My Life as a Southpaw

Inigo        I admit it, you are better than I am.

Wesley    Then why are you smiling?

Inigo         Because I know something that you don't know.

Wesley     And what is that?

Inigo         I am not left-handed!

-The Princess Bride

Remember back in June, when I broke my right pinky finger?  What I couldn't tell you then was that in addition to all the other craziness going on at the time, I was still knitting.  Because I had to.  Because there was a deadline for this:

Did you see it in Knitty (if not, click HERE)?  You can imagine my despair when the bone man at the hospital slapped a cast on my favorite hand, while this was still only a vision in my head. How would I ever knit it?

Left-handed, that's how.  Although just like Inigo, I am not left-handed.

The going was slow.  Glacial.  Excruciating, both physically and emotionally.  To see what it was like, put your stilettos on the wrong feet, and then run for the bus.  But what else could I do? The vest had to get made on time, or it wouldn't be in Knitty.  And then Lindsay couldn't model it at Powell's Books.  And you couldn't have the free pattern.  Nope, the only option was to press on, stitch by clumsy stitch, hoping it wouldn't come out looking like I knit it with boxing gloves on. Somehow, it doesn't.  Somehow, it's exactly the way I wanted it to look.  The Knitting Gods took pity on me, though I probably didn't deserve it.


So now you know the rest of the story.  And if  you're on the fence about knitting your own Great Horn-rimmed, ask yourself, how hard could it be? I made mine with one hand tied behind my back.




It's 90 degrees, here at Huff House today.  So naturally, I'm sitting under a pile of wool:


There are swatches, too, but I can't show you those yet.  I'm happily poised at the beginning of a brand new September Project.

Is there anything sweeter than the beginning of the knitting?  The idea is still new, the yarn pristine in its ball bands, and no math has happened (or failed to) that could threaten the unsullied beauty of my vision.  I cuddle the yarn in a blissful fugue, imagining its destiny fulfilled.

Oh New Project, I love you to distraction.  My desire to spend every waking moment with you insurmountable.  My other projects simper and whine from neglected corners: I only have eyes for you.  Nothing bad has ever happened between us, New Project, and I can convince myself that it never will.  That's right.  You, deer sweet New Project, will be the design that knits itself; your gauge perfect, your motifs exquisite, your fit divine.  And naturally, you will be finished long before your deadline.  Because that's how perfect you are.  I shall neither eat nor sleep, nor launder, until your completion is assured. 

You are the promise of every knitter's dream: This time, I'm totally going to get it right.