Purple Cables

Last year I gave my daughter the promise of a sweater. This year, I delivered. It was a somewhat rocky road, but I am really pleased with the result. I had acquired some unlabeled purple yarn from someone selling off stash. Beautiful stuff, a little rustic, but a light purple heather with a lot of character.

KD chose the pattern, Stormy Weather. The first draft was yet another case of gauge failure. It's not that I don't check gauge, after so many disasters, it's that apparently I can't check gauge accurately. It involves math, you know. Never my strong suite.

Nevertheless, I buckled down to some difficult cogitations to make the pattern she wanted fit the yarn I had, so that the end result would fit her. I didn't keep accurate enough notes to pass on my modifications, but I'm not sure who they would help anyway, since I never did figure out what weight yarn I was using. I just figured out what would work.

It languished a bit toward the end while we made the supremely important choice of buttons. But now it is done, and out of the house. It does make occasional guest appearances, since my daughter wears it a lot when she visits.

Back to the math... Earlier today while knitting, I complained to my daughter and husband that in the space of time we took to have a brief political discussion, I had completely lost track of my place, and didn't know whether I was on the cable row of the pattern or not. While I counted my rows from the beginning, they earnestly reminded me that a few days ago (while knitting something entirely different) I had asked them to remember that I left off on pattern row 4. They went on to calculate that if I was on row 4 three days ago that was 12; which is 2 digits so multiply by 2 to get 24; adding the 2 and 4 to get 6, add that to the 24 to get 30; subtract 2 for the digits, and I was clearly on row 28.

The really frightening thing was, that's exactly the row I turned out to be on.

Quick Hat and Mitts (Doodads)

KD knit a cute little brimmed cap for herself this fall and has been wearing it all winter. Her grandmother saw it, fell in love, and most importantly, tried it on. The fit was perfect.

Fast forward until after the holidays, when I am back on my feet after a bout with bronchitis, and looking for something to re-introduce my hands to knitting that doesn't involve lace weight yarn or intricate patterns. That eliminated all of my current WIPs, and KD mentioned the hat-grandmother situation.

Not one to tempt the gods of gauge, I demanded to know the pattern and yarn that KD had used in her hat, only to discover that the yarn had been Discontinued. Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the previously unexplored world of stash trade on Ravelry. Sure enough, several people had the yarn, and in delightful colorways. I picked a color, and since I only needed a single skein, chose someone with just a single skein to sell.

The transaction concluded smoothly, the yarn arrived, and yesterday, I cast on a hat.

This morning, I finished it. Is there any sweeter instant gratification than a bulky weight, single skein hat?

 

Pattern: Capitan Hat

Yarn: Knit Picks Wool of the Andes Bulky Hand Dyes in Ireland

Needles: Size 10, size 8

Mods: I used the size 8 needles for the inside of the brim, starting with the purl (fold) row, to make the fold lie along the edge the way I wanted. And like KD, I left off the button band trim.

That left just enough leftover yarn for a pair of fingerless mitts. After staring at several patterns, I closed my laptop, cut the leftover yardage in half, and cast on 32 stitches. This gave me a chance to try out Jeny's Stretchy Slip Knot Cast On, which KD had demonstrated for me, but which I still suspected might be a scam. Turns out, I like it a lot. I worked K1, P1 ribbing until it reached from my finger knuckles to the base of my thumb, tried out Jeny's Surprisingly Stretchy Bind Off over the next six stitches, then put them back on the next row, making nothing but a buttonhole thumb. In the interest of making them as long as possible, I finished with EZ's sewn bind off. I love Jeny's, but it uses more yarn. Then I made a matching mitt from the other half of the yardage, took pictures, and mailed them off. A successful doodad.

Doodad, you say? Doodads, as everyone knows (after reading this), are things you make out of leftover yarn (way less than a complete skein) that you just can't bring yourself to throw away. Once it's been made up into something, I can throw away the object if it was a total failure with much less angst than throwing away unused yarn.

For instance, I made these Jaywalkers for myself recently (my beloved brown ones bit the dust, and I couldn't resist the colorway of this yarn). They turned out slightly too small, as I was overcompensating for the stretchy yarn, so they are KD's now. I made the leftovers into little socks for my niece, but toddler sizing is never going to be my strong suit, and she couldn't even get them on, despite all the stretch. I tossed them without a pang.

