awayuq

basic breath

My knitting does yoga. Om.

One disadvantage to being busy all day around computers is the temptation to look for things online. I find that especially when I don't have as much time as I would like to be creative, I surf here and there looking for delicious yarn, trying to staunch the pain of not having it in my hands. Last week sometime as I was debating the merits of several different brands of thick cotton yarn, I came to: I do not need more yarn. No more yarn! I have drawers of yarn! Enough to make four summer cotton sweaters. I need to knit up what I have first or give it away. This happened on one of those days when I spent half an hour pawing through drawers trying to come up with something to wear. (Those of you who think I never match anyway so what's the point, you can be quiet here). I realized once again that what I need is a plain, offwhite sweater. Now that it is getting warmer, it can be in cotton. So I cast on for a plain top-down v-neck raglan sweater in chunky cotton. It's so basic that it is just infused with the essence of om. I am trying a new-to-me decrease: k1 yo k1 all in the same stitch. Nice. Different.

The needles are #9, for me they feel like tree trunks! Ok, well, trunks of young trees. You know what I mean. I had to go to my LYS this afternoon to get a longer needle. This yarn is not that fun to knit with, it's more or less like knitting with cotton clothesline, but... it will be a useful sweater, right? Right. I hope this project lasts at least down to the waist.

swatching

The pink yarn I dyed a while back is earmarked for a jacket in this pattern. This is the same yarn, undyed, swatched up to see how it works out. It is not on gauge; a little small, but I think if I make the next size up it will be just about right. I could go up a needle size, but I like the feel of this fabric. The pattern is very pretty, but now I am wondering: scallops + lacey + bright pink = too much? Too frilly froofy girly?

On the opposite end of the spectrum from frilly, I found the site of the Bespoke Tailor today while blog browsing. Fascinating! One of my enduring life fantasies has been that someday I will meet someone with A Lot of Money who will sweep me off my feet right into a proper english tailor's shop to be fitted out with a real english tweed suit (or two, depending on how long I am invited to stay at the country "house"). Failing that, I would love to have the time to study how fine tailoring is done and maybe make my own. At this point that seems hardly more realistic than the first dream. Still, it is nice to read that true tailors still exist and that there are people who appreciate the finer details of shirtings, linings, interfacings, and clothing structure. If you read some back entries, you will come across a butterfly gusset--lovely!

I have an itch

but before I get to that, here's a picture of white socks on Sunday morning:

They are now done! Toes grafted, all ends sewn in. They were getting to be the never-ending socks, so I'm glad they are complete. Having two going at once is well worth the price of the extra set of dpns, in my opinion. The pattern is "Evening stockings for a young Lady" from Nancy Bush's "Vintage Socks" book. The yarn is KnitPicks merino sock yarn. I used two hanks.

For the socks above, I used #1 needles, and there are 61 stitches around the foot. This is snug on me. Probably great in stockinette stitch, but I'm not overly thrilled with the way the pattern stretches out especially around my calves. I tried doing a 60-st sock with #2 needles and the same yarn (the uglicious red-yellow-green socks of a post or two ago) and that's ok, but maybe the fabric isn't quite what I'd like. Then I remembered--I have a set of Brittany dpns which I rarely use because they are size one and half, whatever that is in mm. I cast on another sock with that set

and it's just about perfect! Nice fabric, right size. More lecture knitting. This is also my first toe-up sock with short row heels and toes. I love this technique! Yesterday I was browsing around the web to find out the "right" way to do short rows and I discovered about 7 different suggestions so I decided forget it, I'll do what I feel like. It's just fine. I don't know why I've resisted the idea of short row toes for so long. They are much easier to start than a figure-8 cast on and the join is invisible. There isn't even a significant hole where I began going round for the ankle after turning the heel. As Nero Wolfe would say, "satisfactory".

Oh, and in that picture up above? That stack of books? That's about half the stack I should be reading as the semester draws to a close. And you know what? I can't face it. Not today. Some of these books are even interesting--I'm starting to find a sort of niche for myself in this field, a place where I think the questions are intriguing and where I might even be able to contribute something. But today, midweek, with a sunny sky, I feel as if I can't stay inside another minute. I never ever (well hardly ever) goof off. I mean, when I "goof off" it's likely to be something such as actually taking a lunch break instead of eating out of a reused yogurt container at my desk. The list of papers to write and articles to read is piling up, but I just can't bear another academic treatise tonight. I want to go home in the daylight and maybe even eat dinner at my kitchen table! Because, in addition to the restlessness that comes with warm weather, and the knowledge that I have many duties this weekend that will impinge upon my free time, and the fact that most of the department will shortly be leaving for a conference...

