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.

 

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!