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I never thought I'd see the day. It just wouldn't have occurred to me. The New York Times has published an article on home spinning. A picture of a Lendrum wheel just like mine is included!

Spinning Yarn...

Bizarrely I've also been reading several articles lately about well-educated well-to-do women who "choose" (debated by some) to "opt out" of various "careers" to stay home and "raise children". (All debatable. Some would say the last is more a managerial task of organizing lessons and social schedules). No doubt a mere coincidence, but it does make me wonder if there is any relation between the reported choices to stay home and the reported increase in numbers of spinners. Just in the most general way, you understand.

And by the way, I *seriously* doubt icelandic wool was used for rope and sail, unless the icelanders truly couldn't get hold of anything else. Hemp, hemp all the way for rope and things going to be exposed to salt water. But maybe I'm wrong on this. Any experts in Icelandic seafaring archaeology out there to set us straight on fibers used for vessel outfitting?

irony.

My first knitted pocket! I've never in fact knitted a pocket before but this is (was... see below) to be the sweater on which I mindlessly follow directions. Therefore, without thinking, I knit a pocket lining, also useful as a guage swatch, and followed the directions literally about stopping halfway through the row and knitting the ribbing edge, then continuing with the lining behind. Pretty neat, same principle as a mitten thumb when you go wrist up. I like the way this sweater feels, and with a sudden cold snap I could picture myself actually wearing the thing, which made me eager to make some progress. The color by the way is much richer than in the photos; sort of a peachy yellow with flecks of soft red. After a cozy afternoon of enjoying yarn and cables, I stopped to evavluate the cardigan front:

This is not a trick of the camera. The front band is shorter than the side seam. Much shorter--a matter of inches--and I'm only about halfway through the total length. (d*mn). The wishful thinker in me says this will block out, no problem. The quasi-experienced knitter in me looks at the springiness of the yarn, the difference in stitch patterns, and says no way. The bullfrog chorus is tuning up, just as I was feeling so comfortable in relative competence.

This is one of those moments when I am reminded why I so rarely follow patterns. I read and re-read the instructions, and no way could I make them come out to say anything other than that this should be a moss stitch border. I know from previous experience that moss stitch has a much higher row count than other stitches, but I figured ok, they must know what they are doing, they already knit the sweater, right? Well.... even so, maybe it won't work for me. It could be the moss stitch, it could be the slip stitch in the middle of the button band that is pulling things together. Either way, I don't think this is going to block out. (If you know otherwise, *please* tell me! I could save a lot of rework.) Besides, much as I like the idea of following instructions at this point, when I have so many other things going on, maybe I don't really want two button bands of two thicknesses each lying on top of one another when I close the sweater. It looks like another start of the left front is called for. I swatched seed stitch and twisted rib, throwing in a few buttonholes for practice. It is one of those doodly unphotogenic swatches, so you are spared pictorial evidence. A ribbed button band could follow the stitch established in the bottom rib and move seamlessly right into the collar. That sounds like the best choice. All I really have to do is recalculate the number of stitches to cast on, and do the whole thing over. On the bright side, a rework will allow me to reknit this

Barring other problems I'd have let the pocket lining be loose and pouchy, but it will lie better if knit with smaller needles so it more closely matches the actual size of the pocket opening. Cables do draw in--I suppose these sorts of details are the difference between so-so patterns and the really good ones.

And now, perhaps the dullest swatch you will ever see:

Plain. White. Wool. I call her Vanilla Jane. In looking for off white lightweight wool in the stash, all I found was some coned yarn from forever ago (from Robin & Russ, when I used to take day trips to drive from Portland to McMinville, so you know how long ago that was!). I bought it for weaving. Used as is, it could be knit with size 0 or so needles, but there are limits to my indulging dullness--no way am I going to slog through a stockinette stitch sweater at that gauge. I doubled it and tried size 5's and it's fine, and a much more reasonable knitting prospect. As soon as I started to actually calculate stitch counts and so on, I started thinking about ways I could make it more interesting: some kind of border or hem, maybe a lace panel up the front, a cable somewhere--and I strictly reined myself in. This thing, when/if it comes into being, is strictly a utilitarian sweater. Might have to be knit under tables and in uncomfortable lecture chairs. No stitch patterns, no fancy quirks. It is an exercise in restraint. My one concession to fanciness will be tubular cast on and cast off.

