So, I finished the pink cardigan, and I've carded more than a pound of the fleece.
... and I can suddenly see why people might think knit blogs are boring!
But really, the whole process was filled with excitement: I'd been half following a Garnstudio pattern for the cardi, but I knew I wanted to lengthen the sleeves (the original had cap sleeves). I'd planned to cast on enough stitches to fit around my lower arm, then increase to match up again with the pattern by the time I got to the shoulder, but when I read ahead, I discovered that I needed to cast on more stitches for the cuff than the pattern wanted for the shoulders. Naturally, I decided to wing it, following the Elizabeth Zimmermann yoke decreases, but making the yoke a little shallower and incorporating ruching.
I worked the sleeves, attached then, then worked even on those stitches (minus some stitches in each underarm which I set side to graft later) for about 3.5 inches. In Knitting without Tears, I believe EZ says to knit half of the desired yoke depth before the first decreases, but when I followed those directions my yoke seemed very deep. Instead, I decided to knit so half the width of the set-aside underarm stitches plus the height of the yoke I'd knit so far would be half the desired yoke depth (on the thinking that the underarm stitches would also contribute to the finished depth of the yoke). Thinking about it again, that may have been what she meant anyway, or maybe she sets aside fewer stitches at the underarm.
In any case, when I'd knit 3.5 inches of yoke, I decreased dramatically, knit a band of garter stitch, worked 2 bands of ruching, then realized I could combine my ruching decreases with my yoke shaping decreases to keep things simpler. The ruching called for K2tog across all sts, and the shaping called for K1, K2tog. After some math, I converted that to K3tog across, worked that, then the garter stitch band and ruching again. I also worked short rows in the ruched sections to build up the back of the sweater about an inch higher than the front--because of the gathers in the ruching, the turns were nearly invisible.
I worked on it while visiting my mom for the weekend (my dad was out of town), in connection with a conveniently located consulting job. (And I got to go to Wegmans!) It was the perfect lazy knitting--didn't require much attention, and the decrease rows gave me a nice sense of moving faster as I got closer to the end (even with the increases for the ruching).
I was briefly concerned about running out of yarn, but I had enough, and finished it when I got back home. Close calls with yarn supply--especially when I've changed a pattern and made a decision which really affect how much yardage I'll need--always make me wonder. It seems like I'm guessing about length based partly on other factors (flattering length, tolerance for the stitch pattern, etc.), but am I actually able to calculate how much yarn I'll need without being consciously aware of it? In this case, did I hear "Hey, these sleeves look like a good length!" when my brain was actually saying "STOP! STOP! You'll run out of yarn for the yoke and button bands if you keep going! Stop!" Wouldn't it be great if I could figure out how I'm doing that?
Carding, on the other hand, may actually be as uneventful as it seems. I don't think I skirted the fleece aggressively enough before I started washing it, so there are some patches with a lot of vegetable matter. I'd been picking it out, but it occurred to me that I could probably wait to see if I even need that fiber before I pick out a zillion snippets of grass. And for that, I'll have to spin it up and see what it wants to be. If I don't need the additional yardage, I can just use the grassy bits as stuffing. Liberation from picking out grass! What's next? The ability to buy yarn already spun? Machines that knit for you? Sweaters for sale in stores! Craziness!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Just What I Needed
Kevin is away this week visiting his family, and I've been catching up on crafts which have the potential to be annoying when experienced up close.
I finished a dress which has been in pieces in the living room for weeks (possibly, the dress in pieces was just as annoying as the noise of the sewing machine, but let's attribute my procrastinating to being considerate about noise, not inconsiderate about piles, shall we?).
And I accidentally expanded my spinning into the area of raw fleece:
Here's what happened: Jennsquared and I were at spinning on Sunday, and one of the other women had 2 fleeces from her neighbor, for sale for $10 each. Picking a fleece has always sounded like an arcane process--and one where I could easily make an expensive mistake, either in selection or in overestimating my own interest in fiber prep--so I've stayed away from buying raw fleece. On the other hand, $10 seemed like a good way to test the whole process out, especially once Jensquared and I decided to share a fleece. I'm totally willing to throw away $5... I mean, invest $5 in a learning experience.
