A Most Satisfying Conclusion.

It’s good to get these done, just in time for spring (I hope I never have to knit my way out of an emergency). It’s good to finish something I had to start and restart so often — I made Dadini try the first on to confirm the fit, having had to reboot this project so many goddamn times, so I am certain they’re ripe and ready. But another unexpected result of finishing up is reclaiming half my knitting tools. Butter my butt and call me a biscuit, these suckers took a lot of infrastructure. There were so many false starts and I shoved all of them into the bag to keep track of what hadn’t worked out, so when I finally finished, I dug them out and began reclaiming all that yarn. I regained:

• one 4mm circ
• one set of 3.25 dpns
• one 3.5mm circ (interchangeable)
• one set of 4mm circs
• stitch markers
• stitch holders
• two carry bags
• five assorted balls of black yarn, including two balls of Merino Supreme

See? Infrastructure. No wonder they were slow to finish, I needed a sherpa whenever I wanted to work on them.

Give it back, varmint!

Pattern: Knucks! Tres cool design, clear and well-written pattern. Full marks!
Mods: none
Yarn: Stuffed if I know. Acrylic, found in stash. Might have come with the house.

Now the mitts have returned all my tools and Green Sprite is basking in her completed-project status, a very curious thing has appeared behind the couch:

Don't worry, I was confused too.

An empty knitting bag. (Well, okay, not literally empty, but empty of projects, which my the whole point.)

Remember I mentioned my Dadini’s reasonable request for a pair of mitts for winter? It was a very decent request, politely made and with ample time to respond before winter chilled in and nibbled the fingertips. I was excited by the chance to tilt my knitsticks towards the fulfilment of such a wholesome and worthy end.

Now that I think about it, he may have even looked wistfully at his fingers when he asked.

Well, I’ve made one. Allow me to clarify: I’ve made one SEVERAL TIMES. Merino Supreme, this is wearing thin. I made two versions in Merino Supreme, the first ginormous, like a big cushy baseball glove, the second reasonably-sized but dense like a petite knight’s gauntlet. Then I made another one, in a random yarn I found in the cupboard…

What is the sound of one mitt clapping?

Which has turned out beautifully and needs only a mate. Yeah, guess where this is going. Not enough yarn. Damn stash.

So I cast on again. Another random, unlabelled stash yarn, but this time I made sure there was ample. While hanging out and having dinner with friends, I knit merrily away, only to glance down during the whiskey and cigars and realise the dainty mitt I had created was ludicrously small. Stupid small. Oh, how we laughed.

This is getting stupid. I haven’t been unravelling them, because if I do, I’m guaranteed to forget and rediscover the yarn, thus leading to an endless cycle of knit, despair, unravel, rediscover, knit. I therefore have a bag full of black fingerless gloves in a mix of sizes and yarns, all mateless. If I’m killed in a freak salad dressing accident and someone finds it, please know that I haven’t got some sort of mono-manus monomania: it’s just my Sisyphean fate to make a million unmatchable gloves.

Meanwhile, Dadini’s freezing his tips off and cursing his slow-needled offspring.

UPDATE: Just discovered a huge ball of sturdy black acrylic from a never-really-going-to-succeed attempt at legwarmers! Experimentation phase five commencing.

So, I have finished writing up the pattern up to the waist decreases: this sounds like a lot of progress, but actually, I just kinda bashed it all out, from the start to there, in a couple of hours. It’s extremely rough and unrefined, and in the interests of being able to backtrack later and check my decisions (to see where I’ve gone disastrously wrong, obviously: I can’t imagine sitting down with a sherry and rereading the decisions I made with a satisfied chuckle), it’s full of notes like “umm, I guess I’ll round up here to make it a multiple of 2…” and “well, the maths says 73.834 sts, so I’ll round it up to 74…no wait 72 because I like 72 because it’s a multiple of 12 and 12 is cool”. Logic: I do it. Here’s a photo so that you know I’m not just barking out my arse here: there is genuine progress happening!

Evidence!