This post is so that later I can remind myself of good intentions.

what I can handle

I remember failing a math text in 6th grade because I had changed schools. In my old school I'd been doing some basic algebra with x's and y's and so on, and the first week in the new school the teacher handed out a sheet of long addition and subtraction. I flunked because I didn't understand some numbskull word they used to refer to the numbers--some invented term that mean which one was on top or something. It had nothing to do with whether or not I could add and subtract. That experience kept coming back to me this morning. Let's hope it was nerves creating false parallels to reality. Anyway, after three hours of struggle, I came up against a wall. I cannot do any more work. I cannot. I am going to go stark raving screaming insane if I have to read another article at this particular moment. I have been in the office twelve hours a day for the past--I don't remember how many days. What I really want to do this afternoon is go to the gym, make something to eat, and listen to Prairie Home Companion while I knit.

What is it about knitting that makes it such a relief? Today, my theory is that knitting is something I can handle. It's at human scale, in fact, my scale. (Being short, not everything human is in my scale. Most kitchen cupboards, for instance). I don't have problems interpreting knitting patterns. I don't have problems remembering knitting patterns or techniques. It's odd that my brain seems to have such a huge variance in the kinds of information it can remember. Historical dates don't stick in my head, but I can remember images of sweaters I would like to knit that are in books I haven't opened in years. When I knit, I am not plagued by mistakes and inadequacies. Not that I'm a great knitter, it's just that... I guess I'm good enough for me. I feel competent with yarn and competency is a feeling I heartily need right now.

As of right now I'm also starting an exercise in patience. I ordered the book (see previous post) that has that scrumptious crossed in translation sweater in it. By the photos, it seems to have other luscious things too. Expected delivery, first days of February (I think it's actually being shipped from Japan!). It will be a reward for surviving January. Something to look forward to.

And finally--please don't laugh--many months ago Mom and friend bought me a ticket to Tortola at the end of the month. I didn't really take it seriously but now departure is less than two weeks away. Tortola = heat + humidity + sun + beach = NO WORK = knitting time. But not wool (humidity variable very high). Therefore, I have an excuse to ruminate about a lovely cotton project to bring with me. From stash, of course. Maybe I can resurrect one of the lovely lace cardigans I wanted so much a couple years ago. I may not be able to remember historical dates, but I bet I can arrange a new knitting project without much trouble.

stricken, and need

Thanks for all your comments on the cardigan front. I've knit about as much now with the twisted border stitch as without, and I do think it's better. Pictures coming over the weekend if I remember.

Meanwhile, in a period of desperate procrastination, I found this knit-along blog. I *love*--can I say that again--I *LOVE* that sweater. I am stricken with that must-knit feeling that sends my wallet scurrying to hide underneath sofa cushions. But in all seriousness, do any of my trusted knit friends out there know this book? Apparently it's called something like "New Style of Heirloom Knitting" but I can't make head or tail of the asian sites on which it's sold. I can't even tell if it has english translation with it, though I'm hopeful. I've been looking at aran-type sweaters anyway, and the gorgeous twisted stitch panels on that one are about to send me over the edge. If anyone out there is familiar with this and in a helpful mood, I'd love to know your opinion of the book. And whether that sweater pattern comes in my size which I was about to write down and then decided against it because bust measurements can be so, you know, revealing somehow. Does it have charts? Because I don't think I'm going to knit that sweater from a word pattern, oh no. I am a chart girl all the way. Any opinions helpful. Thank you.

