Warty Bobbles

On The Brink Of Christmas

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve -- which is pretty much my favorite day of the year.  And I am in fine spirits! 

A couple of days ago I hit a low when I realized I was fabulously behind on everything, had alienated several members of my family by what was either an unfortunate misunderstanding or a case of appalling thoughtlessness (depending on what view one took of the situation), and suspected that I had done permanent damage to my wrist writing Christmas cards (and I was still fabulously behind on those)

As of today, I have finished my cards, reconciled with the family, and wisely decided to give Gwen her knitted toy at our second gift-opening occasion (Dec. 29th -- after Geoff returns from London) so that I do not have to knit little points double-pointed needles all through the night.

I am still fabulously behind on my wrapping -- so I will cheerfully wish everyone a Merry Christmas and take myself off to the Land of Tape and Ribbon!

Joy To The World!

A Few Observations, A Confession, And Some Great News

Observations on Christmas Cards:

I love Christmas cards!  The artwork and printed messages.  The handwritten notes.  The classic Christmas letters.  The photos.  We returned from a few days in Portland to find a stack of Christmas cards: 18!  That is more personal mail than I receive during the rest of the year.  There was the hands-down cleverest Christmas letter I have ever received – it was done in primer Dick-and-Jane style complete with vintage pictures.  There was a family photo of 25 persons spanning 4 generations – all in different Norwegian sweaters!  Some inspirational stories.  Some goofy photos.  Delightful.

And, oh, that reminds me – I have about a hundred Christmas cards to write this weekend!

 

Observations on The Winter Solstice;

It never got light today – just murky.  Nightfall is a Godsend!

 

Observations on Weather:

What exactly is a “cold front”?  Isn’t cold the lack of heat?  How something that is the lack of something else “move in”?  Isn’t a “cold front” just what is left over after the “warm front” runs away?

 

A Confession:

Okay, I am doing a little bit of Christmas knitting.  I know I am setting myself up for the wrath of those for whom I am not knitting – but I kind of got inspired and it is Gwen’s first Christmas.  So, here it is (in process, of course – it hardly counts as Christmas knitting if one is not madly chunking it out as the reindeer are clattering on the rooftop):

 

 

No, it is not her first knit bra!  It will be a stuffed dodecahedron (12-pointed star) toy done in ferocity-style (i.e. unique with different yarns and knit stitches).  The pattern (designed by Norah Gaughan – no surprise there!) is a free download from the Knitting Daily e-newsletter.

 

And now for the Great News:

Sarah and I will be teaching at Madrona Fiber Arts Retreat!  When we heard that they would be offering “Minis” this year (90-min. classes), we contacted the organizers and introduced ourselves.  They invited us to submit some class proposals and they have asked us to teach 3 of them!  We are terribly excited!  I feel like we have been called up to the Majors!

 

Okay, down to Earth again.

I have to go write Christmas cards, knit a dodecahedron, and raid the kitchen for Christmas cookies.  Maybe hit the Christmas cookies first – good plan!

 

Thanksgiving Report

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving at the Oregon Coast with 39 of our nearest and dearest (the only family member missing was our son Geoff who is studying at the London Dramatic Academy).   Although I came home exhausted from all the activity (very little of which involved knitting), I am feeling all revved up for Christmas.

I am even feeling pretty okay with not-knitting-for-Christmas.  Though I have to credit the flurry of gift-knitting (not related to Christmas) with keeping me on the straight and narrow.  There are photos of my Dad in his cabled hat (which he loved) and photos of my Mom and my grand-daughter, Gwen, in their matching hats (which I loved).  And photos of the chic little urban kimono I knit for my niece Emilia’s baby (there was a baby shower, among the family activities this year).  And when I get my tech-support people to put the photos in my computer, I will post them.

Meanwhile, I am counting on my non-gift knitting projects to keep me distracted from not-knitting-for-Christmas.  And, of course, there are Christmas cards to write and halls to deck and parties and such now – the really dangerous part was November.   Last year, I collapsed en route to our Thanksgiving gathering at the beach – and the result was about a mile of knitted scarf!

So, Thanksgiving has come and gone – and I am not a yarn ball heavier.  My project list has actually decreased because I finished the cabled hat and baby kimono. 

If I were to examine my feelings, I would probably find that I miss making Christmas gifts, but I am just not going to think about it.  Why invite some sort of mad inspiration at this point? Okay, just the phrase “mad inspiration” gets me kind of excited – so I had better focus on snowflakes or sugar cookies or something like that, quick! 

 

Knitting Adventure Complete With Pirates

So, this evening I was home alone – an evening with a nice adventure movie and my knitting.  I had chosen Jules Verne’s The Mysterious Island for my movie and (somewhat reluctantly) a triangular gusset in moss stitch for my knitting.

I heave great sighs when I have to knit a triangle.  They are quite useful in clothing design, but kind of mathematically fiddledy to knit

Figuring the height (up the middle) so that the sides fit the hole in the sleeve where the gusset is to go – well, that’s a-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared at work.  Then there is gauge and working out the decreases so that the slant is right.  And making it all fit in the 4-row moss stitch pattern so the decreases lie there inconspicuously. 

And then knitting fairly short rows of moss stitch is not particularly exciting – but I had to keep attending to it since on the right side one knits the purls and purls the knits, while on the wrong side one knits the knits and purls the purls.  And I had to measure the piece frequently so I would be sure to do the decreases at regular intervals.

 

Y-A-W-N.

 

And all the while on the TV screen there are pirates and shooting and sword-play and a brilliant madman and stolen kisses and more pirates and a hot-air balloon crash and a nuclear bomb and giant insects and a giant rat and a lot of giant spiders and a treasure chest and a really, really big snake and more pirates and shooting again and huge tentacles coming out of the water and an exploding ship and a volcano.

And I am fastidiously K1-P1-K1-P1-ing.  Stopping to measure.  Double-checking which side I am on so that I don’t knit purls when I should be purling purls.  And by the end of the movie – when the good guys are sailing off into the sunset, I have a tidy-looking half triangle about 5 inches tall. 

So, tomorrow night, I get to put on another adventure movie (maybe Blackbeard if I can face more pirates) and knit-purl-knit-purl the rest of the triangle.  And then make another triangle for the other sleeve.  I might need 2 movies.

About Summer

I have delusions about summer -- much like my delusions about the Christmas Season.  Every year, I approach “the lazy days of summer” with visions of myself knitting for hours – on the deck in the afternoon (what the heck, even in the forenoon) and while watching movies or Mariners’ games in the evening.  I imagine I will wake up in the morning bright with creative energy and that the simpler summer days will leave my mind free and clear for designing and writing.  Quiet days – with fewer commitments.  Long warm days with nothing to do but knit or read….

How I justify these delusions year after year, I have no idea.  Never has any summer in my adult life been anything like that.  Maybe a slow afternoon now and then, but never the stretch of beautiful empty days that I imagine. 

Our summers are another kind of beautiful – the active, slightly sun-burned kind with killer games of badminton and parades through the zoo.  Weddings and trips to fetch kids from college and a nice long stretch at the beach come August.  Barbeques and board games --- and endless loads of laundry, loads of groceries, loads of dishes. 

The college kids are home – and 2 of Sasha’s friends are visiting for a couple of weeks (add sightseeing to the list).  It is street fair and farmers’ market season (add Geoff’s street performances to the list).  George and I have 5 trips planned over June and July (add packing and driving and unpacking to the list).  Sarah and I had a knitting class session fall into our laps (add teaching on Thursday nights to the list).  And on top of all this are the exquisite baby grand-daughter and the delightful 2-year-old grandson (add snuggling, diaper-changing, stroller pushing, book reading and re-reading…to the list).

And while I optimistically haul my knitting bags with me wherever I go, I only manage to knit a few rows here, a few rows there.  I am feeling a bit grumbly about it, I confess –especially as I feel obliged to work on the pieces that have some sort of deadline rather than on the pieces I am doing “for fun” (like the Gull Pi Shawl and Hansi Singh’s amigurumi owl).  Isn’t summer supposed to be fun?  Isn’t some sort of vacation in order?

A sensible person would…okay, I am so far off the “sensible” page that there is no point in finishing that sentence.  A wise person (sensible or not) would embrace the blessing of summer --- and try to sneak in some fun knitting.  I think I will try to be wise (and a little bit sneaky).

The Nature Of Things

Finding myself both over-extended on my knitting (i.e. too many active projects) and behind on my knitting (i.e. not making satisfactory progress on said projects), I realize that – once again --I have been overlooking The Nature of Things.

It is the Nature of knitting that it happens one stitch at a time – no faster, regardless of the size of the needles, thickness of the yarn or simplicity of the pattern.

It is the Nature of designing that it doesn’t necessarily come right the first (or second or third) time.

It is the Nature of families to require meals, clean laundry, birthday parties, and a mother’s full attention when demonstrating the most recently mastered juggling trick (which may not come right the first, second or third time either).

It is the Nature of kitchens to require cleaning, of necessary papers to require finding (not necessarily in the first, second or third place one might look), of cats to require tummy-rubbing.

It is the Nature of friendships to require thank you notes and potluck lunches.

It is the Nature of one’s own body to require coffee, sleep, yoga class, and showers.

Nature…organizations…meetings and emails.

Nature…new grandbabies…holding, diaper changing, kissing.

Nature…old grandbabies... ball throwing, juice pouring, snuggling.

Well, it goes on like that.  The Nature of Life, I guess – and it is a life that I cherish.  Sooo….I suppose I have to take it one stitch at a time.

 

Flammability

A couple of nights ago, the smoke detector in our bedroom went off – for about 10 seconds.  There was no fire, no smoke -- maybe something had wafted in through the open window?  We’ll never know.   But at about 3:00 am I was torn out of a sound sleep by the most terrifying shriek (something like a nuclear-powered steam whistle) and every nerve in my body leapt to super-adrenalized-flee-for-your-life status instantly. 

 

Once we had peeled ourselves off the ceiling and sniffed the entire house for whiffs of smoldering (there were none), we decided it was just some flukey thing and that if there was any danger the other smoke detectors would go off.  And we settled back down and tried to sleep.

 

Needless to say, it takes a little time (an hour or so) to work down from super-adrenalized to nodding off.  So, I lay there thinking “what if there really had been a fire?”  And I knew that if I had woken to that blood-curdling alarm and found the room filled with smoke, I would have no thought beyond getting myself, the family, and every living creature out of the house as fast as possible: the husband, the college kids – who happened to be home (note to self: take inventory of family members before retiring for the night), the 4 cats, the fish in the 50-gallon aquarium? (someone later suggested that the punchbowl might be kept handy), the hermit crab I could carry out in a pocket (note to self: sew pocket in nightie). 

 

Me, them out of the house – that was it.  Nothing else even registered. 

 

Not my writings.  Not the photo albums.  No computer, no jewelry, no family heirlooms.  No yarn.  Not my knitted pieces – not my irreplaceable one-of-a-kind knitted pieces!  Nothing – i.e. no thing – was going to make it out of my burning house.  Just me, the family, the pets (hopefully the fish included). 

 

Kind of eye-opening – how it can all go up in smoke quite literally.  Note to self: use the good china, thumb through the photo albums, read your poems, wear the handknits.

 

Dinking Around Instead Of Knitting

So, this afternoon, I had some quiet time and could have settled down with the nice complicated front-left of the Joyful Ferocity or the Gull Pi Shawl (I’m still in love….) or the baby blanket or the baby matinee jacket or the Short-Row Tapestry Stole (which is so free-form that it is kind of like coloring with yarn).  But I did none of these.

 

I dinked around on Ravelry instead.

 

And now the family is starting to come home and I am kind of regretting the quiet knitting-time-that-might-have-been.

 

But I think I needed the Ravelry-dink-around.  I think I miss the knitters from Madrona and Stitches West.  Even though Sarah and I talk about knitting everyday.  Even though we have our darling beginner knitters (Monday afternoon class – we love you guys!).  I think I just needed to hear what other knitters are saying, see what they are doing.  Had to give my opinion about twisting stitches.   Had to make my pitch for using wool yarn for baby blankets. 

 

It is kind of a funny thing, this knitting community thing.  Maybe it is like being in a foreign land and hearing your native tongue.  Sometimes, I would just like to wear a hand-knit garment like it was a normal thing.  Or knit in public without anyone making a big deal out of it.   Not that the attention isn’t flattering and, occasionally, good for business.  It is just that even a bohemian wants to blend sometimes.

 

So, I just melted into my knitting community for a while. 

 

 

Freeing The Fiber

Every now and then I decide to change my ways.  Not just a slight shift, but a total 180-degree life-altering maneuver.  And, as I am not above slinking back into old habits, I have decided to share my newest knitting-related resolution:

I am going to rip back freely.  From now on.

I have always been reluctant to rip back –even in the case of a glaring error (or a flashing neon light monstrosity of an error).   And I have sometimes let sleeping errors lie (as in the case of the botched cast-on row in the ribbed cuff of a lace cardigan – I always notice that ugly little ridge!) and sometimes I have made little corrections or intentionally repeated the error (making it a “design element”) and sometimes I have gritted my teeth and ripped back.

But I always considered ripping back the last resort.   Until recently.

What prompted this change in attitude?   There was no particular “ah-ha” moment, just a gradual realization that ripping back is as properly a part of knitting as swatching is –especially if one designs much of what one knits (as I do).  It seems pretty obvious – it IS pretty obvious –but it has taken me a long time to realize it.

So, what took me so long?  It is not that my stitches seemed too precious to pull out or that I minded re-doing the section.  I simply had trouble giving myself permission to take the time to do it!  

I have decided that my knitting is valuable enough to rip out.  Or rather, that my knitted pieces are worth the time and effort it takes to get it right.

Since I came to this realization and resolution a few days ago, I have been afforded several opportunities to put my new policy into practice (thank you, mischievous knitting sprites!) and it has gone fairly well.  Very little cussing on my part.  To my shock and relief,  family life did not come to a crashing halt because I spent another hour or so on a jacket front.   And the jacket front looks much better.

 I discovered another reason why I like knitting:  when something goes wrong, I can figure out what the problem is and I can fix it MYSELF.  In this computer age, that is something ! (don’t get me started on the indentation crisis I went through writing this blog post…) 

 

 

 

Winter Night And Stockinette Beasties

Our snow is gone and night is black and cold, flattened against the windows from 5:00 on through the slow dark hours.  It should make for good knitting conditions, but it is making me restless this evening.  I have been sitting by the fire (in the wooden sewing rocker I like to knit in when daylight streams through the dining room window), rocking and knitting a lace pattern that has not settled into my brain yet. 

 Being distracted by nothing in particular has made me edgy and I thought I might switch gears for a little bit.  So, I got out my new little notebook computer (My Pet) and checked my email, checked out a couple of things on Ravelry, and decided to post pictures of the stuffed animals I made for Max out of stretchy gloves.

So, here they are – Stockinette Beasties (that I did not have to knit!) from Happy Gloves by Miyako Kanamori.

Planet Christmas

I am up to my antlers in Christmas preparations!  This happens every year and I call it living on Planet Christmas.  At present, the preparations (which I am – mercifully – not going to list here) are being squeezed out by events and, so, when someone asks me if I am ready for Christmas and I smile and say I figure we are about where we should be at this point, I am lying my head off.  We are way behind.  But Christmas will come and, somehow, the most important preparations will get done.  So, I am not particularly worried (okay, maybe I am lying my head off again….). 

 

But, at least, I don’t let it interfere with my enjoyment of Christmas Season events – because I love this stuff!  This past weekend:  Lakewood Playhouse’s A Christmas Carol, decorating gingerbread houses, church, the Tacoma Art Museum’s “Snowbound” festival (where I showed a 4-year-old how to knit using chopsticks and cording – I was not a volunteer or anything, I just happened to be playing about at that station), Puget Sound Revels troupe’s Christmas Revels (the theme was 18^th century Scotland and, yes, there were kilts a-plenty). 

 

As a bonus, our weather has suddenly turned bitterly cold and people are out and about in their woolies:  knit sweaters, knit scarves, knit caps, knit mittens.  Fair Isle fancies and intarsia deer and, of course, all those lovely cables and bobbles! 

 

And it is a good thing I can get a little second-hand knitting excitement because my own knitting time is severely limited this month.  I am doing pretty simple stuff, too, because by the end of the day doing a little ribbing in front of a Christmas movie (preferably one I could recite by heart) is about all my brain can handle.

 

IF I were knitting Christmas gifts, I would be playing the frenzied “knit in secret” game now.  I would be knitting with one eye glued to the front door, in case “intended recipient” came home earlier than expected.  I would be knitting in bed at night and in the morning before “intended recipient” was up and about.   I would, perhaps, be lying my head off to “intended recipient,”  telling him/her that the piece I was knitting right in front of him/her was a hat for someone else (while, all the time it is a sleeve for his/her sweater).  It is a dangerous and exhausting game. 

 

BUT  I have declared that I am taking this year off from knitting Christmas gifts.  The idea was to have a calmer December.  Well, maybe things are not exactly calm, but they are manageable – at least, I am managing to get behind on my Christmas preparations and I am managing to get around to some community festivities.  And I am managing a little bit of knitting in between.

Blog Clog

I have a rare quiet 45-minute chunk of time this morning and thought:  ah ha, I’ll write a blog post.  So I sat at my computer and…and…and…I got nothing.

 

Oh, I have lots thoughts swirling around my brain – they are just about non-knitting.  Family gathering plans for next week, kids-coming-home-from college travel arrangements, paperwork that has be get done before the family-gathering and the kids-coming-home, a dinner date, a funeral, personal-maintenance appointments (due to the family-gathering), and a grocery list that isn’t going to write itself. 

 

And if I can shove all that aside, there’s still Christmas.  Card lists, gift lists, baking lists, theater tickets, decorating schedule, travel arrangements.  George and I sat down and made a pre-emptive strike on Christmas this week and… (okay, I did not mean that exactly the way it probably sounded -- I mean that we sat down and plotted out December) and the larger pieces of that discussion are still dominating my mental radar.

 

So, although I am knitting along in the usual fragmented fashion (a little lace gusset here, a nice twisted rib sleeve there, a pink brioche gauntlet that makes the family raise their eyebrows and murmur behind my back), I just cannot pull my focus around to writing about knitting.

 

So, the question is:  Why post at all?

 

Well, firstly because Sarah has threatened to break into my blog and post for me if I let it go too long – she says she will title it:  Why I Like To Have 5 Balls Of Yarn Hanging From My Needles.  And since she thinks I am demented that way, I am just being prudent in thwarting her on this one.

 

But mostly, I am posting today because I figure other knitters are going through the same kind of the-Holidays-are-upon-us stress and I just wanted to say, hey, I’m there with you, sisters (and brothers, of course – although I suspect our knitting brethren don’t quite get the avalanche of extra Holiday duties that we ladies do).

 

Quite truly, I love Thanksgiving and I love Christmas.  And I am well aware that it is the bounty of my blessings (my family and friends, my work and my craft, my home and my cats) that is making me kind of crazy just now.  So, it’s all good – and perhaps being coherent is over-rated. 

 

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Holding Strong

I have declared that I am not knitting gifts for Christmas this year and I am holding strong.  I have about 6 design projects going and there are deadlines involved.    Good sense has been prevailing.  I am holding strong.

But my resolve was suddenly and sneakily attacked by the Noro Silk Garden Striped Scarf in the Yarn Harlot’s blog this week.  Probably the chic-est scarf I’ve ever seen – completely gender neutral and knit of, mmmm, Noro Silk Garden .  Two colors (think of the possible combinations...!)

Wow, everyone in my family would LOVE that scarf!  They would WEAR that scarf!

No, no, no…..I am not knitting for Christmas this year.

I did a little math in the shower (don’t judge).  Just to reinforce my resolve.

One husband, 3 daughters, 1 son, 2 sons-in-law:  7 scarves.   Six feet of 1x1 ribbing per scarf.  42 feet of 1x1 ribbing.  That’s a lot of ribbing.  And I really do not enjoy knitting ribbing.  That’s a lot of knitting for someone who does not enjoy knitting ribbing.

Although the beauty and surprise of the variegated Noro yarns weaving themselves together into a tapestry….well, that would be exciting…NO, NO, I am NOT knitting for Christmas! 

Not 42 feet of ribbing in, let’s see, 25 days in December and 17 days left in November. Exactly 42 days.  A foot of ribbing a day (okay, subtract Christmas Day, but add today and it still makes 42 days) everyday including Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.  Without anyone seeing me – because no one in my family would buy the idea that I was swatching a foot of ribbing a day of Noro  in 6-foot strips for no reason.

Okay, the challenge would be exciting – perhaps the challenge of hiding and knitting combined with the tapestry-of-Noro aspect of the project would balance the mind-numbing 1x1 ribbing….

BUT I am NOT knitting for Christmas this year.

Holding strong.  Holding strong. 

 

 

My Scarf Was On TV

My scarf was on TV!

My son, Geoff, was wearing the scarf at the time.  He was interviewed by the local news station (KREM) in Spokane in a piece about college students facing a shrinking job market.  The piece was aired on Northwest Cable News and my parents, who live in the Portland area, happened to see it.  My Mother called and told us about it on Monday morning (before 9:00 am – I figured someone was in the hospital!).  We waited through an hour of grim-and-grislies (I’m not one for TV news – I prefer the newspaper because I can skip around and read what I want – but I digress) and saw the piece. 

I want everyone to know that my first thoughts were about how cute my son looked on TV and how well my son spoke on TV – and several more mom-ish sentiments along those lines.  Then, the scarf registered.  Hey, wasn’t that the scarf I had knit him for Christmas?  (In another digression:  scarves-as-being-great-Christmas-gifts seem to be haunting me – see my October 19^th post)  We found the video on the news station’s website and, sure enough, there was my scarf! 

Being doting parents, we fired off emails with the link to family and friends.  And I mentioned that he was wearing the scarf I knit.  Figured I might as well snatch a little of the glory while I could.  My Mother and Dad said that the news guy probably chose Geoff to interview because he looked so “dapper” (direct quote).  And they commented on the scarf – and this was before they knew that I had knit that particular scarf (you can put the remark down to pure aesthetics).

When I talked to Geoff about the news story, I asked him why he had not called and told us it was going to air.  He said they had interviewed a number of students and he had not known when the piece would be shown.  And he said:  Mom, did you see that I was wearing your scarf?  I think he hopes to get points for having had the good sense to be wearing the scarf I knit him when he was randomly selected from a campus full of students for a TV interview.  I think I should get points for knitting the kind of scarf that will get a guy noticed by a camera crew on a campus full of students.

Ravelry

I have joined Ravelry.com and – wow!  It is so much fun, so fascinating, such a cool way to connect with other knitters (and crocheters).  Sarah and I thought it would be a good idea to join because knitting is a big part of our lives – and we thought it would be good for us to be in touch with what other knitters are doing, thinking about, etc.

But I had underestimated the impact that entering a knitting community would have on my emotions.  I kind of wanted to cry.  It was like the first time I went to Stitches West – there were all these knitters and they were knitting and talking about knitting and learning about knitting.  Actually, it is like every time I go to Stitches or Madrona (the fiber arts in Tacoma). 

I am blessed to have a daughter who knits – and trebly blessed that we design and work together.  And I have a good friend who knits.  But otherwise, I have to rely on books, magazines, and blogs for my connection to other knitters.  There are knitting groups at our local yarn shop – which we keep saying we should look into.  But now that I am not tied down to my kids’ activities (school, ballet, sports, etc.), I am kind of exploring a not-so-scheduled life.   I have several weekly and monthly commitments – and that is enough for now.   As a result, I have been suffering a bit from “vocation isolation.”

Here I was – blasting away at my knitting, projects piled around me, a couple of actual commissioned pieces going, some design projects that have me pretty excited, contemplating a major writing project about knitting and design, blogging energetically about it all….And starting to feel like maybe it is all kind of irrelevant. 

With the news filled with the economy, politics, the environment, international relations, health issues, social issues…well, designing the Magical Levitating Warty Bobble began to seem kind of pale and insignificant.   Like I was devoting a lot of my life to a little private game of sticks and string and mathematics.  And that maybe I, too,  was a little pale and insignificant. 

And then there was Ravelry.com.  Something like 200,000 other human beings blasting away at their knitting – with passion and a sense of adventure and mad skills and fortitude and humor.  Wow! 

Maybe Olympic athletes feel this way at swim meets or skiing competitions – after all the hours spent alone in the pool or on the slopes.  Maybe they wonder what difference a 100^th of a second means – and then they are out there with flags waving and people cheering them on. 

Well, anyhow, that’s how I feel.  And I am pretty proud of my Magical Levitating Warty Bobble and maybe the world is a better place because there are hats and sweaters and little wooly animals -- cabled or intarsia-ed or bobbled or simply gartered into existence by people who think outside the box and push the envelope, people who tinker and figure and investigate, people who venture and envision and invest themselves in their work.

Art matters.  Artists and Artisans matter.  Thank you, Ravelry-ers, I had almost forgotten.

Not Knitting For Christmas

This year I am not making Christmas gifts for the family.  The bald statement sounds petulant, but it is actually the result of much soul-searching, trying-to-be-realistic, and acknowledging-that-choices- must-be-made.

While the kids were growing up, I made them gifts every year.  Usually I made my husband, George, something, too.  I often made gifts for my sisters and nieces and friends (my girls have helped with those in recent years).  Every now and they, I even made something for the guys.  These were not always knitted items – I sewed or crocheted or embroidered gifts.  The girls and I have made jewelry, too. 

And I have loved it.  One of my favorite parts of Christmas is making gifts.  When I was a small child, I pretended I was one of Santa’s elves – a lot.  I do not think I have ever outgrown it.  True, the gifts have not always been done on time (but, with one or two exceptions, they were always finished eventually).  True, some of them have seen less use than I anticipated (the Girly Boxers I knit for Sasha, for example, or the gorgeous alpaca tam I knit for George last year and for which, it seems, our climate is never quite cold enough for him to wear golfing…). 

But it has always been a gamble that I am willing to take.  It is part of the game.  And it is a good game -- but a very time-consuming one.  One husband, three daughters, one son, two sons-in-law, one grandson.  Say a decent gift takes 10-20 hours to make…that means 80-160 hours of knitting.  Secret knitting.

It came down to the choice:  either put my Pelagia Fiber Arts knitting projects (which involves, at present,  2 commissioned pieces, 2 design projects, and 2 of our standard “elegants” – which are actually already laid aside while we work on the commissioned pieces) on hold for three months or reduce Christmas gift-making.

My soul was searched, realistic-ness is being tried, and choices have been made.

So, it was with a sense of great personal denial that I made the decision to make gifts every other year instead of every year.  This is the “off year.” 

The family – God love them! -- have taken the news with more stoicism than grace.

“Mom’s not making us anything for Christmas this year.”  Long silence.

“I heard.”  Icy glare.

Afterthought.  “She had better not be making anything for Max either!”

No.  All friends and family, kith and kin will be equally denied half-knit socks, outerwear too gaudy to appear in public, intimate apparel too bizarre to be worn in private, ornaments and accents bobbled, bangled or beaded.

So far – half-way through October – my resolve holds.  Although Sasha told me that scarves are very big this year and all the girls on campus are wearing them.  In Santa Clara, in 80 degree heat, all the chic kids are wearing scarves – and this is the year I am not knitting for Christmas…..In the immortal words of Charlie Brown: I Can’t Stand It!!

There's A Toddler In My Knitting Bag

There is, indeed, a toddler in my knitting bag (metaphorically – and literally) and his name is Max.  He is my 20-month old grandson. 

He was, previously, the baby in my knitting bag (metaphorically only).  And I am finding a toddler slightly less useful as a knitting accessory than a baby.  

Max is unusually attracted to knitting.  Before he was steady on his feet, he could fly across the room and extract whatever was most dangerous or delicate out of a knitting basket carefully placed beyond his reach.  I have seen him snag a single knitting needle and whip it out of  ALL its stitches in some kind of nano-second.  He chews on wool.  And if given a ball of yarn, he will wrap the yarn around his neck.  Many times.  Also in a couple of nano-seconds.  He can summon a page of knitting instructions from anyplace in the house.  He will tear it in half and eat it.  

If he is napping, the sound of silk yarn rasping across an aluminum needle will wake him.   

Of course, the most devastating impact Max has on my knitting (as well as his mother Sarah’s knitting) is a combination of how darling he looks in handknits and his unbridled delight in and affection for anything we have ever knit him.  

He cheerfully wears wool sweaters, little socks, even hats.   He likes to bite the sleeves, I admit, but I figure that is his toddler-ish way of saying “Sweater, I love you.”   He wraps himself in his Yzma-Blanket every night as he falls asleep. (Note: Yzma is my grandmother name and the Yzma-Blanket is the one I labored so intensely over before, during, and slightly after his birth – baby-weight wool on tiny needles in a trellis stitch pattern that was worked from the back side and in which even a slight error stood out like a wart)

So, how can you NOT knit for Max?

And when (except in the middle of the night somewhere across town) CAN you knit for Max?! 

Impossibilities notwithstanding, my next project will be a knit llama for Max.  I am designing one to match the toy llama in his favorite books:  Llama Llama Mad At Mama and Llama Llama Red Pajamas by Anna Dewdney.  Terrific books with the most engaging main character, Llama Llama (who is accompanied on every page by his sweet floppy stuffed llama).

I have already bought the yarn – the same Dalegarn Baby Ull of which his Yzma-Blanket is made, except in “llama beige” instead of “froggy green.”  And there will be no trellis stitch involved.   I can almost see Max lugging around his knit llama, biting its arms (“Llama, I love you”) – the two of them on a yarn ball safari.

 

Invested In Yarn

I hope I sound neither glib nor alarmist about the Economy when I say that I am happy that I have invested so heavily in yarn.  Not yarn companies, but in skeins of yarn.  What knitters affectionately call The Stash.  

 

We watch dreams, labors, treasures melt into nothing as numbers in computers shuffle around.  So, I am relieved to know that I have something solid and valuable tucked safely away in an actual cabinet where I can go and, literally, put my hands on it.

 

Once upon a time, textiles were considered a tally-able part of a person’s wealth. They were listed in wills, dowries, and business arrangements.  Just like silver or jewelry or furniture or a house.  A pair of socks was a business asset.

 

The wool yarn I bought 10 years ago has as much value, as much potential as it did when new (unless the cats have gotten to it – that would be, I suppose, a capital loss?).  It could still become the sweater I originally intended.  Or it could be made up into socks or an afghan or a dinosaur or a tea cozy.  It could sit there another 10 years without losing value.  It doesn’t go out of style or become obsolete.

 

Yarn is not only full of creative potential, it holds life energy:  the work of carding, spinning, dyeing -- as well as the flora or fauna power that grew the fiber, as well as the sunlight that fueled the blade of grass (that fed the sheep) or the cotton leaf.

 

Now I kind of feel like my Stash could explode!

