August is a month of transition for me. (I was going to append ‘this year’ to that sentence, but realized that this has been true for every August for the last seven years). Amoeba and I are both searching for jobs and preparing to move to Chicago. Everything is hanging in the air, and the preparations move slowly, and at some point, they’ll kick into high gear. We don’t have a set move date (or an apartment); we don’t know when that time will come.
Everything is transitioning. I’m cleaning out the contents of my childhood bedroom. I’m analyzing the gender(s) of my wardrobe. The books I’m reading are from the selected unpacked few. The knitting projects are small and fleeting, so they don’t become too distracting. I’ve been knitting washcloths. I’ve been enjoying knitting washcloths.
I was going to spend August knitting on fairly minor projects, getting small things finished so that I could start a couple of sweaters and large shawls this fall. Of course, when Amoeba and I went camping near Duluth a couple of weeks ago, and I found these lovely colours, and started another Daybreak.
I knit Daybreak a while back, and have never been completely happy with the tension along the edge with the color changes. It won't lay flat, and it's the sort of bunching that blocking won't fix. This time, I threw in some extra yarn overs (and dropped them) to loosen things up, but it turns out that the tension problem is actually happening every time I change colors; my fix isn’t helping. So as of tonight, we’re back to yarn.
I’m still madly into this color combination and have full confidence that it will turn into something impressive. However, I’ve come to an alarming conclusion: There is probably a time for washcloths. That time is probably now.