (unblocked, unlined, un-ready to go) bag in a new yarn, Colrain. I also adore this yarn. I actually wanted a bag because I have a sweater in mind, but time being what it is, and the yarn being where it is, I must content myself with the bag for now. It has tencel in it which gives it a lovely shine that's perfect for stitch definition; think cables, twisted stitches, K/P combinations. I love it. Soft as a baby's butt. This is the bag pattern. Too funny for words! Eventually the bag will be finished and the pattern written properly, all by Thursday. Also on tap for Thursday is a Stripey Sock, in Valley Yarns new superwash which I also love, love, love! It is everything you could ask for in a superwash. Soft with a satiny feel, lovely bounce, great stitch definition. In fact, if things keep up, I may never need to buy any yarn but Valley Yarns ever again. All I need now is a superwash fingering weight for socks and baby goods. Solid colors only, none of this striping stuff, with a touch of nylon for durability and long wear. Sorry there's no links to the yarns at Webs website, but this is how new they are; they are not even posted yet. In fact, the ink is not dry on the ball bands, and the seams on the bags are not cooled from sealing. We're talking new-new. Brand new baby new.

Things here have been nutty, which is fast becoming typical. We had such a long run of peace and quiet that the last couple of years have been shocking; gradually increasing in drama and excitement, and I wish it were all over. In fact, I cannot wait until it is all over. I prefer a life in which I need no vacation because it feels like one every day to this constant intensity. First the "investment property" was cleaned and prepared for sale, which took our first potential vacation. At last it was on the market, then it was under deposit and things were looking up - it'd close in time for us to go away, maybe! And then the sale fell through. As the sale was falling through, Girl's brakes failed on her way to school, our truck needed a bunch of work, our septic had a tantrum involving unusual odors and products filling up the basement shower pan, I got some not so great medical information (nothing life-threatning, just life-adapting, and I hate change). I am holding onto sanity by designing ugly F.A. swatches from a cashmere blend and cute little cabled bags and striped superwash socks. Luckily one of the suggested life adaptations involves a lot of sweat in the form of walking on the treadmill, biking more inside and out, and lifting weights. This is a good thing. Pain is distracting. The variety is also excellent, it prevents boredom. And being told that you can have some control over a disease process by life choices is really amazingly liberating. I CAN choose. Most people can't. Exercise calms the mind and soothes the soul. We did a short ride (for him - long for the beginner in spite of the hours on the trainer with Good Old Coach Troy) yesterday with hills and cars and all the other unexpected things a road ride has to offer, except mechanical failure. Some guy in a mini-van was so close to me that if I'd stuck my elbow out I would have contacted his vehicle. Mr. Wonderful tells me that these people are everywhere, and he has a special name for them which I cannot repeat. It is a naughty name, a potty-mouth name, but it fits. I sense that cyclists are a source of amusement for some folks in cars. "Hmmm...how close can I get?" I understand the frustration of a driver confronted with bikers in the middle of the road. But I wasn't in the middle of the road, I was on the white line, there were no other cars coming, there's no breakdown lane...and no excuse for the proximity of that car to my elbow. It made me angry. Not scared. Not sad and sorry. Mad as H-E-Double Hockey Sticks. I wanted to chase the guy down and yell in his face. He threatened my new baby.

So now Girl's car is fixed, and the truck is running, and the septic is happy and clean, and I am adapting to lifestyle changes and assorted expenses I had not anticipated, and the "investment property" is back on the market with a new agency. Life is good. God does not send more than you can handle. It just seems like it some days. This week it's seemed a lot like God was confused about who He was handing stuff out to, and just got stuck over our names and kept doling out little bits of insanity. He's got a plan and all, but somedays I wish He'd share, just enough so I know there's a point. So I move forward, praising in the face of the dishes of trouble. We spent yesterday at the I.P. washing windows, and scrubbing walls and dusting and mowing and all of that. There is an open house today. I am prayerful, and hopeful, and believing that I will have a buyer by this evening.

Get Knitting.

For a good cause, even...
A recent study by Save the Children illustrated easy and inexpensive steps to save the lives of newborns and infants. One of the simplest ways to preserve life and health is the wearing of simple knitted or crocheted hats.

