Not in a Million Years.

I can play Candy Crush while talking on the phone.

I can play the ukulele, remember the words to a song, know who is singing well, giggle with the aides at the ones who aren't, and send the "it'll be ok" look to the kid standing next to the not so pitch perfect singer, all at the same time.

I can comment intelligently on HusbandBob's video game prowess while memorizing a Kathy Zimmerman cable sweater pattern.

I am a multi-tasker. I was an even more prolific multi-tasker before I hit the second half of my forties.

But, try as I may, with the most competent instructional materials, I have never ever been able to knit two tubes at the same time using two needles. The fiddly tangly of getting started combined with a less than great aptitude for envisioning three dimensional models had left me a one tube wonder on double pointed needles.

That is, until now.

 

Last night Knitnightgina taught me how to do two tubes on two needles. The cascade ecological wool for the Streymoy cardigan arrived on Tuesday. (I was so pleased to discover that it was softer than the marled Eco-wool I once worked with.) I know myself well enough to know that with the enormity and complexity of the sleeves, once I finished one, it would not be until next winter that I would approach the other. Knitting two sleeves at a time is critical to the completion of the sweater.

And for crying in a bucket, I can steek with ease. Two on two should not be harder than cutting your damn knitting!

Step one in the learning process was to cast on with two different colored needles and yarns and figure out the process. Step two was to take it apart and cast on seventeen more times. Step three was to be certain to do it again within a 12 hour window.

I cannot lie. I am so pleased with myself. I am also grateful that Knitnightgina was patient enough to let me learn the way I needed to. She is awesome.

In response to several who have asked. The Alaskan Serial Killer Sweater was so named because much of it was knit during a six season Dexter marathon. Shortly after that, awesome aunt suggested the cruise to Alaska and that is what pushed me to finish it. (Foolishly believing that it would actually be cold there.) The final episode of Dexter added after the fact irony.

For the "oh, you live in Western Pennsylvania" crack me up factor, it's calving season. When mama cows are getting ready to deliver, they lay down on their sides with their feet stiff and straight. When they get in this position and fail to deliver immediately, someone has to help them up. Such was the case with a certain mama cow. Fortunately the calf was delivered the next day. Unfortunately the mama cow's body is still in delivery mode and she periodically drops to her side, stiffens her legs and cannot get up. The vet suggested that she might still be in pain and that maybe she needed an aspirin. The equivalent of one cow aspirin is 47 people aspirins. Now you know. You know these cows don't belong to me, right?