I have had a bad case of start-itis lately, which is why I haven't posted any new pictures -- I'm too busy swatching and getting new things on the needles.
I started another Sandra Stole, like the one Lewis is modeling below, in another beautiful Schaefer colorway. I can't help it; I love the yarn, the color, and the pattern. I got about 10" done before ...
I started a cardigan-in-one-piece that is based on an old Knitter's magazine pattern. The original pattern is by Medrith Glover, and it's called Circumnavigate a Cardigan. I had some juicy red stash yarn that seemed like it wanted to be a sweater. I'm thinking of making a couple of modifications to the design, though. The original is pretty boxy, and since I'm pretty boxy myself, I think I may throw in a little shaping at the sides to make it look as if I have a waist. I'm going to try some traveling stitches on the front to make mock-princess seams that go down to the pocket edges. And I don't particularly like ribbing at the bottoms of my sweaters, so I might do a hem at the bottom. The pattern is a v-neck, and I think I might also convert it to a hoodie with a zipper, so I'll have to leave out the v-shaping. All in all, it won't look much like the original (though it'll have most of the fun construction techniques). It may turn out to be ... interesting, as we Minnesotans like to say.
I'm also starting a lace scarf class [Fiber Trends Cocoon Lace Scarf/Wrap] at the store on Sunday, and a Shadow Shawl [by Maureen Mason-Jamieson] class on Tuesday. So I will be knitting along with my students on those projects as well.
And now, my favorite 5-year-old wants a hat that is pink and stripey on the outside, "indigoo" on the inside (OK, I guess I have to brush up on my double knitting), with a rainbow-colored pom pom. The things we do for the kids in our lives! This one will be (ahem) interesting as well. I hope she doesn't get teased on the playground!
I promise, pictures. Sometime...
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Tales of the Twisted Float Shrug; Freddie Krueger
Annie Modesitt's Twisted Float Shrug
Photos are coming ... sometime!
I have been a busy little knitter. (Well, OK, I'm big and middle-aged). Besides finishing a couple of two-color Brioche scarves for charity, half a Brioche (so far) for a friend, and another rainbow-hued one for my favorite 5-year-old, I made progress on a Smooshy sock (the second of a pair I started as a class example) and knit a 12-inch "pizza pie" three times.
So what's a knitted pizza pie, and why did I do it thrice?
I took Annie Modesitt's Twisted Float Shrug class at the shop this past weekend, and had a great time. I like her encouraging approach, and I learned a lot of little tips and techniques along with learning how to measure for and construct the shrug. Alas, however, the contrast color I originally chose wasn't looking as nice as I'd hoped, so after I'd knit a piece about 12" in diameter, (the shrug is a big circle with sleeves) I decided to change the contrast color. (The main color is a gorgeous teal/yellow green/smoky blue variegated in Cherry Tree Hill's worsted; my original contrast was a dark orange tone-on-tone in Araucania Nature Wool worsted. But the orange was too similar in value to the main color, as my boss lady helpfully pointed out, so it looked flat. Well, OK, it IS flat, in dimension that is, but the color is supposed to have more depth! So a coworker helped me audition other contrast colors and we came up with a rich chocolate brown in Cascade 220. It's stunning, if I do say so myself. And thanks, Ms. Coworker; you know who you are.)
I'm going to do the border in Cherry Tree Hill's Baby Loop boucle in the Java colorway. It should pick up the smoky blue and the chocolate tones nicely. I may have to bulk it up with some Kid Seta fingering mohair, or double the Baby Loop, as it's only a sport weight, and worsted is called for.
Having knit the initial teal et. al. /orange pizza, I started over with the teal/chocolate. I love the way the colors are working with each other. But I was not at all happy with the way I'd been carrying the chocolate yarn up through the 4 rounds of main color. So, once again, the pizza was frogged down to a demitasse-sized coaster, and I started again, cutting and weaving in the contrast strands so I don't have to carry the brown up through the blue. Now it looks like I wanted it to. And it really only took a couple hours to knit each pizza. I'm so glad I started over and got it right. (Photos coming sometime!)
P.S.: See if you can find "Superbunny" at the store, wearing my class swatch in teal and orange.
Freddie Krueger
A friend of mine has been knitting -- and knitting, and knitting -- an intarsia baby sweater. The intarsia is disagreeing with her, much like a liverwurst full of e. coli. Intarsia disagrees with me, too, and I with it. I know I can do it, I just don't care to do it, in the same way that I know I could make fancy cookies like Martha Stewart's, but ... who cares? If I don't enjoy it, why do it? I'm going to leave Martha's title as cookie diva unchallenged, and the intarsia divas can have their beautiful, repellent craft to themselves, too.
Anyway, the particular sweater design my friend is knitting is called "Freddie". It's a very cute sweater, a pullover with a star (or is it a snowflake?) on the front. She has picked up the project and put it down several times, and, as mentioned, is not enjoying it now that she is at the intarsia portion. She even lost the sweater for over a year, I think in the instinct of self-preservation. I think we identified the base problem when it came to me that the sweater is called Freddie ... it must be Freddie Krueger!
My friend called yesterday and said that Freddie Krueger is dead. She has decided to do the sweater plain, without the accursed star/snowflake. I admire her for this; I'm sure it was tempting to do as another friend of mine once did, and burn the offending item in a ceremonial fire while doing a sprightly dance.
So, Freddie is gone. I guess we'll have to rename the sweater. How about Clive? I don't know of any evil "Clive"s, do you?
Photos are coming ... sometime!
I have been a busy little knitter. (Well, OK, I'm big and middle-aged). Besides finishing a couple of two-color Brioche scarves for charity, half a Brioche (so far) for a friend, and another rainbow-hued one for my favorite 5-year-old, I made progress on a Smooshy sock (the second of a pair I started as a class example) and knit a 12-inch "pizza pie" three times.
So what's a knitted pizza pie, and why did I do it thrice?
I took Annie Modesitt's Twisted Float Shrug class at the shop this past weekend, and had a great time. I like her encouraging approach, and I learned a lot of little tips and techniques along with learning how to measure for and construct the shrug. Alas, however, the contrast color I originally chose wasn't looking as nice as I'd hoped, so after I'd knit a piece about 12" in diameter, (the shrug is a big circle with sleeves) I decided to change the contrast color. (The main color is a gorgeous teal/yellow green/smoky blue variegated in Cherry Tree Hill's worsted; my original contrast was a dark orange tone-on-tone in Araucania Nature Wool worsted. But the orange was too similar in value to the main color, as my boss lady helpfully pointed out, so it looked flat. Well, OK, it IS flat, in dimension that is, but the color is supposed to have more depth! So a coworker helped me audition other contrast colors and we came up with a rich chocolate brown in Cascade 220. It's stunning, if I do say so myself. And thanks, Ms. Coworker; you know who you are.)
I'm going to do the border in Cherry Tree Hill's Baby Loop boucle in the Java colorway. It should pick up the smoky blue and the chocolate tones nicely. I may have to bulk it up with some Kid Seta fingering mohair, or double the Baby Loop, as it's only a sport weight, and worsted is called for.
Having knit the initial teal et. al. /orange pizza, I started over with the teal/chocolate. I love the way the colors are working with each other. But I was not at all happy with the way I'd been carrying the chocolate yarn up through the 4 rounds of main color. So, once again, the pizza was frogged down to a demitasse-sized coaster, and I started again, cutting and weaving in the contrast strands so I don't have to carry the brown up through the blue. Now it looks like I wanted it to. And it really only took a couple hours to knit each pizza. I'm so glad I started over and got it right. (Photos coming sometime!)
