Assault

I

I had forgotton how the frogs must sound

After a year of silence, else I think

I should not so have ventured forth alone

At dusk upon this unfrequented road.

II

I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk

Between me and the crying of the frogs?

Oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass,

That am a timid woman, on her way

From one house to another!

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

I’ve been meaning to get a short haircut for a long time, and the Katies in my life finally pushed me over the edge. First I met Katrin/Katie, who is now my regular companion for Sunday knitting lunches in downtown Portland. She has an enviable short haircut that I’ve been coveting since my first visits to her blog last summer. Then Spider Katie withstood a total makeover in front of two hundred people, and I knew it was time to pull up my big-girl pants and go pixie. I felt a twinge of empathy for the sheep we knitters so merrily denude as I watched sheaves of my hair slide down the black robe into my lap. Then I was worried that I look exactly like my brother (not that that’s a bad thing – my brother’s a good-looking dude – but I wasn’t sure I wanted to look like a dude). But ultimately, I like it very much. I’ll let you judge:

Yes, I’m a lamentable Pollyanna and I really do smile that much in pictures, and also in my unphotographed life, but Mr. Garter was making me laugh. And it’s only fair to post some goofy pictures of myself after plastering his silliness all over the blog last week.

Next time, back to the knitting content. I promise.

Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and generous praise for the Fishtrap Aran. I’m working up a post on the technical details for those of you who wanted to know more about the finishing process.

In the mean time, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Whose bright idea was it to kick Daylight Savings three weeks up the calendar? I think I get to pin this one on the Republican party, no? Dadgummit, it was just getting easier to decant myself out of bed at 6:20 because it wasn’t pitch dark anymore.

Happily, thoughtful Mr. Garter thought to put some fresh undies in the dryer for me long before dawn when he got up to drive Cousin Ewa to the airport. Clean laundry eases the pain of forced reentry into waking life considerably. It’s been Cousin Central chez Garter this past week as the whole clan assembled to remember Mr. G’s Great Uncle Wilbur, who passed away in January. Last night we had cousins festooning both spare mattresses and the couch, and we all stayed up much too late in gales of laughter over family quirks and anecdotes. Uncle Wilbur painstakingly recorded his entire life on typewriter, along with helpful chapters of advice directed at his descendents. “Who Am I Going to Marry?” was a particular favorite (take note, ladies: a career at a newspaper — or, one assumes, any career at all — may signal “marriage is not a priority”, and your suitors may turn elsewhere), as were his ruminations on the benefits of child labor and a wholly speculative account of his parents’ courtship. I give you this sage and somber observation:

“A pitchfork is a terrible thing to run across in a haystack.”

I don’t believe that adage came from the courtship chapter, but it may have. I was laughing too hard to make a proper citation.

I feel as though I’ve run across just such a nettlesome pitchfork in the freelance work I do in my non-knitting life. A project for my father-in-law has eaten far more of the past two months than I ever intended to give it, and it’s become an obstacle to a lot of the work I’ve wanted to do with patterns and with this blog. I had hoped that by now I’d have a snazzy page full of projects for you to download, because the ideas keep coming and I’m only lacking the hours it takes to write up sound patterns and knit up samples. John made me think about what we take from the online knitting community and what we give back, and now I’m feeling obligated to do my bit. Unfortunately, the freelance beast has managed to coincide with a final exam and another deadline I’m hoping to meet, but I hope that April will bring some new life to Blue Garter. Stay tuned. And watch out for pitchforks.

The Fishtrap Aran knitting is complete (huzzah!), and the garment is reclining damply on the living room floor. No pictures, alas, as we Portlanders are wallowing in our February rain puddles under our lowery skies and the light is useless for photography. Now for the front steek and the zipper insertion. I’m using the crochet steek method, which worked handily on the arm holes, but it leaves a small roll of fabric at the cut edge. Has anyone attempted to sew a zipper to an edge like this? I’m in a muddle as to whether to sew into the roll itself, or sort of behind it. And can I get away with using a thinner yarn for the crochet lines, in the hope that it will make the roll less bulky? I’ll be sewing the zipper in by hand, if that affects your advice. Thanks!

Meanwhile, I’m giving myself the afternoon off. It’s been hard labor around here, finishing up the job for my father-in-law and studying for my mid-term exam. This professor gives tough and thorough tests, of which I completely approve, but he skewered me on a couple of essay questions last term, so I always have to study diligently. This time, I feel pretty confident that I hit all the right marks. I celebrated by going out to lunch with Michelle, and afterwards I may have bought a new pair of shoes. Okay, I may have bought two pairs, but one was on sale and the others were bright green. Leaf green. Treefrog green. And they can replace my everyday runabouts that I’ve nearly worn through.

Anyway, the rest of the afternoon is to be spent exactly as I choose, with knitting. Those Who Procreate are keeping me hopping these days; I’ve got a welter of booties and little sweaters that need knitting and/or finishing. I’ve made a good start on the Rorschach sweater (pictures when it gets to the point where it doesn’t look like a shirt ruffle for the Yeti’s tuxedo) and my first Drunken Bear sock is complete at last. I’ve got two new designs to doodle in my sketchbook, and swatches to knit for one that’s already gestating. (A design, people. That’s a metaphor. No babies around here. I’m bucking the trend. By the time I have babies they probably won’t be cool anymore. All my friends will have moved on to … I don’t know, what do you get after you already have a baby? A summer cottage?)

I’m off to join my handsome hubby at our favorite coffee shop. We missed Valentine’s Day with studyings and workings, so we’re celebrating tomorrow for, um, St. Onesimus’s Day. It’s more fun to say than Valentine’s, anyway. Ta ta! Don’t forget to leave me your steek-and-zipper advice!