At Knit's End Read Online Free PDF Page A

the same every year; over and over I am brought to my knees by this enormous knitting deadline and end up weeping into my eggnog, trying to finish knitting presents by daybreak. There must be something wrong with me. Christmas isn’t a surprise; it’s on the same day every year. Every year I tell myself, this year will be different.
    Then every year, it’s me and Santa, down to the wire.
    I will try to recognize that some people on my list would prefer that I were coherent, healthy, and sane on Christmas morning, rather than delirious but finished with the damn hat.
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    If the minimum wasn’t acceptable it
wouldn’t be called the minimum.
    â€” G EORGE M UNCASTER
    M y husband, in an incredible show of love, is knitting me a sock. He has been working on it (on and off) for about five years, painstakingly knitting round after round. He curses, rubs his eyes, drops needles, and complains bitterly about the impending heel (he probably has another two years before he has to worry about that), but he is knitting. He has always referred to this process as knitting me “a sock,” and the perceptive among you will note that “sock” is singular. He has never promised a pair.
    Should my husband ever finish my “sock,” I will wear it proudly (and singularly) for all of my days. He is my mate; my sock doesn’t need one.
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    When you see a married couple
walking down the street, the one that’s
a few steps ahead is the one that’s mad.
    â€” H ELEN R OWLAND
    M y husband, lovely and patient man that he is, has sustained several injuries related to my knitting. He has a small scar on his foot, the result of a puncture wound incurred when I left my sock knitting on the floor. He cringes when he thinks of the darning needle accidentally left on the couch seat when I was making his sweater, and he flinches visibly when he thinks about the various times he has been accidentally stabbed with sundry and assorted knitting needles or been tripped by careless yarn placement. My friends think he tolerates this out of love. My knitting friends know better.
    He is doing it for the sweaters.
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    I’m not obsessed, I’m just highly preoccupied.
    â€” A NONYMOUS
    S elf-patterning sock yarn is very, very neat. It is dyed to produce stripes or a pattern meant to resemble Fair Isle when you knit it up. It can be fun and interesting to work with, but be warned. For those inclined to be obsessive, it can lead to a dangerous fixation with making sure the two socks match. Many a fine knitter has gone down the twitchy path of trying to compensate for dyeing errors or normal variations in the yarn in order to come up with two socks that are precisely the same. I have no proof, but I suspect that this may be a yarn manufacturer’s idea of a joke.
    I will accept that some sock yarns simply produce fraternal rather than identical twins.

Swift:
    a twirling reel used to hold a skein
of yarn as it is wound into a ball.
    A swift is a tool used to replace your friends and family. Clever knitters will procure one the first time their mates or children refuse to hold the skein of yarn for them, thus reducing the number of yarn-related disputes in the family environment. Swifts also reduce knitter injury by eliminating awkward and dangerous attempts to hold your own skein of yarn with your feet while winding with your hands. There are anecdotal reports that swifts may reduce tangling and cursing related to using household furniture for swiftlike purposes.
    To save time, sanity, and my marriage, I will consider purchasing the right tools for the job.
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    Think for yourself and let others
enjoy the privilege of doing so too.
    â€” V OLTAIRE
    M y friend Sharon proudly pulled out her first project: a red sweater. She was halfway up the back, and she held out the knitting to me, smiling. Sharon explained that the sweater was done in stockinette stitch, but it looked funny to me. On closer