Just about an hour ago I was sitting there, wishing for another day. I was sitting there and wishing for another time, altogether. I was wishing it were 2002 about 200 days after mom died and 80 days before Girlfriend was born, right when I learned how to knit and the whole Fair Isle thing was still completely unknown.
I think an hour ago, it occurred to me there over on the couch downstairs, that I wished I never knew how to do anything with more than one color because even the most benign and unchallenging of all the more-than-one-color treatments usually points to horizontal stripes. And even though an hour or so ago the horizontal stripe idea didn't bother me much, now that I'm thinking about it, the entire horizontal stripe genre lumped over a four- or five-year span--or worse, a three-year period of pregnancies, weight loss/weight gain or just the overpowering power of those new OREO brownies--wouldn't be all that appetizing on the backdrop of my body or anyone else's over a course of that span of time. Even so, considering the effort put out and the after-effect of the stripes combined with all the years doesn't scare me half as much as the after-effect of whatever it is I produce under the valence of "Fair Isle Technique." (Oy. The Pucker. The Pucker. The Pucker.)
Seriously, though. I have to admit publicly that I really Do Not like the Fair Isle.
Honestly, it's not the "look" that bugs me. It's the technique. I am completely and truly the biggest oaf known to man when it comes to the technique. I've tried it, friends. I have. And let me tell you, when it comes to the technique, overall, the best I can perform is what I'd call "Mozart's Jupiter Symphony Played on Untuned Banjo."
(Did you know that I used to be a trained classical guitarist? So, I guess you'd have to believe me about the Jupiter Symphony on Untuned Banjo-part.)
I wish I had more to show you. I will when I can, but for now, just trust me that the pile of Fair Isle Business downstairs on the couch is a pile of you-know.
EDITED TO ADD:
I just had a bath and was thinking about this. I was thinking about my best girlfriend in High School in Texas. She tried out for the Drill Team and wore a wig like the rest of them while they kicked and did the splits at Half-Time (they were perfect in every way) and she could do a Rubik's Cube in about 10 seconds, flat. Me? I couldn't even twist it once without dropping it accidentally. Then, I'd pick it up and work on it for another five seconds and drop it (intentionally).
As I lay in the bath there, the one over there down the hall to the right of that chair Girlfriend seems to be running from, I got to thinking that there are those of us who "do" and those of us who "don't." Further, there are those of us who "want to do it," and those who "could probably do it, but can't be bothered."
I'm in the camp of the "could probably do it, but can't be bothered," I guess.
Those of you comfortable with the technique: Is the term "Hospital Corners" a term you use when training the youth? What about oil changes on your vehicle? Do you keep track? Your grocery list? Do you leave it in the cart so others can comment on your good habits, or do you stick it in the file along with your coupons? (My grocery list? It's carefully incinerated two seconds after I pay, or if I don't have a fire source, I just write along the top of it: "Oh No, You Didn't!" before I drop it back into the cart.)
To All You Fair-Isle Knitting Folk: Who Knows What Sights You Have Seen? Who Knows What Fingers You Have--The Nimble Ones that Are So, Well . . . Nimble. We Toast You, You Fair-Isle Knitting Folk. If it Weren't For You, Us Non-Fair-Isle Folk Wouldn't Be Singing, "Who Knows What Sights You Have Seen. . .Who Knows What Fingers You Have--The Nimble Ones that Are So, Well . . . Nimble. We Toast You, You Fair-Isle Knitting Folk. . . ."