I’ve finished knitting the upper back from the provisional cast on to the armpits. My God, provisional cast ons. My attitude towards them inevitably follows the trajectory of hating it them while I cast on and pick up the stitches; then mellow as I progress; then I hate them again when it comes time to “unzip” them and pick up the necessary stitches; and then when (if) I successfully wrestle it all into line and work towards a finished object, I magnanimously decide they are Worth The Trouble and will fall into the trap again next time, like a really stupid lab rat trusting that this time the electric shock won’t get me when I take the cheese. Yep. Right now, I’m in the “mellow as I progress” phase — I’m about to try and pick up stitches from it to work down the front and that means I will shortly plunge into hate as I try to unzip it. (Looking forward to it, actually.)

Details: the above picture, but closer.

An interesting thing about this whole process: I have a remarkably clear idea about what I want to produce, and in theory, I’ve got the maths to do it. What I don’t have is the kind of experience and familiarity with translating ideas into patterns that allows me. There is a big learning curve in progress, and I am making baby steps along it — but ultimately, after all the pattern planning and swatching, you’ve eventually gotta jump in and start knitting it. You brace yourself for potential unravelling, for disappointments, for near-misses, but honestly: you’ve just gotta start knitting. I was surprised: I had worked on the pattern for a while, but not, like, months. Just a couple of hours, really. And suddenly it was time to start the actual construction? Surely there was more groundwork to do? Nope. Like every creative endeavour, if you don’t stop planning and start doing — and, I believe, the earlier the better — you’re just wanking. So I stopped wanking, cleaned up, and cast on.

About to pick up the stitches at the shoulders and work down the front. I’ll keep you posted.

Let this post be a double-whammy of learningness for you! Self-portraits are not easy to manage without a remote control and a tripod for your camera. Add short arms, poor motor control and and fidgety fingers that keep accidentally hitting the power button instead of the take-a-photo button and there’s a fair bit of trial-and-error.

I finished my Slouchy Sockhead hat! Whee! But it wasn’t an immediate rush of love upon casting off. There were some reserves and concerns and doubts and that sort of thing. See, a while ago I cast on a test: same yarn (different colourway), but not enough to make a whole hat. Just the rib and a little stockinette: now it’s a dreadband, bravely fighting back the locks. The yarn stretched a lot, so when it came time to cast on for realsies, I only did 120 sts (not 144, as the pattern recommends). Plus, I accidentally worked the four inches of rib in 1×1 instead of 2×2 rib, so it’s much more springy and clingy and less slouchy and…clouchy.

The big question: could it be slouchier?

But I think it works: firstly, it’s loosening with use-enning, and secondly (which perhaps I should have mentioned first), I gave it tentacles! Wee tendrils at the end: three several-inch tails of i-cord with dangling, unwoven-in ends. I like ‘em.

Now, lessons in self-portraiture.

1. Don’t pretend to have noticed something fascinating out the window: nothing is going to draw your viewers’ attention away from the fact that (a) the photo is wonky; and (b) your light fitting seems to have a big white penis.

Why, what could THAT be?

2. Do smile a little so that your profile looks a bit less like an eerily-calm mug shot.

Wanted for urbane terrorism.

3. Do pay attention to your camera…

Missed.

…and the zoom.

Missed again.

4. Do consider using props when you notice that self-portraiture doesn’t seem to be working out so great.

Still life with slouch

5. Do press friends into modelling. True friends will always be willing to help, or at least lack the capacity to decline.

(He owes me money.)

…but be careful: sometimes friends will look better in your FOs than you do. Don’t be discouraged and certainly don’t surrender the goods on the spot.

Good friends know style.

Project details

Pattern: Bohoknits’ Sockhead hat. An awesome design, totally straightforward, comfortable and fun. Great talking/travel knitting. Like I said, I accidentally worked the rib in 1×1 instead of 2×2: I think 1×1 generally looks better, but I don’t think it’s so critical that I need to rebuild. Five stars!

Yarn: Araucania Ranco Multy, in a shifting dark teal colourway that speaks of the abiding mystery of rockpools. (Greenish.) Really nice yarn, one of my favourites, although I don’t think it does so well with machine washing, which makes it perfect for a rarely-washed item like a hat.