I have an itch. I can't say when it started, but it got itchier when I saw this last fall: the doll and sets of clothes from Rebecca magazine. I love dolls, but I'd never seriously considered knitting one. Now I am thinking about it... then just a few days ago I was reading angry chicken and her post mentions how she loves kits. One of the links took me here or more specifically to this page of Gail Wilson's Designs. For someone who has had a life-long interest in cloth figures and clothing them, this site is some of the best dream candy I have ever come across. And I don't even consider myself a lover of the Early American Style! Something about the idea of small things, with sets of changeable clothes, and little furniture... it's been a very frequently visited site in the past several days. Surprisingly, I love her oil painted doll's faces. This is a technique I never thought much of before, but her style has convinced me that it has potential. I've avoided Hitty for years now, even though I read the book as a child and adored it. For one thing Hitty is tiny, and I like a little bigger size in order to get details on the clothes, and for another I hadn't found a Hitty I really liked the look of. I love Gail Wilson's version. The curls are just the way I imagine Hitty's curls to be, and she has her name embroidered just as in the book, and then all those petite accessories! I want to dance like a little girl!

The itch I have is a doll-making itch. It has partly to do with these latest inspirations, and partly to do with the spring weather, which always makes me think of small calico dresses hanging on a wash line in the breeze. I feel as if I must do some sewing right now, maybe a stuffed figure, maybe a new skirt, maybe a doll's dress. Which is why I'm pointing my toes homeward, leaving behind a handbasket for all the various tasks I should be doing. Stashes are made for afternoons like this.

meandering starflower

Do you ever try to trace the meanders of a fiber doodle? Those swatches you make, not because you anticipate making a full garment, but because you want to see how something works, or because you can't figure out a pattern, or because you have just a little bit of yarn and are stuck at the busstop and desperately want to cast on for something: I call them fiber doodles. Most of mine get ripped out, but I can't help but think every one is valuable. The yarn person's version of a sketchbook, in pieces.

This morning I finished a little doodle that I rather like. Its most immediate origins can be traced to an atypically warm day last month, when I walked up the hill to the public library. I checked out Jean Frost's book of Jackets and over the next few weeks perused it in odd moments. (btw, thanks to the person who commented on this book a while ago--I already had it in my hands and you are absolutely right, I do enjoy it!) I especially like the scalloped jacket, which she says is based on a pattern from Knitted Counterpanes, a book sadly out of print. Next step, the glories of interlibrary loan. Within a couple weeks I had a copy of Knitted Counterpanes and enjoyed paging through it, looking at the embossed patterns knit on tiny needles. I can't imagine knitting an entire bedspread, mostly because there are so many other things I want to knit. But the white textures, sometimes bumpy, sometimes lacy, reminded me of crochet. June was posting about crochet a while ago, which made me remember how I used to love it. I was a crocheter long before I was a knitter and used to make cardigans for my teddy bear. Most crochet sweaters seem to me extraordinarily ugly, but there are lots of other things to make with crochet, such as bedspreads and tableclothes, as depicted in old thread leaflets.

These are Dover reprints. I love browsing through them. Some of the patterns are very pretty, but more than that I love the names of the designs and the introductory blurbs. All about the beauty of a well-set table, and how this lacy cloth will enhance the housewife's reputation for hospitality. One mentions that the maker of a fine luncheon set will appear to advantage when "the girls" come over for lunch. The names are things like "La Chatelaine", "Lady Bountiful", and "Shepardess". Although these leaflets were published by thread companies and are therefore essentially advertisements, I still wonder about the kind of life depicted in the few brief seductive sentences about each piece. Luncheon parties? Buffets--in your own home? Linen napkins that are actually used? Did anyone ever really have this kind of existence?

My doodle is taken from a bedspread pattern, one I have long been drawn to. I tried it first in 10/2 perle cotton and by the time I got the center done it seemed very coarse and clunky. Crochet can seem like that very easily, in my opinion. I switched to a finer thread and hook and tried again.

