The Disordered Life

Life, I have noticed, does not feel sequential to me. Like a novel, different story lines fade in and out as the days pass by. In this blog, I am trying to create knitting anecdotes from non-consecutive, uncooperative events, which doesn't really work. Maybe I should save the stories for my knitting book (everyone is writing them these days, so why shouldn't I?) and just report my day-to-day progress, such as it is.

Megan's Dishcloths

As has been my dishcloth knitting habit of late, I selected a stitch from The Knitting Stitch Bible and transformed it into a cotton dishcloth made from Lion Brand Lion Cotton, this time in Poppy Red. The stitch pattern was "hearts" which, for some reason, was a bitch to knit, at least in non-stretchy cotton. And I forgot that stitches are taller than they are wide, so instead of squarish, the dishcloth came out rectangular. Were I to knit this one again (and I'm not!), I would space out the hearts to increase the width.



For Megan's second dishcloth (I always seem to knit them in pairs), I used a 9-patch pattern I found here. (Let it be said, when I first saw the Mason-Dixon Knitting book at the library, I did not even crack it open because I assumed from the dorky cover that it would be full of patterns for toilet seat covers and finger puppets. I stand corrected, and as penance, purchased my very own copy and also pay daily visits to their website.) What drew me to this pattern were two things: mitered corners (how do they do that?) and no seaming (how do they do that?) The fun thing about mitered knitting is one starts on the long edges and decreases, so the closer one knits to the point, the faster the knitting goes. (Unlike sweater sleeves knit from the cuff up.) The colors here are Poppy Red and Natural.



Not my Socks?

The executive summary:

Pattern: from Sensational Knitted Socks, a four-stitch ribbing, in garter rib

Size: women's 11 (don't start)

Yarn: Schaefer Yarn "Anne" in some one-of-a-kind colorway

These socks look HUGE to me. Before starting to knit, I swatched (otherwise, I would never have purchased the recommended size 1 needles) and I measured my feet against the size chart, and now that the socks are blocked, I measured them against the size chart as well. Yes, all the numbers match, BUT. They. Look. Huge. They feel kind of loose, too, and the ankles bag a bit. And yet, they feel comfy.



Rarely do I knit something for myself, but I swore these socks were for me. And yet, they don't feel like mine. They feel like they belong to Karen, the instructor at a writing workshop I attended recently. She saw the socks in progress, and exclaimed over the colors, and then I realized that the colors were her colors; they matched her outfits. The rest of the weekend, I kept sneaking peeks at her feet, debating on whether the socks would fit. I think the socks are a bit big for her, too, but given Karen's propensity for going barefoot and her starving-artist lifestyle, I'm thinking she needs them more than I do. We'll see.



Another reason I felt dissatisfied with the colors is they stockinetted better than they ribbed. And the dark yarn was difficult to work with except in daylight. But this pattern, on size 1 needles, used a lot of yarn; only 17 grams remained, out of a 4 oz. skein. Had the skein been the usual 3 oz. (100 g.) size recommended for a pair of adult socks, I would have run short.



Three pairs of socks do not make me an expert, but I feel like each pair I have knit so far has been 'way too much of a learning experience. The next pair will be a repeat, of either the Magic Socks pattern or the Ann Norling pattern.

More (I Must Be Nuts) Lace

After the swallowtail shawl, I did not think I would ever knit lace again. But I am. And this time I am actually using a lace weight yarn, a mohair (emphasis on hair, as in hairy) and silk blend: Rowan "Kidsilk Haze" in a color called Liqueur, probably because it will drive you to drink.

I was the only one in the shawl class who did not use such a yarn, and if I had, I would never have finished that shawl. This yarn is like fine, hairy thread. The body of the yarn is barely visible because of the hair, and the hair clings to itself like Velcro, which makes frogging nearly impossible.



So the plan is to frog and tink as little as possible. (Stop laughing!) And since I have trouble counting above 80 (has nothing to do with the number of toes and fingers I possess - I have a tendency to either skip from 89 to 100 or to count the 80's twice - don't ask me why), I am strategically placing stitch markers every 24 stitches (the pattern repeats every 6 stitches). And I may employ lifelines every 12 rows or so, as the pattern is 12 rows high.



The pattern is from Glamour Knits and is a fitted top for my daughter. It is designed to wear over a camisole and hug the body. So I was forced to not only knit up a swatch (which was an excellent opportunity to practice the lace stitching) but also soak and block the swatch to see how much it would stretch out. Because lace knitting s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s.



I had already decided to drop a needle size because this is my usual MO, and the swatch came out very close to the 4" x 4" expectation, but snug enough that I rounded up to size 38.



Now I am crossing my fingers that this will actually work out in real life.

Blogger Aside

I have not been posting lately, so this is the first time I noticed that Blogger automatically saves drafts. What a great idea! Several times this week I have read postings on typepad other blogs where the blogger is complaining about losing a post while editing. Maybe they should learn something from the free blog hoster!