My response is to plan knitting. A swift-acting solution it is not, but it is a satisfying one nonetheless. First: something for my head/hair/brains/ears. A slouchy cap is the order of the day. Pictured here reclining luxuriously in the early morning sun (not pictured: winter), I have some Araucania Ranco Multy in a completely beautiful teal.

Oh, Ranco Multy, you flirty minx

Isn’t the yarn beautiful?

Why, yes, it is!

This is a hat pattern of the finest water: Bohoknits’ Sockhead Hat. Simple and effective! Everything we like in a pattern. But when I was putting photos up on Ravelry, I noticed that I had mistakenly worked the four inches of rib in 1×1 rather than 2×2. I really like the look of the 2×2 rib: it seems to spread a little more, making the transition to stockinette a little less bunchy. I’d be happy to unravel and start again, since this is such an easy pattern, and one I can do while chatting with friends, riding in a car, etc. etc., but once I start looking at starting over…I start wondering what other patterns could be waiting for me. I’m particularly partial to the Antelope Hat and the Wilted Warlock Hat. Hmm.

I only discovered Bohoknits’ patterns a little while ago, but I feel a serious crush starting to burn. Oooh, see the Herringbone Hat? That’s funky. And — oooh! — legwarmers! Awesome legwarmers! Yes, I’m liking this site. Where was I?

Oh yes!

Anyway, this hat is a hoot to knit: but if I frog it and rebirth it as something new, don’t be too surprised! More winter woollies to come.

/me disappears into scatterbrained whirlwind of possibilities.

A commissioned project! My Brotherini requested a black scarf, and, having recently unravelled a huge jumper-worth of black Merino Supreme, I was looking for a new project and ripe for a scarf. Cosmic. He even knew what pattern he wanted, since I’d made myself a Wavy years-und-years-und-years ago and he remembered. Nothing could be easier:

wavy wavy woo

I am surprised how much I loved making this: I have a funny relationship with Merino Supreme, but damn it’s nice on the fingers. Plus, although scarves don’t usually go super-quick, it only took me about three weeks to finish this baby. Long enough to feel the effort, not so long I got bored. Scarves are pretty great: everyone on Ravelry seems to be all about the lace shawls, which are magnificent, and I have a pretty hard-burning boner for neckwarmers and cowls and the like, but scarves…there will always be a place for cool scarves.

woovy woovy waves

Blocking involved…well, I’m not a professional knitter. I don’t want to win prizes for sleeki-sexi-perfect-i-ness when it comes to fine-tuning things, and anyway, knitting is about making use of resources, using your wholesome hands to produce loveful gifts, not about executing things with machine-like OKAY I THREW IT IN THE BATH.

well-washed wavy woo

Then spread it out on the back table. Seems to be doing nicely! Merino Supreme will take a bit of wet, a bit of rough (won’t we all, given half a chance?) and so I gave it a wring in a towel and then sprawled it out, where it is currently drying. I just wanted to get it wet enough to relax the stitches and give them a bit more uniformity. And I think I have achieved thi<strongs goal. So my Brotherini's neck will soon be wrapped in wavy warmth! Huzzah! (Assuming he doesn't try to wear it while it's still wet. That would be silly.)

Stats:

Pattern: Wavy, from Knitty, Winter 2004.
Mods: None, unless you count substituting Cleckheaton’s Merino Supreme for the Cascade 220. Frankly, I don’t think of yarn substitution as a mod, but as a necessity. Thoughts?
Rating: Sweet-as, bro.

Process versus product is a false dichotomy. THERE I SAID IT. Loads of people talk about whether they’re process knitters or product knitters — or whether a project is a process knitting project or a product knitting project — and I don’t think I’m one or the other. I can’t think of any projects where I was gritting my teeth and knitting painfully forward because I so badly wanted whatever it was I was making (frankly, I don’t think my knitting skills are so l33t that it’d be worth the dental damage), and knitting a thing I hated or didn’t want just because I needed to work my fingers smacks of obsessive-compulsive behaviour. Like all either/or propositions, it’s usually a boo-boo to say the appeal is all product or all process.