 

So, I am not apologizing for the size of my Stash today.  I am simply grateful for it.

 

 

 

Of Barbeques

My husband George asked:  With so many projects going, do you ever get them mixed up?

He had not even read my last blog posting (which shows how much psycho-connection you can build up during 27 years of marriage).

 

I pointed out that, as he spoke, he was both stewing prunes and barbequing lamb – did he get them mixed up?  They are totally different processes.  And if I am knitting a cable piece and a lace piece, I, too, am involved in totally different processes and will not mix them up.  If, however, I have two similar lace pieces going, I will end up having to think more consciously about each one.

 

Anyhow, the whole conversation got me thinking about what that great knitting tool (and possibly the largest:  the barbeque.

 

Now, I am about to make some rather sweeping generalizations here, so please note that I am speaking about what I have encountered in my own experiences.  Certainly, others may find things different in their own lives.  Just as I would never dictate a particular cast on (though I am partial to the Italian and the Old Norwegian), I would never try to tell another knitter how to live her/his own life.

 

BUT  if you live with a man

AND  if you and that man tend to eat dinner most evenings

AND if evening is prime knitting time for you

AND if you don’t own a barbeque

 

You might want to GET YOURSELF ONE!

Lace and Russian Novels

Knitting a Lace shawl is much like reading a Russian novel. 

The thought occurred to me – rather out of the blue -- as I was tinking back and re-working a row of lace (I had a lot of time to mull over the similarities while the other side of my brain was working on keeping the yarn-overs from escaping and wriggling the point of my needle into tight little knit-three-togethers )  The random thought sprouted into a full-grown theory!

Lace Shawls and Russian Novels.  The start up is ridiculously easy.  Every yarn shop I have ever visited has lovely lace-weight yarn (which is always an incredible bargain when you price it out per yard) and every book shop has Russian novels (also a bargain priced by page).  Yet, there is an elite quality to both. And one has only to lift the skein or book to find oneself engulfed in an aura of intellectualism and virtue:  why, yes, I am a knitter of lace shawls and a reader of Russian novels (even non-knitters and lackadaisical readers will be impressed when I casually let it drop in conversation).  Somehow, the fact that I am making a HUGE commitment of time on a chance encounter never enters my head and I leave the yarn/book shop feeling ridiculously triumphant. 

The beginning is romantic and I am buoyant with adventure and ambition.  It only takes me a few days to wind the 1800-yard skein into a ball and to cast on 400 stitches – about the amount of time it takes me to chug through the first five chapters of the novel.  Casting on is not my favorite part as there is so much counting and re-counting.  And in the first few chapters, I cannot quite figure out who is who.  But these little frustrations are offset by the knowledge that I am fully embarked on the project/read of a lifetime.  Even though my shawl is but a little stringy worm, I savor the fine merino, the gradation of colors the skein promises.  Soon, I will begin to see it play out into a delicate fabric.  Likewise, I note the fine prose and subtle descriptions.  Soon, I will begin to figure out who the characters are and what they are doing.

Slowly, I become comfortable handling the yarn (thread-like stuff that sticks to itself even as it sort of bounces about and slides off the needles) and familiar with the pattern (which is probably a repeat of 24 ever-varying rows that read something like an African dialect of clicking “k2togs” and sibilant “pssos”).  Slowly, I figure out that the characters are eating breakfast, then luncheon, then dinner, then breakfast again.  Slowly, my family becomes resigned to me muttering my “African dialect” in the living room – though they do dissuade me from trying to cook borscht.  Lace shawls and Russian novels tend to take possession of my mind.

Time passes.  There are many stitches in each row.  There are many words on each page.  My shawl is ten inches long and, by some mystery familiar to knitters everywhere, has been ten inches long for days -- even though I knit every evening.  By the same sort of witchery, my bookmark sits a quarter of the way into the novel, day after day after day even though I read faithfully.  

As weeks pass, the romance pales.  I never actually lose my love for my lace shawl – any more than I lose interest in my Russian novel.  It is not even a matter of losing patience.  It is pure wantonness on my part.   Monogamy practiced upon a lace shawl that never gets any longer or a Russian novel that seems to get longer by the day wears on the nerves.  Other yarns beckon, other books call. 

I cast on a sock and open a murder mystery. 

There are several lace shawls still on the needles tucked into baskets behind closed cupboard doors – the Russian novels stand more boldly naked on the bookshelf in my study, bookmarks wedged securely in place.  I never actually give up on them;   I just let them rest.  

There always comes a day when my appetite for lace-weight yarn or hearty prose returns.  Most likely in a yarn shop or bookstore.  I would like to say that I run home to my not-exactly-forsaken projects and books, but…. Well, there is room in my heart for many passions (of the fiber and literary sort, I mean, and if one is going to practice a little indiscretion, there are certainly worse ways to do so!).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Knitting In The Morning

(Note:  If you are looking for pictures of my grandson Max -- I know Sarah routed people to my website for this purpose -- proceed to my "Grandmotherly Knitting" entry.  For a chatty bit about knitting, read on!)

Our September weather has been lovely – blue skies, golden light, just enough cool breeze to keep one from drowsing away one’s knitting time.  I have knit outside on our back deck nearly everyday this week.  On Thursday, I knit IN THE MORNING!  Right after breakfast, shamelessly.  If the neighbors had peeked over the fence, they would have seen me in my “cozy clothes” with a cup of coffee and my lace knitting – at 9:00 am!

I think I was wise to take advantage of the quiet half hour, but it felt a little weird.  Morning always seems to me to be “morning work time” (get the laundry going, make grocery lists, tidy up, etc.).  I exercise in the morning.  I shower and dress in the morning.  I hit my computer, check my email, blog in the morning.  I may even linger over a cup of coffee with my husband or one of my kids in the morning.  But I seldom (i.e. almost never-ever) knit in the morning. 

Even though my knitting has shifted from avocation to vocation, I have not yet shaken my tendency to “make sure I get my work done first.”   Now that knitting is legitimately part of my work (at least as much as doing the laundry and making committee calls), I have no qualms about making it a priority – intellectually and philosophically.  But it feels a little weird to knit in the morning.

Years ago, when our children were small, my dear friend, Joyce, would come to my house on Thursday mornings and we would make a pot of coffee and knit (or crochet or embroider or whatever we were into at the time).  She would come at 10:00 am with her youngest in tow (she had gotten her other 3 boys up and to school and had done her week’s grocery shopping too, I recall).  I had four children too – and was not really a morning person.   I remember the effort to get the older kids off to school and to have the living room presentable (the floor cleared of Barbie paraphernalia and the couch cleared of laundry) and myself presentable (breakfasted, showered, and dressed) by 10:00 am.  But then we would knit and it was a high point of the week.

By comparison, heading out to the deck in my robe with my second cup of coffee and my basket of lace knitting seems pretty slack.  Almost decadent (knitters who have, patiently or impatiently, slogged through the workday, carpools, kitchen and laundry duties, kids’ baths, kids’ homework, etc. before getting to that golden hour of knitting will understand).  Decadent, delicious….

From time to time, me have the opportunity to refresh our ways.

 

 

Autumn Knitting

It is September 1st , as well as Labor Day, and as far as I am concerned, the beginning of autumn – the equinox in a couple of weeks will only confirm what is started today. Weather-wise, summer has left the party early this year anyway (she came late, too, like a much-anticipated but over-extended celebrity making a publicity appearance). There is a nip in the air, a golden gleam in the afternoon light, and night advances with a little more authority.

Enough rhapsodic anthropomorphisms! And back to knitting.

Autumn is the knitter’s season. Sweaters are chic, socks coquettish, gloves/scarves/mittens poetic. Wool is well-respected in winter (and appreciated even in spring around here), but it is positively romanced in autumn. Just writing about it makes me want to go plunge my hands into a basket of yarn.