So what are you waiting for? Go to Save the Children and download your pattern packet and instructions for hat submission, and get those needles moving. Caps to the Capital wants 250,000 knitters. I bet we could give them a lot more than that by January 2, 2007.

Weak Entry

Not the weakest, but pretty crappy.
First I have a picture, such as it is, of the shawl for Gail during blocking. I will get a couple of more in the next couple of days of it on a person or on the dummy for Gail's use. I need to write the pattern today. It should be fairly quick and leave lots of time for vegetative knitting and watching of old movies purchashed at Christmas Tree Shops with my MIL on Tuesday. Girl found two sets; comedy and romance, 8 movies each, and not all garbage. But I digress - about the shawl. For the moment I am calling it the Cape May Shawl because it reminds me of a certain resort at a certain location that shall, for the sake of Betsy, remain nameless. It may be simply that I have that location on my brain this week in sheer desperation for a True Vacation, or it may be that the colors remind me of the place, I am unsure. Regardless, Cape May it shall be called, and I have no idea when or where it will be available, because it's going to be Gail's pattern. Kangaroo Dyer's pattern. I love it the more I look at it. Initially, during early blocking I was disgusted. It took patience. Once it was all pinned out and the ogees became more obvious, and the colors were doing what I'd wanted them to do - no pooling just drifting in and out like waves on the sand - I was pleased. Because there is not a huge dramatic difference in the colors the flow works. If it were a distinctly variegated yarn I think there's be too much competition. (ogee: a shape consisting of a concave arc flowing into a convex arc, forming an s-shape curve with vertical ends)
Gratuitous detail shot...taken just before Boo-Boo decided to move in for a nap. He just strolled up to the blocking board, stepped on and started to curl his tail under him to lay down. I stood in shock, motionless and speechless while Girl shouted at him. The lug. What an idiot. "Oh, look, pins and a shawl, I will rest here!" You should know that we've spent a lot of time trying to get him to lay down on approved dog beds and he is terrified of them all. But knitted lace, straight pins, and a very hot scunci? No problem. Sigh. I really like the color. It's not "my" colors at all, but I love them just the same. I am glad there is not a great deal of drama in the coloway so that your eye is not constantly flicking back and forth - ogee, color, ogee, color, what should I look at first? You can really only get away with this kind of pattern if the color shifts are subtle. For an example of why not to use rich patterns with deeply contrasting colorways, you can refer to MIL's shawl (that she does not know about, so SHHHH)in permanent time out. And it's much bigger now than it was then. It's about 18 inches long and I don't know how many inches wide. Too much diversity of color, to much shine from the silk, it must be Destroyed and ReKnit in simple purse stitch - let the yarn do the work.
In other stimulating news...Girl's cat has reached new levels of weirdness. He is obsessed with one sneaker of a pair that was heading for the trash. Now she won't let me throw it away. These are beat-down treadmill shoes and were replaced Tuesday with new Nike walkers. Apparently, just riding your bike is not good for your bones. Picky. So now I throw in a treadmill routine with ankle and wrist weights at least once a week for 1hr 20m. It's boring. I need a Runervals dvd so I have something to look at. Coach Troy, amusing me on the bike nad off the bike. It is possible that I have ADHD. Apparently so does Mel, and he's turning to old sneakers for friendship and amusement. Girl started college this week. Maybe the loneliness is driving him to sneaker-lust? He may need therapy. He gets weird when she leaves, lays by the door just like when she goes to work, and weird when she comes home too. He comes flitting from whatever space he's inhabiting, trotting to the door like a DOG. I just can't get over it.
I had a physical last Friday. The decision to schedule it well in advance of my birthday trip was a good one. Just get it all out of the way; pokes, prods, blood work, any associated bad or good news. That way when we go away I can just do what one does on vacation - rest, relax, and reflect. And para-sail, and have margaritas and go upside down on roller coasters and float in lazy rivers and play mini-golf and maybe rent a water mouse, and ride bikes and kayak a little. Part of me really wishes it were December already!!

No Excuses

But I can make some up as we go along here.