Pattern: Grumperina's Jaywalkers
Yarn: Paton's Stretch Socks in Spumoni Stripes

Blame it on your grandmother

I feel the need to explain my actions.

When I was a child, my mother often made time to play the piano by squeezing it into the time just after we were sent up to bed. When I became a parent, I followed her example, quickly realizing that it was an excellent choice of time slot - it calmed everyone down, including a frazzled mother. I couldn't play for too long, since for many years we lived in places with noise restrictions in the evening, but many days that was enough. When it wasn't, I found time to play a little bit during the day - usually with someone small perched up beside me on the bench, "helping."
 

I don't know if my mother, in turn, learned this habit from her mother. I do know that my grandmother played the piano until late in life, and was the first to tell me that if I wanted to keep playing as I got older, and began to deal with the family inheritance of osteoarthritis, I would have to make it a point to play every day. This fall, after a lapse of several months, I sat down to brush up on Christmas music and discovered that the Time Had Come for making piano playing a daily ritual.


My grandmother also played duets with me, and was always willing to listen to whatever I was learning. By 1973 though, I was a teenager, and beginning that amazing distancing process that teens go through on the way to becoming independent adults - my grandmother and I didn't always see eye to eye any more. At the end of that year, the movie "The Sting" was released, with Marvin Hamlisch's wonderful re-workings of some of Scott Joplin's music for the soundtrack. Suddenly, ragtime was popular again. With what I remember as a little hesitancy, my grandmother offered me some ragtime music that she had played when it was first popular. To her surprise, I greeted this as the coolest of the cool. Ragtime was in, and I had songs none of my friends had heard.

I can still play the piano because of my grandmother. I play ragtime to this day, because of my grandmother. It puts my daughter to sleep, because of her grandmother. I love that.

WIPs vs. UFOs

There is a definite line that can be drawn between Works in Progress (WIPs) and Unfinished Objects (UFOs) that seems to center around how long the project has been languishing.

Did you set it down so you could get some sleep, a cup of tea, or tend to your non-knitting responsibilities? Definitely a WIP. Did you set it down to succumb to the lure of casting on a newly-inspired project, or are you working on several projects simultaneously? Still a WIP. Have you tidied it away because it was cluttering up your work space, and you needed more room? Now you've crossed into UFO territory. If it's still hanging around in immediate reach, it's a WIP. If you've tidied it away "just for now," it has become a UFO.

This would seem to mean that you can reclaim a UFO back into WIP-ness just by physically moving back into reach. Although if it just sits there gathering dust (and perhaps moths), I suspect the universe is not fooled for a moment.

 

Here, at the urging of a reader who wishes I would not wait to showcase only Finished Objects, is one of my current WIPs. Back in June I took a delightful class at my LYS on Bohus Stickning, which left me with two soft, incredibly warm, Blue Shimmer "wristlets."  I had decided at the outset that mine would be purposed into sock cuffs, and sized them accordingly.

I knit the entire first sock before starting the second, which is, of course, the way I normally make socks. But it kept bothering me that I hadn't knit both cuffs right away - I think I was afraid I would forget what I learned in class. I didn't, and the second cuff came out just the same. It looks longer and thinner in the picture only because it has not yet been worn. It's slightly less fuzzy at the moment, but I remember that the first cuff wasn't fuzzy when it was new either. It fuzzes up with time, like memories.  It also hasn't had all its ends dealt with yet. Giving the stickiness of the wool/angora yarn, I totally believe that I could leave them untucked. But I can't do it. My tidy nature rebels. (Why doesn't my tidy knitting nature ever rebel against the state of my housekeeping? One of life's mysteries.)

I had thought that I would finish the sock feet in some cream-colored fingering weight wool I had around, but when it came down to it, I couldn't find it (it turned up last night in a stash dive for dishcloth cotton). But I had this pink, and I remembered how there was pink in many of the Bohus colorways that you didn't see until you examined the work closely, so I thought it would be friends, as the children used to say to refer to colors that went well together. And it's very friendly indeed.