P.S.: See if you can find "Superbunny" at the store, wearing my class swatch in teal and orange.
Freddie Krueger
A friend of mine has been knitting -- and knitting, and knitting -- an intarsia baby sweater. The intarsia is disagreeing with her, much like a liverwurst full of e. coli. Intarsia disagrees with me, too, and I with it. I know I can do it, I just don't care to do it, in the same way that I know I could make fancy cookies like Martha Stewart's, but ... who cares? If I don't enjoy it, why do it? I'm going to leave Martha's title as cookie diva unchallenged, and the intarsia divas can have their beautiful, repellent craft to themselves, too.
Anyway, the particular sweater design my friend is knitting is called "Freddie". It's a very cute sweater, a pullover with a star (or is it a snowflake?) on the front. She has picked up the project and put it down several times, and, as mentioned, is not enjoying it now that she is at the intarsia portion. She even lost the sweater for over a year, I think in the instinct of self-preservation. I think we identified the base problem when it came to me that the sweater is called Freddie ... it must be Freddie Krueger!
My friend called yesterday and said that Freddie Krueger is dead. She has decided to do the sweater plain, without the accursed star/snowflake. I admire her for this; I'm sure it was tempting to do as another friend of mine once did, and burn the offending item in a ceremonial fire while doing a sprightly dance.
So, Freddie is gone. I guess we'll have to rename the sweater. How about Clive? I don't know of any evil "Clive"s, do you?
Sunday, October 28, 2007
A Few Comments
Just a few comments on the pictures below: Lewis is modeling the Sandra Stole in Schaefer Yarns' Sandra in the Margaret Mead colorway. And the flower garden is modeling one of the non-edible Brioche scarves I am making for the charity event. I thought the scarf would look good against the last of the zinnias, so I tossed it over the shrubbery ... forgetting that the "shrub" is a rosebush. It took me a while to get that scarf out of the talons of the rosebush. It almost did get "eaten" after all. I'm halfway through the second charity Brioche and am getting bored with the pattern, so I think my remaining items for this function will need to be something different.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
From UFO to FO in 60 seconds
Sometimes it's quick and easy to finish a piece of knitting. For example, when moving my stash around the other day -- so I could get to a couple of extra dining room chairs that usually reside under a portion of the stash -- I found a stole I knitted last year at this time. The only thing that still needed to be done was to weave in the ends. So in about three minutes, it went from aging UFO to brilliant FO. I wore it to work at the store that same day, and received many compliments.
This is my version of the "take and bake" pizza, only it's the "weave and wear" knitted object. It's satisfying to have a few mostly-finished things lying around. Then, when you need a pick-me-up, you can just weave in those ends and have a beautiful new thing to wear or to give as a last-minute gift. (Don't try this with Fair Isle sweaters or intarsia pieces or your last-minute gift will be a next-year gift.)
Now, some cynics might say that I am just rationalizing my can't-bother-to-finish-itis. And they'd be right. Well, the cynics have to be right some of the time, don't they? Just like that other political party, statistically speaking, is bound to come up with some good policies some of the time. Anyway, whether it's a mark of my slothfulness, or a creative solution, weave-and-wear works for me.
For the record, the stole in question is a rectangular one made out of Schaefer Yarns' Sandra in the Margaret Mead colorway. It's from one of the store's proprietary patterns, called the Sandra Stole. Sandra is a beautiful bulky cotton wrapped in a rayon strand. The rayon plays against the rich colors, adding light and shimmer. I think the Margaret Mead colorway looks especially luminous with the rayon.
That's all the wit and wisdom I can muster for the moment. I've just finished writing a 5-page supplement to a two-page pattern, which I'll be using for my Top Down Socks on Two Circulars class tonight at the store. And now I'm off to teach!
This is my version of the "take and bake" pizza, only it's the "weave and wear" knitted object. It's satisfying to have a few mostly-finished things lying around. Then, when you need a pick-me-up, you can just weave in those ends and have a beautiful new thing to wear or to give as a last-minute gift. (Don't try this with Fair Isle sweaters or intarsia pieces or your last-minute gift will be a next-year gift.)
Now, some cynics might say that I am just rationalizing my can't-bother-to-finish-itis. And they'd be right. Well, the cynics have to be right some of the time, don't they? Just like that other political party, statistically speaking, is bound to come up with some good policies some of the time. Anyway, whether it's a mark of my slothfulness, or a creative solution, weave-and-wear works for me.
For the record, the stole in question is a rectangular one made out of Schaefer Yarns' Sandra in the Margaret Mead colorway. It's from one of the store's proprietary patterns, called the Sandra Stole. Sandra is a beautiful bulky cotton wrapped in a rayon strand. The rayon plays against the rich colors, adding light and shimmer. I think the Margaret Mead colorway looks especially luminous with the rayon.
That's all the wit and wisdom I can muster for the moment. I've just finished writing a 5-page supplement to a two-page pattern, which I'll be using for my Top Down Socks on Two Circulars class tonight at the store. And now I'm off to teach!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The Plague
Step Away From the Knitting
I haven't done any blogging, or knitting -- or much of anything, for that matter -- for the past week. I contracted the Plague in the middle of last week, so have been mostly sleeping, drinking tea, and meditating on the texture and properties of the living room wall. It's amazing how quickly you can start feeling sorry for yourself when you have nothing to occupy your mind.
In my case, satisfying occupation of my mind goes with satisfying occupation of my hands, i.e., knitting. I can knit serenely away for hours, without TV or music or company. I come up with some of my best ideas at these times. Conversely, when I'm not knitting, and not doing anything else either, my mind finds bad places to go, into the deep, dark, moth-infested, tangle-skeined, Dazzle-Aire-remnanted, drop-stitched knitting basket of the soul. (You might call it the hand-basket of the soul, and you know where you go in one of those!)
So it's best, I find, to have knitting handy at all times. Even if I'm probably not going to be able to knit. I think if I were the type of person who wanted to go skydiving (I'm not), I'd insist on bringing at least a sock-in-progress.
Still, I've learned that there are times when one has to say to oneself: "STEP AWAY FROM THE KNITTING!" When knitting a complicated lace piece, I have a two-tink rule: if I have to un-knit more than one row, I need to force myself to put the knitting away until another day. Studies (in my living room) have shown that after tinking two rows of lace, any further knitting on that piece within that calendar day will result in a very tenacious hex descending over it, which is likely to end with multiple-row ripping and all sorts of juicy swear words.
Yesterday I started an easy project to work my way back into knitting after my illness. Since I've been knitting a two-color Brioche-stitch scarf for a friend, and since I had agreed to contribute some items to a charity project, I thought it would be easiest for me mentally to just start another Brioche. That way I'd only have to keep track of one pattern. Things went well for the first six inches of knitting (don't get impressed by my inchage; it's loosely knit in worsted-weight yarns on bigger needles) but then I started to go a bit stupid in the head. Am I on the dark side of the work? The light side? Wait -- I just knitted with the black, I should be knitting with the Silk Garden. Or should I --? I found myself dropping yarn-overs, tinking back every second or third row, looking back at the pattern, the yarn, my hands, turning the work this way and that ... And all this on a pattern I could do in my sleep with both hands and one eye tied behind my back a few days earlier. When, for about the eighth time, I looked at my work and saw wrong-color strands going across the flow of the pattern stitch, I stuffed the whole thing in my knitting bag for the day and went to bed.
I think I'm just going to Step Away From the Knitting for today, too. I'm going to be working all day at the store, and that will be sufficient to keep my mind out of the handbasket. I'm sure the Brioche won't get stale by tomorrow.