I have not blogged since the 17th, and I have no good excuse. There's been some knitting, but nothing exciting or finished. I am working on two projects at the moment. No...three. Wait. Four. Oh. I forgot Gene's Endless Socks; that makes five.

There are no pictures. First, I am working on Malea's Rockstar Jacket in Royal Bamboo. I like this pattern, the charts are very clear and easy to follow. Unless you have a row gauge issue. And then you have to stop and re-jig the charts so your decreases for the arm scyes happen correctly. But we're not going to discuss that right now, or my eye will start to twitch again. Since Malea has given me the mugs and I sip from them every morning, I feel obligated to haul tushie on this project. At the same time, I must go cautiously, calculating as I go to compensate for the row gauge difference between the yarns. So I take breaks here and there and work a few rows of other projects.

Nearing completion, and I am hopeful for today, is a shawl for Gail, a.k.a. Kangaroo Dyer. She had some lovely stuff that she'd dyed up and needed pattern support for. My plan was for an undulating wave-like pattern, simple but dramatic, in a rectangle shape with a simple crocheted ruffle edging. It should be done today or tomorrow and then I can post a picture. Then I have to write it and email it to her with some photographs, assuming I can find a willing model. She's requested a specific model, and it's not even Cirilia, but I am not sure if we'll have compliance.

In between times I work on another Noro Silk Garden project for myself, a garter stitch cardigan now after my Revised Klaralund. OH! The Cirilia-Lund!! I forgot to get a picture of that, and it's being washed now. Oh well. Suffice to say that it took me days of endless wearing to release it for washing and blocking. I love the thing. That's only three. What am I forgetting?

I remember - I am teaching a round of My First Sweater this fall and I needed to make a sample of the garment using the pattern before I try to teach it to others. I ambitiously decided to do an adult size. MISTAKE. I don't have time, who was I kidding?? So that's in progress and will have to get some attention soon. I cannot even remember when class starts. AH! The end of September. See, I've got time, all sorts of time!!

And Gene's Endless Socks, unusual for me because I whip socks off like nothing, but these ones seem stuck to the needles and have given no indication of leaving any time soon.

On top of this we have Life Complications. 1.) The Investment Property (this is a tongue in cheek concept, folks, we'll be lucky to get out even) is under deposit, but not yet sold. That means we are paying two mortgages and since no one stays in the house but us once a week or so, there's no rental income. We don't like to say that in front of Mr. Wonderful. He gets this look, and mumbles words I can't repeat. 2.) Summer. I don't know why, but summer sucks up time. It's like they have some competitive thing going, who can beat who to the finish line. Days get shorter, time disappears. Projects need completing, events need attending.

Speaking of events. Poor Girl. This is very sad, and is getting sadder. For Girl's graduation she requested, and was given, tickets to see John Mayer at The Meadows in Hartford. I bought three tickets. One was for Girl. One was for me. The third was for Mr. Wonderful, because we needed either a driver, or a room for the night. MelissaKnits turns into a pumpkin promptly at ten pm. Mayer was appearing with Sheryl Crow, and we grown-ups are fans enough of hers to listen for a couple of hours. And I like Mayer, actually, now that he's steering away from the pop-scene and into a more blues-influenced style. We got in line just before 6pm. The gates were supposed to open at 6, and we'd skipped supper, intending to be really bad and eat junk. We waited. We waited and waited and waited. At 6:30 a security guy emerged and surveyed the scene. We asked him what was up. The response "Something with production, they're not telling us anything, but we should be opening any minute." We waited some more. We waited and waited and waited. And waited. People started smoking, Girl started coughing. Asthma is so fun to take on the road. And now the crowd stretched behind us, up a hill behind a thing called 'The Expo Center' (don't ask me, I live in the woods!), and was fanning out on either side of us and getting deeper and thicker every minute. It reminded me of why we live in the woods.

