Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Ten Little Fingers and Could Rule the World . . .

. . . if it weren’t for shiny objects.

It’s been a day of high distraction, tho’ really, you could repeat that phrase for just about any day of the year thus far. The push is on to finish finish finish all the projects I have started so I can spend next year knitting just for me. Of course, finishing one project will leave me with a stockpile of centers for Linus blankets, which I will probably begin longing to start on shortly thereafter.

I’ve managed to keep the startitis down to one pair of socks because I just had to try doing a star toe from the tip up rather than from the top down. I found an umbilical start worked best in the fine sock yarn—work an eight-stitch I-cord in waste yarn, then knit one in each stitch around, knit one round, double to sixteen, knit one round, then begin the four lines of increase, alternating with plain rounds. The plan is to continue the alternating increases with plain rows until the toe fits around the ball of my foot (about 60 sts or so in sock yarn, 40 in sport weight) then knit a plain tube until the sock reaches the front of my ankle. Then work an Afterthought Heel, finish the leg, finish the heel, weave in the ends.

This could well become the Blue Box Socks pattern I’ve lusted for, the Holy Grail of self-striping sock yarn. I lurve me that stuff, but heel flaps never look good because of the interruption; and I’m always afraid of not having enough yarn for the second sock . . . or having one-third of a sock left over after skimping to get done. If this works out, I can work the socks as long as I like, and then put the leftovers together with plain wool argyle-fashion—-self-striping diamonds and plain diamonds.

Progress on the new job continues apace--see the other blog for details. Meanwhile, I'm weaving in the ends at this one so I can change horses the moment the moment's right, like a trick rider in the circus. Here we go again; I was thinking this time last year how nice it would be to just have one job to do and be settled down. Ah well.

Finished one Linus blanket, need to weave in ends. Pictures to follow.

How's Business??

Today tastes like butter and bitter chocolate, with just a hint of sugar. Dense and creamy, salty and none too sweet.

Interesting times at work, in the Chinese sense of interesting. Arthurella, Gareth, I and a cast of thousands are setting up a business with the whole vision thing--no more small business association loans where you have to beg and plead for fifty bucks, we're seeking out venture capitalists and investors this time. We're reserving our begging and pleading for figures with seven digits to the left of the decimal.

We have a building in the process of renovation for our use, we're looking at renting a bitty space right now, just to have a place to work, and we're shooting to open the doors in August.

And then I probably won't know daylight from dark for five years.

I'm okay with that; I got to write my own compensation package and my own job description, so I'll be doing many things I love (like writing and writing and writing--see the Capital Collection Bureau blog1 for details of where the biz is at. I promise not to do more than the occasional link to it here when something cool happens.

It's funny--in order to minimize the possibility of cross-posting, I set up another account for the CCB Blog. I could just see myself hammering out a post about the latest lunchbox project and throwing it up there, or starting a business-related post with "Today tastes like artichokes and used engine oil. Why do people assume that we can't follow our own moral code?" Eeeeeek!

1. Edited--We've killed the "real" Capital Collection Bureau blog due to an order from the guys in black dresses. I'm half-tempted to find out if the Capital Collections Bureau at Blogspot dot Com is the same one as trimmed our ears, or if it's yet another one.

And yes, this is a lesson that if you have a nifty cool name, then someone else thought of it first. Even though you do your due diligence . . .