I haven't done any blogging, or knitting -- or much of anything, for that matter -- for the past week. I contracted the Plague in the middle of last week, so have been mostly sleeping, drinking tea, and meditating on the texture and properties of the living room wall. It's amazing how quickly you can start feeling sorry for yourself when you have nothing to occupy your mind.
In my case, satisfying occupation of my mind goes with satisfying occupation of my hands, i.e., knitting. I can knit serenely away for hours, without TV or music or company. I come up with some of my best ideas at these times. Conversely, when I'm not knitting, and not doing anything else either, my mind finds bad places to go, into the deep, dark, moth-infested, tangle-skeined, Dazzle-Aire-remnanted, drop-stitched knitting basket of the soul. (You might call it the hand-basket of the soul, and you know where you go in one of those!)
So it's best, I find, to have knitting handy at all times. Even if I'm probably not going to be able to knit. I think if I were the type of person who wanted to go skydiving (I'm not), I'd insist on bringing at least a sock-in-progress.
Still, I've learned that there are times when one has to say to oneself: "STEP AWAY FROM THE KNITTING!" When knitting a complicated lace piece, I have a two-tink rule: if I have to un-knit more than one row, I need to force myself to put the knitting away until another day. Studies (in my living room) have shown that after tinking two rows of lace, any further knitting on that piece within that calendar day will result in a very tenacious hex descending over it, which is likely to end with multiple-row ripping and all sorts of juicy swear words.
Yesterday I started an easy project to work my way back into knitting after my illness. Since I've been knitting a two-color Brioche-stitch scarf for a friend, and since I had agreed to contribute some items to a charity project, I thought it would be easiest for me mentally to just start another Brioche. That way I'd only have to keep track of one pattern. Things went well for the first six inches of knitting (don't get impressed by my inchage; it's loosely knit in worsted-weight yarns on bigger needles) but then I started to go a bit stupid in the head. Am I on the dark side of the work? The light side? Wait -- I just knitted with the black, I should be knitting with the Silk Garden. Or should I --? I found myself dropping yarn-overs, tinking back every second or third row, looking back at the pattern, the yarn, my hands, turning the work this way and that ... And all this on a pattern I could do in my sleep with both hands and one eye tied behind my back a few days earlier. When, for about the eighth time, I looked at my work and saw wrong-color strands going across the flow of the pattern stitch, I stuffed the whole thing in my knitting bag for the day and went to bed.
I think I'm just going to Step Away From the Knitting for today, too. I'm going to be working all day at the store, and that will be sufficient to keep my mind out of the handbasket. I'm sure the Brioche won't get stale by tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Non-Edible Brioche, Other Works in Progress
Non-edible Brioche and Other Works in Progress
There's been a lot going on at home -- prodigals returning to the fold and the like -- but I have managed to make a little progress on several projects. I have one sleeve left to do on the brown bolero, I knit a few rows on the sparkly Shadow Shawl, I got the heel turned on the second sock of my current pair of Smooshy socks, and I started a Brioche stitch scarf for a friend whose winter scarf got eaten by his cats over the summer. (I guess once you lick your fur enough, you develop a taste for fuzz -- ?)
At any rate, I hope this Brioche does not get eaten. The front is in terra-cotta Malabrigo worsted, and the back is in Kathmandu Aran tweed in a deep loden green with reddish-orangish flecks. At first I wasn't terribly fond of the colors -- I chose them to match the recipient's new winter coat -- but I'm finding that the subtle variegation of the Malabrigo looks rich, deep, and beautiful against the duller green background. It reminds me of the colors of the rocks at Garden of The Gods in Colorado Springs.
Travelogue
Speaking of Colorado Springs, I traveled there several years ago with my sister to pick up a purebred Smooth Collie puppy she had bought from a breeder. (Smooth Collies are the classic Lassie dogs, only with short hair). We stayed in a motel we'd booked on an Internet site, choosing the cheapest option because we were traveling on a tiny budget.
The motel was like something out of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: the decor was Early Crummy Motel, the carpet was dirty indoor-outdoor blue, and there was mold on the acoustic ceiling tile over the vanity area. We soon found that something was wrong with the TV; although the switch seemed to be in the "off" position, there was still sound coming out of the speakers. Try as we might, we couldn't shut it off, so we did the only thing we could do: we put our pants over the TV to block as much sound as we could while we tried to sleep. (We now refer to this fondly as "the time we had to pants the TV").
Before we pantsed the TV, we were watching the local news, which reported that a child molester had been apprehended the night before, with a child he'd abducted and held at that very motel. It was all too Norman Bates.
Despite the eerie sound emanating from the TV, the creepy motel, and some interesting driving forays -- we're both severely directionally challenged, and the map the rental-car place gave us was reduced to microscopic scale -- we had a great time, in part because we had a perfect, sunny November afternoon at Garden of the Gods. See the pictures above.
KnitBlat's rule of sock knitting #1: If anyone is looking at your feet so closely that they can see the teeny mistake you made in the ribbing, you have a bigger problem!
There's been a lot going on at home -- prodigals returning to the fold and the like -- but I have managed to make a little progress on several projects. I have one sleeve left to do on the brown bolero, I knit a few rows on the sparkly Shadow Shawl, I got the heel turned on the second sock of my current pair of Smooshy socks, and I started a Brioche stitch scarf for a friend whose winter scarf got eaten by his cats over the summer. (I guess once you lick your fur enough, you develop a taste for fuzz -- ?)
At any rate, I hope this Brioche does not get eaten. The front is in terra-cotta Malabrigo worsted, and the back is in Kathmandu Aran tweed in a deep loden green with reddish-orangish flecks. At first I wasn't terribly fond of the colors -- I chose them to match the recipient's new winter coat -- but I'm finding that the subtle variegation of the Malabrigo looks rich, deep, and beautiful against the duller green background. It reminds me of the colors of the rocks at Garden of The Gods in Colorado Springs.
Travelogue
Speaking of Colorado Springs, I traveled there several years ago with my sister to pick up a purebred Smooth Collie puppy she had bought from a breeder. (Smooth Collies are the classic Lassie dogs, only with short hair). We stayed in a motel we'd booked on an Internet site, choosing the cheapest option because we were traveling on a tiny budget.
The motel was like something out of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: the decor was Early Crummy Motel, the carpet was dirty indoor-outdoor blue, and there was mold on the acoustic ceiling tile over the vanity area. We soon found that something was wrong with the TV; although the switch seemed to be in the "off" position, there was still sound coming out of the speakers. Try as we might, we couldn't shut it off, so we did the only thing we could do: we put our pants over the TV to block as much sound as we could while we tried to sleep. (We now refer to this fondly as "the time we had to pants the TV").
Before we pantsed the TV, we were watching the local news, which reported that a child molester had been apprehended the night before, with a child he'd abducted and held at that very motel. It was all too Norman Bates.
Despite the eerie sound emanating from the TV, the creepy motel, and some interesting driving forays -- we're both severely directionally challenged, and the map the rental-car place gave us was reduced to microscopic scale -- we had a great time, in part because we had a perfect, sunny November afternoon at Garden of the Gods. See the pictures above.
KnitBlat's rule of sock knitting #1: If anyone is looking at your feet so closely that they can see the teeny mistake you made in the ribbing, you have a bigger problem!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
UFOs, I Can't Dance
UFOs, Not-Yet-FOs, and Stash
I am the queen of Unfinished Objects (UFOs), and this week has been no exception. I've been working on a Knitting Pure and Simple bolero for a little girl, in chocolate brown Plymouth Encore, to match her fall wardrobe (she's a 5-year old fashionista). I've finished the body and the front/bottom band, and have the collar and sleeves still to do. All I need is a few quiet hours in which to finish it, but since I've been chief child-wrangler this week (the fashionista's parents are out of town) I haven't gotten much done. Having now played the role of single parent for a few days, I will never look askance at a busy mom's wobbly knitting again. Hey, moms and dads, how do you manage to knit at all, much less turn out some of the stunning work that you do? I bow down to your stamina and willpower.
