the Village Knittiot

…and done. Kinda. Well, I mean, look:

Two handsomely-cabled gauntlets of equal length, on the arms of the recipient. Done, right? Umm….

Yeah, I Sasha Cohened it. Strong compulsories, gorgeous short program and then wham! Flat on my ass in the finals. I don’t know what happened. Well, I know lots of things that happened: the dim-dammed needles kept falling out of the stitches and I may not have picked up all the right loops; my backward-loop make-one was all over the map; I left insufficient tails on the fingers of Thing One (now known as “Ol’ Holey”); the gauntlets were tried on right after coming off the needles and before end-weaving, which might have helped a too-short end wiggle free. I know the mistakes I made, I just don’t know which one caused THAT. And I don’t think it’s an easy fix; nope, this is a “Ladies and Gentleman, in tonight’s presentation, the role of Tinkerhell will be played by Kaizerin” kinda thing.

Grr. Argh. Bronze?

I would like to thank my lovely and gracious hostess, the Knittiot, both for getting me involved in this insanity, and for providing the space to blerg–uh, BLOG–about it. You are THE BEST, Ms. K, and this has been great fun! See you all in Beijing!

The toe I could live with is NOT the toe that I wanted, but nevertheless, here it is. Pointy? Check. Elven curl? Not so much.

I do love the colors, though.

I am still contemplating adding a cuff to the top, just to give them a little more personality. Slippers should be fun and funky, and these just need a little something more to push them over that edge.

I am going to leave the Olympic theme up for a few days. That way Kaizerin will get a chance to post her results and also because I’m feeling a little sad that it’s over. Of course, that sadness is going to be pretty fleeting since Kaizerin and I have another little project we are in the midst of cooking up… More details to follow…

Well folks, I hate to say it, but the Knittiot fell just short of finishing. Much of yesterday was spent working and reworking experimental pointy toes in order to get the right kind of elven curl on the end, but to no avail. Every attempt resulted in something I would likely shove in the back of my closet and never, ever wear not be proud to put on my feet. In the end, I had to admit that the constraints of my own personal knitting knowledge proved too great an obstacle.

Now, most of you will not be surprised to learn that I am a bit of a rabid perfectionist at times. So, as the minutes and hours slowly ticked away yesterday and my chances of finding a suitable toe for the finish dwindled into the land of impossible dreams, I began to hyperventilate. Panic and anxiety are not typically funny things, but if you can’t laugh at them, they never go away, so I did a little bit of laughing about it alternated with some crying and a dash of self criticism for good measure. But mostly I spent a lot of time thinking about my experiences and what I learned from participating in the Knitting Olympics and also from watching the Olympics.

The pursuit of self knowledge has a particular ebb and flow to it, and each wave of realization that washes over you carries new details that penetrate deeper and add a new layer of understanding. Yesterday was like the crest of a wave that has been slowly rolling in for the last week or so.

I don’t know about you, but when I first discover something, I pour myself into it. I am that proverbial teenager who is forever convincing their parent(s) that they want to play a new instrument, take up a new sport, pursue a foreign language and so on and so forth, leaving in my wake a trail of unused equipment and accessories for long abandoned “hobbies.” Each time I find something new, it is going to be THE thing. It will be my life. I will be perfect at it.

Then it takes time and practice and I don’t have the patience for it and it falls by the wayside. I, of course, tend to use these “failings” as a means of convincing myself that I am no good at anything, instead of just saying, well, this isn’t the form my passion takes.

Knitting has been slightly different in that I haven’t given up — or even wanted to give up. It has however taken on the typical grandiose expectations. Part of those grandiose expectations are a true desire to learn and grow and advance in the craft. But there is something else going on here.

Yesterday, as I was getting completely worked up about my inability to figure something so simple out, I just had to stop and ask myself, “What are you trying to achieve here?”

What is knitting supposed to be for me?

The answer to that question is really quite simple. Knitting is supposed to be relaxing. Meditative. A creative outlet.

I think that in this, as in other things, I am still chasing after something, maybe an identity of sorts. Something that I am good at that can define me. Something I can focus on and excel at. Something to validate me. Of course, I have many interests and am easily enticed in new directions — Jill of all trades, master of none, and all that — which presents its own problems. But there is something in this mad pursuit that seems to miss the whole point.

Last night my sweetie asked me what I was chasing. And I really had to think about that. What am I chasing? What am I trying to be? What is this elusive goal? When will you be satisfied with yourself?

Good questions.