My preference is to knit toe-up socks, because I'm miserly with my yarn and like being able to fit as I go along. But I've knit cuff-down socks when I liked the pattern, so I knew what to do, and what I wanted: eye-of-partridge heel flap, plain foot, standard toe, in the number of stitches that I know fits my foot (which is, to my never-ending astonishment, fewer than most patterns call for. I don't think I have small or narrow feet, until I mindlessly cast on the number of stitches in a new sock pattern and look with dismay at the result.)

When first shown a pair of wristlets-as-sock-cuffs during class, I was struck by the odd shaping caused by the ribbing directly below the cuff, above the heel. But as soon as I got started, picking up the live stitches of the cuff and knitting a decrease row (which also made sure the colors didn't blend at the color join), I saw the necessity - the cuff is too wide, after going over your heel, to stay put. A little ribbing does the trick, and the sock is a normal shape when worn.

Turning the heel of the first sock was enough to make me realize why heel-turning is such a bugbear to so many. I've never had trouble before. It just takes a bit of concentration: I cannot stop in mid-heel, so I need an uninterrupted stretch of time. I had an entire weekend for the first heel, and I needed all of it and more. I cannot tell you how many times I re-did it. I would mess up the eye-of-partridge pattern, or inexplicably forget to slip the edge stitches, making picking up the right number later a trial. At least once I got to the end of the heel flap and began picking up stitches, forgetting entirely to turn the heel! You can see that I have safely turned the heel of the second sock before setting it down. It took more than one try, but not as many as the first sock!

I've since finished the gusset decreases and worked my way down the foot. The pair will be finished and tucked away for winter by the end of the weekend, despite the fact that I set it aside to knit an entirely other project from start to finish last night. It's okay: they were only set aside, not tidied away.

P.S.  I knit a little bag for my camera out of dishcloth cotton while watching the opening ceremonies of the 2012 Olympics last night. You get neither a picture of the work in progress or the finished object, because my camera has gone to New Jersey for a week. I hope it has a good time.

Birthday Tea

When a knitting store opened up in my neighborhood last year, I was thrilled to finally be able to toss "my LYS" into a conversation. That they had a Club Card program was just the icing on the cake. Birthday cake, that is, because every year club members receive a gift card on their birthday! Since I was in my LYS (hee!) a few weeks before my birthday (and that's another story - soon!), I knew what to do.

I bought a skein of yarn for my birthday. It was squishy and soft-like-a-bunny, and its pretty colors sang to me. I brought it home, and before I could even take a picture of it for my stash on Ravelry, it was wound up, cast on, and halfway to being a shawlette, jumping several projects diligently in progress. Things slowed down a bit at the finish, because, despite having a 400-yard skein, I didn't have enough to finish the pattern as written. I tinked back until I had both a good stopping place AND enough yarn, and did an EZ sewn bind-off. This was maddeningly tedious on that many stitches, but gave me the nice stretchy edge I needed. Blocking was a cinch in this weather (although surprisingly, lots of color went down the drain in my wet-blocking). And here it is:

Pattern: Afternoon Tea
Yarn: Mountain Colors Bearfoot in Prairie Rose, from The Knitting Boutique

Now it's packed away until autumnal breezes arrive!

Shattered Silk

[If you're here for the Barbara Michaels novel of the same name, while I'm a big fan, this is not what I'm posting about.]

If you happen to have inherited, as I have, some lovely old lamps, and if their shades have not stood the test of time as well as the rest of them (shattering, in fact, as only silk can), you have four choices:

• you can buy what passes for a lampshade today, which is stiff and seems to be made of paper;
• you can acquire both the knowledge and the materials to make your own from Mr. Internet (but sadly, we can't download skill - yet);
• you can pay someone a slightly exorbitant amount to custom make a shade for your lamp (but even then, the shade that is the "right" size isn't always in the repertoire of modern lampshade makers); or
• you can mail your shade off, in all its tatters, to some lovely people in upstate New York, who after some consultation with you, will remake it using the original frame and new fabric, and ship it back to you, for a very reasonable amount given the awesomeness of their skills.

My new/old lampshade was waiting for me when I got home from work today, and was immediately re-attached to my grandparents' lamp (okay, I guess it's my lamp, but I don't think I'll ever think of it that way). I am SO happy with it!

