To be knitting lace again...
First, though, thanks for all the kudos for doing the run. I feel pretty good about the whole thing, and will likely keep it up (though I have given some thought to switching out running for biking). It's easy to think about in the light of day, but my resolve wavers when the alarm goes off at 4:45am...
Anyway, as I suspected, I hate the way this yarn is knitting up.
(Kindly ignore the boiled-ass look of the unblocked lace and commiserate with me on the boiled-ass look of the variegation.)
It's lovely and soft and I think it will make a beautiful finished product, but I deeply dislike variegated lace, or really, variegated knitting of any type, with the exception of socks. Mottled, shaded yarns based on one hue? (what do we call those? kettle-dyed?) Lemme at 'em. This stuff? Not so much. (Before you ask, the store I visited had a limited selection, due to a recent move. The solid colors they did have were either not the recipient's favorite colors, or were superwash. I knew I could work with the greens in this yarn to come up with a nicely shaded, medium-to-dark cedar green with a light over-dye.) Lovely Echo Flowers (from here out, "Effie") will be having a bath in the dyepot when I've finished knitting her. The knitting of this shawl is interesting, too - the '2 into 9' and '3 into 9' stitches, which sound vaguely Borg-like, make these cute little flower-like spots throughout (though they are a monster pain to work), and I can hardly wait to get to the edging. (I'll have to, I have only 4 or 5 of 13 repeats of the flowers done.)
Truth be told, I still have Madli on the go, and while I still love that pattern, I won't likely be getting back to it any time soon. It requires the presence of a tray of beads, and with four little boys in the house (the happy pitter-patter of 12 little feet, as T puts it) I don't see myself working on it in the near future. I have procured a water bottle for the training of the four-leggeds, though, so maybe that will help. (I wonder if the water bottle can be used to train the two-leggeds?)(Update since I started this post - nope. They giggle when you spray them, then squint their eyes and grin and wait for the next spritz.)
Two Sundays ago, the four of us did the AIDS walk in Phoenix, and afterwards, all four of us, feeling under the weather, came home and napped for hours. It was indulgent and luxurious. I woke up to T unpacking boxes, and the boys bright eyed and rosy-cheeked (which later turned out to be fever), and we all had a lovely, restful evening. The rest of the time, though, we feel like we're on a hamster wheel. So much to be done, so little time and/or energy. The quickening pace of the fall... I've written about it before. I think the people who feel it still feel the urgency of the harvesting in their blood. The need to get it all done, all the food put up, all the wood chopped, all the ground turned, all the everything, before the dormancy of winter sets in. School starting, holidays bearing down. Daylight fading. No matter that I don't farm, that here in Phoenix the dormancy happens in the summertime, that I've never needed to put up food or chop wood or turn the fields... I still feel the urgency of the impending winter. I have a few limited projects I want to get going this month, plus the general care and feeding of home, children, partner, pets. I'm trying to attack my to-do list like I do my running: no matter how slowly I go, I'm making progress if I just don't stop. Unlike my pioneering forebears, no one will starve or freeze if I don't get it all done. (For which I am profoundly grateful - I am FAR too lazy to be a pioneer of anything but cookie-consumption.)(The flaw in this plan is that we dirty things and untidy things far more quickly than T and I can clean and tidy them again. Small bursts of desecration are apparently more efficient than small bursts of cleaning and tidying.)
This weekend is, of course, packed full of delightful engagements that will see us getting further behind in the home maintenance department. Sunday night will hit, and I will say, where the hell have all Smacky's socks gone, and why doesn't anyone have clean underwear? (The answer: no one knows. he takes them off at daycare, hides them or throws them away, and puts his shoes back on. and also, dunno, should prolly buy us some more.) But it will all be totally worth it.