Of goddesses and gauges

My friend C.S. earned the title of Knitting Goddess this week. This is not a title you can study for, practice for, or take a test for. It is a title that is bestowed on you, much like knighthood is bestowed in the British Empire.

C.S. has many excellent qualities as a person and a knitter. She's kind, loyal, funny, and a good dog mom. But this is a knitting blog, so I'll focus on her Goddesshood. She revealed to me the other day that she does a gauge swatch for every pair of socks she knits, then makes note of who the socks are for, what size she's making, the yarn and needles, and the gauge. She also has a needle inventory on her smart phone that even indicates whether the needles are bamboo or metal. I'm scared to think about what else she might be keeping track of. She probably knows which outfit I've worn each day for the past 2 years, and whether I had peanut-butter-breath after lunch.

I bow down to you, O goddess. I will never emulate you, being terminally disorganized (it's called "creative" in my household) and in procrastination purgatory. But I sing your many praises.

I don't usually do a gauge swatch for socks, because after knitting several dozen pairs over the years, my gauge is fairly consistent when I use fingering-weight yarn and size 0 needles. If I go up to size 1.5 needles, I just bump off about 4 stitches.

But I was trying a new (to me) yarn today, Cherry Tree Hill's Sockittome. J. and I had a friendly debate the other day about whether it was a light DK or a heavy fingering. I claimed fingering, and J. claimed DK. So I figured it was worth a swatch.

I did my first swatch on size 1.5 needles, figuring that with a thicker yarn than normal, I needed bigger needles. My gauge came in at 7 stitches to the inch. Many people might think that is a perfectly acceptable gauge for a sock. I, however, usually knit socks at about 10 stitches to the inch, so the fabric felt like yurt felt to me. Trying again with size 0s, I achieved a marginally acceptable 8.5 stitches to the inch, which still felt like light yurt felt, but the subtle color of the yarn enchanted me, so I decided to go ahead with it.

It occurred to me that a swatch need not go to waste, so here is a little trifle for you to try next time you do a gauge swatch for something small in the round, like socks or mittens, and you have plenty of yarn:

Do your gauge swatch in the round, using your choice of method: double points, two circulars, or magic loop. If you are using fingering weight yarn, loosely cast on 40 - 44 stitches. If you are using heavier yarn, make your best guess as to how many stitches you need for a  swatch about as big around as your wrist.

Work the first 6 rounds in garter stitch. Remember, garter stitch in the round consists of alternate rounds of knitting and purling.

Switch to stockinette stitch, i.e. knit all rounds, until the swatch is about 2.5" - 3" deep. Work the last 6 rounds in garter, as above. Bind off loosely.

Measure 2" worth of stitches. This is the gauge to use for your main project.

You now also have a jaunty wrist warmer, aka swatch. Or, if you don't want to wear it as a wrist warmer, use it as a cup cozy, napkin ring, decorative vase collar, sew shut and stuff with catnip to use as a cat toy, sew shut and stuff with polyfil to use as a doll pillow ... the uses are endless. Endless, I say!

Inside the Design Process, or Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here

I'm not a designer, but I play one on TV.

Recently, the yarn shop owner suggested I design a reversible cable cowl and teach a class on it. Piece of cake, I thought. I know how to make a cowl. Easy peasy. I know how to cable. Easy peasy. And I even know how to make cables reversible. What could go wrong?

I expected the process to include some trial and error. I started with two identical skeins of yarn, thinking I'd play around with design ideas using the first skein, then I'd knit the final product with the other. Piece of cake.

My first idea involved a reversible, i.e. ribbed, cable on a field of garter stitch. Garter is reversible, so it seemed like a good choice. Except that the cable didn't really stand out against the highly textured garter. No worries. It was only my first attempt.

Next I tried ribbing the whole thing, except for a column of garter alongside the cable. Now, the rib was obscuring the (ribbed) cable, and the whole thing merged together. And oh, did I mention that I was doing this in a fluffy, bulky alpaca yarn?

Next attempt: 2-stitch wide column of garter next to the cable. It was better than any of the other attempts, but I still wasn't very happy with it. Piece of cake had now turned into piece of pie.

Next attempt (and I was feeling a little hot and sweaty at this point): Stockinette stitch on one side of the cable, reverse stockinette on the other. At least it was reversible, if not symmetrical. But the edges rolled. Blueberry pie. (I don't like blueberry goo).

