I normally don't knit outside of a very small circle of immediate family. Not even my one set of grandparents get knitted gifts every year. I like to think that the reason is time constraints, that I wouldn't be able to knit anything for myself if I knit for a lot of birthdays, Christmases, and Mother's Day every year. Deep down, though, where reality lives without blindness, it's probably selfishness. I don't want to spend that much time and money every year for more than a few people. Sometimes I wonder if this is normal and healthy.
This year, or at least so far, has been different. I've actually knit things for my brothers and had them well received thanks to the techniques of colorwork and cables. I've got a new nephew on the way this September, so I've discovered exactly why baby things are so dang cute. Some yarns actually spoke the names of my grandparents to me, and I discovered my grandpa has wanted a knit beanie for awhile. This wouldn't seem too strange as it fits into the 'strictly family' rule, except it's spilled over into my friends as well. I'm leaving Madrid in two weeks and will study in Ireland in the fall. I don't plan on coming back except for a weekend. Given the nature of grad school, I don't know when that will be, and so, I feel the need to give some kind of memento to some of my friends. I have to say that yes, I was here, please do not forget me.
I'm making Paraphernalia socks out of Regia for my friend Rachel. Currently, they look something like this:
I've finished the gusset today, although I really should be doing more things in preparation of leaving. I'm enjoying these socks, though; the k3p1 rib is relaxing now that I am so stressed. The cables give me just enough complexity that I don't think too much.
The story of these socks is the story of my friend Rachel. She came here about the same time I did, although we did not meet until later when we both worked for the same third rate academy. Being as chatty as two birds, we got on well and met sometimes for tea outside of work. When I had some roommate trouble earlier this year, she offered me her floor to stay the night and an extra hand when I decided to move out. Her bad luck started in February, when she met me at Knit Night. While we were chatting with the other knitters, someone stole her bag, which held her wallet, mobile phone, teaching books, and house keys with the address attached. I went with her to the police commission to make the report and hold her cold hand when she cried. A few weeks' later, our academy was told that a major client wasn't renewing their contract, and Rachel lost most of her classes and income. Now she is looking for another job, but she is having a lot of trouble due to the financial crisis here. I can't do anything material to help and I worry about her. I did what I reckon most other knitters would do in my position: make something. She had picked this pattern back in January when I offered to knit her socks, but I think she has forgotten about it by now. They won't win her an interview or a job contract, but I like to believe that they will provide her with love, luck, and warm feet in winter. I hope this is true.
This year, or at least so far, has been different. I've actually knit things for my brothers and had them well received thanks to the techniques of colorwork and cables. I've got a new nephew on the way this September, so I've discovered exactly why baby things are so dang cute. Some yarns actually spoke the names of my grandparents to me, and I discovered my grandpa has wanted a knit beanie for awhile. This wouldn't seem too strange as it fits into the 'strictly family' rule, except it's spilled over into my friends as well. I'm leaving Madrid in two weeks and will study in Ireland in the fall. I don't plan on coming back except for a weekend. Given the nature of grad school, I don't know when that will be, and so, I feel the need to give some kind of memento to some of my friends. I have to say that yes, I was here, please do not forget me.
I'm making Paraphernalia socks out of Regia for my friend Rachel. Currently, they look something like this:
I've finished the gusset today, although I really should be doing more things in preparation of leaving. I'm enjoying these socks, though; the k3p1 rib is relaxing now that I am so stressed. The cables give me just enough complexity that I don't think too much.
The story of these socks is the story of my friend Rachel. She came here about the same time I did, although we did not meet until later when we both worked for the same third rate academy. Being as chatty as two birds, we got on well and met sometimes for tea outside of work. When I had some roommate trouble earlier this year, she offered me her floor to stay the night and an extra hand when I decided to move out. Her bad luck started in February, when she met me at Knit Night. While we were chatting with the other knitters, someone stole her bag, which held her wallet, mobile phone, teaching books, and house keys with the address attached. I went with her to the police commission to make the report and hold her cold hand when she cried. A few weeks' later, our academy was told that a major client wasn't renewing their contract, and Rachel lost most of her classes and income. Now she is looking for another job, but she is having a lot of trouble due to the financial crisis here. I can't do anything material to help and I worry about her. I did what I reckon most other knitters would do in my position: make something. She had picked this pattern back in January when I offered to knit her socks, but I think she has forgotten about it by now. They won't win her an interview or a job contract, but I like to believe that they will provide her with love, luck, and warm feet in winter. I hope this is true.
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