Wednesday, March 22, 2006

A lace knitter gone bad.

I started my knitting life (as opposed to real life, but knitting is all that matters) as a lace knitter. It was the eighties, good yarn was impossible to find, so I got ancient lace patterns out of libraries and knit them with size two double points and #10 crochet cotton. (There was no one around to tell me this was hard. A good thing.) I've produced probably three, four dozen intricate and quite large doilys, given away as Christmas, Hanukah, and wedding presents.

I only ever kept one. The one I knit while my mother was sick, to keep my hands busy so I wouldn't kill my family. (Knitting has so many uses.)

After that last doily, I succumbed to the joy of Really Big Yarn and Really Big Needles and Really Simple Projects. You know, like Dale of Norway sweaters on size threes. (HUGE!) And I haven't knit any lace since, though I coached my mother-in-law through an afghan with yarnovers and paired decreases in it last winter. (Feather and fan stitch, as I recall.) Oh. And I knit a lacy pink thing for the baby while I was pregnant, that she never wore.

So today I decided to get moving on that purple doily that's 'due' this coming weekend. It took me about ten minutes to find my lace notebook, which was Not A Happy Time. Otherwise a slob, I've kept meticulous records of what I've knit, with yardage, time frames, what color it was, who the lace went to, and other useful stuff. (I'm generally a pig, but when it comes to record keeping, I'm all over it. Too many years as an accounting clerk.) The date I originally wrote on the front of the notebook is 1985, so you can imagine how happy I was at the thought of it disappearing. When you find yourself standing on a futon to look for something, you know you're in trouble.

Fortunately, it turned up, in a pile of otherwise unused notebooks. (It was easily identified because it is falling apart.)

Then I had to find my size two needles (easily spotted due to their really shiny points) and dig out some cotton, which I have a boxful of. I could have SWORN there was some iris purple in there, but damned if I see it anywhere. So we're having to go with white. I hate white lace. It's so... grandma (my grandmother actually didn't knit lace, she crocheted hats, but it's the STEREOTYPE, people, work with me). But I don't have time to go buy anything, so white it is.

The doily in question has 53 rows, half of them plain, and blocks to one foot in diameter. So it's fairly small. I want to get it done today. (I hear you laughing.)

Start your timers.

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