The other thing I've been hacking away at is the Sparkly Shadow Shawl. The main color is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Java, and the contrast is Kid Seta mohair in a medium orange variegate. I'm stranding Cotton Gold sparkly sequined stuff along with the Kid Seta. I wasn't sure how this would work out, but it's really coming out nicely. The sequins are really making the mohair "shadow" well. Photos to come -- when I have a moment off from dominoes, Candy Land, craft projects, and Spaghetti-Os.
Just a note here: It's been several days since I succumbed to any new yarn. Working at a yarn store, it's hard not to dally with every new temptation that comes in. I've been trying hard to think about what I would make out of a given yarn, whether I NEED it (what an idea!), and whether it duplicates anything I have. Then I try to visualize my stash, which is hard to do, because to get it to fit into a single image, I have to shrink it to microscopic size. Okay, so I have to imagine a camera panning across the acreage of my stash. Hmmmm ... there's all the Rowan Magpie I bought when it went on closeout several years ago ... the several Hanne Falkenberg kits (including a coat knit in fingering-weight yarn) ... the 10 colors (2 bags each) of yarn I bought at a historic mill in Scotland in the '90s (I couldn't decide which color to get, so I got them all, and had my friend, then living in Scotland, bring it over in bits every time he visited) ... well, you get the panoramic picture. Too Much Yarn. (I'm actually starting to believe there is such a thing.)
So, I haven't brought any yarn home. Not even the ooooooh-la-la Sheep Shop #3 in juicy new colors that we got in at the store this week. Not even the Ranco sock yarn by Araucania that's been like a crazed capuchin monkey on my back for weeks (quit lookin' for bugs in my hair, ya monkey!) Not the Araucania Aysen, which is so soft that I want to buy it just to cuddle with it ... oooops, I drooled on the keyboard!
I Can't Dance
I got no rhythm. In aerobics, I was always the one stumbling left while everyone else was Grapevining to the right. I can't boogie down, shake my booty, do the Mashed Potato, or even polka my way out of a Polish party. I don't even have a Groove Thang.
I was 9 years old in 1964 when the Beatles became popular in the US. I'd wait till everyone else was out of the house, put on Meet the Beatles, and try to dance like the kids I'd seen on American Bandstand. Once, my family came home from an outing and discovered me "dancing" in the living room. Let's just say that families can be merciless. I didn't try dancing again until I was married and in my 30s and my then-husband conscripted me into Community Ed ballroom dancing lessons. He may have salvaged his toes by now.
I got to thinking about this last evening when I took my favorite 5-year-old to her Creative Movement class. She's a natural dancer, and can pirouette, boogie, and breakdance. She gets it from her mom (no relation to me!) As I watched her pretend to be a kangaroo and a snake and a frog, then skip and fly and leap, I envied her. She seemed so happy just to be out there, flinging herself about, almost flying.
I was feeling quite envious, and quite sorry for myself as a dance-impaired individual. For a few minutes. And then I thought back over the day. Earlier, I'd helped someone rip out and reconstruct a piece of knitting, picking up dropped stitches, straightening twisted stitches, clearing up the mysteries of decreases and bind-offs. I'd helped someone else interpret a pattern. And the day before, I'd showed someone how to sew up a sweater. Not difficult stuff, surely. But I'm good at it. Just as E. is good at dancing. I got my knitting genes from my maternal grandmother and my mother. She got her dancing genes from her mother. I could as easily have been born to someone in Cameroon, someone from a long line of people with no eye-hand coordination but a great facility with healing the sick. Or I could have been a transplanted Texan with lots of charm but poor language skills. Or... a Yukon Gold potato. But, as Peter and Lou Berryman say, "We could have been dipsticks, or lavender lipsticks, but we happened ... to be Us." I guess I'm just the non-dancing dipstick that I am, knitting-talented, but destined never to do the Two-Step. And that's ... OK, I guess. I'll take it.
I am the queen of Unfinished Objects (UFOs), and this week has been no exception. I've been working on a Knitting Pure and Simple bolero for a little girl, in chocolate brown Plymouth Encore, to match her fall wardrobe (she's a 5-year old fashionista). I've finished the body and the front/bottom band, and have the collar and sleeves still to do. All I need is a few quiet hours in which to finish it, but since I've been chief child-wrangler this week (the fashionista's parents are out of town) I haven't gotten much done. Having now played the role of single parent for a few days, I will never look askance at a busy mom's wobbly knitting again. Hey, moms and dads, how do you manage to knit at all, much less turn out some of the stunning work that you do? I bow down to your stamina and willpower.
The other thing I've been hacking away at is the Sparkly Shadow Shawl. The main color is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Java, and the contrast is Kid Seta mohair in a medium orange variegate. I'm stranding Cotton Gold sparkly sequined stuff along with the Kid Seta. I wasn't sure how this would work out, but it's really coming out nicely. The sequins are really making the mohair "shadow" well. Photos to come -- when I have a moment off from dominoes, Candy Land, craft projects, and Spaghetti-Os.
Just a note here: It's been several days since I succumbed to any new yarn. Working at a yarn store, it's hard not to dally with every new temptation that comes in. I've been trying hard to think about what I would make out of a given yarn, whether I NEED it (what an idea!), and whether it duplicates anything I have. Then I try to visualize my stash, which is hard to do, because to get it to fit into a single image, I have to shrink it to microscopic size. Okay, so I have to imagine a camera panning across the acreage of my stash. Hmmmm ... there's all the Rowan Magpie I bought when it went on closeout several years ago ... the several Hanne Falkenberg kits (including a coat knit in fingering-weight yarn) ... the 10 colors (2 bags each) of yarn I bought at a historic mill in Scotland in the '90s (I couldn't decide which color to get, so I got them all, and had my friend, then living in Scotland, bring it over in bits every time he visited) ... well, you get the panoramic picture. Too Much Yarn. (I'm actually starting to believe there is such a thing.)
So, I haven't brought any yarn home. Not even the ooooooh-la-la Sheep Shop #3 in juicy new colors that we got in at the store this week. Not even the Ranco sock yarn by Araucania that's been like a crazed capuchin monkey on my back for weeks (quit lookin' for bugs in my hair, ya monkey!) Not the Araucania Aysen, which is so soft that I want to buy it just to cuddle with it ... oooops, I drooled on the keyboard!
I Can't Dance
I got no rhythm. In aerobics, I was always the one stumbling left while everyone else was Grapevining to the right. I can't boogie down, shake my booty, do the Mashed Potato, or even polka my way out of a Polish party. I don't even have a Groove Thang.
I was 9 years old in 1964 when the Beatles became popular in the US. I'd wait till everyone else was out of the house, put on Meet the Beatles, and try to dance like the kids I'd seen on American Bandstand. Once, my family came home from an outing and discovered me "dancing" in the living room. Let's just say that families can be merciless. I didn't try dancing again until I was married and in my 30s and my then-husband conscripted me into Community Ed ballroom dancing lessons. He may have salvaged his toes by now.
I got to thinking about this last evening when I took my favorite 5-year-old to her Creative Movement class. She's a natural dancer, and can pirouette, boogie, and breakdance. She gets it from her mom (no relation to me!) As I watched her pretend to be a kangaroo and a snake and a frog, then skip and fly and leap, I envied her. She seemed so happy just to be out there, flinging herself about, almost flying.