Back to knitting:

Way back when I posted about my first pair of Olivers, but never went back and finished the story - I bought another skein, re-knit the foot-length, and they have been my husband's favorite socks ever since:

 Recently I made him a second pair - same pattern, same yarn, different color:

Pattern: Olivers
Yarn: Patons Kroy Sock FX, 3 skeins per pair,in Camo and Cadet
No mods. These socks look a little weird when empty, but fit like a dream!

And of course, there was just enough left over for a tiny nephew's cold toes:

Soft as a Bunny

KD gave me two balls of Patons Angora Bamboo some time ago. It is unbelievably soft, with that sheen and halo that bamboo gives fiber. I had great fun searching out the perfect pattern to use every inch of it, and wound up with the Edelweiss Neckwarmer. This was a simple, fun pattern; it knit up fast and problem-free. And then the poor thing languished for months, needing only buttons to be complete. One day I looked at it, sitting there so forlornly, and dove into the button stash, coming up with two Norwegian pewter buttons leftover from a card of buttons for a sweater (I've long since forgotten whose). Then it languished for another period of time while I consulted the pattern and studied the instructions for adding the crochet loops for the button holes. Then I tossed said instructions aside and just sewed on the buttons - I button them through parts of the lace.

It's comfortable around my neck (unlike alpaca, which bothers me), soft and pretty. But even in this mild winter that's just finishing up, I noticed that it wasn't all that warm. Should I feel bad for the poor bunnies, who are obviously not as well-protected from the cold as sheep? Or is it just because it's lace, and by definition full of holes?

Pattern: Edelweiss Neckwarmer (free Ravelry download)
Yarn: Patons Angora Bamboo, 2 skeins
Needles: size 10 (6.00 mm) straight needles
Modifications: skipped the buttonholes

Knit Toys

Decades ago I came across Nathalie Craig's Knit Toys in my local library (and thanks to the power of the Internet, have recently acquired my own copy). I knit on a shoestring budget back then (as opposed to knitting on an actual shoestring, which I think would bring me to the end of my rope...). Scraps of fabric and notions from the store, leftover acrylic worsted from various projects, and a seemingly endless bag of polyester fiberfill, all combined with the magical patterns in this book to provide my three kids with hours of fun.

 

There were the sister dolls,  Rose Red and Rose White, with their tiny eyelet aprons and ribbon edging.

There were the three little kittens, complete with mittens and mama. I'm not a big fan of attaching joints, so this was probably my least favorite project.

There were babies in bunting. A doll with no arms or legs to attach! I was so delighted that in a burst of creativity, I figured out I could embroider both sides of the head with an "awake" and "asleep" face,  and turn the bonnet to "wake up" the baby (warning: do not try with actual baby). Of course, then there was all the sewing involved in lining the basket - I think they sat around for awhile before I tackled that.

 

There were mice. Lots of mice. The pattern is completely addicting: knit three pieces, join and stuff. Add ears, nose, eyes, and tail.

And of course, there were Gingerbread Men. Another jointless, addicting pattern, and my favorite.  I even did the math and figured out how to make a half-size version. I made entire Ginger families for some young gentlemen of my acquaintance. I also made several for the local kindergarten teachers, who always started the year with the story of the Gingerbread Man, complete with following his "footsteps" around the school (and incidentally learning the layout - it was an inspired project!), and ending with gingerbread cookies for snack.

Somewhere in this house there are more - little bears and roly-polys. All from this wonderful book, from which I filled my kids' childhoods and toy box.

Bookbag

I received a Kindle as a birthday present some years back from my family, who know me well enough to know that although I love books, and the smell of old books, and the feel of paper, I love reading even more, and will read the back of the cereal box if nothing else is around. Happily, now my Kindle is around, loaded, so far, with breathtakingly cheap editions of childhood favorites (all twelve of Andrew Lang's Fairy Books! The complete works of L.M. Montgomery!).

I immediately noticed that the Kindle does not come with a carrying loop. It's so thin I was afraid I would drop it just carrying it around. And there are scratchy things (like keys and knitting needles) in my bag. I researched Kindle covers on line, and nothing was what I wanted.

And so there I was in the Great North Woods,

with my Kindle exposed to the elements.

