I'm working on another post about UK Knit Camp. I don't know when I'll get it finished, but in the interim I have been doing what I think is an amazing job of dealing with the follow-up stress.
Yet there have been indicators that all is not as mellow as I wish, perhaps because I've been on the road a lot and my yoga practice has been even more abbreviated than usual.
The mess is not the item on the right, which is proof that despite the fact that Ceilidh is amazingly calm for a year-old Border collie she is a Border collie. She has already removed the tennis ball from the end of her new rope toy (it took her two days: Ariel would have completed the job in less than 20 minutes). The toy still works just fine for playing tug, which is its purpose.
The mess is the item on the left. When I got the call asking me if I could get to Cleveland to tape two segments for Knitting Daily TV, I realized that my wardrobe did not meet the criteria for clothing. T-shirts don't cut it. While I have a closet full of handknits, none of them is TV-ready. They're too warm, have the wrong sleeve lengths, are in the wrong colors, or have necklines unable to accommodate a mic. (I received very detailed instructions. I will also need to get a manicure. Plain polish. That part's okay. The time and the expense of getting it done will try my patience, however.)
I thought that I just might be able to knit something in time, if I kept it simple. I found a pattern (one likely to be troublefree), buzzed over to a nearby shop and found yarn, and started knitting in my spare time. When the body was about 2 inches (5cm) along, I spread the fabric out on the bed, smoothed it thoroughly to check that I hadn't twisted the cast-on (which I'd already checked before and after knitting the first round, of course), and re-measured my gauge, which was right on. So I kept moving.
When the body was about 5 inches (12.5cm) long, I started to knit on it during a meeting and something felt wrong. I knitted a couple of rows and got that sinking feeling. I stretched out the fabric and moved the circular needle this way and that, hoping that it would straighten out into a tube. It wouldn't.
Despite my 2-inch check (I smoothed it out fully on the bed), it appeared to be true that I had managed to put a full twist into the starting row. I asked a knitterly friend if my brain was deceiving me. She said it was not. I took the object home and asked my daughter to confirm that I was seeing what I was seeing. She did.
There's no way I'll make that deadline. A friend has loaned some alternatives, but I'm supposed to have multiple choices (in case the TV stylists don't like what I offer) and each episode has to have different clothes. Fortunately, only the TOP matters. I can wear slacks that I already own. I've headed to TJMaxx and Marshall's to fill the gaps as inexpensively as possible. AARGH.
I have never missed a cast-on twist for more than one row beyond the start. It's a sign. All is not quite well balanced around here.
My recent travel book was Jon Franklin's The Wolf in the Parlor: The Eternal Connection between Humans and Dogs. It's a personal exploration by an experienced (Pulitzer-winning) science writer on some questions that began bugging him, like why humans and dogs have been hanging out together for so long and why they continue to do so. He ventures some theories that he doesn't present as more than that, and that may agree or disagree with other folks' ideas, but I found it a fascinating ramble through observation and, among other things, brain science by a smart guy who's got enough background to say interesting things.
And looking at a similar topic from a completely different angle:
News of the choreographed rock video with OK Go and a dozen dogs has been traveling around the internet, but in case you haven't seen it here's the YouTube location (3.5 minutes). It might be seen as a visual representation of some of the ideas in Franklin's book.
Here's the story behind making the video; that link has another link to the video at its top.
. . . and here, just for quirkiness, is a parody involving a cat (1 minute). . . .