Gremlins Vanquished / Miscellany

Happy New Year! I hope you are safe, well, happy, and hangover-free.

Boring old fart that I am, I went to bed at 10 pm. I figured the New Year would probably get here without me, and I was right. I'd had a beer with lunch and didn't feel like drinking in the evening, so I'm hangover-free, although we won't discuss what the Ethiopian leftovers did to me.

Apparently, one of the visiting cats, Sir Barfsalot, had a swingin' New Year's Eve, as I came downstairs this morning to find evidence of an epic hurl on the braided rug. Lewis, my yellow Lab, was showing a little too much interest in the rug, so I flung it down the basement stairs till Sir B's owner gets up to deal with it. Now, if that little story didn't enhance your hangover, nothing will.

On a less gruesome note, as soon as I posted my last entry, I of course found the sock pattern I was looking for (NL-7, Nancy Lindberg's Knit to Fit Ankle or Calf Socks). It was in one of those piles that seems to accumulate when you say to yourself I don't have time to file that now; I'll just set it here till later, and "later" has a way of slithering further into the future. In the meantime, other items get pre-filed on top of it, until one day you realize that Hoarders is going to come film your house unless something is done, pronto.

Once I found the pattern I quickly turned the heel of the sock and got about 10 rounds into the gusset, my least favorite part of the sock. I like the rhythm of the classic sl1, K1 heel flap, and I like to see the heel cup take shape. I don't mind picking up for the gusset, since I do a K3 border on either side of the heel flap which is easy to pick up in. But for some reason the gusset decreases seem to take longer than traveling to Jupiter via pontoon.

To round out this miscellany, a yarn review, a needle review, and a call for opinions:

Yarn Review: Mini Raggi by Jarbo Garn

This is self-striping sock yarn made in Sweden. The label is in Swedish. It's 75% new wool and 25% poly, and the gauge on the label is 28 sts/10 cm. The recommended needle size on the label is 2.5mm, but as with any project, make a gauge swatch with your preferred needles. I am using US #0.

The care instructions on the label show that Mini Raggi is machine washable in cold water, but should not be put in the dryer.

The retail price was quite reasonable. I think I paid $12.50 for the 100-gram ball at Borealis Yarns in St. Paul, MN [Borealis has now gone out of business]. The colorways are bright and fun. I bought one ball in reds, burgundies, and cream, and another in bright orange, yellow, green, cream, light blue, red, and tan. There were several other colorways, one of which incorporated bright yellow, pink and black, among other colors.

Mini Raggi knits up in thin-to-medium-thick rings of color without any fair-isle or other effects. The red- and-cream socks, which I knit last year, are satisfyingly dense and comfortable to wear. I don't know how they will hold up long-term, since I haven't worn them very many times yet.

My main criticism of this yarn is that it is not spun super-tightly, and it splits if you have to rework it. It didn't help that I was using sharp, pointy dpns which tend to split the yarn more than a more rounded-tipped needle. In a couple of places where I had to pick up a dropped stitch or tink several stitches, I had to work and rework to get each full stitch back on the needle without splitting. Then the yarn tended to stretch out and create loose stitches once it had been manipulated several times.

I give this yarn a guarded thumbs-up, with the recommendation that rounded, rather than super-pointy needles be used.

Needle Review: Knitter's Pride Nova dpns

I bought the Knitter's Pride Nova dpn sock set from Borealis Yarns in St. Paul, MN [Borealis has now gone out of business]. The set includes US sizes 0, 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5 and 3. The 6" needles are hollow brass tubes with nickel-plating. The tips are sharp.

The price was very reasonable, under $35 as I recall.

I chose metal needles because I like to knit fast. I'm an experienced dpn-knitter, and I don't have to worry much about stitches sliding off my needles, especially because I knit socks very tight at a gauge of 9 - 10 sts/in. The 6" length is ideal for me; the needles hold the 72-80 stitches I normally cast on for socks easily, but aren't so long that they get in the way.

What I like about these needles:

• They allow fast knitting.
• They hold a lot of stitches easily.
• They fit my big hands.
• The tips are sharp, which can be helpful if working cabled or lace projects.
• The metal is inflexible, and won't easily bend. No worry of breakage.

What I don't like about these needles:

• They are more likely to slip out of the work than wood needles, though with my tight knitting this isn't a big problem.
• The tips are sharp, which is a detriment when working with splitty yarn (see review of Mini Raggi, above).
• The metal is inflexible, which leads to quicker hand, wrist, shoulder, and neck fatigue than working with wood needles or two circulars.