I took a few days off from "designing" at this point. It had begun to feel less like designing, and more like trying to hit a small nail on the head in the dark with a very tiny hammer.

I had started with my first idea, then continued with the same piece of knitting, trying another and another idea, until I had a long sampler that looked like I had been experimenting with synthetic marijuana while knitting.

After a few more days off, I thought of another possibility: setting the cable off with yarnovers. I tried it. It looked OK. The longer a piece I knit, the more OK it looked, until I decided I really liked it. Piece of French Silk pie !

I eagerly wound the "real" skein of yarn and quickly knit a fresh sample, using my highly refined pattern. It only took about two days to complete the knitting, and then I had only the seaming to do. It  was then that the project turned into pie-in-the face.

I had envisioned a cowl that was truly and fully reversible, that is, with an invisible graft between the cast-on edge and the bound-off edge which looked the same on both sides. Better minds than mine have contemplated this issue, and there are two unavoidable truths: First, if you use a provisional cast-on, you will wind up half a stitch off when you try to graft the beginning of the piece to the end. And, while it may be somewhat easily hidden on stockinette stitch, it is blatant on 1x1 rib. Second, if you use a standard cast-on and bind-off, you can seam the piece, but then there will always be a Wrong Side with an unsightly seam. And mattress stitch is very difficult on 1x1 rib. (Any geniuses out there who know how to do it, let me know.)

And no, I will not tell you how many complete cowls (except for joining) I have knit to date. Just let me say that until I solve the joining problem, I will be knitting only swatches to try out my further ideas.

Stay tuned for the ultimate resolution. I'm going to compromise and set the bar a little lower this time. We'll see how well I can do the Limbo.

Verbing a Noun, or Sock of Doom, part 3

My dad was a writer, news editor, proofreader, grammar guru, and a good guy. He taught me most of what I know about reading, writing, spelling, grammar, and editing, along with the regular Dad-daughter stuff.

One of his peeves was the verbing of nouns. In other words, taking a perfectly good noun, and using it as a verb. For example, a 'gift' is a thing you give to someone. You don't 'gift' something. "I gifted her a set of china" is as silly as "I pied her in the face". Now, throwing a pie in someone's face, that's funny. Pie-ing them just sounds funny.

I'm not a purist like my Dad. While I eschew the verbing of nouns as a general rule, I allow for a little wiggle room. I don't say 'gifting', but I do say 'regifting'. I think it's a funny word, and a funny concept. And if something is funny, it's all good.

So, with that exposition, I can say that today I gusseted the Sock of Doom. Yes, folks, the S.O.D. now has a heel and gussets. It's beginning to look a lot like its big sister. I'm tempted to say "I'm past the danger zone", but I won't. You didn't read it here. No. Nyet. Non. Because then the knitting goddesses, who tend to be fickle, might just have a laugh at my expense. And that kind of laugh, that kind of funny, is not all good.

That kind of joke doesn't laugh me. It sorrows me.

Sock of Doom update (sort of) and Shoes of Doom

The update on the Sock of Doom is that there is no update. Not that I haven't been making progress on it, just that I don't dare make any comment lest I inadvertently put a curse on it. Sometimes I think a dybbuk* has interfered.

On my way home from work today, I noticed quite a few roadside shoes. No doubt you have seen them, lone shoes on the shoulder amidst the empty Tide bottles, hub caps, broken taillights, random bumpers, mattresses, sofa cushions, broken-down 1970 Mercury Marquises, and the like. What are your ideas about how they get there? Have you ever lost a shoe to Roadside Purgatory?

I always imagine that many of them get lost by motorcyclists, or by people with their feet out the window. When you look for it, you see more people with their feet out the window than you'd think.

What other options could there be? Knocked off when a roadside motorist fixing a tire gets hit by a car? Flung out the window by snotty older brothers? Thrown at George W. Bush? Hurled in a rousing game of Whose Shoe Can Hit the Cop Car?

Put your entries in the comments.





*You can look it up. Or watch the Coen Brothers film A Serious Man.

Sock of Doom

Since I have been blabbing about my sock knitting disaster the past few days, I thought I'd give an update.

Yesterday, as you may recall, I realized I had started my gussets before I turned the sock heel, and I ripped back to the end of the heel flap and got all the stitches back on the needles in a half-assed sort of way. After that, I put the sock in its little red pouch so I could do some serious self-recrimination.