So we bought one of the fleeces (from a Finnsheep named Holly) and divided it in half. Unfolding it, it was immediately clear that I needed to get it at least partly clean before it alarmed Kevin, so I ended up washing it Sunday evening. I've never paid much attention to how one might wash a fleece, so I looked online and found some directions that seemed easy enough, even for me: I loosely filled mesh laundry bags with fleece, then soaked the bags in the hottest tap water I could get, to get out the worst of the dirt/lanolin/manure. (Hmm, maybe I should get new laundry bags?) I changed the water a couple of times for each batch, till the water seemed merely dirty, rather than completely gross.
I tried washing one batch with dish soap, but it still seemed greasy, so I googled some more, and found a site that recommended washing with laundry detergent in the washer--filling the washer with the hottest water possible, soaking for 20 minutes, the draining and spinning (without letting the washer agitate at all!), then filling the washer again, soaking for 5 minutes and draining/spinning (repeating the 5 minute rinse as needed till the water was clear).
I tried that, and found that the wool seemed nearly clean--so I did it a second time (including the 20 minute soak and 5 minute rinse), and was happy with the wool. Currently, it's spread out on towels in the living room, and it smells like laundered sheep, instead of sheep who've been camping. Progress!
When Jennsquared and I divided the fleece, we each got about 3 lbs. After washing and drying, I had about 2 lbs left (I also threw away some clumps that were especially full of vegetable matter).
I already had hand carders, so I've carded about 3 ounces of it, thanks to more googling and youtubing. So far, it's kind of fun--and a bit like blocking lace, since you start with a clumpy blob and end up with everything aligned and neat--but talk to me again in 29 more ounces!
I finished a dress which has been in pieces in the living room for weeks (possibly, the dress in pieces was just as annoying as the noise of the sewing machine, but let's attribute my procrastinating to being considerate about noise, not inconsiderate about piles, shall we?).
And I accidentally expanded my spinning into the area of raw fleece:
Here's what happened: Jennsquared and I were at spinning on Sunday, and one of the other women had 2 fleeces from her neighbor, for sale for $10 each. Picking a fleece has always sounded like an arcane process--and one where I could easily make an expensive mistake, either in selection or in overestimating my own interest in fiber prep--so I've stayed away from buying raw fleece. On the other hand, $10 seemed like a good way to test the whole process out, especially once Jensquared and I decided to share a fleece. I'm totally willing to throw away $5... I mean, invest $5 in a learning experience.
So we bought one of the fleeces (from a Finnsheep named Holly) and divided it in half. Unfolding it, it was immediately clear that I needed to get it at least partly clean before it alarmed Kevin, so I ended up washing it Sunday evening. I've never paid much attention to how one might wash a fleece, so I looked online and found some directions that seemed easy enough, even for me: I loosely filled mesh laundry bags with fleece, then soaked the bags in the hottest tap water I could get, to get out the worst of the dirt/lanolin/manure. (Hmm, maybe I should get new laundry bags?) I changed the water a couple of times for each batch, till the water seemed merely dirty, rather than completely gross.
I tried washing one batch with dish soap, but it still seemed greasy, so I googled some more, and found a site that recommended washing with laundry detergent in the washer--filling the washer with the hottest water possible, soaking for 20 minutes, the draining and spinning (without letting the washer agitate at all!), then filling the washer again, soaking for 5 minutes and draining/spinning (repeating the 5 minute rinse as needed till the water was clear).
I tried that, and found that the wool seemed nearly clean--so I did it a second time (including the 20 minute soak and 5 minute rinse), and was happy with the wool. Currently, it's spread out on towels in the living room, and it smells like laundered sheep, instead of sheep who've been camping. Progress!
When Jennsquared and I divided the fleece, we each got about 3 lbs. After washing and drying, I had about 2 lbs left (I also threw away some clumps that were especially full of vegetable matter).