In summary, I like the needles and they are a good value, but I will be careful not to knit continuously with them to avoid overuse injuries. I don't recommend them for novice dpn-users because of their relative slipperiness, and I don't recommend them (or other inflexible needles) for people with hand or wrist problems. They work best with tightly-spun yarns, or on projects where detail work is needed, such as cables, lace, or intricate stitch patterns.

Finally, a question

What are your favorite needles (and method) to knit socks with, and why? Are you a dpn enthusiast, a two-circulars person, or a Magic Loop fiend?

Just to start the conversation, my all-time favorite method is two circulars using Addi Turbos, but I like to mix things up with dpns too. Magic Loop is my least favorite, partly because I feel the needle torques irritatingly (at least the way I knit) and unless a needle with a very relaxed, floppy cable is used, I feel like I'm always fighting the needle. This limits me to using a Bryson plastic circular, which is the only needle with a loose enough cable I've been able to find.

What about you?

Socking it to me

The sock gremlins are playing with me.

My favorite sock pattern is Nancy Lindberg's Knit to Fit Socks. I've internalized the pattern, all but the beginning of the heel turn. For some reason, even though I've turned dozens of heels, I just can't remember how to start. Knit 2 stitches past the center of the heel flap? 3 stitches? Do you do the ssk, K1 on that first row? I'm pretty sure the second row is P5, P2tog, P1, turn ...

I can noodle through the process and be convinced what I've figured out makes sense, and then I end up with a heel that's off center by 3 or 4 stitches. All of this would be solved if I could find the pattern, but the pattern is playing hide-and-seek with me.

I'd searched for the pattern -- or course it wasn't in my pattern file -- for weeks this fall, and then I gave up. A couple weeks later, it turned up, and I put it "somewhere safe" so I could find it when I needed it. I needed it today. I couldn't find it.

I went out with my sister today to knit at a coffeeshop, and of course I finished my heel flap and needed to turn the heel. I tried twice, and twice came out with a very wonky, off-center heel cup. Luckily, then it was time to go home. But the yarn in the heel looks pretty shredded, since I've tinked it twice with sharp size 0s.

It's weird that I can do a Kitchener in the dark with both hands tied behind my back while suspended upside down in a sealed vat of brine while being beset by shrimp and having to listen to Barry Manilow, but I can't turn a @#$%^&*(!!#@!! heel without the dad-gum pattern!

If anyone has the Nancy Lindberg pattern, please leave a comment with the first two rows of the heel turn. Meanwhile, I'm off to the brine tank.

Here we go again

It's been a busy year, and I just logged in and saw I haven't posted since January 5 of 2012.

I didn't do a terrific amount of knitting in 2012. I did, however go to a weekend writers' workshop that was very fruitful, and from there, joined a writers' group that has kept me writing, although not blogging. I've been writing a lot of poetry -- new for me -- and some short stories.

My beloved LYS, which was also my employer, closed for good in December. I found a seasonal job in retail for November and December, which has now ended. And I'm on to another employment adventure in January; more to come on that.

I did knit four pairs of felted clogs for Christmas gifts, ranging from size XS children's (for a two-year-old) to men's large (size 11).  The kids' XL I knit was too small for the kid in question, so I'll be re-knitting those, but the rest fit and were enthusiastically received.

If you've read my earlier posts, you know that I don't do New Year's resolutions, because I immediately get stubborn and resentful and rebel against them. But I've decided to participate in Emily's Year of the Stash. See her blog at http://www.paleopurls.blospot.com, or visit her on Ravelry at Paleopurls.

Since I no longer work at my LYS, I don't expect I'll be buying a lot of yarn this year, especially since I bought enough over the past six years of employment to knit a large herd of sheep. (Now there's an interesting idea; shear sheep, process fleece, spin yarn, knit yarn into ... sheep). So it should be relatively easy to knit from stash.

There are a lot of fingering-weight shawlette patterns in my queue, and I have several 18-qt. Rubbermaid totes full of sock yarn, so I could probably have a Year of the Shawlette if I wanted to. Then I could achieve two goals in one: Year of the Stash, and Year of the Shawlette. I won't go so far as to say I'll knit a shawlette a month, Emily style, but I will at least allow that it's possible.

Happy New Year to all, and happy knitting.

Puppies are fun

You may recall my encounter with a visiting puppy last year; she seized a pristine hank of Schaefer Nancy and gave it a thrashing, Wren:1, Nancy: 0.

