I’m a lapsed athlete. I was that coltish kid in the seventh grade who set the girls’ school record for the mile and was never defeated in her (brief, and admittedly B-league podunk) track career. I played in the Oregon state soccer championship (we lost). This was ten years ago. As recently as three and a half years ago, I was capable of gasping through a six mile run. But since I’ve come to New York, any pretenses I ever had to athleticism have died a quiet death. Maybe this is because Mr. Garter is Triathlete Extraordinaire and I figure he does all the working out for both of us, and for most of the other people on our city block. More likely it’s just because I lack discipline, and having been relatively fortunate in the genetic lottery, I’ve gotten lazy about exercising to make the most of it. But every now and then I build up the urge to go do some physical activity. So I went to the gym.

I ran an easy two miles at a 10-minute pace, or even a little slower. Then I ended with three-tenths at a 7:20 pace. At this point, I was well out of breath and decided I’d call it a day so as not to scupper my chances of willing myself to do it again tomorrow. I don’t like distance running. I’ve never been able to reach the point where it’s exhilirating, relaxing, focusing, meditative, euphoric, or any of those other blissful adjectives my husband claims it is. I find running for its own sake intensely boring; I need a purpose. I need to know I’m doing it so I’ll be able to beat someone else to the ball, the puck, the wire. However, it’s undeniably the cheapest way to get in shape.

Unfortunately, running doesn’t like me, either. When I stumble off the treadmill, it’s not a pretty sight. I turn a shade of red that’s really not suitable for public display. I’ve always had fat, rosy cheeks. People used to tell my mother what a healthy baby I appeared to be. Except for one lady on the ferry who looked down her nose at my poor mom and said (you’ll have to imagine the Lady Catherine de Bourgh voice Mom uses when she tells the story), “My, her cheeks are very red. Have you had her lungs checked?” It would be fine if it were just the cheeks. But it’s the entire face, particularly the nose. Boiled lobsters bow to my superior vermilion. If this were a paint color (and pity the neighbors if anyone were to use said paint), we’d call it Livid Sunburn. And it lasts a long time, people. An hour later I begin to return to normal.

But it’s worse than that. Running makes me stupid. It took me from the time I was in the shower until I was halfway home on the subway to remember who won the World Series this year. (Why was I trying to remember this? I believe it may have been because the frightful shade of my face above my blue T-shirt reminded me of the Red Sox team colors.) And it makes my fingers stupid, which hinders knitting. And that I can ill afford at present.

So I’m hoping I can work some deftness back into them as I pick up my dad’s sweater. I’m determined to finish that Christmas tree and the first raindrop row tonight. We’ll see about a return to the gym tomorrow.

When I promised pictures of my father’s sweater this weekend, little did I know I’d be taking them in two and a half inches of new snow. I’ve given up trying to photograph this yarn indoors, and this was all the natural light that was on offer today. But you can see I’ve completed the back. And I’m happy to report I’m more than halfway up the tree motif on the front now, too. Here’s a closer shot that better shows the design:

The goal is to finish the body and start on the sleeves before the week is out. Of course, that means I have to dream up and chart the sleeve pattern.

So, a quiet day of knitting and watching Horatio Hornblower. I hope it snows again tomorrow. The weather people can grouse about “nuisance snow” as much as they please, but new-fallen snow will always hold a sense of magic for me. It gives me a shiver of delight when I wake up to see the landscape…um, cityscape…transformed.

There was certainly no sign of snow last night when I stumbled in late after the Spiders holiday extravaganza, lavishly hosted by Amanda and Katie. Those girls know how to lay out a spread, let me tell you. They made filo samosas, sweet potato puffs, baked brie with mushrooms, spanikopita, umpteen dips, and let’s not gloss over the truffles and the fudge, nor the signature Spiders cocktail. I foolishly failed to photograph any of ones I drank, but here’s a screwdriver with a spidey twist:

And the gifts we exchanged:

The Spider version of a gift exchange is pretty polite compared to some I’ve attended. I was only robbed twice. Lisa took some yummy Christmas-colored Manos, and Veronique boosted my seafoam Lobster Pot. But I went home happy with a nice score of Australian handpainted laceweight in purples, blues, and teals, and some snazzy stitch markers from Zephyr Knit. (Amanda, you’ll have to tell me the website again – I googled it and couldn’t find it!) A merry time was had by all, including the significant others, who found plenty of common ground in discussing our depravities and founding the Fraternal Order of International Non-Knitters (FOINK), or to be more PC since not all the members are gentlemen, OINK.

20 days and counting. Happy Frenzied Holiday Knitting, everyone!

My server has been unusually fritzy this week, so I apologize for the length of time since the last post. I had things to show you, too – I really did! Like this:

Delicious Fleece Artist sock yarn in the colorway “Jester” arrived on Saturday, kindly donated by the lovely Allison of the Simply Sock Yarn Co. for a Socktoberfest prize. Go visit her – she’s got some seriously great sock yarn, and she included a very nice hand-written note with the yarn. Norma mentioned the excellent personal attention many small yarn stores give, and SSYC is definitely among them! This yarn couldn’t be a more glorious autumnal range of colors. I’m extra glad to have it, as you can see the pathetic effort my tree has made thus far.

And then there’s this:

This is the Twisted Float cardigan by Annie Modesitt from Fall ’05 Vogue. I began it in my class (we interrupt this message to let you now that it is doing lightning and thunder and rain outside right now. Thunderstorms in November? Huh?) with Annie at The Point on Friday night, and on Saturday I could hardly put it down. The construction makes it a totally fascinating project, and it’s as good a use of variegated yarn as I’ve seen. I’m making a child-size version and eliminating the boucle trim in favor of a simple picot edge. I love the yarn: Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Worsted in “Seaside” (and it really does make me nostalgic for the sea – these are the colors of my home) and the sea green remnants from Lisa’s beautiful clapotis.

And I did this:

Yep, that’s me with a drop spindle and some forebearing Romney! Marie very kindly loaned me her extra spindle and a little pile of roving to practice with, and then she showed me the ropes. The “yarn” I made is utter crap, of course. But I’m learning, by golly! Soon I’ll get the hang of it…not that I have time for another addiction, especially with Christmas looming so menacingly and so much gansey left to knit.

We’ll end with a gratuitous cat picture, just because. It’s knitting related, though: we’re reading our new copy of Nancy Bush’s Knitting Vintage Socks. Ah, happiness.

Yes, my friends, here you see the maiden voyage of HMS Swift, winding her very first 500-yard skein of Brooks Farm Duet. As this operation went swimmingly, she proceeded to wind the rest of the Rhinebeck haul and then all of Lisa’s Rhinebeck yarn. Swifting is so pleasurable that I would have gladly wound about eight times as much yarn for Lisa free of charge, but she traded me the Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Worsted she had left over from her Clapotis. I’d been eyeing it for the class I’m taking tonight – my very first knitting class, and it’s with Annie Modesitt! I’m going to learn combination knitting and how to create circular fabric. The project is the circular cardigan on the cover of the Fall issue of Vogue, which I quickly dismissed as Not My Bag. But then I got to thinking that the construction was really pretty neat and easily applicable to other garments, so I started imagining a toddler-size version in entirely different colors with a simple picot edge instead of all that boucle. So I’m going to see what I can do with Lisa’s sea green yarn and a couple of beautiful skeins in the colorway Seaside. Wish me luck!

Few posts would be complete without a gratuitous sock picture, so here’s the second Bearfoot feather-and-fan sock romping at The Cloisters in the beautiful weather we had last weekend: