Endless No More

People use the word endless to refer to school lectures, lines at the DMV, the 2-minute wait for pregnancy test results... but honestly, in the case of Willem's sweater, I really thought it was actually going to be endless. Neverending. Incomplete-able. There were just so many cables, and then after the cables there were more cables. And did I mention the cables? And all in unbroken off-white. In size XXL.


Not so long in the larger scheme of things, I suppose; I started at the end of January and it's not quite 7 months later. Took me longer to make my babies, and they were each more than a month early. But I kept wandering off on side projects, finding (okay, seeking) distractions, indulging in some yarn snobbery that made the return to Lion Brand - albeit "100% pure virgin wool containing natural oils," according to their marketing gurus - a bit of a mental adjustment (though, as was quite wisely pointed out to me, it is good stuff. Worth purchasing again. Someday.)... in general, it was an uphill battle.


Then there were the alterations to the pattern. First it was just a lengthening of torso and sleeves. Then a casual mention from Willem that he thought it made more sense for the back to match the front, instead of being beaded rib throughout. (No, he did not use the phrase "beaded rib" - I have trained him well, but not that well.) Then the realization that the front and back, being large unshaped blocks, were going to be adding extra boxiness to an already broad-shouldered frame, and that my husband probably would prefer not to look like a Lego figurine when wearing his new sweater.


Hence the steeking. Oh, it was scary, but it seemed like the most efficient and customizable way to tailor the shoulders to match the sleeve caps I'd added to the original pattern (it's on the Lion Brand website, the "Aran Pullover," if you're registered and inclined to search - but pay attention to the sleeve length, the pattern lists 'em backwards!).



So, I knit and knit and knit, and measured and counted and knit some more, and was grateful for having learned how to cable-knit without a cable needle, and then steeked and seamed, and viola! A sweater fit for a graduate student. Here's hoping for a cold, cold, cold New Hampshire winter.

Ein Klein Knit Magik

Apologies for the lame cultural reference, but do you ever get a post title in your head and nothing else will replace it? What, that's just me? Whatever.

I had one of those magical knitting experiences last night, comparable to the Miracle of Emily's Socks. I wanted a summery, quick project to break up the cabling, cabling, cabling of Willem's sweater, and I'd just finished a pair of socks. Here:
Pattern: Flame Wave Socks by Ann Budd, in Interweave's Favorite Sock Patterns
Yarn: Sandnes Garn Mandarin Petit in Red


I'm so-so on them; they're a little loose at the top and a little tight on the bottom for Emily, but Jacob looooooves them, so I may just make new ones for Emily and be content with that.

Anyway. The magic? I wanted to make a simple summery bag out of dishcloth cotton, and I have a couple of large balls of it from a recent chain-store sale. So I picked needles pretty much at random (size 8 US), and cast on until it seemed about long enough (75 stitches), and started working in linen stitch. I wanted something without much elasticity or looseness to provide a sturdy bottom on the bag. I figured, like with any other variegated yarn, I was taking my chances on the specific color arrangement, and expected a random display. Instead, I got:


How cool is that? The vertical stripes were unplanned, and in fact I don't think I could have done it on purpose.


Sometimes it takes very little to make me happy.

Ravelry BAD... and So, So Good.

Oh, boy.

I have spent hours and hours today on Ravelry, because somehow, for once in my life, I was clued into a new trend relatively early in the process and got my invitation last week.

For the uninitiated: it's like a database/blog/forum/messageboard for all things yarn. And it's dangerous if you happen to have the slightest twinge of anality anywhere in your brain. And oh, I do.

So my stash, except for the dishcloth cotton (one must draw a line somewhere... right?), is online, and I've been able to limit myself to posting only the projects that I've been working on since joining the site. For now. Give me time, the rest will go on there. I have finite self-control.

Dangerous, that place is. Seriously.

Destashing... but Keeping it in the Family

Yesterday, we got pretty new floors in my house - gratuitous floor shots here - and part of the preparation for said onslaught involved emptying the floor of my crafts closet, which is where my yarn lives. So, while it was out, I gave it a critical glare and decided that I was holding onto far too much acrylic that I was just never going to use.

Acrylic has its place, mind you. I'm certain I'll be buying more at some point, because I have children and they have legs and those legs allow them to get dirty. And I really need to throw at least their sweaters, if not the entire children, directly into the washing machine at the end of a busy day. But what I had here was not a collection of sweaters-to-be; it was odds and ends from former projects, some of my own and most of my great-grandmother's, whose stash I inherited in 2005. Bless her heart, but Grandma O loved her some acrylics.

So I decided, last night, that instead of simply returning my stash, unaltered, into the craft closet, I would pare it down, as ruthlessly as possible. Having two sisters who are relatively new knitters and on budgets that have not yet allowed them to become yarn snobs (though Sarah, the college one, has apparently started sniffing out "real" yarn stores... I think she's right on the brink. Mary, the high school one, is still happy with dishcloth cotton and 100% acrylic, and more power to her)... I had a perfect audience for my discards. I'm sending it all home with Mary next week, and have asked that they donate whatever they don't want to a local women's shelter or substance abuse treatment center, both of which use knitting as a hand-occupying productive addiction to replace the anxieties and stresses of leaving behind a difficult lifestyle.

So, farewell, old friends. Have good, useful lives... out of the closet.