Wren is back. She's older now, but still in the if-it's-somewhere-my-pointy-nose-can-reach-I-am-required-to-poke-said-nose-in phase.

As a longtime dog owner, I'm pretty savvy about puppy-proofing. Calculate how tall the dog would be standing on its hind legs, multiply by 3 to allow for jumping, and put everything at a height two feet above that. Behind a locked door.

A lot of our stuff ends up on top of the fridge, which, although it's technically accessible, is the highest surface we have.

Last night, I wasn't feeling well and I went to bed at 9:00. I forgot to put my knitting bag on top of the fridge, and I forgot to close it.

Now, for a digression. For the past week or so, I've been working on The Little Neckwarmer that Couldn't. Or Wouldn't. It's a diabolically simple pattern: K2, P2 in the round over a multiple of 4 plus 1. Work until you're out of yarn or until you're sick of it. Bind off. Could it be easier? Apparently, yes.

Because of the extra stitch, the K2, P2 doesn't line up like a rib, but rather as a traveling stitch on the diagonal. It's harder to see when you've messed up, until suddenly a 4-round rib develops. Add to this the fact that a) I was working on two circular needles so one needle had an extra stitch on it, and b) I was sick, and c) I can be dumb as a bowl of marbles at times, and you have a stunning combination of brain fog and ineptitude. I had knit, frogged, reknit, tinked, reknit, taken numerous time outs, etc. during a span of time in which I should have been able to knit 3 or 4 neckwarmers, but I was finally on the right track again.

Imagine my dismay when I got up to find it in the middle of the living-room carpet this morning, covered in dog hair, half off the needles, with suspicious munched-up areas on either side.

I took the needles out and started pulling. I unraveled one piece that abruptly ended after about 18 inches. And another, and another. I collected a nice pile of yarn suitable for needle felting or flossing. When I reached untouched yarn, I'd frogged about an inch and a half. Bah!

I took a deep breath and started working again. I was steaming along, making good progress, when I saw I'd managed to stack up 3 knits. And 3 purls. And then The Little Neckwarmer that Couldn't went back into the time-out bag. I decide to work on a dishcloth instead, since that seems to be the only thing I can manage at the moment.

A garter-stitch dish cloth.

The Fascinator of Awesomeness

This Christmas, feeling even more bogged down than usual, I knit for only one person. My young friend E., age 9, wanted Christmas clothes for four of her stuffed animals. She was looking forward to her holiday trip to England to visit relatives, and of course, the gang needed some things to dress up in.

And, to answer your next question: Yes, I will have pictures, as soon as she arrives home. In my usual manner, I finished the last outfit five minutes before I had to drive them to the airport,  so I'll get photos later.

Really! You can come after me with a set of Lace Addi Clics and poke me about the head and face if I fail!

So, for now, words will have to suffice.

I made all the outfits out of Plymouth Holiday Lights. I knit a skirt and a fascinator (look it up) for Kitty the pillow pet. The red skirt had a picot-edged hem at the top, through which I threaded a crochet chain for a drawstring, as Kitty doesn't have much of a waist. The bottom was slightly flared, and was finished with an interminable-to-knit white ruffle.

Kitty's red fascinator was constructed like a tam, very flat, again with a picot edged-hem. I decorated the top with two jingle bells and two fancy spotted chicken feathers. It's tied on at a jaunty angle (E. didn't want to stick a hatpin in Kitty's poor head) with a green satin ribbon. Very fancy!

Pumpkin, E.'s loved-up favorite stuffed cat, got a green Christmas cardigan vest with white trim and a single button at the top, and a tall pointy red Santa hat with white trim and ear-holes to help keep it on.

Bunny, who is built like a small person, not like a real bunny, got a dressy gown with a red bell-shaped ruffled skirt and a knitted-on green sleeveless bodice. Red satin ribbons are threaded into the eyelets at one side and tied into bows. Bunny would have looked nice in a fascinator too, but there was an ear-to-available-head-area ratio that would have required a 1/8" fascinator. I didn't want to insult her dignity that way.

Finally, Snowflake, a white horse, got a capelike affair that was essentially a rectangle with a hole to allow his head to go through. It should protect him from the worst of the weather. It's not decorated, since this is the piece I finished with only 5 minutes to spare. (I'm not a procastinator, I specialize in Just in Time delivery!)

Whew. Holiday knitting done for another year.

Now to turn my attention to the bottomless UFO tub which should carry me through 2020 and beyond.

Oh, and keep away from me with those Addi Clics!

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.