I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening in my knitting chair. It is happily situated in the living room, beside my fish tank. I enjoy it because aside from being extremely comfortable, there is a lamp immediately behind, and a coffee table right in front. This enables me to sit with my feet up, in plenty of light, and enjoy friendly little water dwelling visitors that like to come over and say hi. (Primarily because they recognize me as the big, lurking monster that feeds them).

While sitting in my chair yesterday, I should have been seaming mom’s sweater. I probably should have been knitting my own slippers, as I was once again wearing Nate’s. And once the kids went to bed, I certainly should have been working on Christmas dolls. But I wasn’t.

Sorry for the rotten picture.

Behold, the first completed piece of Lauralund. Most of you will get my clever little joke. Some of you will not. Hopefully, there are some of you out there who find it at least mildly amusing, if not full on hilarious like I do.

I am very excited about this sweater. It is my first ever sweater for me. It is being knit with the amazing brown Lopi I found in a warehouse and bought for cheap. I am loosely basing this sweater on the famous Klaralund that has been all over the blogs, and while I haven’t seen the pattern, I think I can figure the majority of it out. (I also have a sweet blog buddy who is going to let me have a peek at hers, but I couldn’t wait, so I started without it). I am of course changing some styling elements, and the sizing is completely my own.

Something interesting that I have already learned….

While soaking my completed piece, (front or back, I don’t know), to prepare it for blocking, I discovered why this yarn feels and smells like a sheep. The water left in the sink was not colored with dye, it more resembled what I would imagine a bathtub would look like after bathing a sheep. Little grassy bits and everything. I’m quite amused, actually. And in case you couldn’t guess, my hands were subtly softened and moisturized while knitting with it all day.

Poor Mary. She is gone now, with her poncho knit from the same stuff, and she doesn’t know. I should probably tell her to wash it, unless I want to spend some time entertaining myself with thoughts of her walking around Virginia, smelling like a sheep.