Because that’s what I do, even as I claim I want a simple small project. How we lie to ourselves!
These River Rapid Socks (from Sock Bug) have the pattern I was almost remembering. I found a printed out copy, aged a couple years, in my pattern folders. Which I was going through because I was putting away newly printed patterns culled from my paper piles. Sometimes good things come from cleaning up, besides a fleeting cleanliness.
I ripped out the ripple rib start – it was a touch too small anyway. Maybe. And I think I’ll ignore all those other wonderful possibilities, which aren’t quite what I want this time, but close. I need a few minutes at a table to cast on and get the first round knit. Because I knit loosely, I use 00/1.75mm needles for my socks. And that size is always metal. I cast on a couple nights ago, joined, and started knitting the first round. As I started the second needle, the fourth slipped quietly out.
It’s been too exciting around here to knit anyway.* In the meantime, I have a lovely pile of yarn noodle in the middle of the table.
And I’m working on the orange sweater still. Now I know I’m knitting on as started (until I reach the armholes), I carry it around with me. It’s using enough yarn that I feel like it will fit me, instead of my five year old. It must be the cables. It’s definitely the cables. Absolutely, the cables.
I think I should put it on waste yarn and check the circumference.
*Excitement involving ten police cars in front of our house and barricading our block for hours after arresting two guys in the next door backyard about ten feet from our back door, and hours later pulling out a stolen car from their garage. Hours, I tell you. We eavesdropped and snooped as much as possible (while pretending to be invisible) and not going outside. I think we figured out a fair bit, but we’re missing some essential details. And I want to know, badly. If it had happened a few houses down, I’d be less interested. Still horridly curious, but less interested. No, the two guys didn’t actually live there. My husband had nightmares about people (police? other bad guys?) coming through our house with guns. At least we didn’t have the responsibility of witnessing police brutality.