Today was a new day. The air was clear, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and I went off to work with an idiotic smile on my face. Can you tell where this is heading?

Around 10:30 we had a small break in the action at work, so I pulled out the sock, confident that I was of clear mind and yippy-skippy attitude. I fixed all the stitches to they were whole-assed, not half-assed. I picked up a few dropped stitches, fixed some slipped stitches, righted some twisted stitches, and repaired some split stitches. Maybe 'repaired' is a little grand. The yarn was shredded and looked like hell, but I decided that the only way to fix that was to rip back again and start with a new piece of yarn. I'm a perfectionist in theory, but a realist in practice. On I forged.

After all the stitches were happy and smiling and lined up like little schoolgirls, I set to work in earnest. First, I picked up stitches along the sides of the heel flap.* I started knitting across the instep. I got to the point where I was going to redistribute stitches to work on the gussets.*

That's when I said 'D'oh!'

And then I said to myself something a little more salty.

And then I un-knit back to where I had started for the day.

How many ways can you spell D-U-M-B? How many ways can you BE dumb? Well, let me count the ways, for I am inventing new ones daily.

At this point, I got out a copy of the pattern.** Understand, I have knit socks from this pattern for so long that I memorized it years ago, and can usually knit a sock with only my pinkies and both eyeballs tied behind my back. While I stand on my head. In a bucket full of syrup. Naked. On drugs.

(Come to think of it, after years of doing the above, maybe I have some cognitive impairment).

I forced myself to read the pattern, a line at a time, and knit one row at a time, pausing to admire my work after each row. I'm relieved to say the sock now has a heel, and I don't have to go buy coaches' shorts to wear with tube socks.

After turning the heel, I carefully put the sock away in its pouch, so it wouldn't attack again.

It may be several days, and several pints of vodka, before I attempt the next step, FINALLY picking up the gusset stitches. Or maybe I'll just strip and get out the bucket of syrup.

*See yesterday's post.

**Nancy Lindberg's Knit to Fit sock pattern, # NL 7. A fine pattern. I recommend it for anyone of normal intelligence and sound mind.

Rookie Mistakes

I made sure to bring my knitting to work today. Yesterday I forgot it, and suffered the tortures of the damned. Well, OK, I was slightly inconvenienced. Whatever.

I have been working bit by bit on a pair of socks. On the first sock, I somehow distributed the stitches askew when I was repositioning my needles for starting the gusset. I was almost done with the gussets when I realized the sole of the sock was very narrow, and the instep was ballooning.

I ripped out back to the gusset pick-ups and re-did them. Do you know how hard it is to pick up off-the-needle stitches with size 0 needles? It might have been quicker to start the entire sock over.

I learned my lesson, so on the second sock when I was ready for the gussets* I made sure to count my stitches and distribute them correctly. I had done two rounds when something just felt wrong. I held up my sock. Yes, the gussets looked even. I recounted the stitches and yes, I had the correct number on each needle. No, there were no dropped stitches.

And no, there was no heel. Ah.

If you are a sock knitter, you know that it is helpful to put a heel in your sock, unless you want to relive the Tube Sock glory of the 1970s, when you could buy white, knee-high athletic tube socks in big economy packs of 750 and when people's socks were perpetually uncomfortable, ill-fitting, and prone to creeping down into their shoes. Don't you just love that feeling of a huge lump of sock under your arch? Keeps you awake better than coffee.

So ...

I ripped out back to before the gusset pick-ups and got all the stitches back on the needle. Do you know how hard it is to pick up off-the-needle stitches with size 0 needles? It might have been quicker to start the entire sock over. (Is this sounding familiar?) I'm now ready to turn the heel. As soon as I get done with the self-flagellation and the wearing of the hair shirt, which I knit from the hairs of my Labrador.

*I thought I was ready for the gussets.

Moment of Zen

My job at the yarn store is a dream job. During the lunch hour, when people come in to knit and chat, and between helping other customers, we get to knit along with the lunch group. I usually have a pair of socks on the needles, and little by little, the socks magically get finished. Both socks, as opposed to my usual one-sock-wonders that end up as part of a zany mismatched pair.

(The definition of a one-sock-wonder is: One wonders where the other sock went). Dryers can create one-sock-wonders too, as we all know. And who hasn't had that experience where you wonder what that lump under the bedsheet is?