I was feeling quite envious, and quite sorry for myself as a dance-impaired individual. For a few minutes. And then I thought back over the day. Earlier, I'd helped someone rip out and reconstruct a piece of knitting, picking up dropped stitches, straightening twisted stitches, clearing up the mysteries of decreases and bind-offs. I'd helped someone else interpret a pattern. And the day before, I'd showed someone how to sew up a sweater. Not difficult stuff, surely. But I'm good at it. Just as E. is good at dancing. I got my knitting genes from my maternal grandmother and my mother. She got her dancing genes from her mother. I could as easily have been born to someone in Cameroon, someone from a long line of people with no eye-hand coordination but a great facility with healing the sick. Or I could have been a transplanted Texan with lots of charm but poor language skills. Or... a Yukon Gold potato. But, as Peter and Lou Berryman say, "We could have been dipsticks, or lavender lipsticks, but we happened ... to be Us." I guess I'm just the non-dancing dipstick that I am, knitting-talented, but destined never to do the Two-Step. And that's ... OK, I guess. I'll take it.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Tale of Two Moebiuses, and the 'P' word
A Tale of Two Moebiuses
I knit my first Moebius scarf a couple days ago, from Cat Bordhi's book A Treasury of Magical Knitting. The cast-on, was, as she says, easy. In fact, it was so easy, and so rhythmic, that I could do it almost right away without thinking -- and that meant that if I was interrupted at any point, I had to stop and think about how to get it going again.
I did the first Moebius in a variegated Baby Alpaca Grande by Plymouth. The only snag was that I skimmed the directions for the applied I-cord bind-off, and did it wrong the first couple of times. I knew something was amiss when I was getting a jagged edge, rather like the spine of a Stegosaurus. As a friend of mine says, READ the pattern! Well, when I actually read the pattern, it went along faultlessly.
I enjoyed the Moebius so much that I started a second one, in royal blue Kid Seta with Cotton Gold carried along. I'll post pics of both Moebiuses (Moebii?) later today, when I finish casting off the blue one. I hope I can convince Lewis to be the model. He does look handsome in a scarf.
The 'P' Word
I find there are two basic kinds of knitters: Product knitters, and Process knitters. Product knitters tend to keep knitting statistics: How many FOs, how many of each type of object, how many pairs of handknit socks they own, what's in their stash (categorized by color, subcategorized by fiber type, sub-sub categorized by date of purchase...) Product knitters finish their projects. They have handknit gifts finished and wrapped before the holidays, whereas I still have unfinished gifts from three Christmases ago. They contribute knitted items to silent auctions. Many of them -- I shudder to even think about it -- finish one project before starting the next. A subset of members this exotic species even waits to buy yarn for the next project before finishing the current project. Product knitters are good, upstanding, responsible members of society. I applaud them -- and I hate them.
I, on the other hand, am a promiscuous Process knitter. I love the process of knitting. Nothing is more exciting than thinking of new projects and casting on. This explains why I own every size, type, and length of needle by every needle company in the Western hemisphere, and some in the Eastern. And it explains why, even though I own hundreds of needles, I usually have to buy another set for each new project. All the existing ones are in other projects. (If you define "project" loosely as anything from an almost-completed sweater to three rows of a gauge swatch).
I'm excited by knitted pieces that are constructed in ingenious ways, and by new knitting techniques. I would knit an igloo cover if the pattern contained interesting techniques. This explains why I don't own too many sweaters: After having knit several drop-shoulder styles, several knit-in-the-round-from-the-top-down sweaters, a couple Arans, a gansey, and a couple Fair Isles, sweaters feel old hat, to mix a metaphor.
Not that there aren't interesting sweater patterns out there. Nora Gaughan's work is intriguing, and Elsebeth Lavold generates so many good patterns that one wonders if she has a crew of elves in a secret workshop somewhere in the forest. But, wanton knitter that I am, I tend to get past the interesting part and, well ... lose interest. Since I don't have any boring meetings to attend now that I'm out of the corporate world, I don't have as many opportunities to do endless rows of idiot knitting, which was the only thing that allowed me to complete the sweaters I did manage to finish.
Okay, yeah yeah, there's plenty I haven't done yet in the realm of sweater knitting. I haven't done a Bohus, or a lace sweater, or a proper Norwegian sweater, to name just three. Maybe I'm just making excuses for my short attention span.
Once I finish a piece -- on those rare occasions when I do -- I'm alarmingly unattached to the finished object. It can hang in the shop as a shop model, or be given away to the nearest victim. Or it can sit in a plastic tub in storage for several years. At that point, the fun is over. I'm done.
But there is some hope for me. Doing this blog has forced me to focus more on finishing things, if only because FOs make for more interesting photographs than do three rows of a gauge swatch. Who knows -- I may become one of those sainted Finishers yet. Then I'll have to work on actually knitting out of my stash.
Sure.
I knit my first Moebius scarf a couple days ago, from Cat Bordhi's book A Treasury of Magical Knitting. The cast-on, was, as she says, easy. In fact, it was so easy, and so rhythmic, that I could do it almost right away without thinking -- and that meant that if I was interrupted at any point, I had to stop and think about how to get it going again.
I did the first Moebius in a variegated Baby Alpaca Grande by Plymouth. The only snag was that I skimmed the directions for the applied I-cord bind-off, and did it wrong the first couple of times. I knew something was amiss when I was getting a jagged edge, rather like the spine of a Stegosaurus. As a friend of mine says, READ the pattern! Well, when I actually read the pattern, it went along faultlessly.
I enjoyed the Moebius so much that I started a second one, in royal blue Kid Seta with Cotton Gold carried along. I'll post pics of both Moebiuses (Moebii?) later today, when I finish casting off the blue one. I hope I can convince Lewis to be the model. He does look handsome in a scarf.
The 'P' Word
I find there are two basic kinds of knitters: Product knitters, and Process knitters. Product knitters tend to keep knitting statistics: How many FOs, how many of each type of object, how many pairs of handknit socks they own, what's in their stash (categorized by color, subcategorized by fiber type, sub-sub categorized by date of purchase...) Product knitters finish their projects. They have handknit gifts finished and wrapped before the holidays, whereas I still have unfinished gifts from three Christmases ago. They contribute knitted items to silent auctions. Many of them -- I shudder to even think about it -- finish one project before starting the next. A subset of members this exotic species even waits to buy yarn for the next project before finishing the current project. Product knitters are good, upstanding, responsible members of society. I applaud them -- and I hate them.
I, on the other hand, am a promiscuous Process knitter. I love the process of knitting. Nothing is more exciting than thinking of new projects and casting on. This explains why I own every size, type, and length of needle by every needle company in the Western hemisphere, and some in the Eastern. And it explains why, even though I own hundreds of needles, I usually have to buy another set for each new project. All the existing ones are in other projects. (If you define "project" loosely as anything from an almost-completed sweater to three rows of a gauge swatch).
I'm excited by knitted pieces that are constructed in ingenious ways, and by new knitting techniques. I would knit an igloo cover if the pattern contained interesting techniques. This explains why I don't own too many sweaters: After having knit several drop-shoulder styles, several knit-in-the-round-from-the-top-down sweaters, a couple Arans, a gansey, and a couple Fair Isles, sweaters feel old hat, to mix a metaphor.