A Sad Day

My LYS - the non-chain, locally-owned one with the finer (more expensive) yarns - is closing. Wah! I don't know the why's or wherefore's, but I am a little disgruntled that they did not notify those of us on their mailing list but instead relied on word of mouth (a co-worker left a note on my desk). I'm assuming the problem is money, so they may not have wanted to spend dwindling funds on a mailing. And the word-of-mouth thing seems to be working for them, as the inventory was rather picked over when I arrived this afternoon. I did manage to snatch up some Cascade 220 and some Colinette Cadenza, and I may return for the Rowan Classic Silk Wool DK and some Skacel Addi Turbo needles. After all, it's 25% off. For some reason the Koigu is not on sale, though.

I'm a little surprised the LYS would be in trouble financially, as I thought they had a good business plan: they didn't just sell yarn, but also their expertise in the form of classes. But it appeared they ran the business manually; for example, receipts were handwritten, which meant inventory data had to be updated by hand as well. Their presence on the web was virtually (HA!) non-existent, too. The quarterly newsletter with the class schedule arrived by snail-mail, and they did not sell online, which limited their customer base.

Some of the LYS customers are discussing starting their own yarn store, so maybe all is not lost. Hopefully, they won't rely on word-of-mouth to get the news out for their grand opening.

Meanwhile, a respite from the yardwork courtesy of a healthy thunderstorm is providing me with the opportunity to work on sock #2. I turned the heel tonight (without incident! maybe I am finally getting the hang of this knitting thing) and hope to finish the gusset so I can do some mindless knitting during a meeting tomorrow at work.

A Fiber Festival for Kids

Last Friday my son and I moseyed on up to Salomon's Farm for the Fiber Arts Celebration. Having been to a couple of similar affairs in the past year or so, I expected more of what I have been seeing. But no. This one was definitely geared for the younger set. The field-trip set. The home-schooled set. The dad-has-visitation-this-weekend set.

The Fiber Arts Celebration at Salomon Farm is a sheep-to-shawl hands-on educational experience that also includes hay wagon rides, a few vendors (no deep-fried dill pickles), and the opportunity to observe a 1930's style farm. The rug rats were having a frenetic time (thus the worried cooing from the alpacas) and theoretically were learning something. Since my son is just shy of 27, we were a little out-of-place; the adults providing the demonstrations ignored us and I was too self-conscious to insist they address our curiousity.

So, if you have little ones, I recommend this festival, especially if you have the gorgeous weather we had last weekend. If you have wool cravings, though, this is not the place to find relief.

Manly in Pink

Spring has sprung finally, and it is difficult to be online when one can be outside, thus the dearth of postings. And the knitting has been lagging as well, but I haven't abandoned the needles completely. After all, one needs something to do while resting on the deck and listening to the wrens. Just don't leave the knitting outside by itself or it might become someone's nesting material.

Wool is a little sticky to work with in warm weather, but cotton does not mind slightly sweaty fingers. I knitted up a couple of dishcloths for my son, using non-dishcloth patterns. I chose Lion Cotton "Americana" since red-white-blues seemed less frou-frou, more manly than the other variegated yarns, but I hadn't noticed the pink. He's secure in his masculinity, though, and is not afraid of a little girly color.



Washcloth #1 is based on the "Diagonal Pattern Baby Blanket" (free on the Lion Brand website). It is all garter stitch except for the yo's and k2tog's to create the border.



Washcloth #2 is all linen stitch, which I learned from a pattern in my 2007 Pattern-A-Day Knitting Calendar (the April 17th entry). This produced a stiffer, denser fabric.



Yesterday a giant pile of mulch arrived in my driveway just hours before my son came to visit. Funny - the same thing happened last year! Time to get to it.

Sock One, Sock Two

I finally completed my first Sensational Knitted Sock, on size 1 needles, r-e-a-l-l-y late (well, late for me) last night. And the unwritten rule for sock knitters is you have to start sock #2 immediately after finishing sock #1, as then you are more likely to eventually get to a complete pair of socks. So I did. Which reminds me: when you are knitting a k2 p2 ribbing on three needles, it is best to divide the stitches so that at each needle change, you are starting with a k2. Because when you are starting two needles with k2 and one needle with p2, the likelihood of screwing up increases dramatically. Ask me how I know.

While starting sock #2, I wore sock #1. Mmmm, comfy, but I think the heel flap is too long, which makes the ankle bag a little. And I stopped short of the recommended foot length and am glad I did. So far, every pair of socks I have knitted (all two-and-a half of them) needed to be shorter than the recommended foot length. There is something I am not getting.

At least my DSL is magically back. I have new instructions for the wireless (plus a helpful hint from somebunnysloveDOTcom), so when I am feeling brave, I will attempt that again.

Grrr!!!

I recently upgraded to DSL (love the speed!) and decided to go a step further and add wireless, but have not had any luck getting it to install. I tried (several times) the install disk that came with the router, then tried (several times) some "special" instructions from the Internet supposedly guaranteed to get my Westell 6100 modem to play nice with the Linksys router (isn't the definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results?) Finally I decided to just go back to plain old DSL but no, now it won't work without reinstalling the Verizon software which of course won't reinstall. There is a 24/7 help hotline I can call, but right now I'm not quite in the mood. Thank goodness I never got around to discontinuing my dial-up. Desperate times....