I digress
Yesterday, having changed knitting bags, I went off to work. It was a gorgeous early fall day, and I had an idiotic smile on my face.

I got to work and pulled out my things. I had several things in my backpack. My lunch. My wallet. My phone. My keys. No knitting.

Now, knitting is my panacea. It keeps my little hands busy so I don't overeat, don't smoke, don't pick at things, don't, as the t-shirt says, kill people. And though there was plenty of work to be done helping customers, stocking shelves, and the like, the noon group kept asking me why I wasn't knitting.

"I'm having a moment of Zen" I said. They didn't buy it. I had to fess up.

When I got home, the first thing I did was to find my knitting in my other bag, and put it in my backpack. I slept well last night.

Miscellany

Having said that I hate knitalongs, especially mystery knitalongs, I bought the pattern for Stephen West's recent mystery knitalong. But I had heard from friends that, since it involves 3 yarns in 3 different colors, it was difficult to know which yarn to start with. So I'm going to look at completed ones on Ravelry, see if I like the pattern and try to understand how the colors should best be arranged. And if I don't like it, I won't make it. I'm making use of my underlying talent for procrastination to eliminate the mystery element.

I haven't been knitting much. I've been busy with lots of other things, like going to the Minnesota State Fair. Aside from CHEESE CURDS, Pronto Pups, and the new sweet corn ice cream, my favorite thing is the knitting display in the Creative Activities building. Emily Tremain's fair isle Doublemassa hat in Kauni Effektgarn is stunning, and, gratifyingly, it was prominently displayed instead of hidden under layers of other items. Katie Smith's beautiful sweater made of Opal sock yarn was also prominently displayed. Both won ribbons.

There were also quite a few lace scarves, stoles, and shawls, few of which were displayed so that you could see much of them. I realize there is limited display space, but some of these items looked very nice from what you could see of them.

Susan Rainey's circular tablecloth, done in what looked like fine crochet cotton, was gorgeous. It was impeccably knit, and impeccably blocked.

I am not a fair-enterer. While I'm vain about some of my talents and abilities, and somewhat proud of my knitting, I don't feel a need to be validated by winning a ribbon in the fair. Or maybe I'm just lazy.

It's been quite zippy on the home front, with a visiting sister, her two dogs (one is a 5-month-old puppy) and three cats. And I have a dog. They form a loose sort of Dog Chorus with hissing and growling for percussion.

Soon after the puppy, a blue merle smooth collie, arrived, I saw her thrashing something around on the floor. Since she had at least five toys strewn over the floor, I didn't think much of it at first. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dash of rich red. I wonder where she got that small red blanket, I thought. Hmmm. We don't have a small red blanket. Ummmm ... OH NO! NOT THE SCHAEFER! Let's just say Nancy is now possibly just Nan. I'm calling the puppy Vinegar Breath now.

By choice, I'm lying low for the Labor Day holiday. I'll need a vacation after my sister's vacation.

I'll be teaching Beginning Socks and Reversible Cable Cowl classes at Borealis Yarns in September and October. Check www.borealisyarn.com for more details.

Curmudgeonly Ruminations

I hate knitalongs.

As revealed in yesterday's post, I hate deadlines, I don't like things I'm told (or think) I "should" do, and when the two get rolled up together, I really get cranky. Maybe that's why I'm about a year behind in filing my medical insurance paperwork.

The last time I committed to a knitalong, my knitting group and I decided it would be a lot of fun to do one of the lace fichus in "Victorian Lace Today". Fun, fun, fun. Yippity-skippity, whoop-de-doo!

What in the HELL was I thinking?

As always, K., she of the engineer's mind and laser-like concentration, came back the first week with the thing practically finished. She explained the problems she'd run into reading the charts, and how she figured out how to work with them, and what to watch out for.

Meanwhile, M. and I had each made it partway through the ties (thin garter strips) and, each for reasons of our own, had ripped them out and started over.

The next week K. had finished hers and blocked it, and was wearing it. M. and I quietly put ours away to age like fine whisky. I'll have to check on mine, say, in 20 years. The best single malts are at least that old. Or maybe even 21 years. If I'm not in the senior home by then, crocheting granny squares and spending Saturday nights at Bingo. That fichu wouldn't be any good for me anyway. I'd just dribble my pablum on it.