I already had hand carders, so I've carded about 3 ounces of it, thanks to more googling and youtubing. So far, it's kind of fun--and a bit like blocking lace, since you start with a clumpy blob and end up with everything aligned and neat--but talk to me again in 29 more ounces!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
When You Actually Knit
I'm not sure if I've mentioned that I've switched back to working full time. It's been good, except that I miss my mid-morning naps (do you think anyone would notice if I napped under my desk?), and my knitting time.
With less time to knit, it feels like I've been working on the same 3 projects forever.
1. Clapotis (for those keeping track at home, this is Clapotis #4, although it's been maybe 5 years since #3)
The yarn is a light (laceweight? light fingering? who knows!), single ply handspun--a mix of seasilk and wool, as I recall. It's the first yarn I ever left as a single, and seems balanced enough for a piece with a tendency to bias anyway. (I have 2 sweaters knit in the round from commercial yarn, and I'm convinced they bias. No one notices but me--I've asked, and let me point out that non-knitters think "Do you see the lines in my sweater? No, not that, that's lace. And that's garter stitch. The vertical lines. Here. All over. See? Do you think they twist? Well, do you think it looks different if I pull it like this?" is a very strange conversation--but it drives me crazy.) I waffled about leaving it as a single, because I didn't spin it meaning to make a single, but I'm glad I did, because I love the stripes!
2. A pink cotton cardigan (imagine a pink cotton rectangle in stockinette stitch, slightly squished by a circular needle). It's basically this sweater, but I think I'm going to add a tiny bit of sleeve, and possibly make the shirred sections a little narrower. There's something a little droopy about some of the versions of the sweaters on Ravelry, and I think it's the result of a tall yoke.
3. A lap blanket for Schaefer Yarns, using 4 different yarn bases in related colorways. After some waffling, it's going to be garter stitch wedges, knit together as you go, in different directions. You'd think it would go quickly--size 10 needles, correspondingly thick yarn--or at least feel like it was moving ahead (I get to change yarns pretty frequently), but because I expected it to feel quick, but haven't really been working on it, it feels slow.
I also have a lurking baby blanket, which I'm making with three friends, but I've decided not to count it, since having more than 3 projects makes me antsy. At the same time, I've been wondering whether the importance of having sock in progress might trump the antsiness of more than 3 projects, but given how little progress I'm already making, I suspect it wouldn't.
I brought the shawl and cardigan to Lake Placid this weekend for my triathlon club's annual training camp (in which people do as much or as little of the LP Ironman course as they want to, over the course of a weekend) and made all kinds of progress in between workouts and on the drive back. Amazing how knitting progresses when you actually knit!
With less time to knit, it feels like I've been working on the same 3 projects forever.
1. Clapotis (for those keeping track at home, this is Clapotis #4, although it's been maybe 5 years since #3)
The yarn is a light (laceweight? light fingering? who knows!), single ply handspun--a mix of seasilk and wool, as I recall. It's the first yarn I ever left as a single, and seems balanced enough for a piece with a tendency to bias anyway. (I have 2 sweaters knit in the round from commercial yarn, and I'm convinced they bias. No one notices but me--I've asked, and let me point out that non-knitters think "Do you see the lines in my sweater? No, not that, that's lace. And that's garter stitch. The vertical lines. Here. All over. See? Do you think they twist? Well, do you think it looks different if I pull it like this?" is a very strange conversation--but it drives me crazy.) I waffled about leaving it as a single, because I didn't spin it meaning to make a single, but I'm glad I did, because I love the stripes!
2. A pink cotton cardigan (imagine a pink cotton rectangle in stockinette stitch, slightly squished by a circular needle). It's basically this sweater, but I think I'm going to add a tiny bit of sleeve, and possibly make the shirred sections a little narrower. There's something a little droopy about some of the versions of the sweaters on Ravelry, and I think it's the result of a tall yoke.