In other non-news, I've been wondering why I have drawers full of sweaters I don't wear. Excluding the feeling dumplingish reasons, I've been trying to keep track of what it is I always *wish* I had to put on in the morning. Those practical but lovely things I keep missing somehow in the ongoing wardrobe-building experience. The answer, newly revealed to me after three days in a row of wishing for the same thing, is: I wish I had a lightweight off-white wool cardigan. Not a chunky rustic cardigan of big wool. Not a fancy white lace alpaca cardigan (though I'd love one of those too). Not something that screams farmyard nor something I'm afraid to eat soup in. No, what I really need is a plain, off-white sweater slit down the middle front with buttons. Subtle patterning would be ok, but vanilla stockinette would be fine too. So it looks like my next knitting project is all there wound up for me. ("cut out" is a metaphor from the wrong craft). If it's really, really plain I can knit in lectures and maybe make progress next semester like I did on the shawl. Next task: finding off-white lightweight wool yarn in stash. There must be some. Mustn't there??

left front x 2

I finished the back of the cabled sweater

It looks a bit odd to me, but I've never knit raglan in pieces before, so I'm not losing sleep over it. I moved on to the left front. I was going to do both fronts at once, under the theory that knitting them together makes the ol' "reversing the shaping" easier, but when I read the directions it says to knit the left front first, position the buttons, and make the buttonholes on the corresponding rows on the other front. Oh. Duh. So I only cast on one side. I got this far

and am having niggling concerns. Do you not see what I see? The moss stitch band at the left side is turned under at the slip stitch to make a doubled button band. That's fine; I like moss stitch. But the part between the moss stitch and the knit-purl panel seems ill defined to me. I counted and recounted and checked the pattern and I did exactly what it said, but somehow I think it would look much better if there were a twisted knit stitch dividing the button band from the rest of the front. Especially given that the twisted knit stitches define all the other parts of the pattern--one on each side of each cable, between the pairs of knit-purl pattern, etc. What do you think? I stopped knitting on this piece and cast on a second left front. I'll try increasing one stitch after the rib band to see how it looks with the extra twisted knit in there. If I don't like it, I'll pick this one up again. No need to rip before it's necessary.

In non-knitting arenas, I am up above my hat crown in work. Trying to look on the bright side, I've tweaked things so that if I have to do research, at least some of it can be textile research. Did you know that the Chinese were the first to invent a water-powered, multiple-head spinning machine? Did you know that Segovia was a capital of Spanish wool weaving in the 16th century? Did you know that elite Mayan women taking part in important religious rituals wore transparent robes? Ok, maybe I'm having fun after all.

Last week I decided I need to sew some new skirts and I took the precaution of measuring myself before I cut out any fabric. Curses. The body has amplified itself significantly since the last time I measured. Enough of this ridiculousness! Clearly exercise has got to become a priority once again. My doctor told me this would happen. She says every Jan-Feb she gets scores of female patients who started grad school in the fall and after one semester find themselves heavier and bulkier and wail "what happened!" Well, ok, it happened to me too, but I'm not going to let it go any further. I'd rather take an incomplete in something than turn into a doughy dumpling.

Someone remind me of this when I am next tempted to give up exercise in favor of long hours buried in books because of fear of failing out of school.

Holiday Fun

My brother lives in San Francisco and Mom and her friend and I came out to visit him for the holidays. We had a lovely Christmas dinner, and them a day of rest, and then we drove over to Berkeley to go to Lacis. Luckily Mom is also interested in threads and things, so it didn’t take much to convince her to go, and friend wanted to visit a Japanese tool store also in Berkeley, so it was all around a good thing.

It was my first visit to Lacis, and if you are interested in textiles and needle arts, you MUST go there. I got stuck in one corner of the store and it was several hours before I put my head up and realized that they had two more *rooms* to explore. Needless to say I couldn’t take in everything. They have lots of obscure books, which demanded my full attention, and lots of great tools that are hard to find. I got two sets of steel knitting needles, #00000 and #000000. I found a spanish lace-knitting magazine that has some fantastic patterns in it, and a couple of the Christine Duchrow reprints, all full of old German lace knitting patterns. My second focus was tatting, because I can’t seem to find tatting anything around where I live. I found some challenging books and thread and shuttles. If you are looking for tatting shuttles, this is a great place to go! They have everything from basic plastic to tiny mother of pearl to long slender bone to celtic patterned silver-plated shuttles. They also have tons of historic dress patterns, corset makings, hat forms, ribbons, lace, embroidery canvases, silk floss, books on just about anything textile related... It was a fantastic afternoon. I even got to stop in the small museum in the back of the store, where in addition to lots of lace examples they have a small Peruvian gauze weaving displayed.

Go there. Or go to http://www.lacis.com/.