Ruthless Knitting Archive

I’m glad that several of you picked up on the bit of drama in those diary entries. Rather than worry with Florence about whether her potential husband would turn out to be the kind of guy who gambled away the family silver, you wondered with me, “What kind of woman compares her boyfriend to another man? Who is this Bob fellow? A brother? A cousin? Not bloody likely.”

To spare you the pain of further fruitless wondering, I will transcribe for you a few more diary entries, beginning (as one should) at the very beginning. In between, I will show you pictures of my current knitting, which is giving me grief.

March 15, Bob started to work for Swan in Pittsburgh.

March 28, Bob left for Pittsburgh. Was to go to Cambridge Monday Mar. 29, 1926.

July 3 + 4, went to Buffalo + Niagra + Canada. Bob, Annie, Frances, and I were at Bobs home in Buffalo. met Bob’s mother + liked her real well. she is real nice rather girlish + is nice looking. looks like Bob.

The first few entries are rather understated, but they reveal more than it might seem at first. She started the journal when Bob took a job in Pittsburgh, which is a good 45 miles from tiny Enon Valley. He left later that month, and then (maybe) she didn’t see him again until the Fourth of July holiday, when she and Bob and some friends(?) traveled to Buffalo together and visited Bob’s mom. While the presence of the mysterious Annie and Frances on this journey is somewhat troubling, raising doubts about whether Bob was truly Florence’s boyfriend, the third entry at least suggests that Florence has her sights set on Bob. She is scoping out the future mother-in-law, and she is pleased with what she sees.

Then there is a gap of several pages and several months, and Bob drops out of the picture for a while. Perhaps they had a fight? Or is it just that his new job kept him away from Enon Valley and Florence?

Let’s segue from the pain that Florence may or may not have been feeling between July and October of 1926 to the pain that I felt a few hours ago when I realized that I accidentally cast on 10 too few stitches for the front of my Habu top.

This is how far I’d managed to get: 8 inches on size 5 needles. It took me a week. Well, okay, five days. But that’s not counting the weeks I spent figuring out what to make with the yarn, swatching, deciding it wouldn’t work, and starting over again. I had just finished the waist shaping and planned the increases up to the underarm shaping. I was pleased with myself.

Pride goes before the fall. I can’t shave 10 stitches off the size and still hope it will fit how I want it to, so all that knitting just became a giant swatch. Since I have lots of pink Habu, I will bind it off, wash and dry it to confirm that I have the gauge I think I do, and start anew. Sigh.

In October 1926, it seems that Florence started anew, too.

Met Ralph F. on Oct. 26 1926. Went with him steady until Sunday Jan 9, we had a spat. He spent Xmas 1926 with us. We attended several dances + several shows at Youngstown, Beaver Falls, + Palestine. While I was going with him, enjoyed his company real well. But never considered him anything more than a friend.

Florence obviously wrote this entry in retrospect, after she was no longer seeing Ralph. She seems to have decided to make her little book into a dating diary of sorts. Is it just me, or does she sound like she was trying to put a positive spin on her disappointment with old Ralph, who — let’s face it — was no Bob?

In just such a way, I am putting a positive spin on the Big Pink Failure by refocusing my attention on Mom’s birthday socks. After agreeing with me that it would be too much to ask me to rip out and reknit that first, perfect (but too small) herringbone sock, Mom mailed me two yarns she had in her stash and asked me to make her socks with one of them. They are both lovely: Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Sock in Charcoal and Schaefer Anne in a blue-gray color.

(Let’s take a moment to admire Mom’s cleverness: how better to use up the stash yarn than to suggest that your daughter make your birthday socks with your own yarn?)

Mom suggested either Monkey socks or Oriel from Sensational Knitted Socks as possible patterns, and being someone who would rather knit something new than knit the same pattern twice, I decided to do swatches for Oriel. The Schaefer obscured the pattern too much, but the Lorna’s Laces looked great, so I am off and running.

I got a whole pattern repeat (28 rows) done last night, but I think I messed up the last row, causing me much consternation this morning. I had to set it aside because I was irritated with it. Later, I guess I’ll tink the final row and do it over.

So, to bring this episode to a close, my knitting has made me feel a bit in the doldrums with Florence, but I’m hopeful that things will look up: after she gave up on that dud Ralph, Florence met Bill and wrote the two entries included in my last post. I’m sure that I’ll soon nickname the sock (I like the sound of “Slim”) and start to “enjoy [its] company more every night.” Or, just to keep that from sounding so dirty, let’s say “every day.”

More of Florence’s adventures to come, should you want to hear them, and more of mine whether you ask for them or not.