Watching the Olympics this week, I was often struck by the sadness that seemed to accompany the bronze and silver medalists to the podium. The only thing they appeared to see were the failures and mistakes that cost them the gold. It was as if they were incapable of seeing what they did right — what earned them the medal or even just the joy of participation!

Hmmmm. Sound familiar?

Yeah, it sounds familiar to me too.

Having sufficiently searched my soul and oddly enough rediscovered my love of knitting, I got back on track. Toward the end of the day, I finally decided on a toe I could live with and set about to finish, but I am about 8 rows short of finishing the last slipper/sock. I’m also contemplating adding a decorative cuff now that I have a little extra time.

So, the big question is, “Will you compete again?”

My answer? A resounding, “Yes!” I pushed myself, I learned so much and I was a part of this really amazing global event. Of course, there are many things I will do differently next time around. But overall, it was a great success.

Inspired by the awesome Gold Medal winning performance of Apolo Anton Ohno (how wonderful is he?) in the 500M short track race, and spurred on by the extremely exciting gold medal hockey game, which I am currently watching, I am attempting to pull into the lead! Here’s where we are as of 9:18 this morning.

What do you think? Can I finish these babies and felt them before the end of the day? Stay tuned for more exciting coverage as the Village Knittiot races against the clock and herself!

While some people manage to produce long voluminous posts and generate yards and yards of knitting in a seemingly effortless fashion, others of us have to stop typing long enough to get in a few stitches from time to time. And while progress has been made, it has been very little progress these last couple of days.

Still, despite the fact that the ticking time counter of death (located on the yarn harlot’s side bar) proclaims loudly and mockingly that I have a mere 3 days, 2 hours, 38 minutes and 23 seconds to complete my project, I am mostly undaunted. Despite the fact that I still have to complete the heel flap, gusset and entire foot of the second slipper, I will not fear. Despite the fact that I still have not figured out exactly how I am going to tackle the pointy toe, my mind is sharp and alert. Oh, and then there is the whole need to felt the project… Okay. So, realistic assessment — there is a lot to be done. Can it be done? Yes, I believe it can. We have enough leftovers in the house so that I don’t have to do any cooking for the next couple of days and I have all weekend, right? Right.

So, if things are quiet around here for the next couple of days, well, you’ll know why. But if you don’t hear from me in a few days, you might want to send out a search party, because I may be hopelessly caught up in a yarn tangle of massive proportions, stuck on my couch, unable to reach the refrigerator and starving slowly to death…

Sorry ‘bout being such a bad blogger lately—the three days in Vegas, I’ve got an excuse for: no connectivity in the stupid work laptop I had to take. For the three days I was back and didn’t write…nope, no excuse. Unless maybe ‘laziness’ got upgraded to the “acceptable” column while I wasn’t looking? I mostly just moved from the bed to the couch, and then the couch back to the bed, all three days. The first two, I had to keep my leg propped up, ‘cause it was hurting bad from the previously-mentioned bowling injury. I know you’ve been imagining an unfortunate dropped or thrown bowling ball incident, but no: I just wrenched the living hell out of my left knee. Still, it could have been worse—if I’d hurt an arm, I might have been sidelined from the Games! As it was, three days of sitting on the sofa totally lent themselves to making up for lost knitting time. Et voila, my progress to date:

Yep, I cast on the second gauntlet! I got the first one done right up to the fingies on Saturday night, and set it aside to work on my vintage stole for the rest of the night. Come Sunday morning, I still couldn’t quite face the fingers. I kinda…hate them. But I love working the body of that thing, so *whoosh* goes Thing 1 off the needles and *zing* goes Thing 2 on. The fingers can wait.

So, Vegas stats: hours of sleep: 12 over two nights—not good by my standards, but not bad at all for Vegas; drinks: 1 Irish coffee (yeah, really. It’s probably the most I’ll drink all year, too.) Money down the slots: $10, which brings my lifetime score in Vegas to, uh, something like $57 bucks, maybe? I don’t like gambling. If I’m gonna come home lighter by a few hundred bucks, there better be fancy-name shopping bags involved.