It's a star, or a flower, done in popcorns on a lattice background. Thread, unlabeled stash find: approx. 20/2 cotton. The hook I used is labeled "8" but I have no idea how that translates into mm. The octagon is 9.25 inches from point to point and 8 inches from side to side. In theory, one makes a lot of these motifs and joins them together into a bedspread. I doubt very much that I'll ever get that far, but I enjoy this one lonely star. A little bit glisteny, slightly delicate, heavy under its own weight, and happily, brightly yellow. Doodles don't really need justification.

not sure I get it

For many years now I have given self-striping sock yarns a miss. Early versions seemed to me frankly ugly. Now self-striping socks are all over the place so I'm used to the look but I still didn't think it was anything I was going to try soon. Then a combination of circumstances forced my hand...

1. The need for plain yet somehow interesting knitting to take to lectures, aka inability to knit any kind of pattern in the dark.
2. A new pair of winter boots that come halfway up my calf. For waterproofing and warmth, these are the bumblebee's rollerskates, but they have a lamentable habit of abrading my stockings right at the boot tops. This induced a need for kneesocks to protect my leg and stocking all the way above the boot tops.
3. Expense of ordinary good quality yarn in sufficient quantity to make a pair of knee socks: too much.
4. KnitPicks had a sale on sock yarn. Self-striping merino sock yarn.

So I bought some wacko colored yarn for making socks. I began with a blend called "Flower Power".

Basic, basic sock. As I was knitting the first one I got a part of it. It is kind of fascinating to knit along absently and see what kind of pattern comes out below the needles. You may not like the pattern, but it can still be fascinating. When I got to the ankle part, I thought the stripes were fine. For a pair of utilitarian, warm, simply knit socks, perfectly fine. My fixation on kneesocks and the width of my calves is what causes the psychadelic crescent near the top. Eh, I can live with it. Most of it will be hidden under boots or under skirt when these socks are worn. For a cheap pair of socks, this is fine. The part I don't get is--is this really attractive, or just fun to knit? And why would I ever pay non-sale type money for yarn like this? Especially since to keep the pattern consistent you can't put any shaping in the sock?

To cut out the verbage, I confess I thought the sock was pretty ugly. Useful, useable, but ugly. No offense to anyone else! I love bright colors, so it's not that... this sock just makes me aesthetically uneasy somehow. Imagine my surprise when three different people, non-knitter people but presumably sock-wearing people, commented on my growing sock.

"Wow, pretty colors."
"I really like that, it's a cool pattern."
"What have you got there? Oh, neat! Love the color combination."

?? Ok, I guess it's just me. Meet my self-patterning wild socks. Guess I'll finish the pair and keep them ready for the first boots-on day of next year. And I do like the ankle stripes.

Non-Fiber content: It strikes me as absurd, in a BAD way, that the New York Times cannot report on the coolest fossil found in the past decade without bringing up the creationist perspective. WHY do we have to keep having this argument? Why does it get mainline press treatment? Why does an article that's supposed to be reporting on science have to kowtow to a segment of the population that stolidly ignores more than a century of scientific inquiry? Am I the only one puzzled, even enraged by this??

fed up

Next best to dyeing in terms of visible results is sewing. You can start some afternoon with a pile like this

and by the time NPR is over, you have something like this

New pair of pants! In this picture, the waistband has not yet been turned through completely and slipstitched down, which is why there's an odd white bit up there.

Now for the sad part: I tried them on. I am not sure whether to laugh, cry, or throw a tantrum. I cut two sizes larger than usual and-- they are too tight. Too tight! For months I have been struggling against weight gain, and now I have to finally face it: I am larger than I was. I am upset about this. My mother says I don't look heavy, thank you Mom, but when I have a closetful of clothes I no longer fit into, it is time to face reality. Had I known grad school would do this, I'd never have signed up! (just kidding. kind of.)

Once I calmed down a bit, I took some measurements. Tape measures don't lie. Ok, I am larger than I was. Spring is coming. Outdoor exertion is increasingly possible. All is not lost. I have not yet decided exactly how I am going to address this issue, but it must be addressed and with all due speed. My goal for the rest of the term is to not get any bigger. My goal for the summer is to get back down to where I was last year--at least. I may go vegan again for a while, I will try to up my exercise (though really, I spend 8- 10 hours a week working out, you'd think I could have prevented this!) In the meantime, I am not going to be sewing unless it's something very loose. The disappointment of a lovely new piece of clothing that doesn't fit is not an experience I want to repeat.

The pants did turn out well though, and will be fun to wear once I'm in good form.