Meanwhile, I have not made much progress on all my UFO's, so of course I started a new project, just a little project, a dishcloth in linen stitch using variegated cotton yarn. During a manic phase, I purchased a bunch of Lion Cotton for making dishcloths using different stitches from The Knitting Stitch Bible. I quickly discovered, however, that variegated yarn is not the best choice for showcasing fancy stitchwork. So when I read about combining variegated yarns with the linen stitch, I decided to give it a try. Today. The basic directions are from a scarf pattern in my 2007 Pattern-A-Day Knitting Calendar (the April 17th entry), and so far the result is interesting. I'll post photos when I am back online with DSL.



One of my toilets needs its insides replaced. I'm wondering if my bad luck with computers will extend to plumbing. Maybe I should not press my luck.

Spring Fever

The skies are bawling, and I am feeling a bit weepy myself. I blame everything on hormones (great excuse!) but the result is I don't want to do anything except curl up on the couch, listen to music, and knit.

But even the knitting is making me weepy. My second charity blanket square is off-gauge. I dropped a stitch about 6 rounds back on my sock and can't seem to get it picked up correctly. The lace Addi Turbo needles I ordered have not yet arrived. The rocking chair is piled high with UFO's. A stalled afghan covers the recliner. The only thing I feel competent to knit is another preemie cap, but I hate the bamboo needles I am using because instead of getting smoother with use, they feel rougher.

At least Amazon finally shipped my copy of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off. That and some dark chocolate should help a bit.

Think I'll go work on that afghan.

Crotchity Crocheter

I've been wandering through Yarn Harlot: the secret life of a knitter, by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, and just finished the chapter where she disses crochet.



Well. I'm a little put out. Just because she failed at crocheting doilies and antimacassers (and why she was even attempting such antiquated projects is subject to question) doesn't mean crochet is evil. So now I am forced to respond to her complaints. (Blog war!)

First, let me admit that I learned to crochet before I learned to knit. Back in the 60's, my mother guided me through the then-prerequisite crocheted vest. I also have been a counted cross stitcher and a quilter, but my eyes won't support the former and I killed my interest in the latter by hand stitching a giant log cabin quilt top that has never actually been quilted.

Now. Ms. P-M claims knitting and crochet don't employ the same skill sets. Interesting, because I hold the yarn in my left hand the same way for either, and manipulate a needle/hook in my right in very similar ways. While knitting does differ from crochet, both require patience and persistance and a little insanity, along with general yarn wrangling and fine motor skills.

Ms. P-M says crochet is faster than knitting. I say, that depends on what you are making. If your knitting needles are large enough and/or you execute enough YO's, you can whip out a baby afghan or a shawl in no time at all. If your crochet hook is tiny and the pattern intricate, a pair of gloves may take ages. Or, if you are insane and/or not a commitmentphobe, hooking an afghan in single crochet can take a lifetime, because this project is destined to stall.

Ms. P-M thinks a hooker is less likely to rip out a project gone wrong than a knitter is, but I have found the opposite to be true. I am much more willing to pull the plug on crochet than knitting, especially if the knitting is on size 1 needles and I've already turned the heel on that damn sock.

As for questionable crochet projects like toilet lid covers in pink and green, Ms. P-M obviously has not seen the blogs like this one. Something ugly, and sometimes scary, can be created no matter what the medium.

There's more!

• Knitting needles may be sharper but crochet hooks are more likely to make it past airport security.


• Crochet may use more yarn, but that makes it a fine way to bust that stash.


• Acrylic may be a fine petroleum product, but it is also cheap, machine washable and dryable, doesn't shrink or lose its shape, and most people don't know the difference between it and wool anyway.

In fact, most people don't know the difference between knitting and crochet, so what does it matter?

Make the World a Better Place...

... One Stitch at a Time.

That's what the flyers said. They were tucked into every needlecraft book at my local public library branch. They were stacked at the checkout. There was a poster at the door. And yet it took me several months to attend my first meeting.

Not knowing what to expect, an hour beforehand I grabbed the Lion Brand pattern for a knitted preemie cap and cast on some lavender baby yarn and stitched a few rounds. I pictured us all sitting around a table, chatting while we worked on separate projects, and I wanted to have something to work on, too.

I was half right. We did sit around a U-shaped cluster of tables and knit, but the group's effort was going into a group project, a patchwork blanket to be donated to a local women's shelter. At one end of the U, skeins of Bernat "Super Value" were being wound into smaller balls for us to work with, while a dozen pairs of needles worked at a variety of stitch patterns. Each patch is to be 7" x 9", in "earth shades" of blue, green, and gold.

And while some chatting did occur, our energetic and enthusiastic leader Laura talked almost non-stop. And when she wasn't talking, she was doing: making copies of the preemie cap pattern for our next project, handing out flyers for the local fiber festival, showing parts of a DVD called "The Art of Knitting and Crochet," sharing stories from KnitLit, welcoming new members and encouraging us all.