3. A lap blanket for Schaefer Yarns, using 4 different yarn bases in related colorways. After some waffling, it's going to be garter stitch wedges, knit together as you go, in different directions. You'd think it would go quickly--size 10 needles, correspondingly thick yarn--or at least feel like it was moving ahead (I get to change yarns pretty frequently), but because I expected it to feel quick, but haven't really been working on it, it feels slow.
I also have a lurking baby blanket, which I'm making with three friends, but I've decided not to count it, since having more than 3 projects makes me antsy. At the same time, I've been wondering whether the importance of having sock in progress might trump the antsiness of more than 3 projects, but given how little progress I'm already making, I suspect it wouldn't.
I brought the shawl and cardigan to Lake Placid this weekend for my triathlon club's annual training camp (in which people do as much or as little of the LP Ironman course as they want to, over the course of a weekend) and made all kinds of progress in between workouts and on the drive back. Amazing how knitting progresses when you actually knit!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Experiment
I've been conducting a scientific study (sample size = 1), and it turns out that no matter how much you ignore it, your blog will not blog itself.
You, however, will generate a lot of content. Kevin and I went to the UK--the first time I've been there, outside of a layover at Heathrow (which predisposed me to like the entire country--there was air conditioning, potable tap water, and chocolate. What more does a country need?).
Kevin had a meeting at the University of Hull, so we flew to London, spent about 2 days there, then went to Hull for 3.5 days, then went to West Yorkshire (or possibly just western Yorkshire... given what a time we had navigating I don't want to make any firm statements about what might or might not be West Yorkshire) for 2 days, then drove up to Glasgow to fly home.
We did squeeze a lot in though. In London, we went on a running tour along the Thames (alarmingly, I nearly just typed Seine), ending up in time to watch the start of the Bupa 10K race, which is the UK championship at that distance.
We also marveled at the view from our hotel window:
(It turned out that with some roads closed for the race, buses were diverted past our hotel.)
I managed not to take any pictures in Hull, but I visited some interesting museums while we were there (even though people kept saying "oh... Hull..." in much the same tone they say "oh... New Haven..."). Hull was a big center for fishing, so there was a retired trawler with tours by former fishermen (who told the story about identifying bodies that washed ashore based on the cable design in their sweaters). And there was an endearing city museum with a cool display of historic sketches of the city paired with new photos taken from the same spot. Since I work in a museum-adjacent field, and spend a fair amount of time working with staff and volunteers of local history collections, I'm easily amused by slightly threadbare local museums (sadly, this does not extend to art museums, because I'm an uncultured barbarian). Plus they were free.
I took a bus out into the countryside one day to visit Burton Constable Hall, an country estate that's now partially open to the public (the family still live in one wing).
The name Burton Constable had seemed vaguely familiar, and when I got there the guidebook reminded me why: there used to be a whale skeleton there which Herman Melville visited when he was researching Moby Dick. I was briefly excited to see the skeleton, but it's been moved. Indoors, I hope, as it was outside when Melville saw it.
Then we had a series of mishaps--beginning with needing to buy a GPS/sat nav because the rental car we'd reserved turned out not to have one, including a visit to the right street address in the wrong city in a failed attempt to visit a yarn and fiber store, and ending with managing to find our guesthouse, despite not being 100% sure what town it was in... but we knew it was near a school!--which took us to Grassington (or possibly Threshfield) for the Wharfedale Half Marathon. (The important thing to see there is the elevation map, especially that gentle uphill slope between miles 5 and 7. And remember how much I hate hills.)
I lived through the race and I bought some celebratory yarn (from unusual breeds of local sheep!), we had some dinner, then drove further north in the direction of Glasgow.
On the last morning, we stopped at Hadrian's Wall for an embarrassingly short time, and made it to the Glasgow Airport (with only one unplanned visit to the wrong airport, Glasgow-Prestwick International Airport... handy tip, if you're trying to figure out which airport to go to with no information: if the airport says "International" right in the name, do not overlook the possibility that the airport PR people are trying to make it sound more impressive than it is).
We flew on Iceland Air, and stopped in Reykjavik (ok, Keflavik) in both directions. On the way back I realized why getting married in Iceland was such a great idea:
Knitting magazines in the airport.
