Hardly a pile

I go to a knit night, as I’m sure that many of you do also. As usual with these sort of informal gatherings, you grow quick friendships that are often a little odd and unusual, but nonetheless, important. You don’t think people think having knitting friends is a touch odd? Just use the phrase “knitting friends” in a normal conversation and then study the looks and sympathetic pats that people give you.

Case in point. My little group meets every Wednesday night at a bookshop nearby, about a half hour away. (And I hate to admit, it’s a chain store.) I get there when I can, which I must admit it’s as often as I would like to. Not having a licence, a working car, (stress the working) a desire to drive, (I don’t drive, I’m driven) or the money to pay for those little “extras” like gas and insurance, I consider myself  lucky if I go every two weeks. Ah well, I generally can beg, borrow, steal, or bribe a ride. (I’m also currently at work on a plan to flap my arms and fly there. I’ll let you know how it turns out  . . . if I can still type then.)

Any way, whenever someone at this stitch and bitch has something major done, we generally make them a blanket to let them know that we’re thinking of them. We made one, all in secret for one when she started building her house. (Which is about a year from breaking ground and still not done) they made one for me when I had my seven billion foot surgeries. (And you can see that one if you scroll down and look in the background of the toe-up sock picture.)

Then one of us packed up and moved to Florida. Not because she hated the harsh Ohio winter. (And this year of all years!) Or so she claims. She said it was because her husband got a much better job offer, but you and I both know that wasn’t the whole reason. When she announced that she was moving, to Florida, my first response, in what was not my finest hour, was, “Oh, you poor thing.”

(Sorry Joe, I hate to make fun of your home state, but it’s soooooo easy, and you do it too.)

Anyway, we are knitters, and even when someone moves to a tropical climate, we still must make them something. Floridians are whussies when it comes to cold anyway. So, we all decided that we’d pick up a color of yarn, and each knit as many 10 x 10 squares as we could. This was after weeks of deliberation, which I thankfully missed. They just handed me my yarn and said “KNIT!”

So I meekly went to work. You can use any stitch or method you want, the only rule is the ten inch thing. So, instead of doing the normal thing, and using these squares to try out different stitch patterns, and have a little fun with Barbra Walker, I have to be difficult.

I decided that I would make my squares using as many different techniques as I could. Here’s square one:

Mitered squares with a log cabin border. Two of my favorite things. Next up!

Entrelac! Another one of my favorite things. If you don’t know how to do this, I would want to suggest you learn, but that might not be a good thing. You see, these little slanty rectangles (or in proper Geometry, a parallelogram) are highly addictive to knit. You’ll want to make everything out of it, and soon you’ll think about Entrelacing the family cat. I don’t know how I dare to return to it.

So, I’m starting to run out of unorthodox square making methods. I’ve got just one or two more up my sleeve. Does anyone else have a good idea? Some little trick you discovered in some long forgotten pamphlet. HELP! Aiuto! Per Favore!

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