And now, what you’re really waiting for: the pirates. I had dinner with a colleague Tuesday night at Treasure Island (at Isla, which I whole-heartedly recommend, if you like Mexican food. We both loved everything we ordered.) After dinner, we went in search of the pirate show, and discovered that it was just starting. We schmoozed our way into the VIP section, but that ended up being an unfortunate thing. You may have heard that “TI” has recently re-done its pirate show to up the “T&A” factor? Well, VIP passes get you front-row viewing of the High Seas Hoochie-Mamas; the pirate ship is behind you—and all the non-VIP suckers are between you and it. So, we didn’t get a good look at the pirates until the point in the show when…er…

***SPOILERS FOR THE T.I. PIRATE SHOW. DON’T READ FURTHER IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW HOW IT TURNS OUT!!!***

…the point in the show when the Sea-Hoors sink the pirate ship, and the guys all swim the lagoon and board the SS Strumpet for the big final number. But I promised piratey goodness, and never let it be said I don’t deliver on my promises-relating-to-piracy:

Mmmm….meaty!

A little sumpin’-sumpin’ for everybody.

We loitered after the show, but the pirates didn’t come by us. We asked around, and found out that TI doesn’t let the pirates mingle with the crowds anymore. (I’m sure that’s to cut down on the gropin’ and the molestin’, but I’m not clear on who’s being protected from whom.) They didn’t even have a pirate statue from which I could drape Thing 1 for a photo op. Not a poster, not a doorman, not even a cocktail waitress done up all wenchy—nuffin’! It were sore disappointing, I have to tell you. This is the most pirate action Thing 1 got:

The Amazing Bendy Blackbeard

Ain’t he the cutest, happiest li’l Scourge of the Seven Seas you ever saw?

For most of my early post-college working life, Mondays were such a strain. It was hard to get back into the swing of doing something I felt stifled by after spending a weekend doing only what I wanted (mostly). And the “threat” of Monday morning always made Sunday evenings seem a little desperate, as if I needed to pack them so full of comfort that my heart had sufficient padding to head back into a tough and depleting environment. Yeah, my first “real” job was great (”real” job is what everyone seemed to refer to my first corporate job as — as if what I had been doing since I was 14 years old hadn’t been work…). Of course, the terrifying nature of Mondays was not new to me.

My school years were much like this as well. Often times on Sunday evening I was so anxious about having to go back to school I would make myself sick. And I would plead with my mother to keep me home the next day. Only occasionally would that tactic work. Most often, she would send me anyway (single working mother + lack of babysitter = no option to stay home), despite any imagined or anxiety induced illnesses. School for me was brutal. Kids are cruel and I was sensitive. Enough said.

Over the last few years, I have really worked to make the world less exhausting and as a wonderful benefit to that work, Sundays have seriously ceased to hold the same manic quest for solace and have become more like just another day. They got even better when I started working for a company that I liked, doing something I enjoy. And now that I’m working at home and for myself, well, everyday is a potential work day. So the Monday Blahs don’t tend to make an appearance, though the ingrained response sometimes likes to suggest itself to me.

So, this morning as I was sitting down to type and my mind said, “Uggh. It’s Monday, you have to work today.” A few other plaintive voices chimed in, “Yes, that’s tough. Life is so hard.” My true voice, the one I am only recently discovering (thank you therapy), and the one that always rings clear like a bell, simply laughed. Not in mockery or contempt. Not in derision, just a laugh. Pure joy. Pure amusement. And all the other voices metaphorically looked around and sort of gave a half shrug and started laughing too. With one sweep, the cobwebs of Mondays past were swept away — a quick mental tidy courtesy of laughter.

Anyway, much knitting was accomplished this weekend. The first ridiculous attempt at the pointy toe was tackled and, well, I think it needs a little work since it doesn’t so much resemble a pointy toe as it does a hideous growth…

I am proud of myself for working it all the way to its inevitable grotesque conclusion, even though I knew fairly quickly that it wasn’t going to work, because seeing what went wrong is exactly what I needed in order to make some alterations. Here it is in its entirety — feel free to point and laugh.

By Saturday night I wasn’t up to attempting another go at it, so I cast on for the second slipper just to have some relatively mindless knitting to work with while watching more Olympics. After having claimed a loss of interest several days ago, I have gone on to spend countless hours watching the coverage and have taken up many minutes of my sweetie’s life with my detailed explanations of what happened, who won, who made idiotic mistakes and lost and what emotional events have taken place. Even though he really doesn’t care for the Olympics, he is such a dear and asks me everyday, “So, what is happening on the Olympics?” and then proceeds to listen attentively as I regale him with my own personal commentary. I have a kind and considerate sweetie.

…goes right up on the blog!

Hi! Back! Strung out, wrung out, and sidelined by a brutal bowling injury. (Sad but true: bowling broke me. Also sad: bowling in Vegas.) And my head hurts. Can I be hung over if I only had one drink, three days ago?

