A shiver of fear ran down my spine when I saw this picture on menwhoknit.com. This handsome fellow is my SOCK WARS assassin!
What is my sock killer doing in MY town? Has he come to kill me in person?
And to think… I’m headed up to his town at the end of the month.
Quick, get this man a sweater pattern so he’s not knitting my death socks.
In lieu of writing or knitting imagery, here’s proof of what’s possible when you’re super-skinny and super-girly:
(Actually, size has nothing to do with hoop ability. Karis is just one of the best. It’s nice to see him in manly-esque street clothes. My hooping is leagues below these fellows.)
Finally, I’m getting around to posting these pictures. It’s hard working 10-12 hours a day, commuting, knitting obsessively and walking the dog.
Thank you, Yarn Monkey, for putting Sock Wars together. So far, I’ve made it through the first round. The pattern was a joy to knit and the gauge and DK yarn make it a speedy knit. A pair of socks under a week? We’ll see if I slow down once I get my target’s next target’s socks.
I know who my killer is from his listing on MenWhoKnit.com. No word on his progress. Brother, why can’t we all just get along?
Tonight I graft the first toe and rally down the cuff. I have a long train ride home, the boyfriend’s out at a meeting and I plan on killing you by Wednesday morning… to arrive in MN by Friday.
I realize I may die trying, but I wanted to thank you for being my first target. Assassination is more fun than I thought it would be.
Your Killer
First pair, first sock. Gotta go finish it so I can start #2.
Janie Sparkles would kill for that sock.
Don’t want to be killed without first killing.
I’ve just turned the heel and started the gusset on my first killer sock for Sock Wars. Didn’t get yarn until this afternoon. I even swatched a few inches to be sure I got gauge on 5s. My target’s socks should be in the mail by Tuesday at the latest. I wonder how my killer is doing.
On Friday, my only knitting accomplishment was writing about it. I spent the morning and early afternoon struggling with my work computer, the VPN and trying to map the network so I could clean out my inbox. Alas.
Photos to follow of killer sock progress, Betsy’s sleeves and the massive stash of yarn she gave me to finish the sweater, the remaining clog. If my hands start hurting, If you’re lucky, I’ll try to get a pic or two from Folsom.
…means a day of knitting?
Two years later and I’m still in love with the sticks and the strings and the sticthes. It’s what I look forward to doing whenever I have a moment. If I had the money, I’d buy tickets for long international plane flights, just so I could have uninterrupted hours of fiber joy.
Two stitches or two hours, it’s all good. For the first time, I’ve found something that is about the process, or the journey, not the finished product. Obviously, there’s some enjoyment derived from training for my athletic stuff, but usually, it’s about the competition or the bragging afterwards. I’m not a natural athlete. I’m quite content sitting on the couch, never running a step, pushing a pedal, swimming a lap, moving through poses, bending deeper, or lifting a heavy object. Ballet, skateboarding, acting, academics, art and such have come and gone. Knitting is something I crave. The passion is deeply rooted in my heart. I wouldn’t want to try to earn money by the act of knitting, but I’d love to dedicate all my hours at work to it.
Today, I’m finally taking a Friday off. We have an 80 hours in 9 days schedule at work that allows you to take a three-day weekend every other week. I’ve been working throught them lately. Although I brought my laptop home, I don’t NEED to do any work this weekend. I will sort through archived email, but that’s not going to be the focus of my weekend. Between swim practice, getting my car checked out, researching a new car (hybrid or biodiesel?), working at Folsom Street Fair (leather-clad flesh behind that link), and working the Massive Attack/DJ Shadow show tonight, I plan on some hardcore knitting time.
