Flipping heck
I’m sure you were expecting a nicely beaded sock toe today. I know I was. The slight problem was that when I picked up the yarn from my mother’s on Monday it was the wrong one. It was white, on a cone and the right size and I didn’t discover the error until I came to string the beads. At first I thought that there was a flaw in the yarn, it was just so thin, but after I’d pulled ten yards off the cone in the hope that it would thicken up a bit I realised that I’d picked up the cone of lace weight rather than sock weight. There’s no progress on the other Christmas stocking either as the internet retailer who signed for the returned needles last Monday hadn’t shipped the replacements out when I rang yesterday. Maybe they’ll come today, or there again maybe not. Maybe one day I’ll buy something from them again or there again, maybe not.
This means that the green scarf is finished and another one started as I have to have something to knit. This is again a stashbusting exercise. The oddly coloured brick red at the front used to be green. I can’t remember now what colour I was aiming for but I’m certain that it wasn’t this one. The plan was that the lovely kid mohair and silk at the back with its slight colour changes would carry the scarf and the brick red would go along for the ride and make it long enough. It’s a shame to dilute the mosilk but it’s a leftover and there wouldn’t be enough of it on its own.
I can say with certainty that there is now no fleece of any sort in the garage. This time yesterday there was a bag full but it’s been moved along. Most of it went in the bin which is where I should have put it when I got it but I picked out the good bits and left the rest. Once you’ve done that a few times then what’s left is tripe, it would have been a waste of hot water to do anything with it. I washed a sinkful and binned the rest. I was happy that there was no alpaca lurking in the garage, I’m attempting to finish washing the low grade white alpaca that is destined to be a rug and I’m down to the last carrier bag. Now that the end is in sight I didn’t want to move the finish line by finding another few bags tucked away in the garage. There is still the good white and all of the black to do but they are jobs for another day.
I had a serious learning curve with this. You can’t see that because the battle was fought at the beginning of the bobbin and it’s all nicely tucked away under the top layer where the fibre and I had reached some sort of an understanding. This is silk and something. The something is very short, not at all shiny and very fine. I think it’s angora because it doesn’t have the sheen of cashmere and it doesn’t look like camel. It’s also possible that it has some well behaved sheep in there that I didn’t notice because I didn’t have to fight with it but I’m calling it angora/silk. I was calling it a lot of other names yesterday because we didn’t get on and I didn’t have to stick with “flipping thing” because I was home alone and so could curse in grown-up. It’s not quite as pretty as it appears, there are two honking great purple patches in it because I was so busy attempting to get a grip on the spinning that I wasn’t really watching the colour changes. I’m hoping that the yarn won’t have two pronounced purple stripes because there doesn’t seem to be the same amount of purple in the second half of the fibre.
The husband has a set of pancake tossing photos that he might share, this is the one that got away. The pancakes weren’t that good for tossing, the chef followed the recipe to the letter (as you do when you’re seven) and the batter was too thin. This is the last pancake, a joint flipping production because the pan was heavy and hot. I don’t have a proper pancake pan because I usually make the ones where you separate the eggs and fold in the whipped whites and I make those on a griddle so the frying pan has to suffice on those rare occasions when I make flat pancakes. It’s big, heavy and copper bottomed so not really ideal for waving around. On first glance there doesn’t seem to be much wrong here, not until you look where the pancake is in relation to the pan. The look of concern on my face is due to the pancake coming straight for me, we moved fast enough for it to hit the floor rather than my head. Needless to say this was screamingly funny, even when you are the one that gets to clean the floor afterwards.