I avoid mystery knitalongs. These are the ones where some stranger online -- sometimes from a yarn company, sometimes just a random torturer -- issues instructions for something section by section, which you are supposed to have the faith to knit without knowing whether you're making a lace stole, a Dr. Who scarf, or a cabled red carpet for the Oscars.

You sink many kopecks into buying the yarn, you get the (sometimes error-filled) instructions, and away you go. Of course you finish each section before the next set of instructions comes out, so you can lah-di-dah your way through the thing and get it done on time.

Or ball it up in the middle of section 2 and put it away somewhere dark, hopefully somewhere moths like to breed.

Did I mention I am short on faith? Especially when it comes to decrees issued by unknown online personages.

I prefer to do my knitting alone, in the dark seclusion of my home, so that if I decide I don't want to finish the project, or that I want to put it aside for a week or a lifetime, I am beholden to no one.

Yep, I'm a curmudgeon. Board-certified.

The year of Kauni Effektgarn and some musings on resolutions

I don't do New Year's resolutions. Why would I do that, when any resolution I'd make would be doomed to fail?

Think about it: What types of things do people make resolutions about? Typically, eating less, exercising more, quitting smoking, quitting drinking, giving up sugar, saving money -- in short, removing all pleasure from life. And knitters often make incomprehensible (to me) resolutions about de-stashing, not buying more yarn, not buying more sock yarn, not buying any more [insert favorite color here] yarn ...

All I can say is I'm going to hell in a handbasket, and enjoying every bit of the ride. I'm gonna go in a blaze of glory, but at least when I do, my stash won't melt, because I don't buy acrylic.

I do, however, occasionally think, in a noncommital way, about the fact that yarn makes up a sizable part of my "budget" --  I call it that, just for fun -- and an even more sizable part of my possessions. And I occasionally think that, if I were a person who believed in "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts", I probably shouldn't be spending as much money on yarn as I do.

Oh well, screw that.

My coworker and friend E. did a "year of the sock" last year, during which she made 12 pairs of socks in 12 months. This year, she's doing the "year of the hat", and has already produced several really smashing hats. [I encourage you to follow her at paleopurls.blogspot.com.]  I admire her perseverance and accomplishment, but that whole type of project is way too close to all things I fear: deadlines, shoulds, and lack of variety. (And variety IS the cheese of life, doncha know. More about that another time.)

However, I've decided to do The Year of Kauni Effektgarn. It encompasses everything I like, and nothing I don't. First, I've lost my heart, and most of my money, to the beautiful, delicious Kauni Effektgarn. It's 100% wool, rich with lanolin, and it shades from one beautiful color to the next in at least 20 colorways.

Second, this Year doesn't involve any shoulds or deadlines. I don't really care if I make 12 things in 12 months with Kauni. But I've already made 3 major things out of it this year: A large Spiral Nebula shawl*, and two (count 'em) Maude Vests from the Simply Shetland 2 book, the first according to the pattern and the second enlarged somewhat for a better fit. I figure I've been more-or-less continuously knitting with the stuff all year so far, so I might as well continue. Especially since I have enough stashed to make both a cardigan and a project-to-be-determined.

Watch this space for further adventures with Kauni, and, of course, pictures. When I get around to it, that is. (No resolutions on that.)

*I knit the Spiral Nebula while my mom was in the hospital for two months, and I've decided it soaked up too much bad juju during that time and must be frogged. Not to mention, It's a big shawl, and it's done in the rainbow colorway. I started picturing myself as Rainbow Bright at age 56, looking like hell but really BIG and BRIGHT. I'm going to repurpose the yarn and incorporate it into the collar of the cardigan, and make a few scarves with the rest.

Stay tuned.

Increasing

What in the Sam Hill are some of these knitwear designers thinking?

It's well known that Americans are getting bigger and bigger. I have to admit that I'm a proud American, and as such, I am following the national trend.

I'm dimly aware that there are some people out there who wear an S or even an XS. It's a curiosity to me. I was 5'8" in 8th grade, and attained 5'10" + before I started shrinking vertically a few years ago. I've had size 10 shoes since junior high. The rest of my body is, ahem, proportional. And getting more "proportional" all the time, thanks to time, settling of contents, and chocolate.

