Here is what my Fana looked like last week when I took it to Sandpoint, Idaho to play with the knitters there. The only things missing are the braid trims and the second sleeve. That's right. This artfully arranged photo hides the fact that she's really only a one-armed bandit.
I like to make a habit of bringing finished samples to the classes they support, but this time, I just flat ran out of time. What I didn't know was how useful it would be to show the sleeve-setting in progress. The cut armhole openings and sleeve-top facings which cover them are routinely the most difficult for me to explain, because once the finishing is done, it's really hard to understand the parts that can no longer be seen. This little exercise in humility turned out to be a great lesson for me: I need to make a sample which is intentionally unfinished for class. Maybe not full-sized though.
When I got home, the toilet in the master bathroom had come completely loose from its moorings. Which I had predicted, due to a certain listing sensation we had been experiencing. What I had not anticipated (or perhaps, had tried to deny?) is that the old cracked and grubby tile floor underneath it would cry out for demolition, once I ejected the old throne. Yep: Before I knew it, I was ankle deep in ceramic shards, swinging a sledge hammer like one possessed. I hated that floor for almost every day of the eight years since I had (very poorly) installed it. Turns out that ceramic tile (and its removal) is just not my medium. I've sworn off both for good. Once I had the floor out, I could finally repaint the walls to match the new towels I scored last May. Phillip has been asking me weekly why we couldn't use the new towels without first changing the wall color. What an amateur. Has he not met me before? The old wall paint was red, for pity's sake.
In the midst of the Bathroom Reboot, Phillip came down with a chest cold that I feared was pneumonia. It wasn't, but it took a chest x-ray to convince both me and his doctor. He's recuperating very slowly, all the while barking like a bull walrus. Seriously, the poor man is rattling the windows. And yesterday was Campbell's 13th birthday, which I tried my level best not to have overshadowed by the other dramas. He assures me I did an adequate job of celebrating him, but I still worry that his bar is set artificially low.
Anyhow, the new floor, and the new loo, (and fluffy towels and cheery shower curtain) have definitely improved my attitude. Eight years is a long time to be mocked by an unfortunate DIY project. Oh, and I *may* have replaced the doorknobs, too, while I was at it.
With the plumbing, and the patient, and the newly-minted teenager (sort of) all under control, I returned my attention to the Fana.
As you can see, it now sports two sleeves, each with anatomically-mounted, functionally-buttoned cuffs.
And yes, there are four different trims on it now. Once I get going, I just can't stop.