Now one thing I've always loved about going to Camp is the make-do element, particularly where knitting is concerned. Oh, the things we've made stitch holders and cable needles out of over the years! So, what did I have on hand?

• - a 1/2 ball of Peaches n Cream left over from the dishcloth binge I was on through the end of that July
• - a circular 8, also leftover from the dishcloth binge (if you know where my favorite straight 8's are and you're currently in Easton, speak up...)

Here's what I did:

Cast on 20 stitches using the knitted-on cast-on.
Knit in the front and back of each stitch across the next row (40 sts).
Commence double knitting (k1, bring yarn to front as if about to purl, slip next st, put yarn back, rpt across row, turn work and repeat across back of work for 1 double-row.) I kept sliding my Kindle in to try it on, and stopped at 42 double-rows, because I knew dishcloth cotton would stretch.

Using another needle on hand (a straight 7, as it happened, I went across the row, slipping all stitches, but re-arranging them so that I had two front stitches and then two back stitches across the row. I slid the row to the other end of the needle and worked a double-row of k2tog, yarn over.

I worked another 2 double-rows, then bound off. I made an I-cord long enough to go through the holes, and knotted it closed. And now my Kindle is comfy.

Fortuitous mistakes

I ordered the Wrong Yarn a few months back. I thought the sock pattern I had fallen in love with called for sport yarn, so I bought a bunch of gorgeous colors (2 skeins each) of Comfy Sport (cotton) from Knitpicks. I was totally drawn in by the little "goodbye" flags telling me a color - a beautiful, mouth-watering color - was being discontinued.

Turns out, the sock pattern called for fingering weight after all.  Figuring out what to do with a mere 100 grams per color was a challenge that has been at least partially dealt with by whipping up a little red vest for my nephew, Mr. Dimples

I take really awful pictures lately, but here's more or less what it looks like:

  

Now I need to get it in the mail quick, before he outgrows it!

October mourning

As I drove home from work today, I was listing all the lovely things about the drive. Not least that someone in authority noticed the sinkhole developing in the right lane of my morning commute, and it looks like it will be mended by morning. But mainly, it has stopped raining. The sky is no longer overcast. In fact, it is blue, and cloudless, and there is a hint of nip in the air (although there is still no need to wear a coat). I could smell the woodsmoke from someone's fireplace.

As I drove, I checked on the noteworthy trees along my commute. Trees that by some happy circumstance, some combination of placement, soil, water, sun, who knows? - are outstanding specimens. There's an enormous maple that will be setting the sky on fire in a few more weeks. A stately white dogwood, large and old for its type, perfectly shaped, that punctuates the arrival of spring every year. And a crepe myrtle of such size and majesty that twice a year it fairly glows with flowers, causing my husband, who is not given to noticing flowers much, to ask what it was and if we could have one in our yard. The autumnal flowering is over now, but like the others, I still glance at it as I pass.

Except today. It's gone. They've cut it down. They're building a house in the area behind it.

I'm not totally against cutting down trees. I've removed a few dead or dying specimens myself, and thinned out places that needed it. And I understand that construction means clearing a path for the machines. But this beauty was on the edge of the yard, out of the way, and nothing they could replace it with will come anywhere near it in beauty for decades.

Thoughtless waste.

Meloch

(MYEH-lutch: trifles, little things, small change)

I've been making little things:

- a cozy for NKD's GPS out of leftover Cotton-Ease from KD's stash:


I love the button. I made sure it was not a shank button, as I didn't want it poking back into the screen and scratching it. Then I sewed the button on making a yarn shank, as I wanted NKD to be able to fasten it easily (with the GPS inside, one can't bend the fabric to pop the button in and out).

- a cozy to keep my iPod earbuds from constantly tangling (and then decided I liked another set of earphones better anyway):


I made a matching (as in, the same Purple Heather Knitpicks Stroll, my current favorite color ever) cozy for my iPod:


You'll notice there's no pattern link. I cast on as if it was a toe-up sock, worked linen stitch in the round until it covered my iPod, cast off one side (plus a bit, to leave room for the earphone cord), continued in linen stitch as I decreased, purposely (no, really!) slanting the flap to one side, made a buttonhole at the end, and there you go! (As in, go find a button - thanks, KD!)