But I think they might be two ends of a spectrum. Without doubt there are things I like less than the process of producing them (I like making cakes, but most of the time I couldn’t give two shits about eating them and prefer to give them away to coworkers), and there are some things that aren’t as fun to do as they are to complete, but the end result makes the less-fun process worth it (cleaning the bathtub springs immediately to mind). But the best projects of all are the ones smack in the middle of the spectrum, where process is fun and the end result is perfectly worth it: like making bread or shaking cocktails.

Lately I’ve been hankering for very particular knitting. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and writing, so I want something soft and woolly and comparatively simple to balance the brain out (yeah, that’s how it works; trust me, I’m a neuropsycholiniguist). But I’m not going to knit endless, unwanted garter stitch squares just to keep my hands busy. (Am I the only person who hears phrases like “keeping your hands busy” and “the devil makes work for idle hands” and immediately thinks “ANTI-MASTURBATION STRATEGY”?) So I want to knit things that are soft, woolly and straightforward, but also with a final product I genuinely want.

There’s socks on the needles, obviously, but I’m losing my appetite for socks: I have a fair few now and demand is dropping around here. Makes the end result — and therefore the process — less satisfying, yanno? So I switched to the other end of my body. This dreadband is, as far as I’m concerned, the ne plus ultra of knitting projects, meeting every tickbox for Awesome. I needed a simple black dreadband to bravely restrain the frizzy baby dreadlocks for work, so it’s a much-desired product (tick PRODUCT box); it was an easy and happy process, finished in one evening while hanging out with mates and having dinner (tick PROCESS box); and it used up the last of a rogue ball of black crepe that was unlikely to be used for anything else (tick NON-WASTEFUL bonus box).

dreadband!

This baby is done and ready to fly. I love it: it fits, it was fun to make, and it used up some stash that was just cluttering up the joint. Full marks!

Next level of commitment/complication up, a sweet and pretty top:

WIP not looking its best

Not looking awesome in this shot, but have a bit of faith: this photo is more for the purposes of comparison when I finish it. The Lacey Tunic is charging along nicely, after a short hiatus. See, I had to work the back shoulders/neckline at the same time as the front shoulders/neckline and this was apparently enough of a brainfuck that I just threw the whole thing in a bag and surrendered, shouting “What am I, a physicist?” (No: neuropsycholinguist, see above.) Finally, its plaintive cries started to wake me in the night, so I huffily got the bag out and did a status examination. Turns out I only had two rows to go and then could kitchener the shoulders together and whammo: body done. I had it done within an episode of the Simpsons. Now I’ve just got a couple of brief sleeves (seriously brief: pick up stitches around armhole, eight rows of seed stitch, DONE) and a generous cowl to go and it’s ready to wear. Brief sleeves and a cowl are awesome while-talking knitting, and while having a look at the pattern last night I remembered why I wanted the top in the first place: looking forward to doing it, looking forward to getting it done. Process and product meeting in a beautiful unity.

I’ve been cooking a lot and posting a lot about food: but things are getting unbalanced around here and there needs to be more fibre. This was brought arrestingly to my attention when I reached into my bag to grab my camera and pricked myself on the WIP in there:

Why, what do you carry in your bag?

That, gentle reader, is a KNItting Project of Unusual Progress (KNIPUP). (And that next to it is a cucumber. I would love to masquerade as the kind of zany free spirit who carries cucumber in her bag all the time, but its presence is easily explained: on our last visit, Mumini loaded us up with so many that the carry bag was too full and I had to shove some in my bag. No biggie.)