You, however, will generate a lot of content. Kevin and I went to the UK--the first time I've been there, outside of a layover at Heathrow (which predisposed me to like the entire country--there was air conditioning, potable tap water, and chocolate. What more does a country need?).
Kevin had a meeting at the University of Hull, so we flew to London, spent about 2 days there, then went to Hull for 3.5 days, then went to West Yorkshire (or possibly just western Yorkshire... given what a time we had navigating I don't want to make any firm statements about what might or might not be West Yorkshire) for 2 days, then drove up to Glasgow to fly home.
We did squeeze a lot in though. In London, we went on a running tour along the Thames (alarmingly, I nearly just typed Seine), ending up in time to watch the start of the Bupa 10K race, which is the UK championship at that distance.
We also marveled at the view from our hotel window:
(It turned out that with some roads closed for the race, buses were diverted past our hotel.)
I managed not to take any pictures in Hull, but I visited some interesting museums while we were there (even though people kept saying "oh... Hull..." in much the same tone they say "oh... New Haven..."). Hull was a big center for fishing, so there was a retired trawler with tours by former fishermen (who told the story about identifying bodies that washed ashore based on the cable design in their sweaters). And there was an endearing city museum with a cool display of historic sketches of the city paired with new photos taken from the same spot. Since I work in a museum-adjacent field, and spend a fair amount of time working with staff and volunteers of local history collections, I'm easily amused by slightly threadbare local museums (sadly, this does not extend to art museums, because I'm an uncultured barbarian). Plus they were free.
I took a bus out into the countryside one day to visit Burton Constable Hall, an country estate that's now partially open to the public (the family still live in one wing).
The name Burton Constable had seemed vaguely familiar, and when I got there the guidebook reminded me why: there used to be a whale skeleton there which Herman Melville visited when he was researching Moby Dick. I was briefly excited to see the skeleton, but it's been moved. Indoors, I hope, as it was outside when Melville saw it.
Then we had a series of mishaps--beginning with needing to buy a GPS/sat nav because the rental car we'd reserved turned out not to have one, including a visit to the right street address in the wrong city in a failed attempt to visit a yarn and fiber store, and ending with managing to find our guesthouse, despite not being 100% sure what town it was in... but we knew it was near a school!--which took us to Grassington (or possibly Threshfield) for the Wharfedale Half Marathon. (The important thing to see there is the elevation map, especially that gentle uphill slope between miles 5 and 7. And remember how much I hate hills.)
I lived through the race and I bought some celebratory yarn (from unusual breeds of local sheep!), we had some dinner, then drove further north in the direction of Glasgow.
On the last morning, we stopped at Hadrian's Wall for an embarrassingly short time, and made it to the Glasgow Airport (with only one unplanned visit to the wrong airport, Glasgow-Prestwick International Airport... handy tip, if you're trying to figure out which airport to go to with no information: if the airport says "International" right in the name, do not overlook the possibility that the airport PR people are trying to make it sound more impressive than it is).
We flew on Iceland Air, and stopped in Reykjavik (ok, Keflavik) in both directions. On the way back I realized why getting married in Iceland was such a great idea:
Knitting magazines in the airport.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Conflict
Woe is me--my hobbies/obsessions are all conflicting with each other.
A couple of weeks ago, it was biking and knitting, when I kept going on bike rides with Kevin instead of going to SnB. Last week and this week, it's rowing and knitting, since I have a boat safety class both Tuesday and Thursday nights both weeks when I'd rather be at SnB. That long run I did on Wednesday would have been much easier if I hadn't already rowed that morning. And over the weekend, I worked on our new dock instead of going to spinning. Then took a nap, watched TV and knit instead of biking... sometimes, my resolution fails me.
