I have to say, I’m really enjoying the yarn I’m using. It’s “Palette,” a 100% wool fingering-weight yarn from KnitPicks, and, at $1.79 for 50 grams/231 yards, it’s a deal. It’s not as fluffy as some wools I’ve used — if anything, it’s a little crunchy, both in the ball and as it’s knit up. Maybe some of that is the shadow knit pattern (3 rows of stockinette, followed by a right-side purl row), but, whatever the cause, I like the texture. It’s a little lighter than the yarns I usually use for ganseys, but I think I’ll try it for my next gansey. (After I finish Lisa’s, that is. I promise!)
I got quite a bit done today while watching curling, a sport which, despite the announcers’ attempts to explain, I don’t really understand. But there is something fascinating about watching the careful release of the heavy stones, followed by the frantic use of the broom.... It also contains some of the longest time outs I’ve ever seen in a sporting event (at least, the longest not caused by injury), with all team members standing around, leaning on their brooms, and discussing how best to either remove an opponent’s stone, score a point, or, preferably, both. Needless to say, I don’t appreciate the fine points at all, but it was fascinating to watch. The men’s world championships is actually going to be held only a couple of hours from here — and are advertising heavily on local tv — and I might consider going. I wonder if there are any clubs around here....
There was also one lovely bit of trivia, revealed during a long time out. It seems that curling began in the 16th century — which means that one could join the Society for Creative Anachronism as a fanatic curler.
The only bad part is that Grendel, the formerly feral, mostly-Siamese cat we acquired about 5 years ago, also seems to like curling. Normally, he isn't all that interested in knitting. (That bad habit is reserved for Pretty Boy Floyd, whom I have not been able to discourage from chewing on yarn.) Grendel and the others lie next to me on the couch, when they can be bothered to join me at all. However, today, as I settled in with my knitting on my lap, I was stopped by a solid tap on the knee. I looked up, removed Grendel's paw, turned back to my knitting — and received the entire cat in my lap. I removed him. He returned. We repeated this twice more, and I surrendered, instead rearranging my knitting to accomodate him. He stretched out, purring — the sort of purr you don't hear, but feel through your kneecaps — then stopped and yowled. He was lying on a marker, and apparently it wasn't comfortable. I moved the offending corner of the sweater; he shifted so that he could see the tv, and there he stayed. We reached the finish (the USA lost to Norway), he hopped down, and hasn't been back in my lap since.
I'm not sure what this means.