Initially, I found the experience nerve-wracking. For one thing, I was late, and felt like I had to hurry and catch up. I happened to have some size 7 needles to cast on, but my gauge was off. The woman on my left murmured, "I found that casting on 30 stitches instead of 35 works better," and then I was torn: do I do the expedient thing and cast on fewer stitches, or do I do the right thing and drop a needle size until I obtain gauge? I'm embarrassed to say I chose expedient simply because I didn't have any more needles in my bag.

But at least my patches will be the right size, unlike the woman on my right, who had produced a small hill of blue squares without the aid of a template. Laura gaily accepted them, but between my patch with the wrong number of stitches and her patches of the wrong size, I could not help but wonder how the finished product was going to fit together.

Since then, I have been conscientious but not competitive about doing my "homework," finishing one patch in garter stitch...



... and starting a second in seed stitch. I also finished a preemie cap...



... and have started a second one of those as well. Both projects are no-brainers that are good for business meetings. (Where I work, we participate in meetings via PC and telephone, so I could be picking my nose and no one would be the wiser.) And they are good alternative projects for when my other, more challenging projects, are getting the better of me.

A while back I wrote a post about mindful knitting. While most of my knitting still goes to loved ones and I am far from being willing to knit anything for my ex, at least now I am knitting for strangers in need.

Baby steps.

Reality vs. Fantasy

When my SO and I went to the Fiber Event at Greencastle this past weekend, I took X number of dollars to spend. Among the items on my shopping list were carders and a spindle, a swifter, Addi lace needles (as reviewed on Knitter's Review), tiny crochet hooks, and maybe some roving and yarn. So the first order of business was to visit every vendor we could find.

Lucky for us, Friday was sunny if a bit nippy - sweatshirt and knit cap weather - and dry, so we wandered idly from building to building until our eyes began to glaze from all the wool. And there was lots of wool, from fresh-off-the-sheep fleeces greasy with lanolin to handspun, hand-dyed marvels. There was also lots of gear for doing something with the wool, including wheels and dyes and looms, but no lace needles or tiny crochet hooks, alas.

There were non-wool products as well, like soaps and vegan yarns and buttons and beads. There were a few vendors with finished goods, including teeny, tiny socks knit with toothpicks and transformed into earrings. (That I will have to try. I wonder if they are knit flat or in the round?) Another vendor showed me a handcrank sock machine she was using to, well, crank out scarves. These devices have been around since the 1800's, but were of particular use during World War II for making socks for soldiers. (For more info, visit this site.)

We spotted a few familiar faces from Corydon, including the needle felting folks from Big Springs Farm (whom I was too embarrassed to approach because I have not even started the project I purchased from them last October). And I fell in love with Chloe (or rather, a photo of Chloe), one of the ewes from Schacht Fleece Farm.

Fiber festivals are a lot of fun, but I also find them frustrating because I am such an ignorant neophyte! How does one know which wool to buy, how to card it and dye it and spin it? I have self-taught myself many things, with the help of good books and adequate tools, but spinning seems magical to me, woolly clouds transformed into fiber. My idea - if I bought the equipment, the spinning would come - seemed naive. I decided that I should find a teacher or participate in a workshop before investing money.

Once I decided not to buy carders and a spindle, I found it harder to part with my money at all. Sixty dollars for a swifter felt like an extravagance when I currently have no hanks of yarn waiting to be rolled into balls. I leafed through a few books, but they can be borrowed from the library or purchased online at a discount. I had tucked a couple of sweater patterns in my purse to see if I could locate yarn for them, but suffered a crisis of confidence when faced with so many choices. And besides, how could I justify buying yarn when I have plenty of projects already in the queue, just waiting for some needles to become free? (I know - I'm a failure as a stash builder.)

Finally, I spotted some sock blockers that I wanted, and that got the dollars flowing. Some handmade soap joined the sock blockers, along with a pair of wool/angora socks and a skein of Tofutsies sock yarn. Now I felt like I was contributing to the economic well-being of the event.



But we drew the line at the deep fried dill pickles.



There was not very much livestock, or if there were, we couldn't find them. Just as well, as I come away from these events pining for sheep. There were rabbits, though, big woolly rabbits that dwarf my little angora/mini-lop. It has taken me months to accumulate a few sandwich bags of rabbit fuzz, while each of the French and German angoras at the fair could easily provide many times that amount in just one molting. I tried to harden my heart against these gentle animals, but eventually became teary with longing. As we drove away, I started the litany of talking myself out of animals: I can buy all the wool I could ever want, in one form or another, from one animal or another, without actually owning the animals. With a dog, a cat, and a rabbit in my small suburban home, my ark is currently full.

Stop It or You'll Go Blind

Well, I just could not leave that yarn alone. Lord knows I tried. After yesterday's post, I really did stop... for a while. Then I improvised a reverse swifter by placing one diningroom chair upside down on another...



...and I unwound the lesser of the two balls until there was a half hank. Deciding we both needed a break, I left it to hang, fully intending to leave it be for about 24 hours.