It started life as the Sockhead Hat, with the intention that it would be a perfect top to my new dreadlocks as they went through their clumsy and frizzy stage (which, according to everything I’ve read online, should last six to twelve months). I got through the four inches of rib and started on the stockinette portion, fairly certain that I actually didn’t want four inches of rib because I knew I wouldn’t have enough yarn to finish the hat. Still, pressed on. I figured I’d just cast off when I got to the end of my yarn and then I’d have a tube with a ribbed beginning. I followed this plan and discovered that I only had enough yarn to make maybe an inch of stockinette after the four inches of ribbing. Definitely not enough stockinette. Frog time. I remembered how tedious it was to cast on 144 sts onto four dpns the first time around, and briefly considered slipping the needles into the yarn to pick up stitches and bypass the need to cast on again…but I had my ballwinder out and I was having fun, so I kept going. I cast on again, vaguely wondering if not changing anything about the pattern on this attempt was going to result in a successful conclusion, and decided I’d figure it out as I go and off I went.

See what I mean about Unusual Progress? Step forward, evaluate progress, shrug, step forward, predict annoyance, shrug, step forward, unravel, repeat. And I have loved every step. It hasn’t been tedious or frustrating, because I love the wool, I love the pattern: I’m actually more than happy to unravel and restart just to spin out the pleasure of knitting it. There’s obviously some itch in the back of my brain that just wants the cheerful repetition of an enjoyable and simple project. Pure pleasure process knitting.

PS — The yarn is Araucania Ranco sock yarn; the second half of the ball left after I made my Skew socks. It’s a really nice yarn, and I think it will be perfect for this, since there’s very little risk of it being machine-washed and felted. Again.

UFOs! (bold text to indicate sub-heading!)

Silver sands scarf: not wild about the striping, but I’ve decided it’s not for me anyway.  Hoping to whip up a matching pair of simple cuffs or mitts to accompany it.  Plans briefly thwarted when I thought I had reached the last ball of yarn, and much energy was expended spluttering about how such poor yardage was downright criminal (since the scarf was only about 40cm long and I thought I had used three balls) and then much delight ensued when the other two balls were discovered in the bottom of the knitting basket.  Hooray for small delights and also forgetfulness!

Mermaid gloves: finished the first while driving around NZ, cast on the second while drinking in NZ (not as dangerous as it sounds) and am now carrying on, plod plod plod, through the second.  I might have made it a little snug around the top of the arm, but it’s not so snug as to put me off wearing it (I think).  Also, I shouldn’t say ‘plod plod plod’, because frankly the Pomatomus stitch pattern is an utter delight and I’m really enjoying making it.

Gone but not forgotten!

Also, while you weren’t looking, I finished a pair of socks.  Plain vanilla, toe-up, short-row heel socks: they were quite seriously the best socks I have ever made, largely because I took the time to increase before the heel, in order to incorporate a wee gusset before I turned the heel.  That made such a big difference to the fit and also the pull-on-ability of the socks that I have now completely converted to doing all toe-up socks in this fashion.  Sadly, no photos, because these were a birthday gift for my lovely Mumini, and they are now comfortably nestled in her deserving sock drawer.  Probably with a cat on them. I like that.

Probably over-thinking the matter!

One of the things I thought a lot about while travelling is why I choose to do or not do things: I’m surprised to discover how many times I’ve deferred decision-making to other people, assuming that differences in taste amounted to superior judgment.  I don’t like to think I am really as wussy as that sentence makes me sound.  Take knitted skirts.  For a long time, I put off knitting a skirt.  Specifically, Intolerable Cruelty, the gorgeous skirt from Knitty.  I remember seeing that pattern when it first came out, and thinking “that’s awesome; that’s gorgeous: I would totally knit that, except, y’know, it’s a skirt“.  See, my Mumini isn’t mad about knitted skirts, and since she has good taste in most other avenues, I assumed it was Good Taste to not like knitted skirts.  That liking a knitted skirt was a peculiar kink of mine, best left unindulged.  Of course, the idea that liking a garment is some sort of defect or mistake is a peculiar one, now that I hold it up to the light.  Which is a roundabout way of saying I have cast on Intolerable Cruelty in purple bamboo.  This is another thing I can thank Ravelry for, too: checking out all the Intolerable Cruelties knitted up and flaunted all over Ravelry, plus all the people raving about how sexy it made them feel, was enough to make me start to think perhaps I wasn’t so odd for wanting to make it.  Got gauge on the second try, and the gauge is nice and tight, too.  Me like.

