Thanks, Jean. I had meant to start yesterday’s post with: Now! On your newsstand! But I forgot. I’m on page 90 of the current, “December”, issue of Kitchen Garden, in my Free to Stitch, Free to Bitch tee-shirt. The pictures must be four or five years old. C. took them.

Miscellaneous knit-related thots:

Jared’s new Loft yarn looks wonderful. I wonder if perhaps young people now accumulate stash more slowly, knowing that the world is full of wonderful yarn wherever you turn, whereas I –- especially in the 90’s, when I first got on-line – bought it desperately, as I had all my life only now there was more of it, on the principle that it might not be there when I got back.

I followed the link on your blog, Kristie to Kate Davies’ website. I had been there recently before, prompted by an item in Zite magazine. I cannot figure out how to subscribe to her “Textisles” digital magazine. Whatever I click, I just get that wonderful pic of the gent in his smock. Commentators grumble that they want to read the magazine without paying for the “Warriston” pattern. I wouldn’t mind that, if I could figure out how to do it.

(Why “Warriston”? In this part of town the word suggests either a) the crematorium or b) the picturesque overgrown cemetery famous for homosexuals looking for friendship. I hope that isn’t offensive. It’s true, and I can’t think how to re-phrase it.)

Knitting

I’m about six inches forward with the first sleeve of the little Brownstone. The slight difference in stitch numbers (see yesterday) makes a big difference in speed. Perhaps that’s what they call “leverage” in the financial world.

Today I will probably finish the last skein which figured in the big Brownstone, which is also the last skein of my original order of madelinetosh scarlet DK from Amsterdam. It will be interesting indeed to see how the subsequent lots blend in. Madelinetosh is supposed not to have dye lots.

Non-knit

We had a nice lunch with our friend yesterday. She was most interested in our find. It’s not a question of authenticating it – if my husband says it’s a ???????, it is. Short of summoning up ??????? himself in a séance, there is no other authority. She thinks that when we give it to the Gallery, it could be displayed in one of those glass case thingys in the middle of the floor, with letters from the artist to his mother, that sort of thing. That is an exciting thought. I wouldn’t mind parting with it if I could walk up the hill and see it again.

First we’d have to fix the hole.

When I first saw the image on the auctioneer’s website, I thought I detected some quality painting around the eyes. What interests my husband – he pointed it out again yesterday – is the foreshortening of the first joint of the subject’s middle finger. Clumsy but ambitious, he says. Sitting here writing this, I have tried to strike the same pose. I can’t do it. I can bend that finger at the first joint, but can’t keep it straight while bending the second joint. Maybe men are jointed differently.