But I could not help myself. I just had to try my hand (or thumb) at creating a center-pull ball. I felt like little Jack Horner with a Christmas plum on my thumb...



... but the technique really did work.



At Women's Weekend, the one lone non-knitter helped the rest of us by yarn wrangling, and during her indoctrination, the mentoring knitter admonished her not to wind the yarn too tight. This tidbit was news to me, so with this yarn I made sure to keep things loosey goosey, and now I have a nice squishy ball.



So far, in my sock-knitting education, I'm discovering that there is no definitive right way to knit a pair of socks. For example, the pattern for the Magic Stripes socks called for size 3 needles, but I had to drop a size to obtain gauge. The Ann Norling sock pattern also called for size 3 needles for fingerling weight yarn, but without even mentioning gauge, the basic sock class instructor instructed us to change that to size 2. My next pair of socks is coming from Sensational Knitted Socks, the author of which recommends a size 1 or 0 for fingerling, to obtain a gauge of 8-1/2 to 10 stitches per inch. Today I dutifully cast on with size 1 needles and knitted a swatch. And I obtained 10 stitches per inch, thank God. These middle aged eyes could barely see the stitches to count them, so there was no way I was going to drop a size. I did drop a few stitches, though, and my "rescue" crochet hook (size 00) looked like a log next to those stitches. If I am going to continue with socks, maybe I should invest in a size 0000 hook.



And so we begin....

Persistence

After Socks One and Socks Two, I tried to start a third pair, out of Lion Brand Wool-Ease, but quickly discovered 1) I was tired of DPNs, and 2) I was tired of socks. Also, I could not get up much enthusiasm for a thick pair of socks I would not be able to wear until next fall.

A few days of plain vanilla knitting later, though, and I found myself thinking socks again. Maybe it's because I have been following the Yarn Harlot and her traveling sock, as she flits about the Midwest on a book tour. (And she has been through hell this past week - personally, I think "Jayme-the-wonder-publicist" is a sadist to schedule so many flights in so few days, especially involving multiple visits to O'Hare.)



Anyway, I pulled out a hank of Schaefer Yarn ("Hand Painted Luxury Fiber") I had purchased on sale. (When my daughter saw the price on the sale tag, she said "That's the sale price?" Yet she did not bat an eyelash when I plunked down $$$ for a hank of Louisa Harding "Sari Ribbon", two balls of Trendsetter Yarns "Super Kid Seta", and 6 balls of Rowan "Kidsilk Haze" - all for projects for her out of Glamour Knits.)



Anyway, for some reason, when I bought the Schaefer Yarn, they did not offer to wind it and I did not think to ask, so that was the first order of business. This also seemed like a good opportunity to attempt to wind a center-pull ball, as described in Knitting Tips & Trade Secrets Expanded. Since I live alone, there was not an extra pair of hands available to hold the yarn while I wound, and since most of my chairs are not designed to hold yarn for winding, and since the rocking chair was already holding the Sari Ribbon, I optimistically draped the hank over the edge of a cabinet.



Well. I learned almost immediately that wool yarn tends to cohere. As I unwound a round of yarn, the neighboring rounds of yarn also came off the hank, and then the hank fell to the floor, in not too big of a mess. I tried to straighten out the hank, and decided to simply carry on, leaving the yarn where it lay.



Again, each round of yarn I pulled off pulled off more yarn (I'm a slow learner), and soon the hank was more of a mess.



There wasn't much else to do but continue. The other end of the skein magically appeared, so then I could wind from either end, depending on which seemed most likely to produce results. (Neither end was better than the other; this was just magical thinking on my part.)



This endeavor started on Thursday eve. I unraveled and unsnarled Thursday evening, Friday evening, off and on Saturday, and again on Sunday (today). The work was surprisingly hypnotic, much like knitting itself. And much like knitting, I occassionally had to just put it down and walk away.



The closer I came to being finished, the harder is was to stop. Sort of like picking a scab.



And, finally, I prevailed. Now instead of one center-pull ball, I have two balls with no ends available. I could cut the yarn at this point, and use a ball for each sock. Or I could unwind one ball, and try again to create a center-pull ball. Or I could just sleep on it.



Next weekend, my SO and I are going to the Fiber Event in Greencastle. Fiber festivals are financially dangerous places for knitters to go, especially knitters who received a larger-than-expected bonus this year. But it's like going to Vegas: decide up front how much money you are willing to part with, then stick with that amount. After my experience with the Schaefer Yarn, one thing I will be looking to buy is a swifter.

Socked Out

Finished the Magic Stripes socks this week, as well as the basic sock class socks. Blocking relaxed the fit. These are machine washable and dryable, so hopefully that will tighten them up again.



Every time I finish a project and find something not quite the way I expect, my heart sinks a bit. Scarves and afghans are very forgiving, but for something wearable to be, well, wearable, the stars must be in alignment. When will I knit with confidence?



I actually did try to start another pair of socks, this time for moi, but I'm all socked out for now. Time to move onto something new and different.