(Note my sexy macro shot to distract from an essentially dull picture.)

And, oy, if you’ve got the time, let’s talk about that purple bamboo.  I have lost count of the number of projects I have cast on with that stuff, only to frog it back and restart it.  I’m sincerely hoping that Intolerable Cruelty ends up being the most flawless, flattering, comfortable and sexy skirt ever, because that would at least make me feel that I’d been saving the bamboo for just such a garment.  The thing is, bamboo is gorgeous and slinky and nice to handle, but has zero spring and zero memory.  It’s also a little on the weighty side — not as heavy as cotton, but heavier than, say, silk — so drapey garments made out of it really tend to drape, but with the effect of sagging and pulling out of shape, as I discovered when I made a Simple Knitted Bodice out of it.  (Fantastic pattern, by the way, and my bamboo version looked great, but the sleeves got all dangly and saggy and kept pulling it off me, which bugged me after a while.)

Also new!

The Knitty winter surprises came out yesterday, including the fantastic sock pattern Skew.  This arrived just at the critical psychological moment for me: I had unearthed a skein of multi-toned/semi-solid sock yarn in browns and autumnal blues that I had completely forgotten I had bought (hooray again for forgetfulness!).  I don’t wear much brown and I don’t usually like browns and blues together, but this yarn kinda tempted me, nudging me with a raised eyebrow and saying “what are ya, chicken?”.  Then when I rediscovered it the other day, I decided that an out-of-the-ordinary-for-me yarn really deserved a pattern that challenged me, or sparked me, or was just somehow different and quirky.  Behold: Skew.  (Second link there for those of you who didn’t bother clicking the first time.)  I offer a tentative thank you to designer Lana Holden — tentative because (a) I haven’t gotten any further than the sixth round or so, so there’s still a lot of room for disaster to strike; and (b) I’d quite like to know how she read my mind and the contents of the yarn basket to such a perfect degree, and until she explains herself, she only gets a tentative thank you.  Ya hear me, Holden?  Tentative.  (But thanks nonetheless.)

My Silver Sands scarf:

This yarn is soooooo soooooooft.  So soft I feel like it’s just going to puff away in the breeze.  It’s delicious: a soy/wool blend I picked up in Sydney at Morris & Sons.  I think of it as silver and grey and shadowy and wintry, but there’s a subtle brown in there too. Pattern is the Prismatic Scarf, simple and really, really effective. Perfect for showing off the glints and gleams of this yarn.

The Not-quite-sure-yet Pomatomus!

In springy, kettle-dyed Arucania, a semi-solid grey/blue which could have been dyed for this exact project, the match is so good.  I was originally planning to make Pomatomus armwarmers to take to New Zealand with me in January, but I’m so in love with the match of pattern and yarn that I am tempted just to keep following politely and go with the socks.  I haven’t got a pair of Pomatomus socks, now that I come to think of it.  I have been waiting for the right yarn…I think I’ll just keep knitting these until I decide it’s time to draw arrows or cut bowstrings, and then pin myself to either armwarmers or socks.  Meanwhile, it’s a relaxing, satisfying cruise of twisted 1×1 rib, k2togbls and YOs.  Despite its delicate appearance, the Pomatomus pattern is really straightforward and quick to memorise.  Of course, now that I’ve said that, tune in tomorrow to see the sheer scale of disaster I will have managed to wreak.

Skinny Red Empire Redux (Tredux?)

This is the third time I’ve cast on this top, from Wendy Bernard’s Simple Knits.  I will have it.  I will have it.  I WILL have it.  The first I had to rip back due to a grand misunderstanding about Row Gauge and Its Many Fun Applications.  The second I had to rip back due to an idiotic failure to grasp the difference between finished size and to-fit size, and how these two figures relate to negative ease and what impact this has on whether or not you’re making a cute empire line top or a saggy house sweater. This is the third time.  It’s a good pattern, and the errors thus far have been my fault alone — I should be looking forward to getting to go on this ride again, but honestly, I’m ready to own this top and I’m no closer to actually being in a position to do so, despite all the knitting.