I recently bought a copy of Brave New Knits, in which there is a pattern for a pretty sweater called Silke Jacket, designed by Shannon Okey for knitgrrl.com. I'm sure Ms. Okey is a lovely person with good intentions, but the jacket comes in four sizes: S, M. L, and 1X. So far, so good. I usually wear a 1X when I buy sweaters or tops.

But the 1X has a 38" bust circumference. I'm sorry, Shannon, that is not a 1X. Maybe a 1-boob, but not a 1X.

At work today a few of us were looking at the book Knit Jackets by Cheryl Oberle. To paraphrase my coworker E., everything in the book is very knittable and wearable. Well, maybe wearable by some. But I think the largest women's jacket I spotted was 46". Now, that's a fairly generous size, but it would still be too small for me. And no, I don't weigh 300 pounds. No, I don't weigh 250. (And NO, I don't weigh 400!)

Can I help it that I'm a woman of substance with substantial boobage? Well, OK, I can help it to a certain extent, such as maybe eating less ice cream (a.k.a. Food of the Gods), but I also have large bones. I swear it.

I'm not naive; I realize that designing unique, interesting knitted garments is a challenge. And I realize that, geometrically speaking, not every design is translatable into every size in 2" increments. But how about these suggestions, for starters:

1. Any book of knitwear designs, unless it is specifically for children or petites, should have at least 20% of the designs go up to 50".

2. Ditch the "S. M, L" labels for sizing. "Small" can mean anything from "fits my big toe" to "fits my big sister" (who is smaller than me). I know what 42 inches means, but "M" might as well designate "Mystery Size".

3. Always indicate how the garment should fit. Is it intended to be oversized, or should it have negative ease? A 50" finished circumference might be for a 42" circumference person or a 54" circumference person, or anything in between.

4. Show a photo of a realistic-size model wearing the garment. Include a fashion shot if you must, but also include a plain shot that shows detail of the garment and how it conforms to the body.

5. Include a schematic for every pattern. That way, if I can't quite see the details of the garment in the photo, I can get an idea of how it's structured and what the measurements of each piece are.

6. Design more flattering stuff for us fat ladies. Those &*^%$#@** skinny beatches already have plenty of cute clothes.

No Knit Wit

This thing is not a sea creature, nor is it hyperbolic knitting. It's a ruffled silk and wool collar, which I made eons ago, and have never worn. Every time I encounter it in the bottom of a bin of yarn, I think, "I should wear that someday". Then it somehow goes back into the bin and never gets worn. Hm.

Since I have run out of knitting-related witticisms, I'm going to talk about one of my peeves, overused words and expressions.

1. "Devastated". I've been hearing this one a lot the past few days, since there have been a lot of tornadoes and other forms of severe weather. It's not that I doubt that the results are devastating, it's just that I expect people to be more lyrical in the midst of their, um ... devastation. How about "It wrecked our house and everything we own", "What will we do now?" or simply "Life sucks"?

2. "Icon", as in "James Brown was an icon for the African-American community". When Persons on the Street were interviewed on TV after James Brown died, about 90 percent of them said they were affected (or "devastated") because he had been such an "icon". But what does that mean, people?  Icons are symbols. So what was he a symbol of? Tell me or I will smite you.

3. "Snowmageddon" and "Snowpocalypse". These were funny the first time I heard them, but by the second day of the first snowstorm of 2010, they were about as hilarious as "Workin' hard, or hardly workin'?" I shall smite both your cheeks with a metal snow shovel if I ever hear these again.

4. "Awesome" (pronounced in Minnesota as 'ossum'). Do my new shoes really inspire awe? My haircut?  My recipe for baked beans? If so, you have a low awe threshold. And what happens when you encounter, say, the Second Coming (that is, the Apocalypse without the Snow) if you're already awed by baked beans?

5."Incredible". 'Incredible' means, literally, not believeable. "We went to this incredible new restaurant". Really? You didn't believe you were there, or you didn't believe it existed? If you didn't believe it existed, was your meal filling? Shall I smite you with this incredible wombat?

6. "Supposably". People. This is not a word. And still it gets overused.

Thanks. It's been awesome.

Of Great Blue Herons and Fish Skeletons

How can a fish skeleton be inspirational?

I saw this one on my morning dog walk, and immediately thought of knitted lace patterns I might design. Lewis immediately thought, "Yum!" Cruel mistress that I am, I didn't let him eat it.

