Startitus

Ramona: Re-started to fix the scallopping at the bottom of the center seam. Since I managed to snip the wrong thread, I ripped back a few rows and added another inch to the length. The knitting's been done for at least a week, but I can't seem to manage to sew the hem down and reseam. Which is too bad, since I'd really like to wear it again before the weather's too warm for angora. Blue socks-that-come-up-to-his-knees for T. One is almost done, and I've cast on for the second, but I haven't had a lot of car knitting time lately.

Cabled baby blanket for the new, not-quite-here-yet nephew. The only problem is I'm not in a cabling kind of mood. But SIL really wanted a cabled blanket, so I'm pushing through a couple of rows a day.

And once I manage that, I turn to my new love:

Swallowtail Shawl, from Interweave Knits Fall 2006 by the oh-so-amazing Evelyn Clark. The yarn is Fearless Fibers superwash sock merino, in Brick House, and the colors are wonderful. Very subtle and interesting. I think it will look wonderful when it's blocked. The yarn was a gift from my sock pal, and I've been saving it to find something that would show off the colors.

I started it on Tuesday, 2/5; I'm done with the first border chart already. So another three days or so and I should be ready to block it. The nupps aren't too bad; I'm using size 6 KnitPicks Harmony needles, and I've been nupp-ing loosely, so the p5tog are going relatively well. (What does "nupp" stand for, anyway? Why nupp? Why not nipp? or nup?)

I started it in part because, having just mailed off my dissertation in its penultimate form, I needed something a little complicated to distract me. I'm thinking about giving it to my (female) head advisor after my defense; I'm not sure if that means I need to knit something for each of my committee members, though. I've got another skein of Fearless Fibers sock yarn, although it's not the superwash version, so the skein has less yardage. Maybe another Swallowtail? Or something slightly less complicated (or at least, less-complicated looking) for my third reader (also female), and a scarf for my second reader (male)?

I'm hoping to schedule the defense for my spring break, which is the first week in March; it would be easier to go down if I don't have to juggle classes at the same time. We'll see what the committee says, though. But at the rate this shawl is moving, I should be able to finish another couple of gifts before then.

C is for . . .

I had a lot of trouble deciding on a C. C, in my world, is often for chocolate. And champagne. (Not to mention the calories that go along with them.) It's also for chai, and cold, and china. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that really, the C that I wanted to show you?

Colgate, where I spent 1991-1995. (Or, as my husband likes to call it, the mythical kingdom of col-ga-tay.)

The "golden nipple" atop the Chapel, visible for miles--always a sure sign that we were getting close to campus.

Torchlight ceremony, the night before graduation. It involves a walk down Cardiac*, the main hill on campus, while wearing academic regalia and carrying a flaming torch. Good times.

Lawrence Hall, home of the English and French departments. Although I rarely use my French anymore, I double-majored: French as well as English.


Lineberry Natatorium, where I spent most of my time as a member of the varsity team, swimming back and forth. It was rarely warm enough to have the roof open, as it's shown here.


Colgate in winter, which lasted for much of the academic year. My birthday is at the end of September; 3 out of 4 years, there were snow flurries for a birthday present.

All of these photos are official Colgate photos (I saved them to my desktop, though--no hotlinking for me!). My pictures of Colgate, although precious to me, are not digital, and I don't have a scanner, so I've borrowed these to show you my C.

*Colgate-ism: you can tell the seniors from the first-years by the size of their calves, due to the number of times that they walk up and down Cardiac each day.

A Blogger's (Silent) Poetry Reading

Cyclamens


They are terribly white:
There is snow on the ground,
And a moon on the snow at night;
The sky is cut by the winter light;
Yet I, who have all these things in ken,
Am struck to the heart by the chisilled white
Of this handful of cyclamen.

written by Michael Field (Katherine Bradley 1846-1914 and Edith Cooper 1862-1913).
from Under the Bough, 1893.