Cashmere, weaving, and socks

It had to happen sometime: I've found a cashmere sweater in a thrift store, for $3.


Now I feel sort of honour-bound to try unraveling it, though really I just want to hug it indefinitely. It's so much softer than the cashmere sweaters I see for sale in non-thrift stores, even the really expensive ones. It would be almost worth it if it led to wearing it over my forehead in the form of a hat.

In more branching-out-from-actual-knitting news, Kathi figured out what those weird sticks were in my old knitting roll-up unearthed in another thrifting run: stick weaving. Yes, there is such a thing, and either that link or the other Kathi found includes a reference to a book I now have on hold at the library. Well, two books. For some reason there are two with exactly the same title and I suspect it will take both for me to figure out how to weave without a loom. Thank you Kathi! It was driving me crazy wondering what on earth those things were.

I was in the car all day balancing a map on my knees to four different thrift stores plus a train museum - I got to ride on a 1920s Toronto Transit Commission streetcar and wonder whether it was one of the ones my grandfather, a carpenter, did repairs on when he worked for them doing that sort of thing - and I did work on my socks.

Quite a lot.

Without much to show for it.

(unless you count motion sickness.)

While doing this I thought a lot about thick warm winter socks, and I picked up several pairs of already-knit ones in a farm store and again in a thrift store (where they cost $1 and I tried not to cry) and I decided that this nice not-quite-ribbed stitch pattern I'm using would be beautiful in plain heavy yarn that is much, much faster to knit. And isn't a knee sock.

So that's my sock carrot idea, now. Gotta love the carrots.