The boat safety class is funny--it's the most basic safety class for people who want to sail, use small powerboats, or ride personal watercraft (curse them!), and I'm taking it so I can learn to drive the small power launches the rowing club uses for officials during races. It's a bit like drivers' ed, in the sense that it's not really enough instruction to drive/sail without any other lessons (it's all taught in a classroom, for one thing, and reading the directions for docking is a bit like reading parallel parking directions... you need to actually do it to learn it--fortunately, after the safety class, there will be practice sessions with club members who can already drive a launch). It's also like drives' ed in that one of the main goals seems to be convincing us that boats can be dangerous, and we shouldn't do anything stupid or stop paying attention to what we're doing. So it's valuable, but not thrilling enough that I wouldn't rather be at SnB. Also, I think the class would be significantly improved if another goal were added: teaching everyone who plans to operate a powerboat or personal watercraft on the Housatonic, particularly between 7 and 9 on Saturday mornings, that speeding by the crews to make as much wake as possible isn't as funny as they think, or as impressive (engines are for wimps).
As a result of all these conflicts, my knitting is progressing slowly. I'm inching through a sock (possibly for you, R!) and a shawl, and trying to dash through a birthday gift for my niece. Fortunately, she's only turning one, so there's not much to dash through, because it's not very speedy dashing.
I did manage to dash through some Easter chicks, though, before my athletic hobbies staged a coup d'etat and overthrew my fuzzy hobbies.
(The pattern is called Lil Birdie. Very speedy--each one took an evening of not very focused knitting--and not very yarn intensive--I used scraps.)
A couple of weeks ago, it was biking and knitting, when I kept going on bike rides with Kevin instead of going to SnB. Last week and this week, it's rowing and knitting, since I have a boat safety class both Tuesday and Thursday nights both weeks when I'd rather be at SnB. That long run I did on Wednesday would have been much easier if I hadn't already rowed that morning. And over the weekend, I worked on our new dock instead of going to spinning. Then took a nap, watched TV and knit instead of biking... sometimes, my resolution fails me.
The boat safety class is funny--it's the most basic safety class for people who want to sail, use small powerboats, or ride personal watercraft (curse them!), and I'm taking it so I can learn to drive the small power launches the rowing club uses for officials during races. It's a bit like drivers' ed, in the sense that it's not really enough instruction to drive/sail without any other lessons (it's all taught in a classroom, for one thing, and reading the directions for docking is a bit like reading parallel parking directions... you need to actually do it to learn it--fortunately, after the safety class, there will be practice sessions with club members who can already drive a launch). It's also like drives' ed in that one of the main goals seems to be convincing us that boats can be dangerous, and we shouldn't do anything stupid or stop paying attention to what we're doing. So it's valuable, but not thrilling enough that I wouldn't rather be at SnB. Also, I think the class would be significantly improved if another goal were added: teaching everyone who plans to operate a powerboat or personal watercraft on the Housatonic, particularly between 7 and 9 on Saturday mornings, that speeding by the crews to make as much wake as possible isn't as funny as they think, or as impressive (engines are for wimps).
As a result of all these conflicts, my knitting is progressing slowly. I'm inching through a sock (possibly for you, R!) and a shawl, and trying to dash through a birthday gift for my niece. Fortunately, she's only turning one, so there's not much to dash through, because it's not very speedy dashing.
I did manage to dash through some Easter chicks, though, before my athletic hobbies staged a coup d'etat and overthrew my fuzzy hobbies.
(The pattern is called Lil Birdie. Very speedy--each one took an evening of not very focused knitting--and not very yarn intensive--I used scraps.)
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Saga
Just like knitting, running generates stories, most of which--let's be honest--are probably only interesting to other runners. Luckily for you, I've been thinking about those seven basic conflicts from high school English, and have handily broken down the saga of my run this morning into its component parts.
Preface:
(Naturally, the story begins with rowing.) My rowing club is temporarily rowing out of another club's boathouse, and I'm responsible for my boat's cox box--bring it to practice, bringing it home, and charging it overnight. Should be easy enough, but I left it at the boathouse this morning, didn't remember till I got home, and had to go back for it... on 95 and the Merritt Parkway, during the beginning stages of rush hour. [Man vs. man... although until I looked it up just now, I was thinking of this as man vs. civilization, which makes more sense in this case.]