My First Pair of Socks

It's been a long story (see part 1 and part 2), but I finally have a pair of finished socks. (The photos are pre-blocking.)



And, despite my protestations, the ribbing does fit my big calves. But I sized them for my daughter, so they are too short for my big feet, which means I can't accidently keep them for myself.



When I read Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's Knitting Rules! (see review), I struggled with the chapter on socks because I had not knit any yet. Tonight I reread that chapter, and now it makes sense. Especially the part about sock knitting being addictive: I am halfway through sock #2 of my SO's Magic Stripes socks and I can't wait to start on a pair for myself.

The Trouble with Socks

The trouble with socks is you can't knit just one. Unlike potato chips, it's not that you can't stop at one because they are so irresistable (which I find they are). Rather, it is because one sock is not much use except for hanging on the mantle at xmas time.



This subject came up at the last basic sock class. The instructor's strategy is to start both socks at the same time, using two sets of needles, and alternate working on each. A mother and daughter in the class wished they had picked out the same yarn, as then they would have a complete pair between them. I've read about knitting two socks at once on circular needles, but haven't investigated this method as I have yet to complete my first pair.



Prior to the last class session, my co-worker and classmate suggested knitting up to the kitchener stitch at the end of the toe beforehand. I agreed this was a good idea. In fact, I deemed it such a good idea that I did the same for the Magic Stripes sock. Because of my foresight, I had the opportunity to practice the kitchener stitch twice, although once you know what to do, it's not all that difficult (like most things).



However, I continue to be an idiot unmindful (see previous installment of the sock story). I started sock #2 of the Ann Norling pattern, advanced several inches into the leg, then spied a clutch of errors about five rounds back. I set it aside and knitted several inches of the Magic Stripes sock #2. Today I picked up the Ann Norling again, tried to correct the mistakes without frogging, gave up, frogged, picked up stitches, tinked another round, and reknit all the lost rows. (I have done this enough now that it is getting easier if not less frustrating.) Then I picked up Magic Stripes sock #2 again and discovered I had cast on the wrong number of stitches. I frogged again. *sigh*



I don't know why I didn't notice the miscounted cast on when I divided the stitches among the DPNs, but I suspect I suffered from multiple-sock-knitting confusion. The Ann Norling uses 2x2 ribbing, the Magic Stripes 1x1. AN casts on 64, which translates to 16 stitches per needle; MS casts on 56, or 14 stitches per needle. There are other differences as well, so maybe I should finish one before the other, just to be on the safe side.

Domiknitrix

by Jennifer Stafford

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe I am too influenced by my hippie-dippy past to be comfortable with the language in this book. Not the sexual innuendo language, but the violent language regarding the relationship between knitter and knitted. I don't want to force the yarn to do my bidding; I want to become one with my knitting.

And maybe I am too Midwestern to imagine wearing most of the items in this book. Even my sophisticated daughter didn't find any of the patterns appealing. My only exception might be the L'il Red Riding Hoodie (I like the pockets). And I suspect that the color insets featured in the Swizzle Vest and Diva Halter would be slimming.

And maybe this dog is too old to learn new tricks. I use the long tail cast on almost exclusively, but when I tried the author's method, I could not figure it out from the photos. And her mattress stitch is different from my mattress stitch. But I could have used her explanation of seaming garter stitch when constructing the baby hoodie.

But I like the idea of knitting clothes that flatter and fit, and that is really what this book is about. So many knitting patterns are just so... barely wearable. When I progress beyond the hat, sock, and baby sweater phase, I may check this book out again.

Not My Bag

I made myself a Fat Bottom bag (that has yet to be lined), and I offered to make one for my daughter. No, it's not finished, either, but I have purchased all the supplies. For some reason, when I drive past Joann, my car automatically turns. I did manage to get away without adding to the yarn stash.



I also made my first (and last?) trip to Hobby Lobby. My impression was that it is not a hobby store but a home decor store that happens to sell hobby supplies on the side. But they did have Hilos La Espiga Nylon no. 18, which is for the Exchange Bag, another SnB project from Happy Hooker. This one is for my SO's granddaughter.



While the resulting fabric is quite spectacular, the means to get there is painful. I have to rest my hands after every two rounds. Getting old is hell.

Sock It to Me!

For one of my New Year resolutions, I signed up for a basic sock class at my LYS, but could not wait, knitted some slipper socks, which gave me an inflated sense of confidence, so I started a sock project on my own, the Magic Stripes sock that uses Magic Stripes yarn (natch!) from Lion Brand. Between the Magic Stripes and the class, however, I've discovered I have a lot to learn about knitting socks.

The Magic Stripes sock has been a real... challenge. I frogged my first attempt because I had not swatched and my brand new size 3 Crystal Palace bamboo needles were in reality closer to being size 3.5. The result was baggy ankles.



