All my bags are packed. I’m ready to go.
I set out this morning around 4:30 on a mission: find a public home for four pieces of fabric. The pieces themselves were relatively small, but I think that’s a good number, especially since I only started on this project less than a week ago.
While I did not get up before the sun to avoid being seen or apprehended (I was up anyway, because I work nights), I’d have to say that’s the best time to do it. Late enough so that all but the most diehard partiers and miscreants have passed out somewhere, but early enough that traffic is light, nothing’s open yet, and it’s still dark.
Even given those safeguards, I was still nervous as all hell that I was going to be accosted or questioned. I had a loosely-formed, poorly-thought-out plan to adopt a foreign accent and start talking about shit so crazy that anyone who approached me would be sorry and back away slowly.
As it turned out, no disguise or misdirection would be necessary. Still, my hands were shaking like mad during the application of the first piece. I found myself glad that I had done this piece in garter stitch, with selvedge stitches on the sides (because Neatness Counts).
I thought it turned out rather nicely, all things considered. The only thing I’d change is that I’d make it longer if I had more time.
About halfway through, a police car passed. Not terribly surprising, since I did this right in the heart of downtown. I have no idea if he saw me or not, but he rolled right on through the intersection, and the brake lights never flashed.
As I pedaled away, I realized that I was diagonally across the intersection from the LYS. I didn’t plan it that way – I always think it’s a block further north than it actually is – but it couldn’t have worked out better.
Then I was off to find a suitable place for this ugly piece:
I don’t know why I bought this yarn. It sucks to knit with, and it’s wavy, so while it’s soft, it doesn’t make an attractive fabric. Plus, the size I’d made it was sort of inconvenient; I’d started stitching without a target in mind, and when I got downtown, everything I measured was either too big or too small around. (I had a tape measure in my pocket so I didn’t have to keep pulling the piece out of my backpack. The measurements were written on my hand. The pull-ring on the tape measure broke halfway through my adventure, making the tape itself retract irretrievably into the case.)
I finally found a suitably-sized tree to attach it to.
Then it was on down to Church Street to place my King of Grannies. (It never really reached royal status because my scraps lately have been kind of meager. More like Court Jester of Grannies.)
I had wanted to place something here, on the walkway or footbridge over the train tracks. There are hippies living on that street, and I thought they might get a kick out of it. It’s also dark, quiet, and secluded, especially at that hour. (I knew this because it was a part of my bike commute to my old job.) Even though there were houses across the street, I wasn’t worried about being seen.
I almost lost my needle here, but it would have been worth it. I like this placement a lot.
Unfortunately, it’s not so attractive from the rear.
It’s kind of like what they say about watching sausage being made.
Finally, I had a signpost sleeve to attach. I saved this for last because it would be easiest, since it was not only relatively small but could go just about anywhere. I made my way over to a really nice residential section of town and quickly attached it to a yield sign.
I have a feeling this one will be the most short-lived. The house that the sign was in front of looked like the kind of place you buy when y0u’re middle-aged and humorless and have help you can send outside to get rid of such unsightly things.
I’m pretty sure it was here that I lost my needles.
I had both of my preferred tapestry needles with me, both threaded up and ready to go to minimize fumbling. When I was finished, I threaded them both with the same piece of yarn and shoved them into my handlebar bag… or so I thought.
When I got home, I had my camera, my notebook, my pen, my little ball of spare yarn… but no needles. I’m guessing in my haste I shoved them between the handlebar and the bag somehow and they wound up falling on the ground.
Not a huge deal. I can go to JoAnn and get some more. I enjoyed myself so much that I don’t even mind.
Even though I really had a lot of fun prettying up the city one inanimate object at a time, I am ready to get back to knitting things that are useful.
Which will commence once I get some dang sleep.