This meant that I got back to my house at 8:50, instead of 7:50. Which meant that instead of eating a leisurely breakfast, knitting/reading for a bit and starting my long run at 9:30, in order to finish by 11:30, get cleaned up, eat, and get to work at 1 (I only needed to be at work a half day today), I needed to get ready pretty fast.
Chapter 1:
I get ready, but am very slow to leave the house because I feel deprived of the knitting time I thought I'd have and I want to finish my book. I convince myself to go, but not until 9:50. Once I start though, it's not so bad, and I decide to run the long way (6 miles) almost to campus, then out and back on the trail for 6 more miles. This means I'll go over a hill I could otherwise avoid, and I feel virtuous. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 2:
It starts to rain at about 10:05. [Man vs. nature.] At first, it's not too heavy, but pretty soon, I'm thinking of ways to shorten my route from 12 miles to 6 miles to 3 miles... maybe I could just run directly to the gym? Maybe if I went directly to the gym, a miracle would occur and I'd run on the track, instead of getting cleaned up and reading a book on my phone and knitting? Maybe I shouldn't run 12 miles today anyway, because I ran 10 miles on Sunday, and rest is also important. Hey, going to work early is starting to seem attractive! [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 3:
OK, now I'm wet to the skin, but I'm kind of getting used to it (I did bring a rain jacket, but it was too warm to wear it), and it's not too bad. I'll do the first 6 miles of my original plan, then see how I feel. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 4:
How can it possibly be both misting--so I run into little drops which fog my glasses--and raining big, cold, wet drops? The weather should pick one way to be unpleasant and stick with it. [Man vs. nature.] When I get to the trail, I'll turn directly back to campus and stop at 6 miles. Definitely better to do my long run tomorrow... Wednesday is only 2 days after Sunday, and rest is important. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 5:
Hey, now that I'm going towards campus, it's stopped raining (or lightened enough that it seems like it's stopped...), and it's not so bad again. I should turn around and do the out and back I planned. I've started already, and probably I wouldn't really do a long run tomorrow. And I don't feel that tired. Look, I'm going faster! OK, turning around. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 6:
Curses, it's raining harder again. OK, I was going to run out 2.5 miles, then back for 3.5 and then that would be 11 total, and 11 is practically 12, but maybe I should turn at 2--10 isn't so much less than 12. Or maybe at 1.5--9 is good too. And rest is important! [Man vs. himself.]
Conclusion:
Amazingly, I didn't turn back till I'd gone 2 miles out on the trail, so I ended up running 10 miles total. I put on my jacket at some stage, and when I took it off a puddle of water fell out of the hood (which I hadn't been wearing--it had just hung down my back like a bucket). And I needed to spin my entire outfit in the bathing suit spinner so it would stop dripping.
On the other hand, I don't have to run so far tomorrow!
Preface:
(Naturally, the story begins with rowing.) My rowing club is temporarily rowing out of another club's boathouse, and I'm responsible for my boat's cox box--bring it to practice, bringing it home, and charging it overnight. Should be easy enough, but I left it at the boathouse this morning, didn't remember till I got home, and had to go back for it... on 95 and the Merritt Parkway, during the beginning stages of rush hour. [Man vs. man... although until I looked it up just now, I was thinking of this as man vs. civilization, which makes more sense in this case.]
This meant that I got back to my house at 8:50, instead of 7:50. Which meant that instead of eating a leisurely breakfast, knitting/reading for a bit and starting my long run at 9:30, in order to finish by 11:30, get cleaned up, eat, and get to work at 1 (I only needed to be at work a half day today), I needed to get ready pretty fast.