Now 7:00 with a 7:30 starting time...and security emerges again, hinting at something complicated, but not saying what. I watch him as he finds friends in the ticket line just to our left and begins speaking to them. Reading faces and gestures can be as effective as reading lips, you know. Things were about to turn sour. As I am watching them converse and trying to glean as much information as possible from their faces, the overhead intercom comes on. A tape began playing over and over; you know the kind, the relentless repetitive recordings that make you want to smash speakers? It appologized, and citied technical difficulties. It did this over and over and over. I turned to Mr. W. and said "They're gonna cancel it." Girl was initially crestfallen but stubborn in her belief that it would work out. She ended peeved at my suggestion that Mayer would ever disappoint his fans. Then security people emerged, all wearing headsets and each carrying a sheet of paper. The woman in charge said "OK, let's get started." The security folks fanned out and started reading their handwritten announcements. "We regret to inform you that John Mayer will not be performing tonight." In front of me, two young teens looked ready to cry. I felt for them. So did Girl. They got out of line. The announcement continued... "If you wish to receive a full refund for tonights performance, do NOT enter the gates. Refund information will be made available on our website early next week. Sheryl Crow will perform her full headline set. If you wish to see Sheryl Crow, please enter the gates. If you enter the gates, no refund will be given." By now the overhead intercom had joined the song. No Mayer. A fuzzy lollipop for Girl. A big huge fuzzy lollipop.

We debated. We considered. I was about ready to pass out from hunger. I'd done 80 minutes on the treadmill and skipped lunch. I was running on a handful of peanuts. I was in a cold sweat and my hands were shaking. Mr. Wonderful did his weekly 3 hour ride in the morning and also skipped any real lunch, figuring we'd eat "crap" instead. We'd been in line for an hour and a half, plus. I needed to pee. Girl was wheezing from smokers. The line behind us was endless. I wondered how long it would take us to get back to our car, and questioned whether we really wanted to be leaving the parking lot with a bunch of angry tailgaters. And I like Sheryl Crow. My daughter does not. She wanted to see Mayer. This was supposed to be the capstone on her last summer of girlhood. Jamie Cullum at the Calvin, then Mayer at the Meadows, and college next week. I felt bad asking her to enter the gates. I knew she really had lost the ambition to step through that queue line into a location where Mayer would not be performing. We pointed out the Mayer merchandise - a t-shirt perhaps? A tour item, not available online... and food - there's food in there...she entered with us.

We ate food that was horrible - it had been sitting in it's own grease for 1.5 hours waiting for early entry folks. Really really horrible. I downed a Blimpies wrap so fast I don't even know what was on the thing. Girl and Mr W. got a worse deal than I did. They ordered hot food. A hot dog that had cooked for an hour and a half too long, and fries and chicken fingers that were cold and had absorbed 1.5 hours of grease. I personally topped my lousy food with worse beer - Bud draft - I am not sure it gets any worse than that. It indicates the desperation of the moment that I was willing to drink the King of Yellow-Water. Mr Wonderful caved and had one too.

Here's where it gets sadder - Mayer has announced that he's going to do "something nice" for his Hartford fans. I assume this will only be people who requested and received a refund. Because we entered the gates, Girl won't even get to be part of the special Hartford fan moment. Guilt. Maternal guilt coming out of my eyeballs. Almost as bad as when we left the Nickel Creek concert early because I was worried about Boo (he was a baby then) and we found out later that just after we left they shut down the amps and played acoustic - they way they're meant to be heard - for another hour or more.

I got a t-shirt (Sheryl, breast cancer awareness) to wear on my bike and a canvas bag (Every day is a winding road..."), and Girl got a Mayer hoodie, and spent the evening responding to "Are you cold?" with "No...John is keeping me warm....".

OK...now one shining note of joy, one blip of happiness on the sad radar of Girl's bad weekend...