I restarted with size 2 needles, switched back to the size 3 for the heel flap because the stitches were just impossibly tight, but otherwise am right on gauge. After my eye appointment, I tried to adjust my knitting posture, and my knitting tightened up, so I stopped until I decide what to do. A few nights later I dreamed that I started to frog the sock again, but when I reached the heel flap, I screamed, "No-o-o-o-o!!!" No way was I ever going to do that heel flap again! (Except when I knit sock #2.)



In class we are using an Ann Norling pattern for adult socks (designer: Deridre Wallace). The first thing I noticed was this pattern is more generic than I am used to. The Magic Stripes pattern makes generous use of markers and instructs the knitter to knit to here and knit to there with precision, so one doesn't have to think too much about what one is doing. The Ann Norling pattern, however, uses no markers, so one has to pay attention to what is going on. This is a good thing.

One thing I learned in the first class was how to avoid that little gap when joining ends in circular knitting: on the first stitch when joining, knit both the yarn and the tail for one stitch, then knit them together on the next round. This makes a small but tidy difference.



The second thing I learned is that watching the colors emerge as one knits self-striping socks is mesmerizing. I'm using Online Klaus Koch Supersocke 100 Tropic.

Since the Magic Stripes pattern uses stockinette stitch for the leg, I decided to rib the leg on the Ann Norling, just to be different. And do they look different! The Ann Norling looks like it is made for an anorexic pixie. Yes, it stretches, but not enough for my leg because I am 30 pounds overweight and I have big calves (but not cankles). The socks may fit my daughter, whose weight is just right. We'll see. I am limiting the length of the leg to six inches, just in case.



The heel flaps between the two patterns are different as well. From what I have observed, the Ann Norling method of slip 1, knit 1 on row 1, slip 1, purl across on row 2 is fairly common and produces a nicely padded heel flap. The Magic Stripes pattern instructs the knitter to slip 1, purl 1 on row 2, which creates a very tight, very dense fabric. I found the heel flap so difficult to knit that I actually wrote Lion Brand to find out if this was correct, and they claim it is. I'll be curious to see how the two heel styles feel and whether one outlasts the other.

Regardless of which pattern I am knitting, I am capable of screwing up. The Ann Norling heel flap was much easier to knit, but while turning the heel, I did something wrong (actually, I was trying to talk and knit at the same time, a hazard of knitting with others) and wound up with a lopsided cup. I started tinking, then decided it would be easier to just frog back to the heel flap. Wrong! I spent the bulk of the second class session recovering from that little fiasco, while the rest were flying past the cup and into the gusset. Once home, I gave it a rest, then managed to get back on course.



I tried Magic Stripes sock #1 on this morning and realized I am much closer to the toe than I realized. These are for my SO, and in the course of making them, we discovered our feet are the same length, Yes, along with big calves, I have big feet.

How Sweet It Is!

This is the "Sweet Cherries" blanket from Lion Brand. It's one of those mindless, knit-every-stitch projects, but with four colors in two kinds of yarn in four color combinations, it required a lot of yarn wrangling, which made it definitely non-portable. After a while, I took to lining up the yarn at one end of the couch and protecting it from the cat (who has her own idea of yarn wrangling) with a pillow when not actively knitting.



The pattern called for 6 rows of melon and fuchsia, 1 of melon and french vanilla, 2 of pastel pink and french vanilla, and 2 of pastel pink and fuchsia. Well, that singleton made it next to impossible to carry the yarn up the side, plus I didn't like the way it looked, so I changed the singleton to a double. Also, the pattern called for casting on in melon and french vanilla, then immediately switching to the 6-row color combination. I didn't like the way that looked, either, so I cast on in melon and fuchsia. I also ended with the six-color stripe because that is when I ran out of melon, an event I anticipated thanks to my new scale.



It was early in my new-found passion for knitting when I ran across this pattern. The online photo showed three different blankets in one picture, and since I couldn't decide which one to make, I ordered the yarn for all three. (In case you haven't noticed, I tend to take things too far.) One down, two to go, but I'm going to take a break first.

The Eyes Have It

Since I bought a notebook computer and started knitting (two unrelated events that occurred about the same time frame), my eyes have suffered. Or rather, my eyes are causing me to suffer. After an extended period of time at either the PC or the yarn, my vision is extremely fuzzy when I look up. This blurring lasts long enough to be annoying. And sometimes, when I am being particularly obsessive about a heel flap or solitaire game, my eyes positively ache.

I complained about the discomfort at work and discovered that others in my age range suffer from the same affliction. One fellow went to his optometrist, but neglected to mention the blurred vision. He did get a new pair of glasses, but says they don't really help that problem much. Since we have vision insurance here and it had been over two years since my last exam, I decided to visit my optometrist, but unlike Dan, I would whine loud and long about my vision.

Well, it didn't do me any good. My prescription does not need to be changed and "office glasses" would probably not help, but if I wanted to update my current glasses, they could adjust where the blending of my trifocals occurs in order to accommodate the way I hold my head. For $600, I could just change the way I hold my head, so I left empty handed.