Chapter 1:
I get ready, but am very slow to leave the house because I feel deprived of the knitting time I thought I'd have and I want to finish my book. I convince myself to go, but not until 9:50. Once I start though, it's not so bad, and I decide to run the long way (6 miles) almost to campus, then out and back on the trail for 6 more miles. This means I'll go over a hill I could otherwise avoid, and I feel virtuous. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 2:
It starts to rain at about 10:05. [Man vs. nature.] At first, it's not too heavy, but pretty soon, I'm thinking of ways to shorten my route from 12 miles to 6 miles to 3 miles... maybe I could just run directly to the gym? Maybe if I went directly to the gym, a miracle would occur and I'd run on the track, instead of getting cleaned up and reading a book on my phone and knitting? Maybe I shouldn't run 12 miles today anyway, because I ran 10 miles on Sunday, and rest is also important. Hey, going to work early is starting to seem attractive! [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 3:
OK, now I'm wet to the skin, but I'm kind of getting used to it (I did bring a rain jacket, but it was too warm to wear it), and it's not too bad. I'll do the first 6 miles of my original plan, then see how I feel. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 4:
How can it possibly be both misting--so I run into little drops which fog my glasses--and raining big, cold, wet drops? The weather should pick one way to be unpleasant and stick with it. [Man vs. nature.] When I get to the trail, I'll turn directly back to campus and stop at 6 miles. Definitely better to do my long run tomorrow... Wednesday is only 2 days after Sunday, and rest is important. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 5:
Hey, now that I'm going towards campus, it's stopped raining (or lightened enough that it seems like it's stopped...), and it's not so bad again. I should turn around and do the out and back I planned. I've started already, and probably I wouldn't really do a long run tomorrow. And I don't feel that tired. Look, I'm going faster! OK, turning around. [Man vs. himself.]
Chapter 6:
Curses, it's raining harder again. OK, I was going to run out 2.5 miles, then back for 3.5 and then that would be 11 total, and 11 is practically 12, but maybe I should turn at 2--10 isn't so much less than 12. Or maybe at 1.5--9 is good too. And rest is important! [Man vs. himself.]
Conclusion:
Amazingly, I didn't turn back till I'd gone 2 miles out on the trail, so I ended up running 10 miles total. I put on my jacket at some stage, and when I took it off a puddle of water fell out of the hood (which I hadn't been wearing--it had just hung down my back like a bucket). And I needed to spin my entire outfit in the bathing suit spinner so it would stop dripping.
On the other hand, I don't have to run so far tomorrow!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Spring Difficulty
So, here's the problem: it's getting warmer, but I love my wool sweaters and don't want to stop wearing them--so much so that I want to wear several of them constantly (all at the same time, if necessary), because I don't have that much time left with them this year. Simultaneously, I also want to start wearing my spring sweaters immediately. As someone who's always in danger of swathing herself in acres of knitted fabric and thinking she's dressed appropriately for work, this is a challenge.
In other news, an acre of knitted fabric:
(Note that I am not actually wearing this, just holding it up in front of myself for scale.)
I've finished the knitting portion of my impending knitted bag. Knit New Haven didn't have the pattern I wanted, and I didn't want to wait for them to order it like a reasonable person, so after some more rav-stalking and pondering, I decided to wing it. It seems gigantic, so possibly this will be more of a tote than a purse.
(Spoiler alert: I felted it last night and it's still huge. Almost certainly a tote, although there are some handle and closure possibilities that might move it back from tote to very large purse. Either way, it's taken the edge off my need to felt, at least for the moment. Although on the other hand, look how cute the handle on this clutch is (scroll down). Do you think it would be possible to felt knitted fabric enough that it would support itself like this?)
In other news, an acre of knitted fabric:
(Note that I am not actually wearing this, just holding it up in front of myself for scale.)
I've finished the knitting portion of my impending knitted bag. Knit New Haven didn't have the pattern I wanted, and I didn't want to wait for them to order it like a reasonable person, so after some more rav-stalking and pondering, I decided to wing it. It seems gigantic, so possibly this will be more of a tote than a purse.
(Spoiler alert: I felted it last night and it's still huge. Almost certainly a tote, although there are some handle and closure possibilities that might move it back from tote to very large purse. Either way, it's taken the edge off my need to felt, at least for the moment. Although on the other hand, look how cute the handle on this clutch is (scroll down). Do you think it would be possible to felt knitted fabric enough that it would support itself like this?)
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