I'm expecting. Any minute, maybe even today. This is my new baby. A Trek Pilot 1.2 WSD. Isn't she beautiful?? I had to order a 43cm frame, as I am too short to be anything remotely "in stock". She should be at the shop today and assembled by afternoon, so I can go and fetch her home. I traded the toe clips out for clipless pedals, so now have to commit to riding clipless on the road, which is a little worrisome, but everyone assures me I will only fall over once. The last time I was on the road was 2 years ago, at our old house, on my hybrid Specialized which I took tooling around town for bank, post office and library errands, and local farm chores. (Farmers need vacations too, and the chores don't just do themselves while the farmer is off playing, you know. This is where I come in.) I've been riding on the trainer for a while, and getting stronger and feeling like I want some road time. There are no phones on the road. No deadlines, no clock, nothing but me and the bike and the road. Isn't she just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? Look at her shiny lava red frame and her beautiful bontrager cranks and her carbon fork. See her little Shimano 105 derailleur? Isn't she adorable??? I had to pick her without a test ride. In order to test ride I would have to go into a city and find two or three dealers who keep a series of extra small frames in stock and assembled of at least 2 or 3 models of various makes of bikes. Although I love my Specialized and really wanted to ride a Dolce before I made my final decision. They do women specific bikes, but did not give me any information about what's different Trek did. In fact, they went to great lengths to make sure a shopper can see the specific differences in frame and componants. I am entranced by Trek's Women Specific Design program and the effort they put into quality componants on women's and smaller bikes. Shorter cranks, shorter top tube length, shorter stem...all of this speaks to my complaints on my current bike. I'm reaching too far, I am too stretched out...I trust that Trek has resolved that, and I trust their dedication to designing for women. As Trek says, "He doesn't wear your swimsuit, why should you ride his bike?" Amen.

Nick of Time

HA-HA!! Saved from Red Heart!! It took some doing. A lot of steam, a lot of sweat, and some mindless watching of Shrek (I love it when the bird explodes), but here she is, needing a final block and some buttons, Colorful Tracks. I am not in love. I spent a lot of anger on this one, and when they make me angry, they really go to the time-out corner in my mind and stay there for a while. Maybe when she's got her collar straight and her buttons on, I will like her more. The yarn is Berkshire and Berkshire Hand Dyed. The beautiful and not inexpensive buttons I bought do not match (shhhh...don't tell Mr. Wonderful....) The pattern will be available someday soon at your LYS in a file labeled MelissaKnits or through this blog, or my website (also coming soon!).

I had a Scunci incident. I think this may be due to our well water, but it must be dealt with, and soon. For some reason, Beloved Scunci decided to pee on rather than steam the sleeves. They're still not dry and they've been hanging all night. I actually put them on damp just to get her done. It did fine on the fronts and back, but then had a little accident on the sleeves that cost me a lot of time. And, because they were not well and truly steamed, they curled and made me insane during construction. I may wet block the whole shootin' match. I really prefer wet blocking and since there is no deadline with this, I can take the time to do it my way. This is the first full garment that's mine all mine. Not for Webs, not for anyone but my own selfish publication. I can take time, I can let her drip, I can find the perfect button.

I love the way the hand dyed looks knitted in this stitch. I just love it. It's what started the whole Make Tracks thing - a swatch in the hand dyed done in this stitch. Then the concept changed to a solid color with the decision to carry the hand dyed in worsted only, and a need for a Berkshire Bulky garment. But this is where it started. I love the way things move and shift and end up where they are supposed to be without my really doing anything. Make Tracks was supposed to be colorful. Colorful Tracks was supposed to have a stand-up sort of collar like her cousin, but then I bound it off and said "I like this better". I love that these kinds of serendipitous things can happen if you let them. If you get into micro-managing, making it happen your way, it can't become something better than you imagined. You have to allow it to be what it wants to be. It's amusing because I have found this true with dolls, sewing, felting, spinning...it all becomes what it needs to be, and I just help it navigate the journey. This is incredibly ironic as those who knew me B.F. (before fiber) may remember that I was an insane, obsessed type A with a huge drive to not just pass, but pass witha 4.0, and not just get by, but go beyond and stomp all competition. One day I was spinning (badly) and suddenly thought "Let go. Just let go." The next thing you know, I "retired" from Type A, mainlining caffeine, nursing; the whole lifestyle; and just am so much happier now. Peaceful is a good word. An 'Ahhhhh...' sort of life.

Swatching some Amherst lately for a yoked pullover. I started this swatch and now am not sure if I like it or despise it. Frustrating. I don't hate it enough to discard it, but I don't love it enough to not try some other options. Time will tell! Today I am going to swatch Malea's Rock Star again, on a 3 this time, and see if I can't get gauge. Then I will work on Gail's shawl, photo coming soon, which I'd like to have done by the end of the week. Clearing my plate for what comes next...new yarn, new garments - the stuff of my life!