Stitch and pitch

It is almost time to cross the Rubicon on the secret project. I've knit a lot this weekend and am ready to take care of the finishing on the edges. The pattern calls for single crochet as well as chain stitch for something else. I know how to do neither.

I might be able to improvise and pick up stitches instead of doing single crochet. If I try that technique and don't like how it looks, I can always undo it, but the fact remains that I'm eager to have the project done. Karen has directed me to some crochet pointers, and I have Stitch 'n Bitch Crochet from the library. With enough time and patience, especially the latter, I can probably figure it out.

I'm thrilled with my work on the project to this point, which is why I'm trying to be cautious in how I approach this last step. I've put in a lot of time to get this far and don't want to ruin it at the end. Plus, I'm going to have to do it again because the near completion of this secret project means I can undertake secret project #2. Since this is Knitting Confidential, I ought to come up with code names.

This afternoon I went back to Starbucks for some knitting in public. Aside from slipping out for an hour of church in the morning, I'd been home all day and wanted a new environment for knitting. I'm virtually ignored when I knit in public, by which I mean no one says anything to me or closely passes by. That's why I was surprised to have two women ask me what I was doing.

One customer was a knitter who was thoroughly impressed to see a man knitting in the open. I'm thinking that she may be the only knitter who has come by when I've been knitting in public. There seems to be an impulse for knitters to zero in on someone they see knitting and ask what they're doing. I've felt that desire to speak up, although I've smothered it on those few occasions. She asked if I was making x, and I said no, it's actually y but I understand why you thought it was x. A little later one of the baristas wiping off tables and sweeping up also asked if I was making x. She'd seen me knitting for awhile and was curious what I was doing. This was a much nicer experience than discovering that another customer had selected me to be the basis for a creative writing assignment.

It hasn't been all knitting this weekend while I've failed to read Tolkein. (Jenn's powers of persuasion finally wore me down to pick up The Hobbit before tackling the subject of her undergraduate Honors thesis, but I've only read a few pages so far.) I finally got to a Cincinnati Reds baseball game this year.

The team's play has improved in recent weeks, so Saturday I headed south to see a not particularly good contest. What should have been a great spot in right field to watch Ken Griffey Jr. was a great spot to keep tabs on Norris Hopper. (Junior had the night off.) Reds ace
Aaron Harang left after an inning with lower back soreness, leaving Cincy's miserable bullpen to step in and give up two enormous blasts to Chicago slugger Alfonso Soriano en route to an 8-1 Cubs win.

Nevertheless, it was fun to spend the night at the ballpark. It's cool to sit in the moon deck for batting practice, and a lot of fly balls in the game meant there was plenty to see up close from the outfield seats. Its was also 70s Night. Barry Williams, a.k.a. TV's Greg Brady, was there to sing (not very well) "We are the Champions" with what may have been a Queen cover band. (Their lead singer did an admirable job on vocals considering Freddie Mercury's range, and the guitarist respectably duplicated Brian May's sound.) Williams redeemed himself vocally in leading the crowd through "Happy Birthday" for the Reds radio play-by-play announcer and "Take Me Out To the Ballgame". The old TV commercials, including an Aqua Velva spot with a singing Pete Rose and (I'm fairly certain) Vic Tayback, were amusing to watch between innings. It was kind of cool to get the promotional giveaway--a metallic Slinky with the Reds C--but if I never hear "Convoy" again, it'll be too soon.