Knitting on, and on, and on and on and on

You know when your are working on a project that is best described as never ending. Usually a bottom up shawl. Certainly in this case its ups and lows in the joy. its good its good, starting to remember the pattern and zoom. Then at the end of the row, it gone. Slogging it, slog, slog, some more slog (can you use the word slog like that? I suppose I should know, CGBF is an English degree with extra fancy stuffs. Don't remember what the non science Honours upgrade is called). Anyway (the prologue) knit knit knit, done loads, knit knit knit, must be almost there, been knitting for ages and then you hit the halfway mark. Halfway done, only halfway. You can just feel your sanity drain away as your eyes shrivel and dry up. Or that maybe the fact that I've ben staring at it or the tv all day. I love it, but when its the non pattern row Arrrggghhhhhhhhhhhh sob.

I feel rather stagnant today and I am having trouble with the blog. What do you write about and blaggh. Like everyone there are those little amusing things that happen in day to day life that you want to write about. But happens if someone at work reads about it? Everything is about appearances and to be honest its stressing me. A lot.

I was more than a bit of a pleb and in a fit of pride pointed out my Lindawings shawl to one of The Girls. Now The Girls (their formal title. Or description) are really nice, I like them. But still I am kicking myself, just agonising by what I did. Why did I do it? I'd gone up to get their opinion on a shawl colour for the Hap shawl. Told her about the other one and when the picture of my one came up I just didn't think. Oooh, that's my one. And now I'm almost no I'm actually dreading posting. She was busy at the time so I hope she didn't go onto it. What happens if she decided or decides to go back on. I feel awful.

So I'm going to think about the knitting/ yarn. I cut off the weaving (have I mentioned that? hmm). I found that the yarn, despite being part acrylic the outside frayed. I was weaving away and noticed that it was barely there. As worn as ummmm, a ummm, I can't think of anything that isn't rude. It was worn. Anyway, repaired one, ok, spotted another, it was the third that gave me the idea to stop and restart. But what did I do when I cut it off? I cut a heddle too. Superglue doesn't repair them may I just say. I've tied it to the back and when I rewarp it I'll do one per dent instead of every second one. I think the outer ones being forced out is what did the damage. I only hope it isn't to tight now and the fabric isn't going to be stiff. Can't have it being stiff and hard.


Ummm, the Lesley Blur shawl is finished. But it is tooooooo big. My tension is usually too tight so I over compensated and it was too loose and munched into a third ball of yarn. Ooops. Its for a short person. This is the same height as them. Which isn't going to work as a day to day wearing shawl, we'll lose then in the middle of it. Have to launch an expedition in the folds of the shawl to try and find her. But Anneylambie (who was second on the list for one of these) is taller and it my just work as a shawl-come-blanket. It is so cosy and it a tug of wills to not snuggle up to it myself.

My fingerless mittens are as far as I can go without the yarn I need. I've run out. Again. Same pattern and I've run out. Or used most of the yarn as warp lengths so its essentially out.

Harris Socks are coming alone. Not finished yet but they are my bussing socks so that's ok. I may get an aran pattern and use some of my Debbie bliss yarn to make him socks (because I think these maybe too small, lets hear it for denial and assorted flying manoeuvres to evade it. The. Sock. Shall. Work. I tell you).

Hat.
I'm ignoring it.

Ummmm. Think that's it besides the blue hand incident. This is one of those things I've been struggling to decide should I share. We were at an exhibition. A big one full of important people, very much best behaviour time. Chatting away to somewhere and I noticed a smear of ink. Wondered where did it come from and thought nothing much more. Few stalls on and there's another, larger smear. Think about it and no closer to figuring out where it came from. Few stalls on, same again. But this time from the balls of my fingers up is solid blue. I am having to chat and keep one palm downwards. And failing miserably. This is more than slight disconcerting.
It clicks, I picked up a pen and stuck it in my back pocket and its broken. has it dyed the trousers, does it show? What knickers am I wearing? Is my bum cheek blue? One of my work mates very kindly to a constant stream of "I'm tying my show lace, I'm tying my show lace" checked it out. no blue. Now to find a toilet. Frantic scrubbing to clear the hand which stubbornly remained faintly indigo to the end of the day. Now can I see enough of my bum cheek to see if its blue? Ha. Luckily it hadn't soaked through.

That's enough from me. I'm away to stare at the Lindawings shawl.