Fortunately, while at the Oregon Coast, Sarah and I talked ourselves (twice) into going to the bright and well-stocked yarn shop, Yarn For All Seasons. And, with rather unseasonable rain and wind urging us to think warming thoughts, talked ourselves into buying yarn for autumn knitting (both times). So, I am well-supplied with a selection of purples and grays for a cozy poncho (the Jane Eyre version of a sweatshirt) and another basket of blues and taupes for…well, for something. Not quite sure what yet.

I admit to a cuspish quandary as I am not quite ready to let go of my remaining summer knitting – my lace shawl and the Forbidden Summer Sweater. And there are a couple of autumnal projects in-process that I should resurrect. And there is a Pelagic piece that I set aside while in “summer vacation” mode which should be completed. With autumn comes a school-days sense of duty.

So, I might have to content myself with petting my autumn yarns today. I could ruminate over the poncho design, too. I could maybe swatch a little -- just to get a taste of autumn.

Not Blogging

In May I posted a piece about “not knitting (much).”  I said there was not much to say about “not knitting (much)” in a knitting blog.  There is a corresponding amount of “not much to say” about “not blogging about not knitting (much).”  

It is probably sufficient to say that in our house, summertime is full-blown family time –especially with a daughter being married in the middle of it!  And at the end of the day (after revising the reception seating chart, hauling our juggler/magician son’s props to and from another festival, having a book club discussion with my college daughter, clearing up the dinner dishes, pulling the 18-month old grandson off the backs of the furniture and the top of the piano, playing jungle rules badminton on the front lawn…) well, I chose knitting over blogging about knitting every time. 

And I am grateful beyond measure for the portable pick-it-up-and-put-it-down-and-pick-it-up-again nature of knitting.  I have knit in the car and in bed, on the back deck and on the ferry, while hanging out at festivals, while playing board games, during movies, during discussions, over coffee, over a glass of wine.  I am beginning to sound like Sam-I-Am! 

I finished Max’s knit trousers (to match the sweater) days before Sonja’s wedding – which is, I think, a personal best.  I am chugging away at the capelet Sasha asked me to make for her – it is a summer piece to wear over sundresses.  Hey, summer is not over yet!  And, fortunately, she attends college in Santa Clara where summer stretches until November.  My own Forbidden Summer Sweater is in progress (it is the one I began when I was not supposed to begin a new project and continues to be great fun to knit).  Maybe I can wear a long-sleeve t-shirt under it this winter.  

It seems I have done a fair amount of knitting after all.  

And now I am contemplating Beach Knitting:  what to take on our annual 2-week trip to the Oregon Coast.   Which sounds like a good blog topic – if I can sneak in another session on my computer while my needles are napping.

 

 

"Not Knitting"

I have not posted recently.  And it is due to “not knitting.”  And I would not blame any knitter who enjoys knitting blogs for saying “okay, I’ll check back another day” and moving on to a more promising site.  But I also think most knitters find that “not knitting” is part of a knitter’s life.  So, I will try to write about “not knitting.”

I have found it fairly easy and genuinely pleasurable to write about every aspect of knitting that plays across my needles.  It is when I am “not knitting” that I find I have nothing to say – not unreasonable since this is a knitting blog.  Still, I would have thought I could write about knitting even when I am “not knitting!” Since I cannot write about knitting, I thought I might try to write about “not knitting.”

First of all, I confess I am not actually abstaining from knitting – I am not injured nor have I had some kind of creative crisis.  Life is simply very busy just now (a dozen significant non-knitting projects/responsibilities/events cresting at once) and I have a great deal to do and there are only 24 hours in the day. 

So, I am “not knitting” – very much.  I might knit 2 or 3 rows on a narrow Rappe one evening.  Or a single row on my wider Forbidden Summer Sweater before falling asleep at night.  And I have been carrying Max’s pants (the ones that he is to wear with the matching sweater at my daughter, Sonja’s wedding in July) with me so I can knit 20 or 30 stitches of circular stockinette wasteland while I am riding in the car or waiting for someone somewhere.

But there is not much to write about in a round of stockinette or a row of lace. 

And now that I attempt it, I find there is not much to write about in“not knitting.” 

My Mother has told me numerous times:  This too shall pass.  Wise words which apply to both the pains and pleasures of life.   I know that I will return to a more productive and satisfying level of knitting – the frustrations of “not knitting” will pass away.  That funny kind of empty feeling – like when a member of the household is away on a trip or when a familiar piece of furniture has been removed from a room – will pass away. 

I know that there is a time for knitting and a time for looking up wedding invitation addresses, doing committee work, scripting a magic show, stacking blocks with my grandson, eating birthday cake….Good things in life, all.  “Not knitting,” but good all the same.

 

 

Cast-ing On

So, late last night I was knitting a row or two on the Forbidden Summer Sweater Ferocity—

Note:  I was not actually in bed, but I was nodding off in my chair, so I figure it was pretty close to bed-knitting – besides, I am down to the toenails on Jordan’s socks and was not going to attempt kitchnering at that time of night

Anyhow, I was knitting and contemplating the events of the last few days.  My 16-month-old grandson, Max, had slipped on a stair and fractured his ankle on Sunday afternoon.  X-rays on Monday.  Cast on Tuesday.  Poor little lambie.  So, I was thinking about our poor little lambie and his bright green cast, feeling rather at a loss for how to help him feel better and deal with what must be a puzzling and frustrating situation, when it occurred to me: 

I COULD KNIT SOMETHING.  Maybe a single over-sized sock to go over the cast – something snazzy and cheerful.  (The fact that I would not need to knit the second sock made the idea particularly enticing)  Of course, maybe it would be more practical to knit a pair of socks – one over-sized and one normal-sized – to sort of downplay the cast ( 4 weeks of explaining to strangers in grocery stores how the baby broke his ankle seems pretty grim…..).  The mental image of that one was a bit grotesque.  Back to a zippy single sock for the cast.  Or maybe a single normal-sized sock for the other foot – bright green to match the cast.  Or a bright green normal-sized sock with a colorful border for the cast-less foot and a matching knit band to go around the cast.  Kinda clever and “hey, we’re going to have a little fun here after all.”   

It went on that way for a while – and I confess that I am still getting ideas (like a “toe cozy” of some sort to cover his little piggies).

On reflection, I do not know if I am shocked at myself for seeing my grandson’s accident as a knitting opportunity – or if I am simply surprised that I didn’t think of it sooner. 

I think it would be in bad taste to dwell upon the impact an injured toddler will have on my knitting time, but
it is one of the ironies of a knitter’s life that occasions which invite – or even necessitate -- new knitting projects usually mean less time for knitting.   Not that I usually let that stop me.  And one little over-sized sock – how much time could that take?  I think I have a wee ball of sock yarn in my stash….

Sorting The Stash

Sarah and I have been cleaning out my studio and her art room. It has been a process and is still not quite done. We tackled my studio (sewing and knitting and other needlework, including beading) first and it took about two weeks to get it cleaned out and re-organized. Her art room (sewing, knitting, costume design and various art media) has been gutted, painted, outfitted with new shelves and cabinets (thanks, George!) – and now we are in the putting-everything-back-in-a-logical-order stage.

The process has required us to dig into our yarn stashes and the hidey-holes where projects go to hibernate. The yarn stash issue has been straightforward and actually kind of fun – as we bought containers and sorted it all by hue. Some yarn we tossed -- mostly from my antediluvian stash – but most of it has been petted, reminisced over, and tucked in amongst its color cousins.

The hibernating projects have presented a different challenge.

A lot of: oh, ye-e-e-s, I remember this-s-s-s….
A little bit of: okay, I’m pulling something out of this bag and you are going to laugh!
A bit more of: oh, yeah, I’m supposed to finish this.
A bit more honesty: oh, yeah, I’m never ever going to finish this.