And then, before sewing the button on and tucking in the ends, I turned it inside out. I can't explain it. I just love the way those fat reverse-linen-stitch purl bumps look. Like Israeli couscous.

When I made NKD's Saige, I had a fair amount of Berroco Sox self-striping sock yarn left over. Glamorgan 1420 was by far my absolute favorite stripe (go ahead, ask my family about the noises I made while knitting with it the first time). I was delighted to find that I had just enough left to make a pair of ankle socks for myself. I was also ridiculously pleased to be able to get the stripes to match.

I knit them on zeros, and fiddled with my standard toe-up sock pattern a bit. KD and I have noticed that over time our hand knit socks, um, grow a bit, so I've been experimenting with making them a tighter fit to start with. I can't really tell until I've worn and washed them awhile if this did any good. And I'm certainly not wearing wool socks for another couple of months! These are in (moth proof) Summer Sock Hibernation until then.

Overdye? Seriously?

I made my SIL (mother of two of the cutest kids on the planet - I have photographic evidence!) a beaded lace shawl, the beautiful and challenging Dracula's Bride (ravelry link).


I bought the type of yarn called for, Jaggerspun Zephyr Wool-Silk, not wanting to mess around with substitutions.

It was a shock to receive the pattern and discover it was beaded. My eyesight just isn't sharp enough to pick that out in the pattern photographs. But with some advice from my SIL, I found some gorgeous beads. I have done beading previously by attaching the beads as I came to them with a crochet hook, but there was no way that was going to happen with these tiny things, so I learned how to string beads on yarn and slide them up when it was time.

I started it in September, and restarted it in January (it's hard to spot a significant pattern error in unblocked lace), and gave it to her this spring. The one major modification I made was in the color yarn. The certifiably crazy wonderwoman who designed the shawl knit it entirely in dark red, and then OVERDYED the edge black. I had heart palpitations just thinking about how badly I could mess up my carefully knit lace by trying my hand at dying for the first time. So I bought the yarn in Ruby and Ebony and switched at about the spot it looked like she overdyed it. The black came off on my hands a little as I knit it, making me nervous about even wet-blocking it, but pinning and spraying did the trick.

Just for you, kid

Awhile ago (in November 2009, to be exact), I was in my LYS with my non-knitting daughter, a situation I normally try to avoid. Not on her account, lest she be bored, but because there is nothing worse than petting pouring over yarn in the presence of toe-tapping impatience. As it happens, she was extremely well-behaved, exploring an alien environment with her usual absorption, and I'd nearly forgotten she was with me.

Until she showed up at my elbow, her face aglow, waving a booklet in my face and asking "Could you make this for me?"

The kind of question that warms a mother's heart, right?

Except that she is in her 20s, and the pattern was for a small child. Still, I agreed that it looked like her kind of thing, and the construction was simple enough. I thought it would be possible. And on Mother's Day 2011, I finally sewed on the buttons and sent her on her way.

NKD's Saige


Pattern: Saige (Berroco #280 Soxcetera)
Needles: US 2
Yarn: Berroco Sox in 1420 Glamorgan, 1424 Huddersfield, 1425 John Moores, 1426 Royal Holloway, 1427 Lancaster, 1436 Lidores, 1474 Liverpool, and 1477 Kingston


Mods: Well. Since the thing is constructed from strips, I started out by doubling the number of body strips from 2 to 4, adding a couple more colors of gorgeous self-striping Berroco Sox, and doubled the amount of yarn called for in the sleeves. The green for the edging wasn't available, so I went with NKD's favorite blue. I figured out what color went where, and knit one of the outer strips that required no shaping at all. When I got the length (up the back, over the shoulder, down the front) that NKD wanted, I recorded the number of rows and did some math. Then I knit the rest of it. I took a bit of a rest before tackling the neck/hood math, but since NKD was available for frequent try-ons and math help (she's working on her doctorate in astrophysics, what's a little knitting math to her?), it wasn't too bad. I assembled it as I went along. I love mattress stitch, and really, when there's no shaping, it's practically mindless. When it was done and blocked, we visited her grandmother's button boxes to finish it off with some vintage buttons.