Not that there aren't interesting sweater patterns out there. Nora Gaughan's work is intriguing, and Elsebeth Lavold generates so many good patterns that one wonders if she has a crew of elves in a secret workshop somewhere in the forest. But, wanton knitter that I am, I tend to get past the interesting part and, well ... lose interest. Since I don't have any boring meetings to attend now that I'm out of the corporate world, I don't have as many opportunities to do endless rows of idiot knitting, which was the only thing that allowed me to complete the sweaters I did manage to finish.
Okay, yeah yeah, there's plenty I haven't done yet in the realm of sweater knitting. I haven't done a Bohus, or a lace sweater, or a proper Norwegian sweater, to name just three. Maybe I'm just making excuses for my short attention span.
Once I finish a piece -- on those rare occasions when I do -- I'm alarmingly unattached to the finished object. It can hang in the shop as a shop model, or be given away to the nearest victim. Or it can sit in a plastic tub in storage for several years. At that point, the fun is over. I'm done.
But there is some hope for me. Doing this blog has forced me to focus more on finishing things, if only because FOs make for more interesting photographs than do three rows of a gauge swatch. Who knows -- I may become one of those sainted Finishers yet. Then I'll have to work on actually knitting out of my stash.
Sure.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Knitting injury, A Fat Hat, and Elaine finds a home
I like to knit socks. I like it a lot. And I like my socks knit very, very tightly on teeny-tiny needles. But when I knit too many socks in a row without a break, I get a very, very sore trapezius muscle and stiff neck. Last time this happened, I went to weeks of physical therapy to get un-kinked. This time, I've put down the socks at the first -- well, the fifth -- sign of distress (Warning! Step away from the socks!) in hopes that I can loosen up without more PT. Undoubtedly, chocolate will help too.
I decided that knitting something in a much bigger gauge would be therapeutic, so yesterday I knit a fat hat in Katia's Nepal. It's just a simple rolled-brim number, with the brim knit on 10s to nip it in a bit (otherwise, I find that rolled-brim hats tend to be, in the words of my favorite 5-year-old, "too fally-offy"). The body of the hat is knit on 11s. The Nepal, a self-striper, worked interestingly for this hat. Rather than striping, it spiraled up to the top as I decreased. I think it looks rather swell with its perky little nipple at the top.
The hat will go to charity after it is finished being a sample for my hat class at the shop. It's so cute, though, that I may need to make some mittens to "go with", as we say here in Minn-e-soh-tah.
I have been harboring some skeins of Schaefer Yarns' Elaine since mid-July, and she has been very persnickety about figuring out what she wants to be. She knits up at about 3 sts/in., and is thick-and-thin. I didn't want to do another shawl, having just finished the one-skein Nancy (by Schaefer) shawl. This week I found the perfect vest pattern for Elaine. It's the Oat Couture Oregon vest. It's fairly simple. The style reminds me of a down vest or fleece vest that you'd wear out walking in the fall. It has a zipper up the front, pockets (hurrah!) and a little bit of decorative twisted rib. I think it will show off the lovely dusky green/blue/tan colorway and the texture of the yarn.
I succumbed to a particularly beautiful colorway of Baby Alpaca Grande at the shop the other day. It's the same muted blues and greens as the Elaine, with some dusky pink thrown in. (We must call it dusky pink; dusky mauve would be so Eighties.) I plan to make a big honkin' Moebius scarf with it. I haven't yet tackled a Moebius, that is, not of the sort that Cat Bordhi invented in her Magical Knitting books. She claims the cast-on is so easy she can do it behind her back, standing on one foot. We shall see. I think I'll try doing it in front of my front, sitting down.
And finally ... The Honeycrisp apple crop is finally in! I invented a new taste treat today: Slice up a Honeycrisp, and dip it in Nutella. Yum!
I decided that knitting something in a much bigger gauge would be therapeutic, so yesterday I knit a fat hat in Katia's Nepal. It's just a simple rolled-brim number, with the brim knit on 10s to nip it in a bit (otherwise, I find that rolled-brim hats tend to be, in the words of my favorite 5-year-old, "too fally-offy"). The body of the hat is knit on 11s. The Nepal, a self-striper, worked interestingly for this hat. Rather than striping, it spiraled up to the top as I decreased. I think it looks rather swell with its perky little nipple at the top.
The hat will go to charity after it is finished being a sample for my hat class at the shop. It's so cute, though, that I may need to make some mittens to "go with", as we say here in Minn-e-soh-tah.
I have been harboring some skeins of Schaefer Yarns' Elaine since mid-July, and she has been very persnickety about figuring out what she wants to be. She knits up at about 3 sts/in., and is thick-and-thin. I didn't want to do another shawl, having just finished the one-skein Nancy (by Schaefer) shawl. This week I found the perfect vest pattern for Elaine. It's the Oat Couture Oregon vest. It's fairly simple. The style reminds me of a down vest or fleece vest that you'd wear out walking in the fall. It has a zipper up the front, pockets (hurrah!) and a little bit of decorative twisted rib. I think it will show off the lovely dusky green/blue/tan colorway and the texture of the yarn.
I succumbed to a particularly beautiful colorway of Baby Alpaca Grande at the shop the other day. It's the same muted blues and greens as the Elaine, with some dusky pink thrown in. (We must call it dusky pink; dusky mauve would be so Eighties.) I plan to make a big honkin' Moebius scarf with it. I haven't yet tackled a Moebius, that is, not of the sort that Cat Bordhi invented in her Magical Knitting books. She claims the cast-on is so easy she can do it behind her back, standing on one foot. We shall see. I think I'll try doing it in front of my front, sitting down.
And finally ... The Honeycrisp apple crop is finally in! I invented a new taste treat today: Slice up a Honeycrisp, and dip it in Nutella. Yum!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
What is Blat?
You may be wondering what blat -- or a blat -- is.
Blat is the sound a badly-played brass instrument makes. And, as you read this Blat -- er, blog -- you may start noticing a similarity between the two.
B.L.A.T. is a Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado, and Tomato sandwich, as served by the Longfellow Grill in Minneapolis. This has nothing to do with this blog, but if the Longfellow wanted to send me a lifetime supply of B.L.A.T.s, I would do nothing to stop them.
Blat is also, as Wikipedia informs me, a form of corruption in Russia and the Soviet Union. I will leave you to contemplate the subtleties of any connections.
Blat is the sound a badly-played brass instrument makes. And, as you read this Blat -- er, blog -- you may start noticing a similarity between the two.
B.L.A.T. is a Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado, and Tomato sandwich, as served by the Longfellow Grill in Minneapolis. This has nothing to do with this blog, but if the Longfellow wanted to send me a lifetime supply of B.L.A.T.s, I would do nothing to stop them.
Blat is also, as Wikipedia informs me, a form of corruption in Russia and the Soviet Union. I will leave you to contemplate the subtleties of any connections.
I am often a reluctant convert. When my friend learned to knit socks on two circular needles, and enthusiastically recommended the technique, I wasn't eager to try it. I knew how to knit in the round on double-points; it worked. Why waste my energy learning a new way to do the same thing?
She finally wore me down. I tried two circulars and immediately ditched the dpns. I've made innumerable pairs of socks (and some mittens, and lots of sleeves) on two circulars. When I heard about the Magic Loop technique several years ago, I thought that I should try it, but I wasn't enthusiastic about it. I'd already changed once. I loved using two circulars. (Uh-oh. Whenever I get too settled with something, that's my cue that I'm about to have a shakeup).
