Knitting: August 2008 Archives

A new set of handlebars, choosing rims, having my pedal threads retapped.

Flirting outrageously (redhead, natch). A couple of new dates in the works (non-redheads - well, one of them is in fact redheaded, but is not one of my fair redheaded friends).

A ride in a monsoon. A lovely cool ride the next day.

A thought about what I'd do if I were given another 40 years of life (just now), a thought about what death is, a thought that it's really best not to think such thoughts.

A list written to a boy I'll likely never meet. The world exists so much in the unwritten category these days - letters on a screen but never on a page.

I watched a documentary on the retrieval of a famous pirate ship wreck, and the objects they pulled up - the coins that used to be cut into eight pieces (yep, "pieces of eight"), a boy's shoe with a piece of his legbone still caught in it after 300 years. The cannon. More than 60 of them: English, French, and Spanish. The captain, a legendary dandy. The crew, run as a democracy, with even a primitive form of health insurance - they got paid for missing limbs.

My friends, pirates themselves, in one way or another, braving many, many dangers to flit in and out of traffic, delivering other people's packages for pittances - more money for faster riding. Bold, ignoring the laws of physics and the push of fear. Beautiful, strong, dirty, admirable, trash-talking, fiercely loyal, strangely kind.

That bit of knitting is a new hat, to go under my winter helmet. Yarn: Bought at Rhinebeck last fall, hand-dyed by a woman whom I met. The most glorious irislike colours. Colours is prettier with a "u," if you ask me.

Apparently there is an interview meme going 'round, whereby the blogger interviews her/his spouse regarding his/her feelings about her/his knitting activities, and knowledge of knitting terms. Having no spouse or even remote equivalent, I have decided to interview Kitwich instead.

Below is our interview, translated for your reading ease.

Girlwich: Has my knitting in public ever embarrassed you?
Kitwich: You never let me go out in public.

Girlwich: Do you know my favorite kind of yarn?
Kitwich: I know my favorite kind of yarn. Malabrigo.
Girlwich: Yeah, that's mine, too.

Girlwich: Can you name another blog?
Kitwich: No, but I can type something on yours. Here, let me walk on the keyboard.

Girlwich: Do you mind that I want to check out yarn stores everywhere we go?
Kitwich: See that first question. We don't go anywhere. You go out on that damn bike and leave me all alone to pine in the window. See me pining? Where's my catnip? I deserve catnip after such a long day of pining.

Girlwich: Do you understand the importance of a swatch?
Kitwich: I understand that it's tasty. But I really prefer the work-in-progress because it has those nice dangly ends.

Girlwich: What exactly is a swatch?
Kitwich. Yawn.

Girlwich: Do you read the blog?
Kitwich: No, but I write on it sometimes. xftrytfv. See? There. I just wrote something nice for you. Now gimme some catnip. Or milk. Milk is good, too.

Girlwich: Have you ever left a comment?
Kitwich: Um, hello. I comment all the time. Don't you hear me? Geez. What bad hearing you humans have.

Girlwich: Do you think the house would be cleaner if I didn't knit?
Kitwich: I think my litter box would be cleaner if you didn't knit. Or bike. Or think about boys.

Girlwich: Is there anything you would like to add in closing?
Kitwich: Yes. That Malabrigo looks tasty. I'm going to abscond with it now. And I should definitely get some milk and catnip after this blasted interview.