Numero Uno

I am getting yarn tomorrow! Our world of insta-deliver has made instantaneity the new norm.  It takes longer for me to find a day to go to an LYS, get in the car, fight the traffic, and return home, than to order and then open my door to pick up the box.

Porch Pirates throw a wrinkle into this.  Certain times of year have made this more risky than other times.  It makes me think about hating people.

Sometimes it is a wonderful thing that getting new yarn keeps its shiny glow after a modestly long knitting career.  We knitters have long discussed the dark side of acquistion, which shall not be repeated herein today.  My purchases have morphed a touch more towards the Claudia model:  buy now what you are going to cast on (soon)(ish).  The two parenthetical additions are mine, not Claudia's.  She remains steadfast in her intelligent discipline

I ordered Cumbria in colorway Barrow, chosen by Mr. E in a conscious effort to move away from burgundy and rust.  (The yarn industry mimics the paint industry in named colors with no indication of what family of color it actually joins.)  Barrow is a tweedy brown.  The pattern planned is Churchmouse's saddle shoulder pullover.

It is an interesting construction I haven't yet tried.  It looks as if it would flatter a man with good shoulders.  He stated that he has enough scarves.  (The knitter thinks that this is not possible, but tries to respect his feeling of too much choice.)  I did not give him hat choice, because he was getting another one this knitting season, regardless.  

For me, I am working on the Charles pullover, with a deep stash dive to Rowan Magpie Tweed aran.  The sweater I bought it for is not something that will look remotely attractive on my current body.  I am liking the current move towards garments with more ease.  

Rain is falling on the last of the garden and plantings.  We have already made our first batch of shortribs.  We opened a nice Bordeaux, which was not possible prior to October.  (Bordeaux matches poorly with tomatoes, corn, and summer weather.) 

In my odd microclimate, the backyard is past peak foliage, as the front yard is at full peak.  I did not make it to Rhinebeck this year to view the iconic maple trees in their fall garb, or the iconic knitters in theirs.  I am hoping for better luck next year.

In the spirit of NaBloPoMo, this may be an every other posting.  I will type til I run out of things to say. 

Comments

[Caroline Morris]

Well hello there. The last full size sweater I made started with two tiny rectangles at the shoulders and made me chuckle for quite some time.

It's good to see you, I hope that you make it through the month.

[Lynn]

Blogging! What a shock! No, I'm not joining you (sorry). I will say I discovered a perfectly nice LYS just minutes from work yesterday, when I NEEDED another size 2 circ for a shawl I will cast on sometime in the next decade. I escaped with the circ plus one skein of yarn. I consider that sanity.

[Claudia]

Those sweater patterns are solid choices. Indeed I went to Rhinebeck and bought....two skeins of sock yarn, one for me and one for the mister. Sil bought more and I helped her.

[Lorette]

I love both of those sweaters! And perhaps not too surprising, I have yarn for both.
I had to laugh at your Bordeaux comment. We tend to match the food to the wine, not the other way around.

[Marcia Cooke]

I adored that Magpie Twee! Still have..and wear..the sweater I made from it.

[Margene]

This post just makes me so happy! I love reading your words (I hear your voice). At least you are knitting (and acquiring yarn). I wish to pet yarn but haven't even done that. (I need to talk to Kim.) Barrow sounds so hearty and warm. You are lucky to have a stash to dive into. Rowan Magpie is quite a find!

[Martha]

I miss our old blogging community so much!! I am SO happy to hear from you!

[Elaine in NYC]

Howdy! I felt confident you’d reappear this month. I think you’ll like the saddle shoulder. Short ribs are beginning to call to me. They predict a high of 42 this Saturday. Good thing I have sweaters.