The past few weeks, several things happened: First, I was knitting a top-down sock with a turned heel, and struggling to redistribute the stitches side-to-side from their front/back orientation on my two circs. I discovered (duh!) that if I pulled out an extra loop of cable, I could easily transfer the stitches. Then, a week or so later, I was reading Annie Modesitt's new book, Romantic Hand Knits. (Yep, I actually read knitting books.) She mentions that she often knits on the longest circular needle available, and if she is knitting a smaller tube, she just pulls out an extra loop of cable to the side so the stitches aren't stretched out. Hmmmm. Magic Loop ... transferring stitches ... pulling out an extra loop of cable ... Bingo! If I'd just read that blasted little Magic Loop book, I'd have known all this a couple years ago. But, to salvage my dignity, I like to think that the insight is much richer for having been discovered through experience.
Last night, I was at work, and had a moment to knit on a sock I was starting. I wanted to do the cuff on zeroes, but I only had two 32-inchers. Since I owe my soul, and those of any descendants and relatives thrice-removed, to the company store, I sighed mournfully at the thought of buying yet another two pairs of 24-inch circulars. Then, in my Neanderthalic way, I realized -- smiting myself on the forehead -- I can just do the cuff on the one 32-inch needle. I tried it, pulling out loops of cable when I needed to to make the work fit. It worked like a dream. In fact, -- dare I say it -- I really liked the technique. Certain of my knitting friends will roll their eyes when I reveal that I've been converted yet again. Maybe I should've named this blog The Reluctant Convert.
I have racked up two Finished Objects (FOs) since my last post: The one-skein Nancy shawl is truly finished, blocked, and the ends woven in. (My goddess-coworker darned in the ends for me when I wasn't at the shop; you know who you are!) And my class-example top-down-sock-on-two-circulars is finished and hanging on the Wall O' Class Projects at the shop. Now, you may say that ONE sock is not a finished project, and you would be right. But I didn't claim two finished projects. I just claimed two finished objects. And one sock is, indeed, an object. Another coworker and I had this clarifying discussion at work yesterday, and she is thrilled, because she can claim many more FOs now.
Since I am over 50, I know that it is important to take the little victories where you can find them.
Thus concludes the knitting portion of our program for today.
On the reading / writing front, I'm still enjoying Winter's Tale. I read a chapter or two before bed every night. It's one of those books you don't want to finish quickly, because it's such a lovely world to live in for a while.
I picked up a copy of The Wet Collection by Joni Tevis today at Milkweed Editions at the Open Book center on Washington Avenue in Minneapolis. I took a class this spring in the personal essay at the Loft Literary Center, which is in the Open Book. I guess my style is mainly lyrical, and my teachers at the Loft recommended I read Tevis. I'm excited to look into the book later today. I will post a review when I have read it.
If you haven't been to the Open Book, you must go if only to check out the MN Center for Book Arts in the main level. They have classes in a variety of book arts / crafts, and they sell some stunning handmade cards and other paper items.
And now the random ... My housemates and I have been trying to reduce our carbon footprint, but man, those suckers are sticky. I'm tracking carbon everywhere. Specifically, I'm really struggling with my addiction to carbonated beverages. I swore off diet soda, because a) it's a waste of money, b) it's bad for my health, c) it's a waste of packaging and transportation energy, and d) it's just generally Evil. I started drinking vast quantities of bottled carbonated water instead, but quickly realized that it was also a waste of money, packaging, etc. etc. Then we got a water filtering system so that we can have filtered water right out of the tap. We all bought Nalgene bottles and started schlepping those around for our swigging pleasure. Except I still harbor a major jones for fizziness. Today I bought three glass bottles of fizzy water at Target. Glass is better than plastic, right? But ... oops, the label says it's a product of Italy. I guess it took some fossil fuels to move that water across the Atlantic. I feel like a crack addict, slinking off to guzzle fizzy water.
And finally: At the Minnesota State Fair a couple weeks ago, my sister and I went in quest of Pronto Pups. Until last year, I had no idea that corn dogs and Pronto Pups were two different things. Then I tasted my sister's Pup at the fair, and I realized that while a corn dog is a mundane, gritty coated wienie on a stick, a Pronto Pup is an ambrosial delight: a batter-dipped hot dog lovingly deep-fried to golden goodness, not to mention a major phallic symbol.
As is often the case at the Fair, the thing you seek is the thing you can't find. We saw several Corn Dog vendors, but alas, no Pup mongers. We searched in vain, until my sister said, "LOOK! PRONTAGE!" Now, this cracked me up so badly that I choked on my iced espresso. It was not until just now, however, that I realized that the opposite of Prontage must be ... Cornage.
She finally wore me down. I tried two circulars and immediately ditched the dpns. I've made innumerable pairs of socks (and some mittens, and lots of sleeves) on two circulars. When I heard about the Magic Loop technique several years ago, I thought that I should try it, but I wasn't enthusiastic about it. I'd already changed once. I loved using two circulars. (Uh-oh. Whenever I get too settled with something, that's my cue that I'm about to have a shakeup).
The past few weeks, several things happened: First, I was knitting a top-down sock with a turned heel, and struggling to redistribute the stitches side-to-side from their front/back orientation on my two circs. I discovered (duh!) that if I pulled out an extra loop of cable, I could easily transfer the stitches. Then, a week or so later, I was reading Annie Modesitt's new book, Romantic Hand Knits. (Yep, I actually read knitting books.) She mentions that she often knits on the longest circular needle available, and if she is knitting a smaller tube, she just pulls out an extra loop of cable to the side so the stitches aren't stretched out. Hmmmm. Magic Loop ... transferring stitches ... pulling out an extra loop of cable ... Bingo! If I'd just read that blasted little Magic Loop book, I'd have known all this a couple years ago. But, to salvage my dignity, I like to think that the insight is much richer for having been discovered through experience.
Last night, I was at work, and had a moment to knit on a sock I was starting. I wanted to do the cuff on zeroes, but I only had two 32-inchers. Since I owe my soul, and those of any descendants and relatives thrice-removed, to the company store, I sighed mournfully at the thought of buying yet another two pairs of 24-inch circulars. Then, in my Neanderthalic way, I realized -- smiting myself on the forehead -- I can just do the cuff on the one 32-inch needle. I tried it, pulling out loops of cable when I needed to to make the work fit. It worked like a dream. In fact, -- dare I say it -- I really liked the technique. Certain of my knitting friends will roll their eyes when I reveal that I've been converted yet again. Maybe I should've named this blog The Reluctant Convert.
I have racked up two Finished Objects (FOs) since my last post: The one-skein Nancy shawl is truly finished, blocked, and the ends woven in. (My goddess-coworker darned in the ends for me when I wasn't at the shop; you know who you are!) And my class-example top-down-sock-on-two-circulars is finished and hanging on the Wall O' Class Projects at the shop. Now, you may say that ONE sock is not a finished project, and you would be right. But I didn't claim two finished projects. I just claimed two finished objects. And one sock is, indeed, an object. Another coworker and I had this clarifying discussion at work yesterday, and she is thrilled, because she can claim many more FOs now.
Since I am over 50, I know that it is important to take the little victories where you can find them.
Thus concludes the knitting portion of our program for today.
On the reading / writing front, I'm still enjoying Winter's Tale. I read a chapter or two before bed every night. It's one of those books you don't want to finish quickly, because it's such a lovely world to live in for a while.
I picked up a copy of The Wet Collection by Joni Tevis today at Milkweed Editions at the Open Book center on Washington Avenue in Minneapolis. I took a class this spring in the personal essay at the Loft Literary Center, which is in the Open Book. I guess my style is mainly lyrical, and my teachers at the Loft recommended I read Tevis. I'm excited to look into the book later today. I will post a review when I have read it.
If you haven't been to the Open Book, you must go if only to check out the MN Center for Book Arts in the main level. They have classes in a variety of book arts / crafts, and they sell some stunning handmade cards and other paper items.