We have learned a few things about ourselves as knitters – like that neither of us can knit further than half-way on a scarf. That we both like to start lace projects (and would finish them, we swear, if more prosaic knitting did not get in the way). That we are immovable when it comes to unfinished gift projects – that we can neither knit them nor give them up! Though we both agreed that she could give up on the leg-warmers (well there was only one and it was about an inch high and probably too big around) she was making for me for Christmas 2006 or so.

In all, I would say we ripped out a third of the languishing. It was kind of freeing, of course. And we have more needles, now! We agree that chefs and gardeners are lucky – bland casseroles and unplanted petunias meet a natural and timely end. Half a scarf knit in garter stripes of fuchsia mohair and variegated “melon garden” ladder novelty yarn lives forever.

Legitimate Swatching

Okay, I swatched.

But I did it legitimately. Honest.

I have an edict that I can apply when I am overwhelmingly moved to knit something that is not on the schedule. When a yarn sings its siren song. When I read a poignant account of sock knitting and suddenly nothing will soothe my soul but to knit a sock. When I have 6 projects on the needles – probably 4 or more on a deadline of some sort – and I just need a little break. When the knitting muses are ill-tempered, the knitting sprites are bored, and even family members are getting critical because “hey, haven’t you finished that _____ yet?!”

The edict that preserves my spirit is: What I knit in bed is my own business.

Kitten Knittin'

There is a kitten in my knitting basket – temporarily. (Alas, kittens are always temporary as they eventually morph into cats, but that is probably just as well, as I am finding) The temporariness of the kitten is due to the fact that it is not my kitten, but is the kitten of my daughter, Sonja, and my son-in-law-to-be, Jordan (the famous Jordan of the Unfinished Christmas Socks, of course). They are living with us until the move into the house they recently bought – and the kitten is one of the furnishings.

The kitten is a functional furnishing as her purpose is to keep their 2-yr-old cat, Ferocious, company while they are at work. Ferocious has become accustomed to a lively household here with the constant in-and-out of various people and one cat-loving baby throughout the day, as well as the general company of the 4 resident cats.

I realize that knitters are accomplished (sometimes compulsive) counters, so I cannot hope that it has escaped the reader’s notice that I currently live with 6 cats.

But I had forgotten what it is like to have a kitten in the house. Certainly, she is sweet and fun to play with and lovely to hold (rather like a ball of angora with a spine and tiny claws). She also mews for attention endlessly, dashes under our feet, knocks the photos off the piano, and has upset the delicate balance of feline social structure in the house.

And she has discovered that I knit. At the ever-so-slight creak of leather as I settle into my chair in the evening, she wakes (and, I suspects, grins – though I have never yet caught her in the act), mews “Let the games begin!” then gallops across the living room and scrambles into my lap. The tiny claws come in handy there, as it is rather a climb for a kitten. While in my lap, she alternately chews on my yarn and battles the ends of the needles. I am going to suggest that she be named D’Artagnan for her swordsmanship – though perhaps The Highlander would better reflect her fighting style. She is not above biting the needles, too, in the heat of the fray.

Meanwhile, I scold her idiotically: No, kitten. Stop that. Don’t eat the yarn. Gracious, you know better than that. Get down. Stop that. Don’t bite the needles. Gracious, stop that. That is enough. And I call, uselessly, for assistance: Someone come get this kitten.

No one in my house is foolish enough to come fetch a kitten that is in full nuisance mode. So, I set her down on the floor – and she scrambles back into my lap and mews at the needles: En Garde! We do this a few more times, then I shut her up in a bedroom where she mews piteously. I return to my chair feeling like the villain in a Victor Hugo novel.

About then, Twist (our eldest cat) ambles slowly across the living room, sits at my feet and meows. With great effort (and my assistance) she climbs up onto my lap and then settles on the arm of the chair and purrs. It is time for her evening visit. After some petting and head rubs and such, she makes the final climb to the back of my chair where she will sleep for the rest of the evening. There is something to be said for the mature cat.

Another Swatch

I am home briefly between family-related road trips (3 trips in 2 weeks!) and am posting another "swatch" from earlier in the year when I was considering starting my blog. (Note: I am still reading Lord Peter and am still working on the socks).

This winter, when I am not staying up too late knitting (or, I confess, after I have stayed up too late knitting), I have been staying up too late reading Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries (thank you, Dorothy Sayers!). Pattern-seeker that I am (as in one who tends to see patterns in life, not as one who continually searches for knitting patterns – I am that, too, of course, but back to Lord Peter), I have noticed that good knitting stories are much like good murder mysteries (okay, you knew we would get around to knitting!).
For example, The Mystery of the Uncooperative Heel Flap is a fairly good story. There are conflicts and missteps and a good villain and resolution (by the way, I have turned the heel, picked up the heel stitches, and am cruising along on the gusset decreases). I majored in English Writing in college and so am familiar with these things.
On the flip side, The Good Cable Sweater does not make good blog fodder. It is sheer bliss to knit. The pattern is striking. The fit of the tunic is loose and so not-to-worry. The merino is doing what it has been bred for generations to do. No story here.
I can imagine a sonnet or an ode, sort of an adoring love tribute toThe Fair Cable Sweater Who Has Captured My Heart (anthropomorphism seems appropriate here, tho I generally find it over-used). I will not write one, however, as that would seem to tempt the Knitting Sprites and I would find myself twisting my cables left instead of right or something of that nature.
I find I like having both murder mysteries and sonnets in my knitting (as well as my literary) life. There is nothing quite like solving a puzzle or out-witting a charming but difficult yarn. And while it is distressing to discover that occasionally I, myself, am the murderer, it is reassuring to know that the victim can usually be resurrected.

Guilt Is Sprung

I saw a swallow today – a violet-green swallow, to be exact! When the swallows return, I know that summer will come. I stood beside the mailbox and said, “Ah, the first swallow. Summer will come.” All solemn-like. In autumn, it is the reverse. When I realize that the swallows have gone, I stand by the mailbox and say, “Ah, the swallows have gone. Winter will come.” Again, it is a solemn moment.

Now what have swallows to do with knitting, one might, reasonably (perhaps impatiently) wonder. Aside from the swallow on Dalegarn Svale yarn labels and a particular brand of double-pointeds called “Swallow,” not much (though, personally, I think it is kind of remarkable that one can pull something out of the air, like a swallow, and find two legitimate , if trivial, connections).

However, the next thought I had, after the summer-will-come one, was “Dang, I haven’t finished Jordan’s Christmas socks yet.” Knitting guilt is like that, springing up in odd places (i.e., beside the mailbox and under a swallow).

Knitting In The Dark

I really need to knit.

Knitting time has been scarce these last few weeks – I am becoming nostalgic for January when I had a back injury and the flu. Knitting time seemed so abundant then that I even took an hour or so here and there to write letters or (shocking!) work on a needlepoint seat cushion kit. Oh, the heady days of winter….

On a side note: It feels like winter now as we have had snow off and on for 5 days! Nearly an inch accumulation one day! Crazy weather for us!

Anyhow, with Easter, the college kids’ Spring Breaks, gearing up for spring planting (which is on hold now until the snow abates), Sonja’s wedding plans (bridal showers, the house they are in the midst of purchasing, etc., as well), the stepping-up of activity in some of my volunteer organizations…well, you know how it gets.

Last night, we turned off our lights for an hour at 8:00 pm as part of the nationwide statement calling attention to environmental concerns. The girls played cards and George entertained Max (who was not at all happy about the dark house – finding it all a bit surrealistic and oddly bedtime-ish for his taste). I knit lace by candlelight. Not nearly as charming and romantic as it sounds. It involved twisting slightly in my chair and holding the work up to get maximum light while squinting at the directions. Stockinette would probably have been the wiser choice, but I was feeling a bit stubborn about knitting what I darn well want to knit now that I finally get to knit at all, for heavens sake, thank you very much!

