Cables for the sake of Cables…

ARE allowed.

So anyway, my “nearly completed” crocheting project and I are currently Not on Speaking Terms (I tried to love you, really I did – why did you have to become inexplicably ugly on assembly?), and so I gave in to the urge and picked up the needles again. I wanted cables. Not just cables, of course, I have this thing against making things with neither point nor purpose. So it had to be a cabled something. Not a sweater – too big, I just need a quick fix – not socks (I don’t want to worry about shaping, just the cables), not, for heaven’s sake, a scarf (see above qualms about pointlessness). Then it came to me – a shrug. Now, I hate shrugs. Well, I did. I still do hate some of them. The ‘acceptable shrug’ is a fine line to walk, but it was exactly what I wanted in terms of a project – more likely to be worn than a scarf, a ‘wearable’ without the commitment of a sweater, and best of all, a rectangle which required no shaping whatsoever (perfect for cable-y goodness). Anyway, enough talk, I’m going to show you my swatch.

Isn’t it lovely? The center motif is a Celtic/Saxon Braid, which I love, bounded by two big, fat braids. Super fun! It’s gratuitous cabling at its best. Now, swatching was always the plan, and it’s a good thing, too. I estimated the number of stitches I would need, according to the gauge listed on the yarn label, but I forgot (hey! I’m a noob knitter. Give me a break.) that cables scrunch the work horizontally. It’s where they get their poofy goodness. So, that means that now I can add some more gratuitous cables on the outside of the braids to reach the correct dimensions in the actual attempt on the shruggery.

I did something else unexpected today. I actually felt dirty afterwards. Really, truly, dirty – oh, wait, that was actual dirt. Moving on. I went trash diving. I’m not an experienced trash diver, but not above seizing something I stumble across. My alert next-door neighbor knocked on my door this morning to tell me that some people nearby were moving, and had left something at the trash pad that she thought Max and I might want. Take a look:

She meant the table, of course. The cooler was a bonus. They’re both in fabulous condition (I checked before I hauled them to my patio). I mean, the little table isn’t even FADED, a minor Texas miracle for something that has obviously been an outside toy. Both are dirty, of course, but dirty washes off.

Seriously, though, I was looking over my shoulder as I carted off my loot, hoping I was interpreting the stuff’s position among the trash cans correctly, and that there would be no ‘Stop! Thief!’ behind me…