At noon, when I picked up my knitting, I deliberately kept my hands closer to my lap than my nose and held my head up while looking down through my glasses. It felt awkward, but doable. But oddly enough, the change in posture affected my knitting, making it more dense. The sock I happened to be working on had required a drop in needle size to obtain gauge, but now it looked like I would have to chuck the 2's and return to the 3's if I wanted the stitches to be consistent. That's assuming I don't drift back into my slumping, head-drooping ways, especially before finishing the second sock. Hmmm. What to do?

So I did what any self-respecting knitter would do: I grabbed a crochet project from the knitting satchel to work on until I make up my mind.

Weighing on my Mind

I am an unabashed fan of the Yarn Harlot. Recently, she received a new scale, so (copycat that I am) I bought one for myself. Mine (from Target) is not nearly as cool as hers, but now that I have it, I wonder why a scale is not a requirement for all knitters. It immediately relieves that am-I-going-to-run-out-of-yarn angst and answers the eternal are-we-done-yet question.



For example, I am knitting a sock from a skein that is supposed to contain all the yarn that is needed to create two socks, but the skein seems to be shrinking too quickly. Plop the skein on the scale, though, and I can see that the almost-done sock has used 40 grams of a 100 gram skein. Or when will the 4-color baby blanket be done? I plan to end the blanket when I use up the melon, as it is the color that will run out first. I weigh the ball, knit a row, weigh the ball again, and voila, I see that I have enough yarn to repeat the 12-row pattern three more times.

This is the perfect gift for the anal retentive in your life!

My First Sweater

This is a sweater I made for my father in the late 70's, before I had kids. On a recent visit, Dad was decluttering his house and encouraged us to take stuff we wanted. Not wanting the sweater to end up in the Goodwill (not that that would be a bad thing, I just wanted it back), I asked if he still had it. He said, "Sure. I don't wear it anymore. Do you want it?" Well, yeah.



Looking at it now, I am amazed that I had the chutzpah to even contemplate such a project. I don't remember how I learned to knit (self-taught?) and I don't remember knitting anything else besides cotton dishcloths, but for some reason I thought this sweater was within my abilities. It is mostly reverse stockingnet, with ribbed cuffs and bottom band and collar. Cables run up the front and around the shoulders. Not knowing any better, I whip stitched the seams.



If I remember correctly, this was supposed to be a Christmas gift but it wasn't quite done, so I pulled out the pieces so we could test the fit. I do remember the look on Dad's face when he saw it. Priceless.



The tunic length and shawl collar are back in style now, so I wear it on occassion. It is incredibly warm. Even though it is made of Coats and Clark Red Heart acrylic, Dad had stored it in mothballs, so it smells faintly of camphor. He wore it through the oil crisis, to keep warm in the evenings. I hope it warmed his heart as well.

Random Thoughts

Ordinarily, I limit my posts to this blog to completed projects, but right now I don't have anything ready to fall off the needles. So here are some random thoughts about knitting.

Last night I realized there is a dark side of me that would rather knit than do anything else. I'd rather knit than eat, I'd rather knit than sleep, I'd rather knit than vacuum (well, that goes without saying). It's an obsession.

And I like to listen to music while I knit, preferably folk music on WUMB. Now that I have DSL and an FM transmitter for my laptop, this is very doable and very enjoyable. What I particularly like about WUMB is they talk about/with singer/songwriters. I'm not a singer or a songwriter, but I am intrigued with the creative process and how to plug into those vibes. So now I can knit, listen to music, and contemplate the creative forces of the universe.

I also am willing to try to knit just about anywhere, although the bathroom is still ruled by crossword puzzles. Last night I took the dog to the vet (nail trim and anal gland check - ick) where sometimes the wait is a bit long, especially when I am their last appointment of the day. I took a sock to work on since I was up to the gusset and thought I could manage that with distractions (I was wrong about that - not only dropped a stitch on one DPN but picked up an extra on another DPN, which led to much confusion later on). Last week I tried to knit the same sock while sitting at a stoplight, but discovered that what seems like an interminable wait when I'm just staring at the traffic signal is but a brief moment when I am trying to pick up a project, arrange the yarn, settle the needles in my fingers, and start knitting. The week before, knitting was a godsend at the BMV. (Don't get me started! The people working there were unfailingly cheerful, however, even though it was the end of a long day for them. Oh, and the clocks are back.)

Some people can knit without looking at what they are knitting, at least if they are doing mindless garter or stockingnet, and these people can knit and read or knit and watch a movie. I do knit while watching football (hurray for instant replay!) but movies are such a visual medium that I need to keep my eyes on the screen. Also, I rent a lot of foreign films, which I refer to as "reading a movie". If I watched TV, I would knit then, but I prefer to avoid all that mind pollution.

Another time I have trouble knitting is when I am visiting with someone one-on-one, because eye contact is important (how do I know you are listening to me if you are not looking at me?) and like I said before, I cannot knit without looking at what I am knitting. But in group situations, knitting is a nice social crutch, better than a cigaretter and a martini. My eyesight may be a little fuzzy after an intense knitting stint, but at least I can drive home sober.

Sadly, until I sprout an extra pair of hands or learn to type with my feet, there is no way to knit and write, but at least I can write about knitting.