I know, since moving to Denver, you might expect me to come out blazing with photos of nature or mountains or my new ripped physique (obtained purely by osmosis), but honestly, the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since moving here (next to dachshunds hiking in harnesses and a goodwill store with two floors) has been watching my blocked knits dry. My knitting has been somewhat slow recently, what with the move and the summer heat (i know humidity is the worst, but dry heat still dry sucks), so I’ve taken a moment to block a couple projects I’ve had in the wings–a process I loathe and oftentimes just skip–and it turns out it actually looks kind of a stunning.These are hand warmers and my lame attempt at colorwork (i am, at baseline, a very bland person). They are a graduation gift for my friend, Deborah, who is from Trinidad and in dire need of some woolen wear since I hear the winters in Port of Spain can be particularly brutal.This is a beanie, and she’s made from the most ostentatious yarn I’ve ever knit. A gift (but also a challenge) from my friend, Rebecca (of giant cowl, afore-posted fame), this beanie beamed like hazard lights whenever I worked on it, but I love it and am obsessed with the pattern, and I’m currently working on a second one now! Yes, the yarn is a bit bright, but if I’ve learned anything from QE (other than the volume of tears the human eye can produce in forty minutes), it’s that everything looks better with a pop of color. Also a french tuck.Here’s my beanie post-blocked (plus the second, semi-finished, toned down version i’m working on), photographed on the back lawn where my neighbor’s corgi who needs to wear an orthopedic neck pillow frequently urinates.And these are friends, old and new! Obviously, not the same as blocked knits (though, some might argue, equally as stunning and ostentatious), but, besides waiting on wool to dry and watching West Wing over a tub of hummus, I’ve spent the past month exploring and hiking and meeting new people (and hiking). Fun and exhilarating and exhausting, I am slowly getting used to this new city.
This past month has been overwhelming with transitions and many, many, new things, but June in particular gives me pause–the combination of Father’s Day and Pride Month and that one night a year ago when I came out in a falafel restaurant before Hamilton (i was about as closeted as the ‘g’ in ‘gyro’). And since my sisters always say I never come up with gifts for our dad (except that one year we bought him his third set of portable bluetooth speakers), what follows is mostly to prove them wrong, but also something for my dad, and something for me, and something for my goong goong.
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