About two weeks ago, the husbeast did a load of 'shop rags' in the washing machine. You know, squares of cloth covered in grease and oil and RTV (whateverthefuck that is), in my regular old washing machine. Supposedly he wiped down the interior when he was finished, and all was spick-and-span after that. (I wonder what, precisely, he wiped down the interior with -- more grease?)
A week ago, I used the washing machine to block the brown and red jacket. (Soak with soap; spin out water, rinse cycle with no agitation, spin out water.) It is neccessary to do this in the washing machine because my Ebeneezer Scrooge of a landlord doesn't allow for a laundry sink. (The plumbing isn't THERE. We can't even buy our own - there's nothing to hook it to.)
Everything looked fine. Until today when I sat down to hem the damn thing. Then I started noticing weird little spots all over the jacket:
See that little black spot? It's grease. And they're ALL OVER THE SWEATER.
I keep telling myself that wool has a positive elctron charge, and that dirt kind of sits on the fiber and doesn't molecularly bond to it, and that it's very easy to clean for that reason...
...if this grease doesn't come out, I'm going to kill him.
While grinding my teeth, I did finish the hem. This is one of the bottom corners, with the button band edging and the hem all working in sync and it's all relatively square and I'm quite pleased with how good it looks (except for the grease spots):
And here's the interior of the hem for those who like to see these things. I do realize that the hem thread, the hem yarn, and the exterior of the jacket totally do not match in any remote way. I should be flogged for how bad this match is. But, hell, it's a hem, the only person who'll see it will be my father-in-law (who gets it for Christmas). We have a theory he's color blind, but really I suspect he's another subscriber of the "Eight Colors of the World" school of thought.
And here's one, last, final (maybe) photo of the shoulder shaping:
That's me in the jacket. I know I'm swimming in it; it's for a much larger person. That's fine. Makes me feel like the diet's starting to work.
Oh, and the baby? The husbeast just caught her eating cat food.
This morning I cut open the tube that was the Blue Shimmer gauge swatch (I was SO close to putting a heel on it, but I knew I was going to cut it open like this), and pinned it out flat on a board. It's propped in my office so I can look at it and decide if I'm really going to tinker with that brown band slap in the center (it's highly likely I'll order a different color).
See the edges? See how they aren't unraveling? Notice I haven't been struck by lightning and there's no plague of locusts or rivers of blood showing up in my yard? YOU CAN JUST CUT KNITTING. (Vertically along the columns, anyway. Horizontally along the rows and you'll have an unraveling mess on your hands.) This is the basis of steeking. The world really doesn't end. I'd do something to stabilize that edge if I planned on wearing it or even washing it again, but all it's gonna do is sit there, pinned to that board, so it'll be fine.
Go cut up some knitting and see how it works. It's really educational. I swear. Hack up one of your kid's old sweaters, if you're too attatched to your own work.
So, anyway. Now I'm down to the wrap/overgrown scarf until the rest of the yarn gets here for the Blue Shimmer.
Today I was researching projects and entry forms and other things for the SC state fair and I had a rather humorous thought... shouldn't I enter a scarf? I think I should.