I do not imagine that life is going to slow down now that spring is (nominally) here. But something gives me hope: Baseball season begins tomorrow. TV baseball is ideal for knitting – interesting, but not riveting. As our whole family (even the baby) likes watching the Mariners play, it is sort of a communal balm in our house. It promotes unity in feeling (we all always want the M’s to win – esp. if they are playing Texas or The Yankees) and gives us a topic of conversation devoid of argument fodder (our family can debate anything – the color of the sky, the color of water, the color of color…). And anything that calms the family is good for my knitting.

The dark was not calming (it was a very noisy card game, too, by the way). Snow is not calming (at least, not when it is nearly April and we are shivering in our cotton sweaters and flip-flops). Baseball, ah, Baseball….”Star Spangled Banner”…Play Ball…Batter Up..I am good to go!

"Boring Knitting"

Hope breathes in Stockinette Wasteland! Sarah offered to help and has graciously taken over the body of the sweater while I fiddle around with the Fair Isle band on the beginning of the first sleeve. Sarah certainly has a vested interest in Maxwell’s Easter Sweater being finished in time for Easter, but she also said that she did not have any “boring knitting” on hand at the moment and needed some.

I completely understood what she meant. I try to keep a bit of “boring knitting” for short car trips -- or long car trips when I get exasperated balancing several pages of instructions on one knee and two balls of yarn under my chin while digging around under the seat for the cable needle with one hand and clutching my knitting in the other. Stockinette is an excellent choice for mountain roads at 70 mph.

“Boring Knitting” is great for meetings, too. Although, I confess, I can seldom bring myself to knit at a meeting unless it is a large group and I can keep my needles discreet and low in my lap. And even then, I try not to look down any more than I can help. It is pretty awkward and I feel slightly guilty. I worry that people will think I am bored or that I think the meeting is unimportant. They might think I am not really listening. I also don’t particularly want to call attention to my knitting in these settings either. I don’t want to cause a distraction. Perhaps it is just my own squeamishness – so many others apparently knit with ease even in professional meetings.

So, I decided to give it another go. Last night, I had an informal meeting to attend – one where I knew I would have little to contribute, few notes to take, etc. It would take place in a living room and there would be a lot of talking. Maybe my knitting would just sort of blend into the surroundings.

I got my little sleeve past the Fair Isle and into plain stockinette (worked in the round on double-pointeds with increases every 4 rows), packed it into my bag with my notebook and pen, and set off.

Best to get it out in the open right off, I figured. So, as soon as I arrived, I sat down, pulled out my sleeve, and began knitting away while smiling rather idiotically at the ladies around me. I kind of pretended that my hands had a life of their own – like a small animal wiggling around in my lap while I exchanged pleasantries with the other committee members. Of course, my little charade fooled no one. Everyone dutifully commented: oh, what are you knitting…? oh, I wish I had learned to knit… oh, my aunt used to knit…oh, I tried to learn to knit once….I fell back (a little hard) on the sheepish line I had prepared: this is the sleeve for my grandson’s sweater and I am hoping to have it finished for Easter. And continued to smile. By then, everyone in the circle had had the opportunity to comment and we were ready top move on to business.

In retrospect, I am glad I took my knitting. (I got a few inches of sleeve done!) I proved to myself that I could do it. I also proved to myself that knitting in even the mildest kind of meeting makes me feel like an antelope. I probably won’t try it again anytime soon.

The Brain Is Amazing (And Several Digressions)

Erratum: It is “Baba O’Riley” not “Bubba O’Reilly.”

So, last night something niggled in my brain. Something was not right. And then it came to me: I had mistaken the name of the Who song (or is it “the The Who song”? awkward but correct – I figure the Who song is “Da Foo Dorus” or whatever it is from How the Grinch Stole Christmas). And my brain – not, interestingly, my husband nor my son who had both read the blog and even commented on the song — caught it and would not let go until it had shepherded the correction to consciousness.

Of course, I feel silly now. Hadn’t “Bubba O’Reilly” looked a little odd when I typed it? Did I imagine that a Brit band had written a song about a man who, while likely of Irish ancestry, clearly lived in Texas or Alabama? Well, perhaps the stockinette was getting to me.

The point, though, is that the brain is amazing! It knows things – things I skip over. It happens in my knitting all the time. I will be knitting along on a lace pattern and suddenly: Click! Something is not right. And I scrutinize and see that, by gum, I have just knit over what I should have been k2tog-yo-ssking or whatever. Or perhaps the row below is messed up. And my brain picked up on it without my consciously seeing it.

My phrase for this kind of illumination is ”Miss Clavel turned on her light and said ‘Something is not right” – from the Madeleine books (which made quite an impression on me when I was a child – all those chic little French girls in two straight lines and the formidable 9-ft-tall sisters in blue robes and wimples).

So, if I run into one of these mystical insight experiences, I will say to Sarah “Miss Clavel turned on her light” and she knows what I mean. It is a little classier than saying “O, sh-t!”

The Baby In My Knitting Bag

I mentioned that Pelagia Fiber Arts has a website – which we hope will be good for business. It also has a baby, Max (Sarah’s son/my grandson – currently one year old and crawling) – which, we are sad to say, is not good for business. He is an absolute darling and we mean to keep him, so I am afraid PFA will continue to suffer!

I am a great fan of babies. In fact, George and I have raised four children (and are now raising 6 young adults -- as the four originals have begun to collect husbands -- and are rapidly gaining on my octogenarian parents who are raising 7 middle-aged adults). But if someone were to ask me to name the best items to keep on hand for knitting, I would not list “a baby” among them.

Like knitting, a baby requires two hands, so they are pretty much mutually exclusive in the first few months. Later, there is all the jumping up to pull the baby out of the cat food, to fetch “that noisy toy he really likes,” to deal with that horrendous smell emanating from its nether regions. Cables and Fair Isle do not thrive in this kind of environment. Between Sarah, Max, and myself we make up one productive knitter.

The real issue, though, is the insidious adorableness of baby knitwear. There is nothing that can drive a knitting mother or grandmother quite off her head like a booklet of snuggy cotton blankies, cuddly hoodies with kitten ears, pastel striped leggings, wooly pullovers with intarsia bears, wee sockies, sweet lacies and ….well, you get the idea.

Long-promised adult sweaters and even commissioned Pelagic pieces languish in the bottom of my knitting bag while I fuss over another sweater for Max or crochet a snowflake for a hat for Max or simply coo over a dozen possibilities in the latest Dalegarn booklet – for Max, of course.

I think it is an instinctual Homo sapiens thing. Have you noticed that when a baby starts to cry people immediately get all edgy – they want to drop everything and hold it or feed it or build a fire or kill a saber-toothed tiger or something useful like that. Me, I get the overwhelming urge to knit a little white sweater with bullion-stitch posies and maybe a bit of lace edging… maybe a matching bonnet….

Knitting With The Flu

Sarah and I – and several non-knitting members of the family – have had the flu. Knitting would seem the ideal occupation for someone too achy and weak to rise out of a chair and, say, do the laundry. In fact, being ill is the best excuse in the world for being at home and completely neglecting housework in favor of knitting. Unfortunately, when Sarah is ill she tends to fink out on knitting as well as housework – she naps. I, on the other hand, sit dutifully in my leather chair in the living room with my knitting lying in my lap and stare at the wall. Occasionally, I shake myself, pick up the needles and knit three-quarters of a row, cough, look out the window to see if it is raining or not, watch it rain or not, shake myself and start to knit the last quarter row, realize I do not remember which row I am on, cough, figure out the row and count out the patterns stitches, finish the row, stare at the wall while holding the needles, cough…

It is a slow process and not terribly productive.

We are both better now and hope to step up our knitting productivity. It is not that we are “behind” on our knitting (quite honestly, we are always “behind” – so it is our natural state and not worth mentioning), it is that we feel a lack of knitting in our days. Our hands miss knitting, our brains miss knitting. It is like a vitamin deficiency.

I am going to try to explain to the non-knitting members of the family who have run out of clean socks that I have to get my vitamin “Kn” level up before I can resume household responsibilities.