My Red Barn Pansy Kershawl

KershIsn’t it beautiful?  I just love it!  I did not, in fact, block it with pins or anything, either; I soaked it for a good, long time in a Eucalan bath and then just draped it over the shower rod.  It was "telling me" that that’s all it needed, and I believed it.  The shawl knows best.

Project:  Kershawl, my variation of Caryl’s Kerchief in which one just keeps knitting ’til the yarn runs out

Yarn:  Hand-dyed sportweight wool from Red Barn Farm, "Pansy" color

Needles:  US7 Addi Natura circular

Started August 24, completed (that is, it was off the needles) September 5, 2005.

There are a few "design features," most notably the little off-center jog of the last repeat because I must have mis-marked the center stitch.  I did have to tink back the very, very long cast-off row and rip back an additional row because I ran out of yarn.  I pulled off what I thought was sufficient yarn for the cast-off, considering that I wasn’t using beads, but not considering that I’d made it SHAWL size, not kerchief size.  I hesitated for five minutes, considered Dad’s invitation to raid the closet for whatever close-match wool sweater I could find that would give me the needed inches — it wasn’t much more than just inches — but I knew I had to rip and re-do, so I slipped the stitches off the needle.  No turning back then…

Dsc05420It’s a lovely morning — cooler, brighter and drier than it’s been in a while.  We had a whopping thunderstorm roll through last evening, with winds in the 60 mph range.  There was a lot of banging on the south side of the house as the wind blew and rain poured and Mdd wondered what it was.  "Walnuts," was hubby’s reply.  I’ve got some harvesting to do!!  We lost two branches on another tree — they didn’t break off completely, so look pretty awful just dangling as they are.  They’re high up and it’s going to be tricky getting them down.

I’ll tell you, it’s hard enough, sometimes, for me to remember what I wanted to post about between typing the title and moving the cursor to the actual body, but when there’s wine involved…  It occurred to me that I didn’t sign on and post the other night just to tell you that I’d had some wine or to declare my love for Betty White (she’s been on my mind, too, because I recently saw her in some Boston Legal reruns and she’s still got it — that sweet, sweet smile accompanying the verbal daggers).  I did kinda-sorta mention the subject I had in mind, but the whole Password tangent kind of overshadowed it.

I’ve gone to two art events with DH this year — these are the first in many, many moons — and I know how to pick ’em, I’ll tell ya, because both were FABULOUS!  While not a chatterbox, I can usually hold my own with small talk, but one reason I avoid these gatherings is because I absolutely HATE being the spouse and answering all those spousal questions.  I know that this is a situation that all spouses encounter in the occupation-related gatherings of their partner.  While at an event with your lawyer husband, doctor husband, accountant husband, insurance salesman husband, welder, electrician, carpenter, etc., husband, is it usually assumed that you also work in that field?  It seems to me that in the arts fields, it IS assumed, like artists attract — painters & potters, pianists & cellists.  I think I felt some airs, "how could you understand, you’re not part of the club, that’s a stupid question" — not enough to spoil my evening, but a little grating.  Perhaps it’s just me — I’ve been a little emotional and knit-picky lately.  But that observation, my dears, is what I intended to post on Saturday night.

It’s not just an occupational hazard, it happens with certain colors of hair, too, doesn’t it, Kt/Ai?  We’ve talked a few times about how people always feel the need to point out other redheads to them — as if they have a secret language or an automatic attraction, copper tresses & strawberry blonde.  Heh.

And then Mdd tells me last night that we are a family with cars that have no butts.  She doesn’t like my car or Ai’s (both wagons) because they don’t have butts, neither does her dad’s van, and even Kt’s Saab is a hatchback — no butt.  When she gets a car, it’s going to have a butt!

Out of the mouths of babes, even teen-age ones…

9 thoughts on “My Red Barn Pansy Kershawl

  1. I can understand the occupation thing – in the opposite way. Generally I never take G to writer events, but even when you start talking about your spouse when you’re there alone, they assume some kind of arty thing. I always make sure to exclaim – are you crazy? I wouldn’t marry another writer/artist/etc. I like to eat too much!
    Ah, people are stupid no matter where you are. Glad you had fun though – I bet the crowd was decidedly different than the one in NYC.
    Maddy is a scream. Tell the bigger the car butt the more damage can be done to the bumper.

  2. I just wanted to say hi. I had been trolling through the St. Bridget Knitalong site because I think I’m going want some company doing this project, and I found the pictures of yours (lovely, by the way). Then I started reading other things on your site and felt very connected, and I live in Wisconsin, too. So…hello.

  3. The kerchief is gorgeous! Well done as always.
    I know what you mean about those occupation-related evenings, except I’m on the other side because spouse and I do the same thing. However, when encountering a new group of people we always play a little game and se how long it takes for people to ask what we do for a living. Needless to say we usually have a better time with people who are interested in our opinions/minds/intellect than with those who judge us by our occupation…there’s nothing worse than spending the evening trying to justify what you do to a bunch of self absorbed idiots!
    Love the car butts thing…Maddy has quite a sense of humour!

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