Last year at this time, there were a lot of good-sized carp heads strewn about in the grass near the local pond where we walk. I never did figure out whether they were discarded by humans, raccoons, foxes, or something else, but every time we went out for a walk, I ended up with "fish heads, fish heads / jolly jolly fish heads / fish heads, fish heads, floating in my soup" circling in my brain.  (Or is is "roly-poly" fish heads?)

While we were walking, a Great Blue Heron swooped down about 20 feet from us, and let me take about 20 pictures before it flew further away. The photos I got were not stellar, but for what it's worth, I share one here.

Two days ago, a Peregrine Falcon swooped down into a yard as I was driving down Cretin Avenue in St. Paul, a busy two-lane urban street. The falcon missed whatever it was going after, but I got the best close-up look I've ever had of a Peregrine. And yesterday, I spotted a red-tailed hawk atop a freeway light pole. Our local pale hawk (identity as yet unknown, but probably a light-colored red-tail) has been frequenting its favorite utility pole at Lamplighter Park across the street, and I have had some spectacular close-up views as I walk under the pole.

I've yet to see any osprey, cormorants, goldfinches, or Eastern Bluebirds, but I trust with the warm weather I will see them soon. We've had a couple of good rains, which have brought the worms out onto the sidewalks, so the robins are feasting.

Welcome Spring, FINALLY, and Happy Easter!

An FO, plus My Precious Sock

Pictures, finally. Not good ones. The dreary Minnesota weather didn't cooperate for outdoor photos, so I had to put up with crummy lighting and unattractive backgrounds. If the sun comes out tomorrow, I'll do a retake.


The Maude Vest has been finished, blocked, and worn. I came, I knit, I conquered. When I told my coworker J., she replied, “have you cast on for the next one yet?” Dang, she knows me too well.


It’s a good thing I finished the vest yesterday, since today the knitting voodoo is upon me. Picked up the gusset stitches on my sock before I turned the heel; rookie mistake. Went to turn the heel, and ended up with a non-centered heel twice before remembering, (i.e., looking at the pattern) how to do it. While undoing my mistakes, dropped several stitches. After finally getting everything picked up again, put one of the gusset decreases in the wrong place.It’s great that I have a job where I can knit during my downtime.It wasn’t too busy today at work, but I believe I completed only two rounds on my sock. 


I feel like there’s some little fiend dogging me, someone who looks like Rumplestiltskin or Dobby, or worse, Gollum.Excuse me. I have to go buy a garlic wreath, some asafoetida (you can look it up) and a few wooden stakes for good measure.

One down, only ??? to go

I cast off the Maude vest this morning, and put it in the "spa bath" (cool water and Soak wool wash) this morning. If I'm not too lazy this afternoon I should be able to block it. I was hoping to wear it to work tomorrow, since Katie warned me I had to have it done -- under what authority, I'm not sure -- but I'll have to see if it's dry in time. I may be wearing it with un-woven-in ends.

And I WILL post a picture when it is finished. See? I'm turning over a new leaf. Let's hope there aren't maggots under it. (The leaf, that is.)

Next up is a sweater I had hoped to finish by last Christmas. Well, Easter and Christmas are both about Christ, right? So if I get it done by Easter, I'll call it a success. It's a kimono by Plymouth, knit in Encore, and it was dead easy to knit, although I kept knitting the pieces longer than necessary and having to rip because the Idiot Knitting lulled me into a trance. I hope it will be a cold, cold summer so the friend I'm making it for can enjoy it. Maybe I'll have to take her camping in the Arctic.

All I have left on the kimono is picking up about one-hunderd-and-eighty-four-billion stitches up the front, around the neck, and down the other front, and knitting a wide garter stitch shawl collar. Then the dreaded sleeve and side seams. I might have to fortify myself with a few beverages for the seaming. It's not that I can't do it, it's just ... well, you know. Seaming. Feh.

After the kimono, I will finish the socks I promised to another friend years ago in exchange for a favor. I think I might have to make two pair, the second pair being overdue interest.

My resolution -- OK, yes, I'm making a damn resolution -- is to accompany each of these tiny triumphs with photos of the FOs (hey, I like the sound of that, 'photos of the FOs'). And then my blog can be all pretty.

[Off topic]: I wish I'd had my camera yesterday morning, when I went out to walk the dog in the SNOW and there was a lone goose standing out in the white field, looking as if it was having the same bewildered and murderous thought I was about the weather.