Although the Trek-a-long was a bust blog-wise (though I love the resulting socks), I’m giving it another go with Sock Wars. Let’s hope that I figure out a means to post more photos. As I’m awaiting the pattern (to be sent today), I could use my time off to shoot last weekend’s knitting bonanza. Stay tuned…
We went back to Walzwerk tonight. It’s hard to keep a good man down, right? Actually, I wasn’t in the mood to cook dinner, having survived a day of BART and my bike. When I got home after 8:40, all I wanted was their Special Spaetzle (salmon, cheese, spinach in with the buttery and oniony goodness which only appears on the menu every so now and then). Last night, the only food offerings were sausages grilled outside (not my thing since 1991) and a variety of salads and slaws.
Tonight was the last night for my favorite Spaetzle, as the menus change on Tuesdays. Comfort food would do me good. Alas, there was not enough noodle as a table ahead of us ordered the last plate. Knowing the owner was frazzled from the party and just wanting something yummy, I suggested dumplings and the mushroom Jaeger sauce. She returned from the kitchen with more bad news: only one dumpling left. Finally, I orderd some house-cured salmon and beet salad to accompany the starchy yumminess.
When our dinner arrived, she surprised me with a half order of the spaetzle to go along with the lox and the dumpling. Carbo-feast made it all better. Although it was a stressful day, and it sucks that my car may no longer be, I can celebrate the fact that we weren’t in the car when it was hit, no one close to me was injured, and in the end, only a material object was damaged. Thank you for kind comments. Despite the aggrevating end to the weekend, there was a lot of knitting accomplished: a second sleeve for my variation on Durrow and a 44-stitch wide swatch to test out a chart for a future Janie sweater. IOU photos.
While attending the 7th anniversary of our favorite restaurant, Walzwerk, my car was the victim of pretty serious hit-and-run. What I thought was a simple broken tail light turned out to be a major impact that bent the frame of the trunk, misaligning the hatchback door and bending the axel. The tow truck guys said it’s mostly likely totalled.
Once I paid it off, I reduced my insurance coverage. Therefore, no claim can be made; I’m just without a car. It would be great if I could get some money for it, but I’m thinking the best case scenario is going to be a big fat donation to KQED or SF MoMA. Too bad you can’t drive your dog to work in a tax write-off. More time for knitting on BART.
Back before I was a knitter, I was writing to myself online, often on much more personal topics. In honor of what happened in NYC, Pennsylvania and DC five years ago, I wanted to re-post something written two days after the attacks. Coincedentally, September 11, 2000 is the day I started my current job/career, so it holds a positive significance as well its place in history.
6:57 p.m. 2001-09-13
Up until Monday, I was feeling guilty for not getting back to write. So much had happened that was significant: running for three days in New Mexico and deciding I was bad-ass, discussing moving in with C and finding an apartment, wanting to come clean about the past two years with C to my X, and my first year anniversary at work. Big things.
Then something bigger happened. I got to watch it unfold on TV. They've named it "America Under Attack," complete with exploding WTC graphics. I call it sad. And frightening.
I guess I'm lucky, living on the West Coast, far away from it all. All my friends in NYC and DC have been accounted for, thank goodness. I've even spoken to most of them. I've got blessings.
The most significant loss in my world is a friend of my roommate was the rugby player that called his mom from the flight that went down in PA. Roomie sent me an email Mark had written just a week ago that sums up everything I feel about queers and athletics. I'm going to keep that with me forever. Will the networks paint a complete portrait of this guy? Those have been my only tears.
I'm frightened of how this will change everything. Not just flying, but my taking everything for granted. I've never had to tally my friends before.
I'm scared of my "fellow" Americans, when I hear jingo-istic war cries on TV or in the office. The hatred and intolerance that will come out of this won't go away easily. Sure, we'll all remember the tragedy, I just hope we find a way to move past the anger and work on healing.
Gosh, that sounds so Californian.
Tragedy reminds me of how easily life can be stolen, how much I rely on others, and how important it is to overcome and heal. And that includes not thinking in "us" and "them" terms.
Perhaps it's too soon for mainstream America to hear such Kum Ba Yah sentiments. They're not being broadcast on TV or scribed in the papers. People are just beating the drum, rallying the masses.
I'll just keep humming to myself softly.
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