And now the random ... My housemates and I have been trying to reduce our carbon footprint, but man, those suckers are sticky. I'm tracking carbon everywhere. Specifically, I'm really struggling with my addiction to carbonated beverages. I swore off diet soda, because a) it's a waste of money, b) it's bad for my health, c) it's a waste of packaging and transportation energy, and d) it's just generally Evil. I started drinking vast quantities of bottled carbonated water instead, but quickly realized that it was also a waste of money, packaging, etc. etc. Then we got a water filtering system so that we can have filtered water right out of the tap. We all bought Nalgene bottles and started schlepping those around for our swigging pleasure. Except I still harbor a major jones for fizziness. Today I bought three glass bottles of fizzy water at Target. Glass is better than plastic, right? But ... oops, the label says it's a product of Italy. I guess it took some fossil fuels to move that water across the Atlantic. I feel like a crack addict, slinking off to guzzle fizzy water.
And finally: At the Minnesota State Fair a couple weeks ago, my sister and I went in quest of Pronto Pups. Until last year, I had no idea that corn dogs and Pronto Pups were two different things. Then I tasted my sister's Pup at the fair, and I realized that while a corn dog is a mundane, gritty coated wienie on a stick, a Pronto Pup is an ambrosial delight: a batter-dipped hot dog lovingly deep-fried to golden goodness, not to mention a major phallic symbol.
As is often the case at the Fair, the thing you seek is the thing you can't find. We saw several Corn Dog vendors, but alas, no Pup mongers. We searched in vain, until my sister said, "LOOK! PRONTAGE!" Now, this cracked me up so badly that I choked on my iced espresso. It was not until just now, however, that I realized that the opposite of Prontage must be ... Cornage.
Monday, September 10, 2007
September 10, 2007
This blog is mostly about knitting, with some random stuff about reading and writing and other topics as they occur.
I had a day off my job at the knitting store today, so I decided it was time to block the shawl I finished knitting back in July. It's going to be a shop model for the store. It's made out of one skein of Schaefer Yarns' Nancy, and it took me less than a day to knit the shawl, and another 3/4 day to knit the ruffle (250 stitches that grow alarmingly to 1000 stitches!)
As soon as I figure out how to post photos, I'll put up a picture of said shawl pinned out. This was a case of PGE (Plenty Good Enough), one of the guiding principles I grew up with (thanks, Mom!). In knitting as in life, you need to know when you should strive for Perfect and when Plenty Good Enough is, well ... plenty good enough. This shawl is rather rustic, since it's made out of a thick-and-thin yarn, which gives it a nubbly texture. It's supposed to fall in a ruffly cascade around your shoulders, and there isn't any lace or fancy stitch pattern that needs to be blocked all to heck to show it off to advantage. So I trussed it out on my blocking wires and pinned it in a few places to make sure the wires stay put. I didn't stretch it out overmuch. I'll see how it turns out. If it doesn't seem like it's flattened out enough, I may reblock it, but I think it's going to be PGE!
I'm also working on a pair of plain socks in Dream in Color's Smooshy. This is my current favorite sock yarn, and this is the 5th pair I've knit in it. It knits, as they say (who are They?) "like buttah". For me, it works best on size 1-1/2s. I prefer the two circulars method. I knit a lot of toe-up socks, but this pair is top-down with a standard turned heel and gusset. They are primarily an example for the top-down-socks-on-two-circs class I'll be teaching, but gee, I guess I can force myself to wear them. (Picture coming).
I'm frothing at the mouth in anticipation of knitting some socks from Cat Bordhi's new book New Pathways for Sock Knitters Book One. I read through the book a couple nights ago, and am stunned by the inventive patterns and not least by the clear and useful ways in which she explains knitting concepts. I can't wait to try the Coriolis sock. The question is, should I do it in my pet skein of Cherry Tree Hill Supersock African Grey, ("pet skein", because it is a wonderful dye lot that has a lot of olive green in it, and I have been waiting for just the right project), or should I be Bad and buy a skein of Ranco, the Arucania hand-dyed sock yarn I've been lusting after? Decisions, decisions ...
Moving on to the "reading/writing" part of this post, I'm currently rereading Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin. I initially read it about 20 years ago. It's set in Belle Epoque New York, and is fantastical, wildly funny, and delightful in its use of metaphor, language, and hyperbole. Nothing I can say can adequately describe it. If you haven't read it, go do so now. Do not stop to pass Go.
And, finally, for the "random" portion of our program: This morning one of my dogs -- the big oafy Labrador named Lewis and occasionally known as "Droolis", "Loomis", and "Duncey Boy" -- not only pooped on a toy that had been left in the yard, he barfed on top of the sprinkler. One more bodily product and he would have had a hat trick!
I had a day off my job at the knitting store today, so I decided it was time to block the shawl I finished knitting back in July. It's going to be a shop model for the store. It's made out of one skein of Schaefer Yarns' Nancy, and it took me less than a day to knit the shawl, and another 3/4 day to knit the ruffle (250 stitches that grow alarmingly to 1000 stitches!)
As soon as I figure out how to post photos, I'll put up a picture of said shawl pinned out. This was a case of PGE (Plenty Good Enough), one of the guiding principles I grew up with (thanks, Mom!). In knitting as in life, you need to know when you should strive for Perfect and when Plenty Good Enough is, well ... plenty good enough. This shawl is rather rustic, since it's made out of a thick-and-thin yarn, which gives it a nubbly texture. It's supposed to fall in a ruffly cascade around your shoulders, and there isn't any lace or fancy stitch pattern that needs to be blocked all to heck to show it off to advantage. So I trussed it out on my blocking wires and pinned it in a few places to make sure the wires stay put. I didn't stretch it out overmuch. I'll see how it turns out. If it doesn't seem like it's flattened out enough, I may reblock it, but I think it's going to be PGE!
I'm also working on a pair of plain socks in Dream in Color's Smooshy. This is my current favorite sock yarn, and this is the 5th pair I've knit in it. It knits, as they say (who are They?) "like buttah". For me, it works best on size 1-1/2s. I prefer the two circulars method. I knit a lot of toe-up socks, but this pair is top-down with a standard turned heel and gusset. They are primarily an example for the top-down-socks-on-two-circs class I'll be teaching, but gee, I guess I can force myself to wear them. (Picture coming).
I'm frothing at the mouth in anticipation of knitting some socks from Cat Bordhi's new book New Pathways for Sock Knitters Book One. I read through the book a couple nights ago, and am stunned by the inventive patterns and not least by the clear and useful ways in which she explains knitting concepts. I can't wait to try the Coriolis sock. The question is, should I do it in my pet skein of Cherry Tree Hill Supersock African Grey, ("pet skein", because it is a wonderful dye lot that has a lot of olive green in it, and I have been waiting for just the right project), or should I be Bad and buy a skein of Ranco, the Arucania hand-dyed sock yarn I've been lusting after? Decisions, decisions ...
Moving on to the "reading/writing" part of this post, I'm currently rereading Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin. I initially read it about 20 years ago. It's set in Belle Epoque New York, and is fantastical, wildly funny, and delightful in its use of metaphor, language, and hyperbole. Nothing I can say can adequately describe it. If you haven't read it, go do so now. Do not stop to pass Go.
And, finally, for the "random" portion of our program: This morning one of my dogs -- the big oafy Labrador named Lewis and occasionally known as "Droolis", "Loomis", and "Duncey Boy" -- not only pooped on a toy that had been left in the yard, he barfed on top of the sprinkler. One more bodily product and he would have had a hat trick!
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