Stay tuned.

F-ing Os

I’m thinking hard about F-ing some Os. No, that’s not code for naughty-speak.

If you’re a knitter, you probably know about UFOs (Un-Finished Objects). And if you’re me, you have several -- well, several dozen ... ish -- UFOs lurking in Rubbermaid bins and boxes and project bags and baskets and in any other sort of container large enough to hold projects-in-progress.

So, I’m thinking of F-ing some of those Os.

I’m dangerously close to finishing my current project, the Maude Vest from the Simply Shetland 2 book. I have an inch or so left to knit, then I may finish the armholes with crochet or I-cord edging, and then I need to block it. 

Usually when I reach this stage in a project, it feels done to me, and I can’t help casting on for something new and exciting. I’m sort of like Donald Trump in this way, only I go after newer, fresher projects instead of newer, younger wives.

And I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions, so I don’t ever resolve to F more Os for that reason. And I don’t believe in either Hell or the Knitting Police, so I can’t be guilted into finishing anything I don’t F-ing want to. (OK, that WAS naughty-speak).

So why this sudden burst of potential industriousness?

For one thing, I think my coworker E. is a bad (good?) influence on me. She is one of those dismaying people who casts on a project on Tuesday night -- at work, I might add -- and by Friday morning she comes in with a completed acre of fully blocked Orenburg Lace or a Dubbelmossa Fair Isle hat or some such thing. And not only that, she keeps up with her blog and puts plenty of photos on it as well. I admit to feeling a little competitive.

For another, I’ve had occasion to go into my stash recently and in the process I unearthed a few things that would take about 1 hour each to complete. For example, the Sonoma Wrap from Simply Shetland 2, which involved 72 inches of various lovely stripes in Woven Stitch. I completed the knitting in record time, but so far the edging has taken me about three years. Well, applied I-cord can’t be rushed.

And then there are the socks I promised a friend several years ago. All I have left is the foot of the second sock. Two evenings of work, max, and I could get that sock monkey off my back.

And ... and ...

But maybe I could just look at that beautiful new silk and wool handpainted yarn I bought on Saturday? You won’t tell, right? I swear I won’t cast on ...

High Speed Chase

The Knitting Police are after me again.

The Knitting Police enforce the Knitting Laws, the most important of which apparently is:

Finish What You Start.

I’m an anarchist from way back, maybe because I came of age during the late 1960s and early 1970s, when it was almost illegal to follow rules. If you say anything to me which contains the word “should”, I have an immediate, visceral reaction which makes me do the opposite of what I “should”.

I shouldn’t have “too much” yarn, whatever that means. (How can you have too much yarn? That’s like having too much air, or too much time.) I have a wide-ranging collection of yarns, both vintage and modern, much of which is parked in the overflow parking, a.k.a. my not-so-mini-storage unit.

I shouldn’t start a project when I have other, unfinished projects. Need I say more?

I should complete knitted gifts before the gift-giving-occasion (GGO), or at least within 6 months after said GGO. Or at the very least while it still fits the recipient. Ahem.

Guilty as charged, Your Honor.

I’m trying to do better, though. Last fall, I decided to knit and felt some clogs for a charity sale. I finished the knitting and felting a full week before the deadline.

This Christmas, I decided a week before the holiday to knit and felt three pairs of clogs, and knit two neck gaiters. And I would have finished them all in time, if the last pair of clogs hadn’t gone mysteriously kitty-wampus on me, causing me to re-knit the last clog on Christmas morning. At least I was able to present the gift in a lovely gift bag, even though the needles were still in it.

Next I offered to knit a kimono for a friend, a dead-easy collection of acres of stockinette-and-garter rectangles. Pure idiot-knitting as long as you have, say, 8 hours a day to sit and watch TV with your hands on auto-knit. I’m almost done with it, and I have barely knit a stitch on anything else while I’ve been working on it.

I was thinking the other day that it’s time to knit one of the – um – several projects I’ve bought yarn for recently, and was getting excited at the prospect, when I realized I have yarn to knit 3 sweaters for the baby my close friend is having next month.

So don’t tell the Knitting Police I’m not going to sew together my own kimono from last year, or finish the applied I-cord on the wrap I knit the year before that, or seam the Alice Starmore gansey I knit the year before that, or …

Uh-oh, flashing lights in my rearview mirror. I’m outta here.