The digicam is loaded with pics; most are work-related (i.e., boring), but I did get out of the hotel long enough to catch the pirate show at Treasure Island (or “TI”, as it kept insisting I call it.) I’ve got knitting, and pirates, but, sadly, not pirates knitting.

And as soon as I get my brain back from the cleaners, I’ll put together a little photo essay for you lovelies. To tide you over, here’s a shot of the view I had from my room. Nice, huh?

…with the Olympics. I haven’t watched anything in a couple of days now and only half-heartedly glanced at the online results. I didn’t even watch the men’s figure skating short program. I think partly it is the coverage. I don’t like the flipping back and forth between events. I don’t like the commentators or the hype surrounding certain athletes (who, when they then monumentally fail to perform, are all anyone can talk about — yeah, they screwed up, let’s move on). Meanwhile, the ones who do perform get very little coverage. Everyone loves a tragedy…

Then I saw this segment on the “technology” behind the athletes — computer analysis of their performance, special equipment, etc., etc., etc. They did a really good job of helping us truly understand that it isn’t about who is the best athlete anymore, but about who has the best toys. Let’s translate that to — who has the most money or the best sponsors. I know I must sound like a broken record with all my railing against the most insidious ways that corporations make their way into our lives and everyday vocabulary, but it really is alarming. And once again, it is another tale of the haves and have nots. Which is not to say that there aren’t tales of the “have nots” making it, however, how often do they have access to the facilities and equipment?

I vaguely remember hitting this point the last time around. And I seem to recall now that I stopped watching then too. Hmmm. How soon we forget.

I have not, however, fallen out of love with the Knitting Olympics. I am making great progress on the sock and have completed the main body of the foot. I am ready to head into my toe decreases, which brings me smack up against that problematic little pointy toe I want to create. It isn’t enough that the slippers come out to a point, the point needs to curl upward, like little elf shoes. So, after an impromptu design discussion with Mr. Knittiot (I’m so glad he understands the creation of three dimensional shapes), we came up with a plan to create a “toe flap.” This is exactly what it sounds like — a modified heel flap for the toe, which, when turned, will draw the point up over the top of the toe. The curling in will (hopefully) be accomplished with a larger number of decreases in the right spots). There is still much figuring that needs to be done, and potentially some heartbreak and frustration, but once I am over this hump, well, the next one should just fly. *knocks on wood*

Work has recently become very busy. This is mostly a good thing — I tend to be more productive when I am busy. However, I sometimes find that I start feeling very rushed and pressured about everything in my life. I don’t take the time to breathe as much and I start fostering crazy expectations and living in a state of perpetual disappointment. That is not a cycle I want to continue. Still, I find that it is sometimes difficult to locate that fine line between being realistic and pushing yourself beyond your comfort zones to expand and press further than you think you can.

As I have been reflecting on what is realistic and still challenging, my Olympics project keeps coming to mind as a good example. It was a small endeavor in ways, because after all, it is a pair of slippers. I worried about that for a couple of weeks leading up to the start of the games, thinking that I really ought to have picked something more challenging. You know, like designing my own sweater and knitting it out of yarn I spun by hand. I mean, that’s realistic, isn’t it? Despite my fears — both of not having picked a “better” project and not having the skills to complete my tiny little project — I managed to get started (with much encouragement from Mr.Knittiot and Kaizerin, both of whom are invaluable to my creative process).

As I became more involved in the project, just how challenging it really was started to sink in. As I have consulted a myriad of tutorials, patterns and so forth, I have really had to think about how a garment comes together. I have had to learn about how three dimensional shapes are formed and created. Also, I made a commitment that is not so monumentally difficult that I am unable to complete it in the allotted time.

So, as I am tempted to be sucked back into the mire of personal disappointment from time to time, I am going to cotinue to keep this experience in mind.

By the time you read this, I will be at my company meeting in Las Vegas–hours of tedium punctuated by minutes of terror (because with a $20 gambling budget, a few minutes on the slots is about all I expect.) With any luck, however, I will already have pictures of my knitting in the hands of Treasure Island pirates safely stored in the digicam. That, at least, is my goal.

But I didn’t want to disappear for three or four days and leave you with the impression that all I’ve done is one inch of Olympic Knitting. No indeed! Just looky:

Progress, Day 2

Progress, Day 3

And THAT is where it stands, because Day 4 was prepping for the meeting and attending knitting class (different project.) And Day 5 is “If I don’t get OFF this computer and get my butt INTO the shower, there will be no pirate pictures at all, for anyone!” Gotta run! With luck, a photo-blog full of pirate-y goodness will go up this weekend. Ta-ta!